"A Lover's Parade"

We talk and live but briefly and to the point
Never swerving far enough to spill ourselves;
Oh how we must every so often spill ourselves--
And not just to close friends in closed quarters
But as lovers, perching elevated in busy squares--
Might the joys of life then spout and spray
To billowing, arresting angels at the Floodgate,
And call forth heavenly music in tickles.

A burglary

One of my uncles' house was recently burgled by three youngsters who came in over the fence through the backyard. One of them with a pen-knife threatened my cousin to sit still while they rummaged through the drawers for valuables. My cousin was home alone then with his toddling sister sound asleep in her mother's room.

Thank God a car drove by the house and made a reverse-turn at the front gates, alerting the burglars and sent them bolting through the back of the house, leaving with only some cash and neither of my cousins in any physical harm.

But unlucky for the burglars, before the last of them surmounted the fence, my cousin -- who was presently chasing after the fleeing bunch -- dragged him back down and threw him some good, solid punches before he could dissociate himself to re-scale the fence.

I hope the bashing was enough for those youngsters to think twice before attempting another crime.

"Christmas Morning"

She sneaked back into the house
With frozen hands ungloved
     and a smile that got me worried
Then like morning mist descending low
     to visit earth's surface
          she kissed me.

But I pretended to sip coffee
Secretly clinging to the momentary
     warmth on my cheek--
Until I pretend again.

Worth remembering

Last year on Christmas I posted this piece by Greg Laurie which I think is a great reminder of the true spirit of Christmas, a season of gifts-giving and renewed hope. There couldn't have been any Christmas without Christ.

The gift of abundance

Tonight as our family sat around the table for our Christmas dinner, I saw that God has been blessing us all year with abundance, and me with a thankful heart to recognize the abundance.

We were in a restaurant of ambient beauty, converted from an old two-storey mercantile shophouse not unlike the one I grew up in. The Balinese-influenced restaurant is a welcomed recent addition to the town's booming dining scene, excelling both in ambience and culinary delights. The last time I was here Sam did his part in the proliferation of urban legends by recounting a ghost story encircling one of the old furniture in the restaurant. Tonight that piece of furniture was nowhere to be seen.

Now where was I? Right... abundance. Our stomachs sure had their fill of abundance after the hearty meal.

My fetal position

For a blogger who rarely blogs twice in a month, twice a day seems to say life's looking up.

This morning after getting the movie tickets for tonight, I had less than 2 hours to spare before doing lunch with friends. And I didn't know where to go. My instinct somehow took over and saw me driving around town encircling the vicinity of Main Bazaar, the oldest stretch of Kuching by the river.

It's a phenomenon not unlike an adult turtle returning to her birthplace to breed, or a human baby curling up into the fetal position. Main Bazaar is choke full of boyhood symbolisms it's both breathtaking and haunting just to be around the neighborhood. As if consummating some kind of redemptive act, I'm ever drawn to its physical locality and choppy memories of busy feet, candy shops, grandpa's drawer full of coins, skinned knees, grime-filled gutters, ghostly attics, silly pretend games, icy cold bath water, walled backyards pointing up to the skies...

... It's the safest place on earth to be.

Paradise lost

What a great day to start saturday by hiding under the sheets from the early morning chill. And then the worst that you can imagine happened. My neighbor's newly installed home alarm system got set off at 7:50 in the morning, waking the whole paradise with a rude and abiding cock-a-doodle-doo.

It happened that two gardeners weren't aware of my next-door neighbor's latest widget and triggered the buzz as they were trying the gates to enter. Thus giving birth to the first ever case of false alarm in the 20-year history of the idyllic neighborhood.

"Her Jimmy Boy"

She liked to call him her Jimmy Boy
Though he was about two years older
Jimmy Boy loved her with all his heart
But then again he never ever told her

Whenever they entered the coffee bar
Jimmy Boy would play her favorite tune
They'd order a regular apple pie for two,
Rain or shine, every tuesday afternoon

Jimmy Boy could make her laugh real hard
With a tickle, when his jokes were in vain
And then one day he made her cry real bad
She never wanted to see Jimmy Boy again

So he wrote her a long, remorseful letter
Hoping that she would somehow forgive him
And when her friend handed him her reply
All she had to say in it was, "Sorry, Jim."

The solitary act of wishing upon stars

Had a potluck-style dinner at my friend Sam's newly renovated house two sundays ago.

Someone in the gang had suggested that everyone come out with a dish they never tried before. Turned out that evening around the table that all of us had terrific chef materials hidden inside. No culinary boo-boos committed except for Sam's self-confessed egg and potato tortilla, which still tasted fantastic with his secret soy sauce.

After dinner we gathered around at Sam's poshed-up living area sipping wine and playing a few rounds of In-between, which is fast becoming my favorite card game after some modest winnings at Damai Lagoon.

And it wasn't until late and some in the party had split that someone (I forgot who) suggested a star-gazing session in front of Sam's house, presently a darkened neighborhood. So we pulled up some chairs, Sam lit up some tea candles and mozzie repellent coils, and everyone started gazing skyward.

It was a very still night with an arched, deep sky bursting with stellar mysticism. We discussed the constellation Orion and other random stuff that crossed our fancy. Then I startled. That's from spotting a meteor shooting across too short a distance of the sky before disappearing again. The guys asked me if I made any wish. I said I did. But I didn't say it was a vague, namby-pamby sort of goodwill-ish wish.

Come to think of it, I don't really believe in wishing upon stars -- or for that matter, wishing upon a birthday candle. Aren't they both one and the same thing? Only that we pretend to have plucked a star from the sky and fix it on the tip of a candle above a cake and then make a wish on it. Then we blow it out as if we have exercised the power to dim a star after commanding it to materialize our desires. It's much too solitary an act and much too romantic a gesture to warrant credibility.

It is a modern myth straining for reason, yet we do it all the time.

Notice: Blogger on holiday

Away sunning in Damai Lagoon, Kuching from 27 to 29 November with two lovely couples.

Can you stomach the truth?

Friendlier people have tried to hide their wince whenever I steer conversations to touch upon the issue. Most I've met hate to take part in any of the arguments (a word which is sadly taken by many to bear an equal meaning to quarrels), either because knowing themselves, they fear they would turn hostile as the discussion gets interesting, hence hurting the acquaintanceship (which is a hasty correlation at best), or they really only fear to talk about something they never paid serious mind to.

But it's interesting to see that I was seldom the person determined to bring up the topic. Seeing the flag raised by another, I merely seized my opportunity and refused to let it slip off the conversation before it was amply addressed. When I did choose to take over the helm I did that simply because I've realized that such issues haven't been amply addressed in most cases, and that in turn has damaged our ability to think clearly about really important matters; namely, the perception of right and wrong conducts.

It is not my intention to expound my arguments here and demonstrate an upper hand over people whom I've ever engaged in this kind of discussions with. For the purpose of this entry I only want to accentuate the fact that it is most unnecessary for anyone of us to sidestep the issue as if treading a mine-filled territory. I know many people favor social congeniality over the pursuit of truth. But unfortunately for many (including myself), truth is not always something likeable by virtue of its nature. Unlike what some think, no wrong conduct can be made right or justifiable simply because we like it or hope something good to come out of it.

Truth is tough stuff, both intellectually and emotionally. But without truth that is not subjectively defined life instantly becomes a bondage of lies and delusions; it is the only basis upon which true and lasting freedom is built. And to my fellow believers in Christ: Are we to prize emotional and intellectual comforts above Him who did not spare the ransom to demonstrate to us the truth of our fallenness and to free us for His love?

43 Things

Found this cool site called 43 Things that I can't help sharing with my visitors. You can create and add up to 43 things that you've been wanting to do but never got around to, chart and share your progress with the world, and check out what the rest of the world is up to. An amazing way to strap on and get serious about your life goals while keeping them under the curious and watchful eyes of the world!

With the same 43 Things account you can also add 43 Places to go.

Man, I got to stop sounding like a TV commercial host!

A definition of favorite

fa·vor·ite

adj.

Regarded with special preference; returned to over and over again: she hit the jukebox with her favorite song and wings grew from her heels [syn: pick, preference, shoo-in, blue-eyed boy].

Source: Tin Soldier's Trinket™ Dictionary, 1st Edition (v 1.1.1)
Copyright © 2005 by Toyland Publishing, LLC. All rights reserved.

"Elusive Lady of Love"

The many faces that you wear
The smile on them that shed my cares
Made me think you were really there
Elusive lady of love

The hope you bring when I'm lost
Those gleaming eyes I like the most
All disappeared like a ghost
Elusive lady of love

You promised a better tomorrow
But all you delivered was sorrow
You didn't mean it to happen, I know
Now I trickle teardrops on my pillow

So it is myself that I blame
For playin' this destructive game
From now on heartache has a name:
Elusive lady of love.

"Dusk"

A sleeper wakes to cold sheets
and hushed shadows
longing for a dawn that
hasn’t yet arrived
doubting
if it ever will.

A writing to B on bad dreams

Dear B,

I had bad dreams recently. Not necessarily nightmarish, but it's those rare dreams that disturb you and make you think a lot about what you're supposed to do with your life. I saw myself fervently defensing my faith in one dream I woke up feeling sad about how far that was from reality. In another dream I saw evil manifesting in the strangest of places it broke my heart immeasurably. And I woke up feeling sad once again for how far that, too, was from how I really am in reality.

I watched a good film recently called "The Gathering Storm" about Winston Churchill before WWII began. I'm not sure if that was an actual quote from him, but the actor playing Churchill said of his political ally at his funeral that "People often act heroically before they fully appreciate the dangers that lie ahead. [He] saw those dangers and was afraid of them. But he did what he did in spite of his fear. No man can be braver than that."

I wish at the end of my life something of that sort can be said of me. Maybe I won't ever be brave enough before my life ends in God's hands but I certainly am afraid of the decisions that I have to make. But it's at once strange and wonderful, and it is clearer to me now, how even the tiniest thing one does is tied in directly to one's allegiance to Christ. If that hasn't encouraged brave decisions, it certainly has laid bare the magnitude of our participation in the whole landscape of eternity, which in a divine round-about way encourages brave and right decisions.

Yes God is good.

Yours,
A

Notice: Blogger in Bali, Indonesia

Away to Bali island from 31 July to 4 August. Read about it here.

Universality of truth

Adelaine's post prompts you to think: Is it really that hard to accept the universality of truth?

Imagine two people talking:

Conversation #1

"Truth doesn't exist."

"Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Wait a minute... If that's true, then truth exists!"

Conversation #2

"OK, maybe truth exists. But it certainly cannot be known."

"So you're saying now that truth cannot be known?"

"That's right."

"Then how do you know that that's even true?"

As soon as we reject the existence and knowledge of truth, we start to draw square circles. We get into a more serious problem than trying to figure out what is truth - or who has truth.

Believe it or not, truth exists and it can be known. Knowing it not just intellectually but loving it as well makes all the difference in life.

A writing to B on stuck-ups

Dear B,

There's so much bridging work to do between my acquired knowledge and my will. They've never been on friendly terms it seems. Nothing beats me more than this. But my first reaction would not be to go to the Bridge, but to build a bridge of my own. To know Christ as who He really is I need to study His Word and spend more time praying, which I'm not doing. Today my family and I were cruising in my dad's car and my mum was giving my brother advice on housing. She has said the same things to me before in private and it hit me today that, regardless of the topic, my brother's reactions to her and mine are never the same. I always knew that, though she could be "overly informative" at times, my mum does what she does because she loves us. Because of that she can talk to me about anything she wants. On the other hand my brother just can't seems to find the time nor the patience to sit through the same stuff from her. He would often react to her in the most off-putting way he knows how just to get her off whatever subject she's on. In essence she wants the best things for the both of us but we just don't see it the same way. And I think that's what I'm like with God the way my brother is with my mum. I don't want to spend enough time with Him to know how much He loves me.

Is there hope for my brother to see my mum's love for him as it is? And by the same token is there hope for me to want to know God enough to pursue Him? On both occasions I hope there is.

Till I hear from you again telling me all about it, God bless you.

Yours,
A

"An Aria from Fairyland"

She sang of a world in its solemnity,
Where dreams live and die on a condition,
So you would know
That Love is not to be taken for granted
     - not even once

She sang of a world with its sublimity,
That only when your free Imagination
Is safely bestowed
Can it capture her dream by its silver horn
     - in a dance.

A writing to B on fairyland

Hi B,

I read this by G.K. Chesterton from his piece titled 'Fairy Tales' in the book "All Things Considered":

"We are in this fairyland on sufferance; it is not for us to quarrel with the conditions under which we enjoy this wild vision of the world. The vetoes are indeed extraordinary, but then so are the concessions. The idea of property, the idea of some one else's apples, is a rum idea; but then the idea of there being any apples is a rum idea. It is strange and weird that I cannot with safety drink ten bottles of champagne; but then the champagne itself is strange and weird, if you come to that. If I have drunk of the fairies' drink it is but just I should drink by the fairies' rules. We may not see the direct logical connection between three beautiful silver spoons and a large ugly policeman; but then who in fairy tales ever could see the direct logical connection between three bears and a giant, or between a rose and a roaring beast? Not only can these fairy-tales be enjoyed because they are moral, but morality can be enjoyed because it puts us in fairyland, in a world at once of wonder and of war."

Chesterton says that we're living in God's story. Ravi adds on to this by saying that "Wonder by itself, unanchored in truth, cannot be distinguished from a fairy tale." He also said that "The world of a child may delight in the fantastic, but the world of an adult must move from what is merely fantastic to that which is fantastically true."

I have often thought of life this way, as a "true fairy tale." Christianity or rather Christ is my only support of that notion but one that didn't ring true often enough because I thought if it were true then I should be aware of more fantastic things or at least be more aware of the fantastic. If life is a true fairyland then it doesn't add up that I'm seeing nothing but mundane dealings in it. But I was wrong in making that assessment. Chesterton says that we are in a fairyland on sufferance. Like Uncle Andrew in "The Magician's Nephew", we've long since broken our veto so even the fantastic wouldn't look in the least interesting to us now. Without Jesus it's not possible for us to cross from this sorry state to where He intends us to be.

Something else I read today moved me. It's a quote by a guy named J.H. Oldham from Ravi's book "Recapture the Wonder":

"There are somethings in life, and they may be the most important things, that we cannot know by research or reflection, but only by committing ourselves. We must dare in order to know. Life is full of situations to which I can respond not with part of myself but only with commitment of my whole being."

That is the greatest challenge for me yet - to dare to fully commit myself in order to know God. I'm living off His wonderful concessions while wrongfully questioning His vetoes. It's a shame that I'm wearing out my how-comes.

Hope you are well. Thank you that I'm still wrestling with myself.

Yours,
A

Confessions of a masculine heart

It is only obvious on a clear day. But I forgot that what I need from a woman is not what I often think I need: praises, admirations, such things that all men seem wanting of.

I need a woman who in spite of her lack of praise, could look me in the eyes and tell me the deepest truths about myself that she sees and I don't.

I need a woman who in spite of her blatant disapproval of my certain mannerisms, could still hope for the nobler things she knows I am capable of but never demonstrate.

I need a woman who in spite of her deep love for me, does not show it in a subordinate way, as if she's delighting in Michangelo or mesmerized by Shakespeare.

I need a woman who in spite of the world around her, finds joy in little things like children and the sunset.

I need a woman who could do all these as effortlessly and carelessly as stretching her own bones on a lazy afternoon. I need an equal on my best days, a superior the rest of the days.

I need a woman who got lost in the making. And I end up needing God.

A message from God

What can you say to a mother when she tells you her baby cried at school because he knew you were leaving and he couldn't send you off?

What can you say to a child when he calls you up to find out if you have arrived home safely?

What can you say to yourself when you realize the most precious gift you could receive is delivered by an angel?

The love from children is among the greatest of all treasures. What's more precious than being given something that you didn't earn?

"Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man."

- Rabindranath Tagore

"It Is Finished", by Greg Koukl

Crucifixion is a cruel form of execution, generally reserved for slaves and rebels. Death is agonizing and slow, the result of shock, exposure and, eventually, asphyxiation. Hanging from a cross constricts the diaphragm, inhibiting breathing. The only way to get air is to release pressure on the arms by pushing up against the nails that pierce the feet, requiring continual effort that could go on for days. Exhaustion eventually overtakes the victim and he suffocates.

For Jesus, though, the pain of the cross paled in the face of a greater anguish. There was a deeper torment that could not be seen, more excruciating than nails pinning Jesus’ body to the timbers, more dreadful than lashes ripping flesh from His frame. It was a dark, terrible, incalculable agony, an infinite misery, as God the Father unleashed his fury upon His sinless Son as if guilty of an immeasurable evil.

Why punish the innocent One? Nailed to the top of the cross was an official notice, a certificate of debt to Caesar, a public display of Jesus’ crime: “The King of the Jews.” The certificate of debt was a list of crimes committed against the state that required payment. When punishment was complete, Caesar’s court would cancel the debt with a single Greek word stamped upon the parchment’s face: “tetelestai.”

Being king of the Jews was not the crime Jesus paid for, however. Hidden to all but the Father was another certificate nailed to that cross. In the darkness that shrouded Calvary from the sixth to the ninth hour, a divine transaction took place; Jesus made a trade with the Father. The full weight of all the crimes of all of humanity—every murder, every theft, every lustful glance; every hidden act of vice, every modest moment of pride, and every monstrous deed of evil; every crime of every man who ever lived—these Jesus took upon Himself as if guilty of all.

At the last, it was not the cross that took Jesus’ life. He did not die of exposure, or loss of blood, or asphyxiation. When the full debt for our sin was paid, and the justice of God was fully satisfied, Jesus simply gave up His spirit with a single Greek word that fell from His lips: “Tetelestai.” “It is finished.” The divine transaction is complete. The debt was cancelled. (Colossians 2:13-14)

This was not an accident. It was planned. The prophet Isaiah described it 700 years earlier:

Surely our griefs He Himself bore….He was pierced through for our transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities. The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. All of us like sheep have gone astray. Each of us has turned to his own way. But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him. (Is 53:4-6)

No other man did this. No other man could. Jesus alone, the perfect Son of God, the Savior of the world, He paid the debt so that whoever relies on Him would not perish under God’s judgment, but have life with Him fully and forever.

“It is finished.” It only remains for us to trust in His promise.

About Greg Koukl

A writing to B on apologetics and Good Friday

Hi B,

I've checked out the verses in Acts and you were spot on. It's really obvious from those verses that the duty of apologetics lies in the hands of Christ's followers. And there's so much work to be done to equip ourselves for that purpose.

I'm reading the Bible and praying a lot more lately. And I'm really enjoying the moments, unlike before when I was only coming to God asking for stuff, now there's nothing I want more than to enter His presence and give Him daily the glory that is duly His. Can you tell me how is it that a man can experience extended joy in his God? That's what I have right now, nothing in my heart but "joy, joy, joy, tears of joy..." as Pascal put it.

So this Good Friday means a lot more to me than the ones commemorated before. At the service this morning a father sitting behind me quietly explained the meaning of Communion to his son as the leaders were calling the church forward to eat and drink the body and blood of Christ as He once instructed us to do in memory of Him. The father encouraged me and reminded me of a recent thought. Finally now I can know with full confidence that I will have a legacy to leave with my children, if I ever have them one day. And it would be something that will not perish - their father's love and longing for his Maker, in spite of his shortcomings.

The more I listen to people the more I'm convinced that there is no lasting hope or rest outside of Jesus. We have much to pray for. And I'm so glad to know that I'm not alone in this battle. Our comradeship in Christ is kept among the most treasured gifts in my chest.

Yours,
A

A thanking B for introducing the Better Hope

Dear B,

I had a great day today. 'Great' is an understatement but it's all I can sum it up with. . .

My heart is still rejoicing. Nothing makes a man more alive and driven than knowing the pleasures he could bring to his Master, the living, loving and wonderful God. Thank you for sharing the truth of the Better Hope with me, B. I know I am forever changed because of it. My heart is so full I feel like a blowfish. I must commit myself to God more in my prayers so that I won't start feeling cocky and do something stupid. None of what is given for us to work at can be successful unless we depend solely and fully on Him to make them a success.

Thanks also for the new leads on books and websites. You continue to be in my prayers and fondest thoughts in the love of our Lord.

Yours,
A

Immanuel

Myriad as His ways seem, He has only one plan throughout history, and that's so obvious it's too often overlooked.

Some call this single-minded plan of His the Immanuel Agenda: He will be with a people who value Him above every other blessing.

That's been so overlooked amidst our shattered dreams and temporal pleasures we can't see that experiencing God is in itself a source of greater pleasure than experiencing anything else.

Your life must adhere to the Immanuel Agenda. Nothing else will ever come close to being as important.

"Friends"

Summer afternoon

A sudden tap-tap-tap
on the windowpane

Two dog-eager smirks
framed in bored restraint.

First time. Found. Set free.

Strange thing that He'd be standing in the middle of the room and still no one would take a second look at Him, including those who claim to know and adore Him. They would talk animatedly about His charity and His credentials. But they wouldn't look at Him. Stranger even that He never took His eyes off of you even as you missed Him and joined in the small talks.

Now you're parting the crowd to get to Him - and how it fans and flares along your way to compete for your single-minded attention. You can see it even as you lace through the beleaguerers. . .

That look. . . The glares in His eyes. . . Quiet, intense, inviting.

First time. You're walking to Freedom - that's what some call Him though not many knows what that means. Otherwise they would have stopped chatting and jumped on Him.

"Joy, Joy, Joy, tears of joy. . ."

Found. No more searching.

"So if the Son sets you free. . ."

Free indeed.

More

It is suggested that you've done more for Him than you are confortable admitting.

"...do you really love Me more than these?"

No, not enough. He deserves more - much, much more. You always forget that.

"...do you truly love Me?"

Anything for Him... He's everything to you.

"...do you love Me?"

Do you love Him?... You know what to do.

"Writer At Work"

He raises his pen,
dips its tip in ink, and
looks out the window.

"Backstage"

There is a dim, hushed backstage
across from eternity
where all are dressed for their parts
eager to enter the light
when the drum rolls
         horns blow
         curtains rise
and the first act commences.

Not quite dead yet

You just realized that some of the things you write are better left to yourself. Your restraint from explaining yourself is repeatedly causing friends to suspect tendencies toward the depressive and suicidal. But then again is death really all that scary?

Someone affirmed to you once: Death is the scariest thing of all.

But you honestly thought that you were going to die... Nah - you weren't even close. Why, the self is always hard to kill.

And no, death is not the scariest thing of all... Hopelessness is.

"The Night Before I Died"

The night before I died...
There were still a million things
    left to be done
My work was in a constant state of incompleteness
My bank account had more money
    than I could spend in a day
My gym membership was overdue
My novel finally had a title
    but I still couldn't decide on
        what story to tell


The night before I died...
I stayed up all night
    Just thinking
        Imagining
The possibilities of a different life
Could I have been more brash in behavior
Or less indulgent with hiding?


The night before I died...
I hadn't clung to the lips of a girl
She had visited me countless times at night
But her face kept changing each time
I named her my "Porcelain Doll"
    because I was "Tin Soldier"
I loved my Porcelain Doll with all my heart


The night before I died...
I was playing "All The Things You Are"
My Porcelain Doll and I were gliding
    on the pool of my mind
We rested from our gliding and took a walk
She said to me,
    "Finally come tomorrow,
    morning will never again interrupt us."
She was referring to my promise to her
    granted the day I died.

A writing to B (IV)

Hi B,

I'm very well, very well indeed. I share your thoughts that no matter how I feel, there is no escaping the truth that God loves me and I'm no longer performing or trying to prove something with Him. When I do something good that I ought to do, I know it's because God's love has moved me to do it. When I can't bring myself to do something good that I ought to do, I know I'm in a sorry state and that God loves me no less. I'm just me before God and there's nothing I can do to change His mind about me. Isn't God amazing!

...You are right, we can't even hope to urge others on when we ourselves are unmoved by what we're supposed to do. I guess our desire for God is our only testimony for Jesus as the desire evolves into actions that mark the worth of our lives. And that I'm lacking, so I'm asking.

I wish to tell you something on the side. I saw some pictures of the girl I lost to another guy which I remember telling you about. I haven't seen her for at least a year or two now and amazingly seeing those pictures (one taken with her husband) made me laugh out of a kind of peculiar joy. It was similar to Lewis' analogy of two opposing soldiers killing each other off in battlefield at the same instance and then finding themselves laughing their silly act off together when they see each other again in the afterlife - you know, that kind of laughs. I can't put words to it, but it was relieving. Honestly I still feel a sort of fondness towards her, but it's different now. Sort of a transcendence. And [C] - she's beginning to become that way for me, too. It's a little bit scary as far as worldly prospect goes. But it just doesn't matter now. I'm looking for more. And I'm going to God for that, B, hopeless and miserable as I am.

More of Him for you,
A

A writing to B (III)

Dear B,

Thank you for your prayers. Day 1 and my head's still above water. I chose and recited the whole book of Solomon's Song last night before going to bed and it was a thrilling experience for me.

I had planned to do one of two things today to glorify God: visit the sick in the hospitals or visit the city prison near my house. I ended up going to the prison but only made it to the gates. I stalled because I was afraid. Who am I supposed to visit? What am I supposed to say? What reactions would I get from the guards and the inmates? After what seemed like half an hour of hesitation I turned around and took off to drive around town. I went back to the prison thinking of giving it a second shot. I couldn't make it then either, so I went straight home.

But you know what's astounding? After my failure to go beyond the prison gates I came away feeling all the more loved by God. I have always thought that God's holding Himself back from me because of my failures to live up to His expectations. Now I can see that that's not true. The pressure's off indeed! And I'm going back to the prison next week to try again - simply because I know it'd be something that will bring Him glory. But before next Sunday comes I'll be on the lookout for little ways to glorify Him throughout the week. I pray for the same for you.

Your joyful brother,
A

A writing to B (II)

Dear B,

I was desperate all day after talking to you on the phone. I wanted to know God like you now know Him. I avoided the issue all day until I finally faced up to it. I started asking Him, "Do you really love me?" And in return He asked me a question loud as thunder, "Would you willingly stop fighting for [C] even if I won't let you?"

It was a ridiculous question. Totally unfair. I refused to answer Him but He knew what was coming next. He broke me again. He continued, "If you, being you, would stop at nothing to win a girl's heart - a girl you can't even say in all honesty that you have it in you to love, do you think I would stop loving you even if I try?"

How amazing! And you're right, nothing I do or fail to do will ever stop Him from loving me and wanting to give me His best. At least I know that's what I'm prepared to do for C (whether or not I'll have the opportunity to do it is beside the point). But God's love for me is far stronger than mine for C. And I thought mine was strong enough.

I can't say I get it now. I have yet to glorify Him for His love for me and His readiness to give me His best as soon as I let Him. Please pray for me and wait for my next mail, I'll soon be able to tell.

Yours gratefully,
A

A writing to B

Hi B,

Yes we've been trying to manipulate God. And I'm all the more guilty of that.

I'm driven to a point where I can no longer choose. God has suddenly opened up opportunities for me to pursue the things I've always thought He has put on hold for a long time, but at the same time I'm shown that none of them is going to get me where I want to be. Despite what I believed they're not what I desire, they're only my desire-substitutes. All I want and ever need cannot be found in this life. Nothing I pursue in this life is ever going to be enough. None of them will ever last. I need to be with Him. I need to be a part of Him. I need Him. Even now I need Him. I'm not so sure if I want Him, but I know I NEED Him.

I've been listening to people talking. All day long people've been talking about money and success and dreams and plans and even serving God. How much sense they make, and how persuasive - even noble. But how sad that none of us can hear what they're really saying. I didn't realize it, but listening to them is suicide. Once I take what people say seriously and consider their options, I'm killing that part in me that wants nothing this world has to offer. Once I believe them I slowly become them.

You're right. Trying to be a "better Christian" cannot save us. We've tried for all the wrong reasons. I, too, know what I must do, but I just haven't the courage nor the desire to do it. If I ever do it at all it's only Him that's doing it in me. God's operating in me on a deficit. I've long since exhausted my abilities for it. Sin has worn me flat out.

B you know how for a while now... C has been competing with God for first place in my heart. Though I can't see God climbing the charts it seems that [C]'s dropping off. And so are my other dubious pursuits... I have nothing left to fall back on. I'm cornered.

He's got me. But unlike you I can't say I'm joyful. 'Cause I don't think I've surrendered yet. I'm still miserable. I'm still stubborn. I'm a stubborn and miserable wreck who's forgotten how to be thankful or repentant. Still He's got me. And this time He's got me good.

Yours,
A

At the fork

The vessel is stalling.

...Which one is it?

The seaway ahead has suddenly forked into three passages, each pointing in three separate directions. Three! Two you can understand - but three? It's even worse than none at all!! At the edge of the furcation all three passages seem bona fide, and yet taking any one of them would mean abandoning the other two. You wouldn't think twice about choosing if it's absolutely the phonies that you're abandoning...

Passage One leads to an unfinished Past.

Passage Two leads to an immediate Present.

Passage Three leads to an unknown Future.

And each of them has desire written all over... How on the high seas is a sailor supposed to make up his mind?

If you look carefully you would see that the fork is nothing but a three-headed snake monster hellbent to mislead. For three choices cannot be choice at all. It's nothing but a giant, glistening deception.

The land-dwellers have a name for this: backed against a wall.

Reading the map of faith

The temptation is only too real.

What now is better than an easy way out? What more do you want when you can bag the prize without having to travel the full distance across the high seas plotted only on that wild and invisible map called Sheer Faith? What quicker and more assuring way than to loose your grip on that sword named Vigilance as the siren songs are lulling you to dip into the false end of the journey?

You must have made a wrong turn somewhere that permits this choral distraction. Hell - it could have easily been a series of wrong turns. Now it's either give up or give in. As always the arrogant map hasn't yielded its mysteries to suggest an alternate route, not even when lives depend on it. But holding on to it does more than just psychological good. Even though you can't read the map, without it the vessel sinks on its own.

There is now only two directions in which to navigate - forward or down. And down is definitely not an option.

"Glory"

How many miles, O Wave,
   have you traveled
Just to rush mad against the shore
And die beneath my feet?

How many centuries, O Rock,
   have you stood by Lady Ocean
Unmoved by her heaving lulls
Just to serve me this morning as throne?

Your Painter knows better
   than to waste His strokes
On seas, shores, dusks and dawns
Patterns He flings across the deep
To rest on mere man's eyes and feet
Who can't even sing a grateful song
   of glory still discrowned
   of glory yet regained

Your Designer goes beyond extravagance
   as He hangs out accessories
Like meteors, rainbows, stars and storms
Wonders He sprinkles and slashes
To beckon the dog-tired tramp
Who has long since forgotten
   his glory still discrowned
   his glory yet regained

How much longer, O King of my heart,
   must the soul groan
Till the divine curtains are split
To reveal the face of Your lavishness?

Meanwhile, as You do with each new morning,
Whisper to me that ageless romance of
   a glory still discrowned
   a glory yet regained.

Conceived morning of April 11, 2004 at Damai Lagoon, Kuching. Edited on February 10, 2005 for flow.

A well to quench the thirst

"You won, but You've killed the man."

It came out wrong. If there's anything that ought to be killed, it's the man's hold on an arranged life. He's been trying to get this through. Nothing that you arrange is going to get you where you're heading with your heart. He's bidding you to toss the maps and navigate blindfolded. Would you trust? He's inviting you to drink from His eternal fount at the end of the road - dare you desire?

Be brave and keep thirsting. That's all you can do, really. You can't arrive if you're not even traveling.

"I See You"

I see you
   tears withheld
   hopes clenched
As you await the verdict of your trial
I see you as who you are
The day you escaped the world

Then you retreat to being someone else
   as soon as you have verdict in your favor
If only you knew that I see you--
Though you escaped the world--
How then would your soul be glad
   that its beauty at last is known

Yet I see you
So will I fight for you
Though it exhausts all that's in me to offer
   I will fight for you notwithstanding
Because the reward of you
   finally seeing yourself as I do
   would be far greater than the torture of
   a million deaths to claim it

Chase after your false lovers
   I will in time conquer them--
Because the groom has seen his bride
The day you escaped the world.

Dare you desire? (Reprise)

The journey is a hard one. And the harder it is the more convinced you are that it has to be traversed.

Received B's letter today talking about his share of battles with women. B is perhaps the only person you can really talk about women and feel helpless with. Maybe there is indeed fellowship in sufferance. Only this time around you're not so cocksure about the point of it all. Whether it really matters what you tell each other to hang on to. Whether you'll be spending your strength on others or caught pretending that there is strength in you at all the next time strength is called for.

The journey seems unending. It doesn't even seem to have begun. That's when George MacDonald has something to say to you. And as always, splendidly MacDonald.

Dare you desire?

You gather that He's not One who forgets about things you've long banished from your memories. But does it matter as much now what you did many years or a few days ago ever brought joy to His heart? Can't disappointments wear out His zeal like they are wearing out yours?

It's absurd that He could rejoice over things you wish never happened - things no sane person would ever do. But it's indisputable. He always has a special liking for such things. How strange...

There is much owning up to do if He chooses to tell you this much about His pleasures in the oft-forgotten past... Like a family lawyer reading out a rich man's will, He's telling you more than you dare to hear.

Prayers: a delayed observation

Remember your petition to the King:

"That I be made into a man deserving of an occasion to fight for her and spend all that can be offered of myself for her; but above all, that her deepermost desires be met not by any man's pursuit of her, however valiant or determined, but rather by coming into Your presence through Your Son and learning from Him of Your own desire to fulfill every longing of her heart as only You are able to do."

Though He could have given you no evidence of your petition being taken into serious consideration and tested you thus, He has left you with no good reason for doubts by revealing to you that the more important part of the petition - her coming into His presence - is already underway. He is granting your petition exactly as you prioritized it! So where is the grounds for expecting the reverse? What's more, where is the grounds for falsely believing that the request, phrased and intended in that manner, was a self-centered submission and therefore should not be attained? The Master's action has spoken thunderously to show otherwise.

Expect to have the rest of your request duly addressed towards the end. It cannot be that far ahead when the beginning has already begun.

Happy New Year

Another year has gone by. For some strange reason 2004 felt like only several days long. Maybe that's how many days last year you really felt alive.

But finally...

You've found that something you've been looking for. And it's not too much of a shock where you found it. The only marvel is that it could always be found there. Almost without exception.

His grace has brought His wayward son home.