Fam bang

Lately, it seems to me that the tables have been turned in the family. I'm being put in my parents' shoes, and I'm beginning to see their cares and concerns.

Yet, there are some things I still don't see. For one, I'm not sure if the family dynamics have changed at home, or they've always been the same, but that I've just forgotten. The ridiculous sounding arguments, the lack of communication and just people pushing each other's buttons due involuntarily because we all aren't working as a team, it's all happening yet again.

I'm tempted to just forget about it and do whatever I like. Just go out any time I like, find friends whenever I can and stay out all night without a care in the world about what goes on at home.

But I won't. It's not that my parents force me to, but I just won't.

Because I don't want to. I don't want to give up on us being a family. I don't want to get pissed off about the problems we face at home and accept defeat. I don't wanna let the little things get in between the greater joy of being a cohesive unit.

His grace isn't just enough to hold me up, it's sufficient to hold all of us up. This family.

I trust Him.

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.

Sorry stupid post

I'm scared.

I want to go home. I don't want to stay here anymore. I just want to be with family.

I just want to talk to Popo. I want to hear her singing in the kitchen, her singing in the shower. I want to drink clear chicken soup in the dining room and complain about her drinking too much coffee, and her watching too many Hokkien dramas. I want to listen to her grandmother stories, the vivid recollections of her childhood and youth. I want to say goodnight and rest early to her before I solemnly agree to go to sleep and secretly surf the net until 1AM.

Yet, I also want to talk about this new place I'm gonna call home for the next two years. But I can't, because my face is doused in tears and I'm trying hard as hell to hold this fort up when everything's crumbling down.

I'm scared, and I really miss home.

Jeremiah 29:11

I know you probably feel the same, looking at this verse all, over, again. Yeah, I get it. God has a plan for me, and it's always good, and it offers me a hope and a future. And well, those plans can sometimes be tough, but they are always good. Blah blah blah. So there.

With all that's been going on in my head lately, everything just feels really difficult. I don't know how I'd get through this, and my mind just paces from one thought to another, thoughtlessly. There are no youth services on Sunday for the time being, and so I have to read the Word more on my own for refreshing from the Lord. And sometimes I don't feel refreshed, I feel daunted. And then I stop reading, and mope in my own miseries.

Today, I thought about my relationship with my family. I wonder why I was made so incompatible with the family God put me in. Like everything now just seems to be my fault, cuz I had big dreams and everyone else had to make a sacrifice just so I could fulfill them. My mum's okay, and I know God is taking care of her very well, but my dad can react pretty atrociously at times. I won't go into detail about his behavior, because they aren't significant - well, not as important to me as what I believe he thinks of me and what I'm doing.

I can only say that he hasn't quite grasped this whole Christianity thing yet - he expects me to utilize the gift of my intelligence to rake in money once I graduate, buy him a Porsche and let him live an affluent life. I, on the other hand, have other ideas. I have a desire to serve the community, which involves not beginning working at 21. Return to Malaysia and serve the local church, before I go into a full-time job and build a career. I want to be able to give back to my parents, but I'm just not convinced that becoming a billionaire is the only path that can accommodate my desire to honor and love my parents via gifts.

Why the both of us have our flaws and our faults in the family, I find it really hard to love my dad because he doesn't seem to understand that pursuing Christ comes above all else, including a good job equalling money and that money equalling a life of affluence. I'd love more than anything else to give my parents that and more, but I want him to realize that these are not the things life should be founded upon. It's tough, and I'll just be brutally honest - sometimes I just want to shout at him and tell him to shut up about money, because as much as we need it to survive, I'm tired of being pressured to earn big and pay everyone back. It also doesn't help that it contradicts God's promise that he would keep us and provide for us.

I then ask God why.

Why put me in a family like this, and give me a dad that is so difficult to deal with? I know people in church don't have perfect families, but at least they have a dad who's bent on crucifying His flesh to the Cross.

And that's when He swooped into my thoughts, and spoke to me.

"Because I care about your character, not your circumstances."

Jeremiah 29:11 couldn't have showed up in my pandemonic mind at a better time. I'm not always sure whether something I think about is something from the Holy Spirit, but I know for certain that it was the Spirit of God speaking to me.

God does have a plan, and He will not rest until it comes into fruition. Sure, my dad might be difficult to love, but the easy thing to do (which I have been consistently doing), is to just write him off as unreasonable and not worth caring for.

But the difficult thing to do, which Christ did for us, is to love my dad anyway. To put aside every ounce of pride in my mind and do the right thing. I don't have to agree with everything he says, but I need to hear him out. I don't always like how he thinks or behaves, but I don't have to react to it. It's not that I'm being weak or anything - I'm being meek instead. Strength under control, if that's what you call it. I will need every fruit of the Spirit that the Holy Spirit can flourish in me to love my dad.

Yet, I don't lose out. If anything, I gain everything - I will grow stronger in character. Sure, I won't be around for the next two years, but with every Skype call and Whatsapp message, I'll do my best.

Because this plan and purpose isn't just for me, it's also for him. And just as Christ gave Himself up for the church, I will give up my pride for my dad. One day, he'll understand that and he'll be transformed. He'll be that new person God has intended for him to be.

I can't wait.

With love, V

We often have this misconception that love is suppose to be easy, that it's suppose to come naturally and should occur without challenges.

I'm just gonna have to break it to you - IT'S ALL A LIE.

Relationships aren't easy and they are NEVER perfect because we're all broken people.

We were God's beloved in the beginning of time. Then we were rebels, having turned away from God and to sin. We were subject to God's mercy, trying to atone for what we did, but failing to achieve complete purity as we did in our creation. But then God did something extraordinary - He sent His only begotten son to die for us on the Cross and took upon Himself our sin so we could be set free. Free to love Him, and love one another. But being in this world, we still have to live in this earthly body, and it is still filthy as ever. And that's why we stumble. We hurt each other, and it's painful as ever.

But when we remember the great God who loved us so much and did what he could have decided not to, and still be the same sovereign and righteous God, we become compelled to love one another. How we feel, what we think doesn't matter, because God's love for us transcends our human limitations. We are made perfect in His love and in that, cease to fear.

These people in the pictures aren't perfect. They don't always do the right thing and they mess up. They've hurt me with some of the things they say, with their occasional nonchalance. And so have I, when I wasn't clear of who I was in Christ those years ago when I first encountered Him. I was crazy insecure, and I needed constant affirmation from these people just to know I'm okay and they had to give without expectations of receiving. I'm pretty sure they were worn out trying to figure it out with me when I was much more lost than I am now (yes, still lost ahaha).



Serving with them hasn't been easy, and being their friend has been tough as hell, especially with all our respective idiosyncrasies and flaws. But God's love is what keeps us together. We put our trust in Him and we held onto Him for better and for worse, no matter where we were in life.

Love isn't easy. It's more than community and friendship. It's accountability and commitment. And that's scary to our carnal selves.





Yet, out of faith, hope and love, LOVE endures FOREVER and this means endless sacrifice, obedience and forgiveness.

But for something as priceless as love, I think it's pretty darn worth it.

Hometown

If you'd told the Vivian of two years ago to visit my paternal grandparents apart from Chinese New Year, she'd have retaliated. After all, she hated the place. She hated how the house smelled of burned incense. She sighed in disdain at the thought of sharing the same room with the entire family, in which two thirds were prone to snoring. She found communicating with everyone a daunting prospect, because she didn't speak her own dialect. And she absolutely loathed how empty the house seemed every Chinese New Year, because her family was the only one that bothered to return to Kedah every year while everyone else was "busy" with life in Australia or something.

Yet, here I am - spending a night here in my grandparents' place.

To be fair, I hadn't thought about staying here over the weekend. I initially planned to host a farewell with some friends today, but my parents had told me they wanted me to see my grandma and whoever else who was back in Kedah to say goodbye before I spend the next two CNYs in Texas. I was a little disappointed at first, but after some thought, I decided I'd do it. My parents didn't force me into this one - they'd told me I could totally just ring my grandma up and let her know I was flying off next month. But somehow, I felt it wouldn't cut it. I knew I had to do the right thing.

I needed to make that trip up north.

It's ironic, really. For many years I held it against my parents for making me come back here, for making me endure being in a place I felt I didn't belong. I've lost count of the times I've shed tears in this place.

And yet, there's peace in my heart as I'm here today. I got to spend quality time with my cousin, who's pretty lonely here in Kedah without her parents by her side. I got to have nasi lemak, made by my grandma. I got to hear about my relatives' experiences of studying abroad and their advice. I got to have a bowl of Assam Laksa for RM3 for dinner, along with a bunch of other dishes also priced within the same range. And there's more tomorrow.

But more importantly, I'm not angry anymore. I'm not upset at anyone anymore. I've just learned to let go.

And I couldn't be more grateful.

19 years later

Six weeks isn't enough to make a distinct difference.

Sure, it could start this week, but things definitely don't change overnight. I don't suddenly just harness the ability to withstand feeling hurt when past wrongs slam right into my guts unannounced. I don't miraculously undo the complexes I've built in the past nineteen years in forty two days.

Change takes time, and time heals everything.

I was challenged today to give myself nineteen more years. Nineteen years, to work towards the oblivion I realize I've needed all this while.

Oblivion, to completely forget and possibly, not know of the pains of the past. Oblivion, a synonym of forgiveness. Oblivion, a pronunciation of love, which keeps no record of wrongs.

Oblivion, originating in the endless mercies and immeasurable grace of God.

Nineteen years later, I will cease to be affected by the temperament of others, and will be able to differentiate who I am from those I love, whose impact in my life has been profound.

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.  

- Philippians 1:6

Daddy cool

It really is strange hanging out with the one person I've been known to take after.

My rotten temper, aggressiveness and ability to overthink things have always been attributed to my dad. I've lived most of my life trying to play these vices down, burying them deep within me so they wouldn't show on the outside. People were scared of that, and all I wanted was to be loved, to be accepted.

But I've realized that it isn't fair. There are many great things that I got from my dad. By the grace of God, I inherited his honesty. His intelligence. His ability to rationalize life, and the things around him. And let's not forget his paralyzing sense of humor. I learned to be courageous from him, to dream BIG in life and to never rest on my laurels.

Nevertheless, by shoving the unpretty parts I got my from my dad, I unknowingly subdued the entirety of my father's existence in my own life and denied myself of the person God had created me to be.

As I hung out with him today, it was like looking at a mirror. We were both connoisseurs of introspection, and the way we partook of it was similar. It's uncanny, and it freaks me out sometimes.

Honestly, if you ask me, I'm really scared. I'm afraid of coming to terms with the resurfacing pieces of myself that I've kept hidden for so long.

My dad isn't the best father in the world. He's made mistakes; some of which have rubbed off in my life. And I think it's pretty obvious that he's really not perfect. And so am I.

But he's my dad, and he is in that part of me that God knitted into me when I was created. It is beautiful. It deserves to be acknowledged, it deserves to be embraced, and it deserves to be cared for. God created me wonderfully and fearfully, just as he did with everyone else.

Sometimes I feel like I don't fit in, because these traits I inherited aren't exactly likeable. Admit it, no one likes a know-it-all, which I am frequently found guilty of being. No one is in favor of the Devil's advocate, which I often am, because I like pulling things from beneath the rug and talking about them. Silence is something I have become fond of, because people seem to be afraid when I speak boldly about the things I believe in, or because what ensues is the consequences of my speech.

I wasn't made to be somebody else. I was made in such a way, for an intended purpose.

However, that doesn't mean I stay this way forever. When I became a follower of Christ, I died to myself. I decided to give up the liberty of living my life, my way and let Him shape my life the way He has called for it to be. I don't deny the fact that I have inherited some of the vices my dad, and perhaps even the entirety of my dad's family has held onto.

I have so much more to learn, and so much more to grow.

I need to, and want to grow in the fruits of the Spirit.

I want to let go of the horrendous anger I deal with on a regular basis.

I want to freely love, without fear of what others think about me.

I want to be honest, but say it out of love and not condemnation, or self-righteousness.

I know that in order for these things to be mended and molded by the hands of God, I need to realize that I have this part of me, and it is there for a purpose.

And now I do. I will not deny myself of these things, and let God work through me.

Two things today:

1. My dad isn't perfect, and I have a part of him that is now acknowledged and embraced.

2. I was wonderfully and fearfully made, for a PURPOSE. God will use whatever that is in me, for His glory. Regardless of the good and the bad, He will transform it for the better.

I truly am grateful, for both my earthly and Heavenly Father. I couldn't ask for more.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. 

- Romans 8:28

Happeh barfday too mi

So there's less than two hours left to my birthday, and I figured I'd say what's on my mind right now before I forget.

Living nineteen years on this earth hasn't been an easy feat.

Throughout most of my life, I've harbored a sense of rejection within me. I feared that many of my dreams and desires would become unaccomplished because I had no one to believe in me or even love me because of my insecurities. This succeeding anxiety gave me a sense of hopelessness every year. I'd cry - sometimes it was days before, or even weeks before my birthday came, because I was afraid that no one would remember, or that things wouldn't turn out the way I wanted them to. My parents were always there to make it memorable for me, but somehow each year I'd feel worthless, wondering if I should hold onto life since I believed there was no reason to live if no one would remember, because that showed the extent of their love and my presence in their life.

But this year is different.

Over the years, I've drawn closer to God, and this year I know my identity is ingrained in Him. I was anxious a couple of days ago, wondering if anyone would remember. I'd made more friends in the last two years than I ever had in high school, and I was, and still am hoping that at least someone would remember. And some of them do. Hee Hee remembers. Ming remembers. Even the Egg remembers (I suspected someone told her but let's give her the benefit of the doubt shall we)! My family damn well remembered, because I totally didn't think of going out for dinner but they did.

More importantly though, God remembers. He is the one who wonderfully and fearfully created me after all.

Despite my fickle nature and inconsistency in my faith, You have always and will forever, remain the same. You knew me in my mother's womb, and You had Your plans for my life. You revealed Yourself to me at the age of sixteen, and ever since I've vowed to follow Jesus for the rest of my life. I was weak, and still am, struggling the grasp the extent of Your love and the cost of picking up the Cross, but You were patient through it all. You were and still are, the Prince of Peace, for it was because of You that when I was weak, I was and still am strong.

I'm a different person now than I was four years ago, and I know that it is all because of Your grace and new mercies each morning. Maybe I would have cried out of fear thinking that no one would remember; or out of anger as I compare myself with my peers who probably have had those grandiose birthday bashes I may probably never be able to afford - if this was two years ago. I've resolved not to cry tonight because I've decided not to let anything rob me of the joy He has bestowed upon me, but if I do -

It's because I truly know my Father loves me, and NOTHING will EVER separate me from His love.

Blessed Mid-Autumn, my non-existent readers. And happy birthday to you, future self :)

Overcoming pride

I honestly doubt that anyone (at least that I know of) still reads this blog, but in case there are still some of you who do swing by once in a blue moon and have noticed my previous post, well yes, I am still working on that testimony. Compiling my experiences and deriving bible scriptures are a little time consuming though, which explains why the post isn't up yet. Nevertheless, I am determined and relying on God's strength to help me finish what I have started because humanly I know I cannot do it, just as I have failed in the past few years in this endeavor, but with God all things are possible (Matthew 19:26).

Meanwhile, I suppose I will share some of the thoughts I've had in this past week. Some of my thoughts I have come to realize some are not words spoken into me by the Heavenly Father, but negative things I have begun to pick up from the voice of the world. I guess not having to actively rebuke these voices that speak negatively in my head in this past week due to the taxing funeral rites back in my dad's hometown has taken a slight, if not sizeable toll on me. In spite of that, God has proven faithful and the Word has been an invaluable tool in asserting myself in Christ.

Just last week I was so on fire for God, speaking into people's lives and having Him use me to empower and convict other people. I felt such great joy and encouragement having to do His work and having received so much revelation from the Planetshakers Conference that I felt almost invincible. I could sense His presence and love almost all the time, and it was just amazing. And crazy. I'd begun to hear Him so well that I just knew in my heart that there was no turning back. I had dedicated my entire life to Jesus and I would love Him, walk with Him and serve Him in spite of all forms of persecution and under any circumstances. I didn't think I could ever live any other way than to constantly feel the love of the Heavenly Father and rest in Him, abandoning the rest of the world for a godly pursuit.

But that isn't all there is to walking with Jesus. That isn't the whole point of Christianity. Yes, God tells us to abide in Him, to rest in Him and to seek to be in His love at all times (Matthew 11:28), but we cannot forget that we still live on this earth for His purpose. He has called us to be the salt and light, and in my opinion, it is probably the hardest thing any Christian would have to do in their lives - abandon all sense of individual purpose and seek to fulfill the collective purpose God has called us for - to make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit (Matthew 28:19). If you've read this blog long enough or perhaps know me in person for a considerable amount of time, you'd probably have picked up that I value obscurity. I don't care for people who have similar interests and talents with me because I find them competition and my sole purpose in life then was to ensure that my individuality was kept esteemed above everything else. Fortunately, God convicted me of my pride and constant pangs of jealousy over others, and now I really don't care much for individuality or obscurity. Occasionally I do have second thoughts about doing certain things or buying certain products because someone else has already pioneered these things, but where the kingdom of God and people are concerned - I'm letting it slide.

Nevertheless, I'm not here to gloat about how perfect life has turned out to be with Christ. I still struggle, and I know I have not achieved perfection which Jesus undeniably embodied. Daily, I am sometimes threatened by the world that I momentarily forget what God has done in my life and the purpose I am striving to fulfill as a Christian, and I fall. I get angry and I feel hurt. I shed tears when the pain becomes overbearing, and all this simply because I chose to listen to the voice of the world and not the voice of God. In fact, this past week I've found myself being hurt by parents and peers in the CF I'm involved in, as a result of that. I've shared my testimony about how God taught me to honor my parents to so many people and I've seen people being spoken to by God due to that, and yet I still feel hurt. Sometimes I feel that in spite of my efforts, my cry out to God with a desire to honor my parents and to honor my peers in CF by not taking personally their insults as well as their constant pointing out of my faults, I feel tired.

I feel exhausted trying to love them, to forgive them and even to focus on their positive points simply because the honor isn't mutual. I respect that they have differences (God knows if I've done otherwise and He will convict me and tell me if I'm wrong) in opinion relative to mine, but they don't seem to respect my opinions. All I've ever gotten from my peers at CF (some, not all) is constant dismissal of my thoughts and enthusiasm, a lack of empathy over some of the issues I go through and the usual "Oh she's just being a girl" stigma. As per my parents, it's always been about how I should control my temper and not let it overwhelm me, or how I shouldn't feel bothered or hurt by something if I've been completely healed by God. While it's true that if my emotional wounds were healed I wouldn't take offense over the things others say against me or against God's will for my life, I would really appreciate an apology. I find that the worst blows don't come from those who do not know God and have something to say about my faith, but from those who are walking with me and collectively striving to do our best for Christ.

Also, I cannot ask for those who do not abide by the same Christian values to say they're sorry because they do not understand. However, I'm often hurt when those who do know the value of an apology choose not to offer it anyway because of their pride. I know I shouldn't take offense and someday when I'm completely healed I won't, but as a person I feel the least anyone can do is to say they are sorry, no matter who's fault it is. I know I've done it before and I'm not saying I don't sometimes forget to say I'm sorry, but recently God has really been convicting me to apologize to people I've unconsciously uttered mean comments to, regardless of their level of sensitivity. If I need to be the salt and light of the earth, the least I can do is to ensure that the words I speak into the lives of others are building and if they have not been, I must rebuke it and own up for whatever I have said. It has been one of the most awkward and difficult endeavors I have attempted in my life, but knowing that God's plan and purpose for us is not to bring us destruction, but to prosper us and give us a hope and a future, it is the right thing to do that I must do it at all costs.

In a way, I guess that's my weakness. I'm still easily hurt by Christians, and I often put such high standards on them because I feel that as a person of God, the Heavenly Father would easily convict a person to do the things that please Him, such as honor. That's my ideal perspective. But we all know the world is not an ideal place, and every Christian is still learning to walk with God, which theoretically means some people have not reached that level of understanding or knowledge just yet. I should be more forgiving and understanding I suppose, instead of taking offense over every little thing those closest to me have said negatively. I'd still appreciate that apology though, and I feel people should stop assuming that a Christian who lacks patience now will always be a Christian who lacks patience. That isn't true, and we should stop labelling people for a certain vice, because God's duty is not to allow us to remain who we are, but to break us and mold us into better people. A painful process really, as I speak from current and past experience, but definitely worthwhile. The best we can do is to give them the benefit of the doubt, instead of predicting what their next course of action will be.

To sum it all up, the lesson learnt today is that not taking offense is part and parcel of overcoming pride. As human beings, pride is pretty much inevitable. It has always been about attaining what is in our best interests at the expense of someone else's joy. Sure, there are solutions that permit a reciprocity of benefits, but as humans we are always tempted to be dominant and to get what we want. The world is seen as a dog eat dog world, and an eye for an eye remains a key point in our relationships with others.

But what we must realize, or at least what I have realized from reading the Word is that these things that we see which build us, are the very things that destroy us. For the Bible says in Proverbs 16:18;

Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

And in James 4:6, which I find even more profound;

But he gives more grace. Therefore it says, “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.”

I'm glad I decided to write this post. Bottling up these feelings of pain and anxiety have been taxing, and I find being stuffed up in contempt just prevents us from hearing clearly the voice of God. I'm definitely hearing Him a lot clearer now as you may have picked up from some points in this post as I'm writing partly on my understanding of it all and what He has to say to what I think. I don't know if this counts as a testimony, and I surely don't know if this will connect or appeal with anyone, but I know that I'm not here to please anyone, but God. And if writing this is going to unleash worldly judgment upon me, so be it. I've done my part and I'm trusting God to take me to the next level.

If you made it to the end of this post, thank you. Thank you for staying with me. God bless you and have a splendid time ahead! Until next time :)

(F)ather (A)nd (M)other (I) (L)ove (Y)ou

You too, Mei Mei. And let's never forget my amazing Popo as well.

I don't know how anyone else would define the concept of love, or maybe I do. I know what it is they say about finding your soulmate or life partner, whichever way you want to put it and having the grand opportunity to spend the rest of your life with him or her. This message has been advocated over and over, millions of times now and again. Find someone special and you find love. Embrace the ecstasy, get comfortable, fight over a million incompatibilities and see if the entirety of this endeavor has been worth anything at all. But really, I refuse to believe that it is the only basis of love that deserves recognition.

To put my stance forward, love to me is the lengths anyone would go to put the other person first before themselves. If I recall accurately of my studies in interpersonal communication, this sort of love is known to be agape love. It's described as this godlike love, unachievable by human standards and immeasurable to the great sacrifices made by the enlightened and the divine. Yet, I refuse to believe that it cannot be fathomed by humanity nor do I condone any explicable or inexplicable reason anyone should give in order not to attempt its achievement. Perhaps my faith has risen to greater heights and many more cannot fathom let alone accept my stand, as I say this out of a recently birthed perspective.

And this, unconditional, sacrificial love, is the one I speak of when I refer to my family. It may seem inadequate for someone like me to preach something I have failed to practice for the past eighteen years of my life, but I do know what I am talking about. Having chased after the allure of romantic relationships and the seemingly blissful prospect of receiving attention from a member of the opposite sex years before this, I am very likely speaking the truth of my enlightenment on the subject as I carefully craft this paragraph. I have recently begun to question how far a distance I would go to put my family first before me and in this, to obey the Heavenly Father. I have imagined the worst misfortune that I feel could ever befall upon my family, and asked myself what I would do if such a situation occurred. I have even made mental deductions to the probabilities of their occurring and have somewhat mentally begun to arm myself so as to ward of the pains of the unexpected. I won't deny on this one, it's paranoia alright.

But I know that this is not the way. This is what manifests when I rely upon my own strength. This is what occurs when I choose to dwell on the negative than the positive. God never intended for anyone to live in despair upon encountering fears as He says in 2 Timothy 1:7 - "For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control."

So you see it there, my dear readers. Of power and love and self-control. I'm currently working on the last bit of that phrase, but that's another story. My point is, love. God gave us a spirit of love. He also clearly states in Romans 8:28 this - "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." God has been gracious to me, and merciful. He has shown me so much in the course of almost a year, and I am so grateful that He has. I've had to endure many spiritual hardships, many of those I sometimes do not see other believers undertaking. Perhaps it is my ignorance, or simply, my test to undertake. But I pull through on a number of occasions, and I know that it was through Him, not me.

Anyway, back to love, guys. So what of it do I find so enlightening that it has led to this recorded train of thought? Well, in 1 John 4:18 it says, "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." And that's that. Love destroys all fear. Someday I may have to make that sacrifice for my family. I may have to give up on some of my own dreams, such as that of going to the States, of giving a TED talk in California and even possibly the winning of a Nobel Prize. But what is all this if I don't have family? What will I make of life without the love and care of my most faithful supporters in this endurance race of making salvation worthwhile and pursuing godliness? Who can I share my joy with if not the very people who have worked so hard, who have prayed so eagerly and loved Him so faithfully all in accompaniment to my achievement of success?

And so I will, when I have to. I may have to give up everything someday because of love. But when I do, I will commit everything to Him, FEARLESSLY and UNCONDITIONALLY.

Tribute

"The business of life is the acquisition of memories. And in the end, that's all there is."

— Carson, Downton Abbey

I do apologize for not coming up with a proper post since finals ended. Earnestly, I've been telling myself to go ahead and let the words spill out of my mind, but I've been so caught up in a frenzy of emotions that I cannot bring myself to write as fervently as I'd like to.

Anyhow, these pictures I've posted up weren't solely for the purpose of strolling down memory lane — they are a tribute to the late Uncle Poe, who passed away peacefully two days ago. I've never had a penchant for relatives as they were to me more of a nuisance, and I guess you could say it was difficult to get across the ideals of collectivism and filial piety through that thick, individualistic skull (mindset) of mine, but learning of his death was no easy feat. Uncle Poe was one of the closest I've known as part of my vast, intricate web of extended family members. He was a kind and loving man, and was quick to be generous to each and every one of us, his niece and nephews. He was there every Chinese New Year, and he'd always have something interesting for us to do in the midst of the mutilating boredom. He provided the very bundle of joy, my cousin Christine 8 years ago, and while I don't always like spending time playing childish games, she is somewhat still a darling to me. I may not know what lies in the recesses of Uncle Poe's heart, but what I know upon surface value was good and it will remain as such.

You were a good man, Uncle. I won't talk about what comes after life, for the fear that I may disintegrate the good memories made, but I pray you rest in peace. You will be missed.