Living on prayer (NOT a post about the Bon Jovi track)

While I was writing about my mum in my gender psych journal regarding the gender differences in religion, I provided some examples about how my mum exercises her spirituality (technical terms lah - I would've prefered to call it faith heh). One of the things she's always tried, and often failed with, is having family prayer, by getting all of us to come together and just spend time with the Lord as family. I thought about how that really used to annoy not just me, but my dad and my sister, because it was so awkward.

"And besides," I thought. "Even the pastor's son doesn't do family devotion or prayer, why are we so special then? Awkward lah."

Back home, the more it seemed my mum kept urging us to pray together, the worse we would feel about the whole thing. Sometimes it even felt like a threat, like if I didn't give in to her demands, I'd lose my salvation, because honor them 'rents, duh. Yet, it never did work out, because it was pretty inconsistent and well, there seemed to be no firm basis upon why this whole "pray as a family" thing would work out, apart from the fact that "Because pastor said so" or "Because these preachers that came to church and talked about the same thing in different ways said so."

But today I realized something.

My mother had the discipline to pray, and she tried to instill that in us - in me. Yet, not only did I politely retaliate, I eventually managed to convince myself that prayer could happen anytime and making it a routine would put God in a box. I would pray when I felt like it, or when I had time, but even when I did have time, I somehow managed to put it off until life throws a bunch of lemons - spoiled ones, even.

But the problem wasn't my mum's insistence on family prayer, or the pastor's son's sentiments about praying. It wasn't about what the pastor or other preachers said.

And it wasn't about routine being the thing that ruins prayer.

The problem was simply just the fact that I didn't pray, and I needed to. And when I look back at the past few months, I've realized that I haven't actually been praying.

I know of instances where I've prayed here, but the urgency of prayer has diminished. Prayer has downgraded from being a necessity, into just a possibility. I found reasons to excuse myself from prayer, and I felt okay about it. I rationalized that my roommate was around, or that I had spent too much time working on that assignment that I'm too tired and will pray tomorrow that I just end up not praying.

And I still have the non-existent balls to actually be OKAY with that. Regardless of whatever struggles I have with church doctrines and theological differences, I knew upon the pressing of the Holy Spirit, that something is wrong, because this fundamental way of connecting with God that all churches are largely in agreement of is something I just no longer seek.

What happened to my desire for communion with God? What happened to commitment, and my fire to God? Have I allowed myself to be complacent just because I study in a Christian university, have to read the New Testament academically and talk to people about God anyway? Have I allowed the hurts that I've had back home and the disagreements of days past prevent me from seeking God's counsel in earnestness?

So I've found that without my mum's constant urge to pray, I have slowly opted out of it. Without a sense of discipline, I have landed myself in compromise. When I dismissed my mum's call to pray, I inevitably dismissed a whole four months of evoking that discipline to pray.

Yet, God is faithful to remind me.

I shall end this with a prayer to you, whoever you are, or whoever I think you are.

Dear Heavenly Father,

I thank you for the readers of my blog - the few and rare people I've allowed to read the penning of my thoughts. I thank you Lord that you've revealed to me just what a blessing it is to know them and have them as people I know I can trust, and I know they are a blessing to others. Help me to be faithful to them and keep on praying for them, even as I'm here in Texas. I ask that you be with them and guide them just as you led your people in the Old and New Covenant, in today's post-modernist, health goth-loving, estranged-from-you society.

I pray that you reveal yourself through their works and their life, and in every circumstance provide them with sufficient grace, mercy and godly strength to overcome. I ask that they never stop seeking to know you as God and learn about Christ and the Holy Spirit, regardless of what their current exposure or knowledge about you is. I ask that you remind them daily to focus their eyes on you, just as you have with me, and be with them every step of the way. Be with their families, grant them health and keep them safe, all for your glory Lord.

I thank you once again for them, and ask all of this in Jesus' loving and sovereign name:

Amen.

True beauty?

There was a time where I would have wallowed in self-hate and disgust when I saw an unflattering photo of myself (or at least what I think is unflattering). I believed that what I looked like determined how I lived because honestly, we all know physically attractive people get dibs for everything. And I made that my excuse for not doing the things I loved doing, because I rationalized that I wasn't cut out for anything anyway with my thunder thighs and my meh facial features. I decided I wasn't cut out for mass comm from an early age because I believed that you needed to look good to make it there. But that wasn't the most damaging thing.

When I was insecure, I'd look at other people and I'd see their flaws. I began seeing how imperfect other people so I'd feel better about myself. And for those who I couldn't see anything wrong with, I mentally destroyed their character. I rationalized that maybe they had a horrible personality, or that their good looks meant they lacked substance. I was angry at the world for being so unfair, and I was angry at the people who had won the genetic lottery and were beautiful. When my feelings for a guy weren't reciprocated, I looked at myself in the mirror and figured it was my fault, because I wasn't attractive enough. But I never talked about it. I avoided dealing with it like the plague, always pushing it aside or distracting myself by petitioning for other things I also cared about. I chastised people when they talked about it, thinking it was shallow. So unbeknowst, I let myself fall for the belief that I just wasn't cut out for it, but I masked it with the notion that I couldn't care less. But I did.

But over the years, I've come to realize that all of it is bogus. By blaming society and its insistence of my physical worth, I bought into the idea that beauty is everything. By telling myself that I am still beautiful in comparison to many others and bashing others who fit the criteria of beauty, I became a disservice to the very principles of love and humility that Christ embodied. By judging and ignoring the open conversation of beauty, I don't find liberation, but stagnation. And hey, I won't lie, I still struggle with all of the above.

But what if I don't need to be "beautiful" to make a difference? What if I accepted the reality that I'm not physically attractive as society dictates, but that it's still okay? What if physical beauty is just a part of life that stands out, but is not life itself? What if, my worth is in Christ alone because I am made in His image and that constitutes a beauty that the world may never learn to comprehend?

Isn't that beautiful?

Purpose?

"Do you really want to do this? Is psychology what you want to do?"

I might have said yes, but I really don't know.

Sure, I have it all in my head. I'm going to finish my degree here in the States, do my optional training for a year, sit for my GRE and get into graduate school to do a masters in child psychology or family/marriage counselling. It's all laid out, right?

Right?

While this might seem like a reason for concern, honestly, I'm not too worried. I know I've heard stories of many doing a degree in one field before stepping into a career that is absolutely different from what they had initially envisioned, raising concerns about the validity of investing in tertiary education. I've heard stories of gratitude from those who pursued their dreams, and tales of those who have wallowed in regret.

But what if that's not important?

What if I don't have to choose?

What if I don't have to pursue my dreams?

What about looking at opportunity instead?

I don't believe in restricting my career choices to a dichotomy of doing psychology or not doing psychology. I could still utilize my psychology degree in other fields, and even if I do end up becoming a family psychologist, that's not all that I am. I could be more.

And honestly, I don't think I even have to believe in the idea of destiny. That God has that ONE plan and purpose. Why does it have to be? Is that even biblical/godly in the first place?

If anything, it's outlined in His word that we are to become more Christlike, to pursue holiness and make disciples of all nations. Our lives are His, and well, no matter what I do, or where He takes me, there is always an opportunity to glorify Him.

So I really don't think I should be worried. Really.