Not enough

It feels to me that this isn't enough.

I try to explain the concepts best as I can, and she agrees, but I don't know if she understands. I don't know if she thinks about them, because she doesn't seem to be terribly surprised. And terribly surprised is always a good thing.

When she does come up with a statement that contradicts the truth of the gospel, I immediately jump at it and try to explain. But as I open my mouth I realize I don't know if what I say is right either. I know what's presented is a farce, but I can't find a counter and I don't want to cause more damage.

Transference. I don't want transference. I just want the gospel preached and that's it.

I feel like I should be putting in more effort. I should be doing more than last minute recaps for two hours worth of theological expounding. Yet I don't. I swipe up on my News Feed, laughing at stupid cat videos. I tap on links to that Forever 21 sale with free shipping and spend hours trying to draw myself back from purchasing anything, only to do just that. I look at flight deals online hoping to score one that'll get me out of blasted Abilene and decide in the end I don't have enough money.

But I have no concern for the Word.

I wish there was someone here to guide me, to mentor me, but I don't. I am encouraged everyday 9000 miles away from here, but satellite-sent speech isn't the same as one's positive, pervasive presence. Something tells me I should be back there, but I am selfishly wishing I could take everyone with me to America. But I can't, and there's work to be done back home too.

I would wish it weren't that complex, but I'm starting to get a jist of what life is - complex. It's not suppose to be easy, and if it were, I doubt I'd want anything to do with it. It's funny how I pray for kingdom come, though I wish there was more I could do here. Who do I pledge my allegiance to, really?

I know I said I missed people back home. I miss her, and her, and her, and her, and her, and him, and him. I really do. But if I leave, I'll also miss this, and this, and this, and this, and that and that. When I'm home, I'm limited. I'll be a child again, I'll be in a cage again. I'll have expectations to succumb to, my overthinking might culminate into flesh and bones.

But here, I am free.

Or at least that's what it looks like.

I don't know really and I'm flustered.

Parallel

So this must be what it feels like staying in a relationship that neither party cares about anymore.

You want to put in effort, and you try, but time and time again, you find yourself shying away from approaching the other party because you're afraid. You had thought that by putting money on this, you'd have been wise - chaining yourself so you'd fulfill your obligations. But that's all it really is, obligation. You're there in body, but your spirit is gone. You don't know who they are anymore, and you ask yourself if this is worth it. Maybe, this is the end. It's time to give up.

So what's holding you back?

But quitting means losing a sense of belonging and efficacy. All you hear in your hollow head are replays of "At least it looks like I'm doing something with my life", overwhelming you over and over again. And what if things get better? What if I get better, what if I try harder?

But you don't.

And the other party. It's not like they care. They notice when you're gone, when you're not there. And they ask. But they still expect you to put your foot forward and fulfill their demands - demands you had somewhat deceived yourself into thinking were mutual desires you both had, a semester ago, when you entered into this relationship. You had expected something from it, but you reasoned that what they wanted was noble, and so you wanted it too.

And you didn't get it.

So why are you still holding on?

You're not really into this, and you never really were anyway. Your excuses are all made up and hold no water - you think by appearing in selfies and showing up for dates that you were still a thing, but you're not. It's all empty. It's all pretty, but it's all for show. It's a facade, a facade that pathetically masks the true nature of your parasitical penchant.

You want to reap the benefits, but you don't want to work for it. Or you think you can't, because it's too hard. It's too brutal. Is it really all that worth it? Is this the only way, to stay? Isn't there another way to be better apart from this?

Again, it's still about you. Ugh, you are tired of it being about you and your fickle, narrow mind.

What about that dress that you bought, thinking you'd wear it someday for the formal occasion? It will hang in your closet for a long time. It will run out of style by the time the next one comes along, and you'd have to buy a new one. And that dress will collect dust, and remain between the unworn, oversized blazers and wooly mammoth sweaters. Oh dear, what do you do?

It's just a dress.

There's no reason to stay. There's no reason to hold onto something you know you are not going to do anything about anyway. Why invest time and energy without purpose, without meaning? Just give it up and move on.

So I will move on. There's plenty of fish in the sea.

It was a nice idea, having service and community rolled into one fraternity. But that's all it will be to me, a nice idea.

I'm sorry, APO. I'm leaving.

Video update: Church

I don't think I've specifically updated anyone on here about my churching issues, but hey, this should probably answer some of those questions. Here I talk about what I learned from church and what my church is like.

I decided on a video format because honestly it takes lesser time to talk (although yes that's half an hour) but my dear, I spend hours on end crafting a written post, so this would've been the faster alternative.

I hope this answers some questions, and yeah, feel free to PM me if there's anything I need to clarify or expound further on. Let me know how I can pray for you guys as well, yeah?

Peace out.

What am I doing here?

The same question permeated my mind, yet again.

"What am I doing here?"

In 2012, I made the decision to pursue my education in the U.S. After my SPM trials, I signed up for ADP with my SPM forecast results, with a plan to do my first two years here and finish up the remaining two years abroad.

Once out of the penitentiary they called high school, I was on fire. The sparks of dissension that I'd kept inside for eleven years in conformity to the education system had been fan into flames, and I was convinced it could not be put out. Having been told by countless teachers that psychology was a degree attained in vain, with no credible prospects, I was determined to prove them wrong. I wanted to show them that I was the real deal, that I was truly passionate about psychology and all those other numbskulls just weren't doing it right and in not doing so, were tarnishing the name of those who actually took the profession seriously.

And so I had college all planned out - get into a good undergraduate psychology program in an accredited university and graduate with highest honors, use those credentials for a good clinical psychology program in graduate school and graduate with a Masters, and then perhaps do a PhD. And once I was done with school, I'd come home and save Malaysia from moral decay, with whatever that I'd learned. I had plans, and I was convinced they'd come to fruition.

But it is God who directs our steps.

"What am I doing here?"

A day ago, I was walking back to the apartment with some of the international students, who were having a conversation about careers. Somehow during the conversation, one of the guys mentioned that the corporate world was a bitter place. Having sentiments of my own regarding the prospect, naturally, I spoke.

"This is why I don't want to work in the corporate world. I'd rather just be a part of clergy. Well, that's not that easy either, but at least I'm doing the work of the kingdom. I really don't know what I'm doing here. I should be in a seminary studying theology."

I couldn't be gladder for the silence that ensued and the fork that split our paths. I bid the guys farewell and took off.

This was not, the first instance, that I'd uttered something like that amongst the crowd I was with.

Over the course of three months back in Malaysia, the mystery of the gospel was revealed to me. Yet, God's plan of redemption did not begin so recently. I had already spent a year of struggling with church and my discovery of the God of the Bible through Christian Fellowship. I spent five months taking New Testament Survey, and learned to see the significance of Jesus in a way I never had before. And when I returned home over the summer, I was able to plug back into CF and study Colossians, and attend a different church, where gradually, the gospel began to unfold and the picture became clear to me. When I understood the sovereignty of God in His saving work, and the greater picture of God's plan of reconciliation, Scripture began to make sense. When I saw the sufficiency of the work of the incarnate word and the inscripturated word, I realized I had lived a life of pride and self-righteousness - of rebellion. Repentance was in order, and I was renewed. And yet, I am continually being renewed.

I had tasted the goodness of the Lord. I couldn't imagine going back to a life lived out of selfish ambition, no matter how inclined I was to succumb to it.

On one hand, a great weight was lifted off my shoulders. I could see the power of the Cross, and trust in God's sanctifying work in my life. On the other, I was perturbed. I had made many decisions out of selfish ambition, and well, the costly dream of studying in the U.S. was one of them. While my heart may have changed, I still had to face the consequences of my decision. At this point, I wanted so badly to remain in Malaysia and devote the rest of my life towards ministry, because there was a lot of work in preaching the gospel that had to be done at home. But I could not bring myself to do it, because while I could disregard the pains I had taken to be halfway across the world, I could not dismiss my parents' sacrifices. They'd paid so much to have me here. They'd worked so hard, even when they didn't have to, just so I could achieve this, well, dream. I needed to take responsibility for my actions, because I needed to honor God by honoring my parents too. It seemed like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

For a while I felt like I was living with the consequences of my actions, that this was second best, since I'd chosen self over God prior to this. I wondered to myself why I'd discovered the gospel at such a time as this, where it seemed to be a crucial transition point in my life. I wasn't ending something or beginning something new. I am halfway through college, and there are expectations I need to live up to. I couldn't very well choose to drop out of college, not after I'd convinced my entire family that I was certain of my orientation in life.

"What am I doing here?"

I realize it is truly by the grace of God that I am here. Today, I am reminded that the sovereign Lord has known this and let this occur for a reason. And because He is sovereign, He is using my mistakes, the steps I take, to work out His plan, for His glory. That's truly something to be thankful for.

I had social psychology class this morning. We were learning about the self, and at this point my professor was holding a discussion about self-esteem. He was using the example of a speaker at convocation, who was going on and on about how God needs "you" and wants "you" to be lifted up as a person for His glory. While he didn't believe that it was completely untrue that God does use people for His glory, my professor was rather disturbed that there was so much emphasis on God needing us, rather than us needing Him. Such language promoted the elevation of the self, rather than God, and exposed the true state of Christianity in the hearts and minds of the American people. They'd wanted God, church and morale, and yet they'd wanted individualism, capitalism and right to bear arms. But they couldn't have both, and well, my professor just put it out there plainly.

However, while he'd said that, he also said that "I don't agree with preaching that completely elevates the self, and neither do I agree with preaching that considers us rubbish, or the scum of the earth." I saw his point, but I couldn't really agree with that. So I timidly raised up my hand.

"We are rubbish. We are scum. But the thing is, we are saved by grace. We are nothing, but God's grace on us changes that - it gives us hope. So I don't think it's completely right to say we're not rubbish because we are, but the point is not that it leads to hopeless despair. It's the understanding that God has redeemed us and therefore we live a life of humility and hope, knowing it is His grace that gets us through."

And when he asked about our perception of self-esteem, yet again I gave input. A girl before me had explained that it is good to have some amount of self-esteem, with the story of how she was raised in a Christian family that taught her that no one was any entitled or special, that all were saved by grace and, but that because of that same grace also, we were able to do whatever we had to do. I agreed with that, but I wouldn't have called it self-esteem, I opined. As Christians, if we truly live by the grace of God, we wouldn't be surviving on account of confidence in ourselves, but confidence in God.

It was probably a radical thing to say, because at the end of class, a girl came up to me and introduced herself. She was thankful that I'd been bold enough to speak up for what I believed in, and saw that even in a psychology class that God was present and sovereign. I thanked her for telling me that, and yes, I spent the entire day pondering.

So why is this important?

While I was back in Malaysia, there was a point where I contemplated aborting operation and just remaining home, because I had heard from my peers the stories of their comrades aborting their mission by being abroad. They've had friends who went to the U.S., who were extremely convinced that missions could take place abroad, only to realize that Americans are a difficult bunch to evangelize to. Some realized the futility of the endeavor, while others were sucked into the cycle of complacency, that remains to many Christian college students, a constant threat.

On one hand, I was afraid. Would I get sucked in too? On the other hand, I was bent on staying hardcore - I'd stay connected with people back home as fervently as I could, I'd find a good Reformed church here and find community to be accountable with and I'd build relationships with people who I know could be a potential disciple, and help them learn the bible. Having chosen to continue here, I had to go with the latter. I was going to persevere, and I wasn't going to let those "liberal Americans" get to me.

With that mindset, I had painted a bleak picture for myself. I convinced myself that Americans were all alike - that none of them were real Christians to begin with (ugh, liberals lol). I reasoned that the local church was horrifying in their theology and doctrine, and were hopeless. I thought of life here as a bad dream, all while waiting to graduate and be completely free to partake of the obedience of faith for the rest of my life. Like yes lah, right, follow Jesus for the rest of my life, onz wehh. All this other stuff rubbish weh. But until then, I'm going to have to keep fighting for the Truth and remain hostile to sin.

The past week saw me slip up, by forgetting God's sovereignty in my life and ceasing to trust Him to be faithful even when I was not. But today reminded me God is in fact in control, even if I forget that He is. I'd skipped the possibility that God has His chosen people here in America too, and I'd ceased to give them the benefit of the doubt. I thought capitalism and individuality had swallowed everyone (lol). I assumed all people think church is just about being good, and they know nothing else, and well, that was "common sense".Guess I was wrong, and well, I was glad to be, this time.

I can be so stupid. But praise God that He knows what He's doing at all times and is merciful upon a feeble human being like me!

It's not going to get easier from this point on. It's the second week of class and I'm already finding myself having to live up to the faith that I profess with my mouth and have tattooed on my heart. I realize I need to be discerning in my speech, so that all things may be done for His glory. Yet, I know that there are some things that just need to be said, and they typically will be offensive and controversial, because the word of God is alive and active, and sharper than any two-edged sword, cutting through the soul and spirit, joint and marrow. But this is how we work out our salvation and preach the gospel, be it in class or on the pulpit.

"What am I doing here?"

I think I'm beginning to have a sense of what it means to be Christian now. It's some badass shit. And you never know what'll happen to you in America. I could get gunned down for offending someone (thank you Texas).

But no matter how pee-in-my-pantsy-feely I get, I'm just gonna have to trust God and continue to preach Christ crucified.

Home

I'm going home for the summer, and I'm not sure why.

Three months ago, when I booked those tickets home, I had so many things on my mind.  I would switch my probationary driving license for a competent driving license. I would go to Cambodia for a few weeks, then spend the rest of summer in an internship program. I would start video project with one of my church friends back home to share the stories of fellow Malaysians who have been in the United States. I would travel to Ipoh and Penang, hopefully with good company. I would find a reason to go hiking, and hopefully find people who would embark on these adventures (real ones, not merely food ones) with me. I would also make it a point to visit churches in the vicinity of KL, and hopefully hear from the Lord about the decision to be a part of a different church.

But right now, I feel so empty. I know for a fact that this happens when I'm in a period of transition. I just finished my first semester and all the friends I made in the past few months are graduating. I've also gotten so accustomed to life in West Texas that I find it all so strange just returning back to Malaysia. I feel like I've grown and learned so much here, that I'm afraid when I go home, I'll lose the progress I've made.

Yet, I guess I really shouldn't be afraid. Come to think of it, what do I really cherish and put my hope in? My own ability? My knowledge of my horrendous ability to deal with minors? The convenience of life in the U.S.? The bible classes I've taken? The benevolence of my peers?

No. It's Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.

It seems like there's just so much I'm taking on, and I'm afraid I won't make it. On the other hand, I feel like I might make all these things a priority that I would forget the one I choose to glorify in my doing.

As these things are revealed to me, I'm scared. The closer I draw to God, the further I realize, I am from Him. As I take on this journey of faith, I have come to realize there is no end point. There is no utter perfection. We are given grace and the power of the Holy Spirit to discern and stay away from sin, but we are not completely void of it. We are still in our earthly bodies.

And in that, I've realized that I need God. I can never do it on my own. To rely on myself and do it on my own would be to diminish the power of the cross, which is eminent through our weakness. Yet, in all occasions, prior, present and future, God is always glorified. His glory is never magnified, because it is in itself, magnificent. But it is revealed as such in his righteousness, in his judgment and in his showing of grace to us.

So I'm confused. I'm tearful. I'm on a 20 hour flight tomorrow (including the layover) and I'm not sure what to expect. I might get off the plane, I might not. And if do I step out of the plane, I only know there will be humidity and the presence of my family members, but I do not know what else lies ahead of me. I know there are plans I have made, but I do not know if they will ever come to fruition.

Yet I am assured that God has it all in His hands, for His great purpose.

I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I know who holds tomorrow.

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.

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.

Approaching 2AM

I'm not jetlagged. It makes no sense, since I've been here for three months now.

Yet each night's rest doesn't come easy. I find myself asleep in the end, but it's not a given. I could stay up and still be okay. And in the afternoons, I'm not always wide awake. I always fight the urge to fall asleep.

It's like I've let myself halfway through the door, and left one foot behind. And I've been stuck there since.

I guess I must miss home very much, even if I don't believe it myself.

Evolution

The Vivian of two years ago would not have done what I just did in this past week.

She would not have had the courage to ask anyone if she could be a part of something they were a part of. She would have thought too much about things that she just never ended up getting anything done, because she was scared. She would have questioned her motives, and when the pressure kicked in, blame someone else for her own misfortunes.

Vivian is evolving.

I refuse to curl up into a ball in my bed and forget about this world, like I once did. I refuse to blame someone else for the things that don't go right in life. I will cry when I am sad and laugh when I am happy, but I will move on when I have to. I will be brave and ask questions, because it doesn't matter what people think of me, or what I think of myself.

I was put here on this earth for a reason, and as such I'd better give it all up for my Creator. If I truly live for Him and Him alone, the rest of this I should count as loss.

It's been a struggle. I don't seem to have consistency in my daily devotions, if that's what one calls a great relationship with God. I've been struggling with loving people, because each time I try and trust someone to look out for me in this strange land called America, they mess it up.

But Christ died for us while we were still sinners. I am grateful for the gift of Jesus, for my salvation. I am overwhelmed by my God's grace and mercy, that led to my redemption. It's just not worth it. It's not worth holding onto anyone's rights or wrongs, because in the end, we are all broken people, saved by a loving and merciful God.

That also pretty much means, it's not by what I do or what I say that determines how God loves me. God loves me because He chose to love me. He chose to love all of us. By what God has done, He's altered the world in both cosmic and personal measures.

And that's what I choose to focus on.

When memories die hard

"We treat them with exposure therapy, to prevent avoidance behavior. To overcome, they shouldn't have to go around it or avoid it, they need to go through it and learn that it's okay."

This is one of the toughest lessons I've had to learn - to not run away.

I guess I thought I was doing great back home, but I really just wasn't. I had occupied my time with church and my hipster cafe job so I wouldn't have to spend hours thinking about my problems, my unforgiveness.

But now I have nothing.

Sure I have to study and do my homework, but when I get so tired and my mind cries out for rest, I drift off. I've lost count of the number of times I've drifted back to Malaysia and replaying the events of last year in my head, only to be awakened when my professor asks a question. Even when I pay attention to my class, I somehow end up drifting back to the past and a lot of it back there really hurts.

Abnormal psych hasn't been an easy class. Academically I'm doing really well (like honestly I haven't gotten a 100 in a test since I left primary school), but mentally I tend to get pretty distracted and depressed on some days. When I learn about the mental disorders that people are diagnosed with and how they're being offered treatment for it, I get angry. I think about that one time my youth pastor remarked that "Psych majors like to dramatize everything" and I almost drop an F-bomb mentally.

I remember the time I talked about my problems and told him I was going for psychotherapy. He immediately got alarmed and thought I was going to be on drugs, though I sure as hell wasn't. He said I should've sought spiritual help. The thing is, I did and it didn't help at all.

What was I suppose to do then? I had issues and I wanted to deal with it, so I could overcome them and be the person God had created me to be, without the anxiety and the anger. My parents got my vote and they even went with me for therapy and it helped, though only briefly, because I came here.

I find it strange that someone would think that I had never reached out to the church. I have, but all I tend to receive is nothing but criticism for "overreacting" or "taking it too seriously". I was tired of hearing the thoughts in my head go "Oh, I'll come along" when I felt miserable and wanted to deal with it. Also, I understand that putting my focus in serving others and loving others did help, but it still couldn't destroy years of self-conditioning, which made me mistrust everyone and not be vulnerable to anyone. I've made progress, but even so, these things still go on and take time.

I was so mad. And a part of me, still is mad, though I've declared time and time again that I forgive him for saying such things out of ignorance.

There is this girl in my class who asked my professor this once, "How can you tell if it is a psychological disorder or a spiritual or demonic thing?" My professor couldn't give a proper answer, but his best bet was that if the disorder does not go away even after treatment, he would refer them for pastoral care or something of the sort. He didn't diminish those possibilities, but said that we'd have to be careful about how we diagnose things.

This mentality just doesn't exist in church back home, especially a charismatic Pentecostal one. There is so much emphasis on miracles, signs and wonders that people find the thought of considering secular medical or mental health care as the prime option is close to sin. People don't seem to think that perhaps God might want to heal a person through medical means. I know it took my mum ages to realize that I needed more help than just counselling at church, or to just go to some healing service or prophetic event. I don't doubt that God works through these events, but I do believe that we must consider the possibility that God might work through other means as well.

I think people just don't see how serious things are. Say, if this was domestic violence, how would you counsel someone who's going through that? During my gender psych class, I got to hear clips of pastors who suggested that women went to the elders and leaders of the church in order for them to deal with their abusive boyfriends or husbands. Worse still, I heard a clip of a pastor who even told the woman to undergo the abuse for a season, and pray about it until he repented. I found it more appalling that they had even said, "It depends on the level of abuse." What on earth does that even mean?! ABUSE IS ABUSE. If what we do unto our neighbor is what we do unto God, would that person not have sinned for even abusing that person? It was not meant for anyone to just continue to be abused. Now that I think about it, it's insane. It's insane that a prestigious church leader would allow that to happen, and it makes you question where the church is headed to with such ignorant talk.

I'm not saying my situation is as bad as domestic violence. I'm not saying that I need to be pitied and the whole world needs to be at my aid. I'm saying that my problem is real, and I had every right to get help, and well, even my parents gave their blessing. My mum has become more open minded and now she sees why a field like psychology even exists. It exists because it helps people overcome, it helps people grow. We might disagree on a lot of things, but I'm glad we're on the same page when it comes to this.

Being here has been insane for me, emotionally and mentally. Now that I don't have a hectic schedule that drowns away my sorrows, I have to deal with my problems. I need to deal with my lacking walk with God. I suddenly have time to hear the voice of the world and the voice of the enemy.

But I thank God that I can also hear His beautiful voice. I thank God that the Holy Spirit has never left, even when I don't feel like it. Even without the worship team blasting Jesus Culture and a 30 minute long session of glossolalia, I feel His presence here. I know His presence and oh, it leaves me in awe. I try hard not to bawl in church because people here are a lot more conservative but it's hard. God's presence just enters and I cry, because I can feel it. It's crazy.

So don't ever tell me other denominations aren't spirit filled. That's a whole lot of loony going on there. GOD IS OMNIPRESENT. And the Holy Spirit surely is, because the Spirit is the Spirit of God.

Right now, I'm struggling. I'm struggling hard. I'm not gonna lie and pretend that I'm having a blast every single day, because I'm not. I go through pain. That's not to say that I'm ungrateful. I am blessed to be here. I am very, very blessed and I do not regret it at all. Going to the U.S. has been a dream I have always wanted to fulfill and God made it all happen. He placed this desire in my heart, and I can see a little bit of why he did that now.

He wants me to overcome. He wants my mind, to renew it so I may be transformed.

I cried out to Him today, afraid of ever returning to Malaysia. When I think of the people who have hurt me, I am angry. I wonder how I will ever serve him if I ever step foot into my church ever again. Won't I only drown in hatred and things would return to how they were?

But God is faithful. I choose to believe that God will give me whatever it takes to overcome. I will keep on forgiving them, and I will be able to love these people again with a pure heart, some day. I will overcome my anxiety - my heart will cease to palpitate with every class discussion, and I will not feel sad anymore despite being in a crowd of people.

Yet, with all these troubles, Paul's words come to mind,

"So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

- 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Psycholo-geez

It's been more than a month now since I started college. I think it's suffice to say that I've met people from various walks of life, and I have friends I could talk to, although I'm still a little reserved. I guess time will take its course and I'll grow deeper in my friendships with people.

Most of the people that I've become friends with so far, aren't my classmates. You'd think that since I see these people, every day I'd be friends with them, right? WRONG. Firstly, most people in my classes already have their own group of friends and they've been there for a while to know one another and feel no inclination to befriend that unfamiliar Asian girl sitting right in front of class. Secondly, people here are fast. Yes, they move very quickly. When lectures end, people are out of the door in seconds. I'm always the last person there, and well, yes it's awkward, but well, it's sad too, because then I'd have no one I could talk to, just to get to know them. I did make one friend in class, but that's pretty much my success rate, which really isn't successful at all. But oh well, I tried and I'm content.

Instead, I make friends at the cafeteria. Typically, I don't have plans to go to lunch or dinner with anyone, except for the one friend I made in my gender psych class, whose company I really enjoy, but apart from that, I usually just go in and sit with people I recognize. To be fair, I did meet a couple of people during orientation and so I sat with those people first, but then they had their friends and once I got to know them, I got to sit with them too even if the people I'd met first weren't there. It makes perfect sense. That's how I've been social with people in these past couple of weeks, by sitting with people and just talking to everyone.

A few weeks ago, I decided to sit with a friend I had met at the caf from sitting with other people and as usual, I met some new faces. My friend introduced me to some of them, including this girl, C, who was a junior and taking classes to enter physical therapy school. She seemed pretty quiet, but I said hi to her anyway and then she said hi too. Still being pretty awkward, I didn't converse with her much, though I did talk to the people I already knew. The conversation was mostly about college and some other things, and then I shared a little about my struggle of fitting in and how strange my classes were.

As I talked to my friend, other people on the table tuned into our conversation, including C. Realizing that C was paying attention, I took a more inclusive approach with the group and shared with everyone about how I felt, but more particularly with C. My friend had told me that she'd been here long enough to know quite a bit, and so I made it a point to get her opinion. Seeing that she was looking right at me anyway, I directed my question to her, about how classes were in general, but I didn't mention her name.

But she didn't respond. She kept looking at me, but she didn't say anything. At first I thought she might've been thinking, but after an awkward silence, I wasn't sure what to make of it, and so I turned toward someone else and asked that person instead. I got my question answered, but I was still wondering why she hadn't responded to my question. She was looking right at me, so she would have known I was talking to her. Nevertheless, I just shrugged it off, thinking maybe she was distracted.

After we met for the first time, I began noticing her in the Caf more often. Sometimes I'd say hi and sit with her, along with some others. And again, during conversations, she held the same look, the same gaze, or stare, whatever you might want to call it, when people spoke. Occasionally, people would ask her questions and she would answer them, but when the conversation was generally about anything and everything, she was mostly silent, although she did add to it once in a while. Sometimes I'd ask questions and she'd answer them too, though not without some form of silence at first.

I also began noticing C around campus. Once a friend and I had bumped into her, and we ended up having small talk with her. Other times, I alone saw her, and I'd say hi. It took her a while to reply though, and I wondered if that might have been because she didn't remember me, or did not consider me close enough to say hi. A couple of times after that, I guess I saw her but I decided I wouldn't say hi because well, it was awkward.

But now I feel bad, because I just found out why.

I was just browsing the news section on the college website when I stumbled across an article of an interview of C. I'd known she was an athlete by the clothes she often wore, but I didn't quite know what she did and what was it that was so special about her that she landed an interview for the news section.

She's blind, and she has been, for most of her life.

It all began to make sense. She couldn't see me, and so she couldn't respond, or would take longer to if she noticed me somehow. She could look right at the person who was talking because she had a good auditory sense, but she could not know for sure, sometimes.

I feel horrible. I feel stupid, actually. How could I not have realized she was blind? And all this time, I thought she was just strange, and didn't want to acknowledge me somehow.

Man, I was blind. To the disabled. To everything. Well, I could tell if someone was physically impaired, but I could never tell if someone was intellectually challenged. I just assumed they were strange characters, but I never saw mental disorders as part of the reason why.

And to think that I'm an aspiring clinical psychologist. I must be crazy.

But really, I think she just helped me see. I see now that the world is a more diverse place than I'd ever imagined. I see now that people are truly different, not just in the color of their skin or in their age, but even in their functional ability. I'd never been in a school that catered the needs of the disabled, but now I have, and it's amazing. It's great that I am part of a school that includes everyone and gives all people a chance to have an education, and I notice things I probably would've overlooked in the past. I see now why toilets seem abnormally larger than I would envision - it's so a wheelchair could come through. I see now why there are walkways around campus - it's so the blind can navigate and know where they are going.

I see that these people are very much like you and me, just different in some ways. They might be missing a limb, or their eyesight, or even their intellectual capacity, but they aren't lacking as a human being.

They can live life as fully as we can, if not fuller.

Wow.

Emosi

I'm starting to think my cynicism back in Malaysia is starting to turn on me.

I guess I deserve that, and I just gotta make do with it.

But then again, why am I taking this personally?

I don't know this guy. All I know is that he's just being cynical and seems like a pretty off-putting guy who doesn't give a damn about anything else other than for himself to be right. Yet again, I'm being counterproductive by giving him credit for that.

Take it to God, Vivian. You can't let this disease linger within you.

Hate is a horrible thing. Bitterness eats you up. Resentment will only get to you and make you a horrible person.

Don't let one stupid thing put you off. You can't keep pretending you follow Jesus if you don't have what the Word says in you. Hide His word in your heart, Viv.

Stop pretending. Let Jesus fill you up, instead of looking like you're full when inside you're empty. Hide in His wing. Cry out to Him. Let Him be your guide, let Him judge.

Yes, I am angry. But I also have a God who loves me.

Let Him decide my case.

2B or not 2B

I didn't come to America just to study.

Sure, I came as a student, but in the grand scale of things, I don't believe that this is the only reason why God has sent me here. I know I've always wanted to come to the States and take on their education system, but I'm more than convinced that this is not the sole purpose of my presence.

There's gotta be more than this.

It's been three weeks now since I first landed in America, and my first week here as a student in Texas has officially come to an end. It's strange, really. It feels like I've been here forever, like I've left home so long that I've just become a slightly different person. I feel like if I tried to drive here, I'd probably screw it up. I mean sure, the roads here are in the opposite direction and nothing here works exactly like it does back home, but I don't know if I'll lose my ability to use a car. It feels funny not driving, not knowing where things are and getting to them as quickly as I want to like I did back home.

So I've cried. Not as much as I'd expected to, but I've shed some tears. I miss home. I miss being able to have conversations with my mum after she gets back from work. I miss being able to pour out my heart and soul to her, and cry it all out and argue with her and shout in my room until I come to my sense and realized just how loved I am at home and that I should just calm down for Christ's sake. I miss knocking on muizies' door and running right back into my room with the door slammed shut just to irritate the heck out of her. And I miss that when I do go into her room, I end up complaining about everything, and having us both light up when we agree on the things that piss us off so much. I miss having my dad knock on my door just to check on me, or pass me money and trying so hard to make conversation when we both know we very much prefer silence over anything else.

I miss being able to wake up at 10AM and walking straight down to the kitchen, upon the aroma of fried sardines and ABC soup. I miss driving my grandma to Pasaraya to get ingredients for lunch and dinner, and just talking to her in the car and still talk to her even when we get home. I regret always playing with my phone when my grandma is saying something, because I know it was probably important but I chose not to pay attention anyway. But I thank God I paid attention to her stories, the accounts of what her childhood and youth was like, and even her adult life. I miss listening to her stories about Gong Gong and those about my mum and my aunts in their childhood.

My grandma. I miss my grandma. I loved how she could love so freely, because God's love was so in her that it couldn't help but overflow. I miss just having her dish out scripture after scripture to me as I went on and on about my problems, because that's when I knew the Holy Spirit was there with us, at the dining table and he's got it all covered.

I'd better stop, lest I shed tears again. My roommate is watching a movie right in front of me and I really don't want to bother her with my emotional tendencies, heh.

While I'm aware that my being here encompasses studying and making disciples of all nations etc., I'm not so sure specifically what I'm called to do here. Again, with the strange feels I have about this place. Since I got here, I've only been to two churches, and well, they're both a place of worship I'm not quite used to. It's a lot more solemn and still in baptist churches here than in my home church. It's not bad or anything, and well, they're good churches, but I'm just finding it hard to get used to. In fact, I'm constantly trying not to impose my own understanding of what church is to me on these churches I've been to. I really thank God I was led to CF in Taylor's, because at least I know now how to look at these things and still see the glory of God wherever I am, no matter how far things appear to be from the norms I've been assigned to all this while.

But yes, I do find it hard to adjust to things here. From lousy HB graphite replacing 2B pencils to interchanges between Fahrenheit and Celcius, this glove is definitely one-sized and does NOT fit all.

That's not to say that things haven't been going great here though. I've been extremely BLESSED.

Since I came to Texas, people here have been nothing but friendly. I am amazed at how hospitable and kind everyone is, it's crazy (for someone like me who is terribly cynical about the world, YES THEY ARE ABSOLUTELY CRAZY NICE!). And that's just one way God has shown His love for me. I know God loves us as much as He loves the next person, but I'm learning now just how His love is so personal, so real and so BIG. I see it so clearly now, every day of my life and everywhere I am right here in this small town in West Texas.

I have not lacked anything from the day I stepped foot into this country, and I am extremely grateful for that. For one, I don't have to worry about food at all. I know the Caf would be closed on certain hours during the weekend or the public holiday and I'd have to buy myself food. Yet, so far I haven't had a problem with that. I would never run out of people to offer me a ride to get food, or even a place where I could get free food. It's CRAZY! The same goes with getting rides to Walmart, or finding people to have lunch with, or going to church, or even just for plain conversation. I've even found a roommate who I have quite a bit in common with, and I find that pretty cool. She's not too crazy, and I think we complement each other quite well as roommates. We typically study a lot and have things we can talk about (although we mostly do our own thing). She's not OCD about keeping the room kempt all the time and she likes coffee. Oh and she's Indian (American, but Indian nonetheless), and so we do have our Indian food cravings more than anything. I still find it hard to believe I have a roommate that will not induce trichotillomania within me (of course that's a bit more towards to the scientifically abnormal side of things and is not the kind of hair pulling girls do when they hate each other lol).

I have been blessed, I have been given more than I could ever hope to receive and I have learned quite a bit about myself from coming here. I've learned that I need to be responsible from myself, but that responsibility does need equal total independence. I cannot endorse self-pity, and expect people to be responsible for how I feel or the decisions I make; but I can draw wisdom from them if mine is insufficient because God puts people in my life for a reason. I need to be able to take care of myself, but when I can't manage, I know I can get help from others. People here are more than happy to help (I absolutely love this about living in the South!) and won't take it personally if I don't understand or doubt what they're saying. I choose to trust people, but I still am discern in choosing those I trust. Each day, I am convinced of this truth - I cannot use the same model of how to navigate life that I employed back home, to do life here in the forty acres.

God is teaching me new things every single day, and I am eager to learn. And He gives me new mercies every morning to overcome, regardless of the circumstances (and the cold).

Yet the question still begs to be answered - What am I doing here?

Only God knows. And the only way I'll ever find out, is to spend time with Him. Moments of silence and concentration are really hard to come by. When I lived alone, it was hard even focusing on God; but now that I have a roommate, I hardly ever find a conducive place where I can come before God and have a quiet time with Him. I guess I'll just have to work that out. God is omnipresent and He is sovereign, so that shouldn't be an excuse for not communing with the Heavenly Father.

To conclude, here's a scripture you might be immune to from having heard it countless times as a Christian (or maybe your Christian friend has mentioned). I had a "Wow" moment when it was quoted in Selma, a film of the late Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, who fought for the civil rights of the African American people during the 60s. Not sure if it's in Malaysia, but if it is, go watch it. It is AWESOME!

SPOILER ALERT:

This was quoted when Dr. King and his fellow activists were imprisoned after supposedly causing a scene in one of their peaceful protests at the courthouse in Selma, Alabama. He was really discouraged, and was worried about what would happen to the movement if he'd been killed. However, Ralph Abernathy turns to King and says,

"Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?"And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?"

- Matthew 6:26-27

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.

Welcome to America

It’s been a week now since I landed here in New York, in the U.S. of A. It’s been exciting, just experiencing the culture and visiting world-renowned places first hand; not via TLC on Astro or some media-inclined stereotypical interpretation of America.

Getting connected with my relatives definitely gave me a glimpse of what the country has to offer. My grandaunt and her family offered a tonne of insight into New York and generally, life in America. Although, they moved to the States a few decades ago, their enthusiasm for the place they’ve called home hasn’t faltered. My granduncle certainly hasn’t hesitated in sharing his love for America. He kept going on and on about what a great place the States is and how it made him feel over breakfast this morning. To reiterate (and translate from Cantonese to English) his point, America is a place that makes him happy. America offers many things, material and non-material; both of which fulfilled man’s desire to be well, happy.

“You can do anything here. In America, you are free to become who you want to be.”

They said I was a genius to have chosen to study in America. Well, I guess I’d have to agree (c’mon they be complimentin’ my decision makin’ skills whaddup).

On the other hand, this same liberty I am learning to embrace is equally as daunting. Given that America is definitely notches higher in the liberalism scale than in Malaysia, things are bound to get crazy (on the grand Malaysian scale of things, that is). Suddenly the sky isn’t the limit anymore.  And if I choose to be terribly negative and not focus on the hope that is in Jesus, limit ceases to exist in the pre-existing thoughts and vocabulary of people here.

Things probably differ from state to state, but people here in New York are pretty vociferous. You could be as loud as you’d like here, and it’d be “your right” to do so. People might raise an eyebrow or have their attention stolen for a second or two, but generally, people don’t care much. Americans are pretty vocal about everything; they’d tell you to get out of the way if you were in it and it’d be okay. If you were being a douche on the road and taking up way too much parking space when you could have moved forward by a few inches so another car could slide into a spot (true story bro), they’d say it to your face how douche-y you are, and more. Well, I guess I’d expected vulgarity every now and then, but I’m still quite taken aback by how “okay” everything can be. Sometimes it just seems like there aren’t any rules here, like you could do what you want and measure it against your own moral and ethical rule.

To me, this begged a question. A question easily answered, but a question nonetheless. And you  know how much I like asking questions. How would I then know how far is too far? When then will things be okay, and how will I know if I’ve made the right choice?

That’s why Jesus came, and when he left, the Holy Spirit. Lah. Yes, that lah was necessary, because I honestly like speaking Manglish a lot better than this ciplak version of an American accent. Pai seh.

In the last couple of days I’ve been having some doubts about coming to America. Some incidents that occurred here (which I will not care to mention because you know, TL;DR) have managed to conjure a sense of fear and anxiety about what is to come in the next two years. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to discern accurately who is good or bad. Not as in a ‘I-hate-you-because-of-your-skin-color-way’ or ‘I-like-you-because-we-both-listen-to-Coldplay’ kinda way, but rather in a ‘I-need-the-Holy-Spirit-to-teach-me-discernment’ way. I definitely lack in that department.

But if there’s one thing I realize, it’s this – God has made a way for me here. Sure, it’s over fifteen thousand kilometres away from home, and I’ve been pretty sheltered by both my physical and spiritual family all this time that coming out here and attempting to thrive and not just survive is a lot to behold. Yet, deep inside, I know I’m exactly where I need to be.

I’ve always felt like there was a need to get away from the comfort and confines of my nest in TTDI, KL and embark on this journey of studying abroad. I know I’m not going to be perfectly fine in the first few months I’m here in the States, but I’m going to make it. I’m going to work through the trials and temptations with God by my side, and come out strong. I’ve been given a chance by my loving Heavenly Father to experience life a different way, and perhaps my faith in a spectacular way as well. I don’t diminish the experiences I’ve had in Malaysia, with CF and the youth church, but I’m all for growth. I’m all for stepping out of the culture and expectations of my home church and learning and encountering God anywhere else in this world.

And right now, that’s here – in the U.S.A.

Only time will tell how I fare, but until then, keep me in your prayers. Whoever you are, at any time zone, reading this blog post, I ask that you intercede for me. I’ve been struggling to keep my head above water in this really emotional and fragile time of transitioning from the old to the new and it has taken a toll on my walk with God. The word of God that I once regarded so highly has suddenly gone to the bottom of the list. It’s almost off the list, actually. And that’s scary. I can’t let that happen.

I know my walk is my responsibility and it’s a choice I have to make, but I’d still like you guys to pray for me. Not out of obligation, but out of love. Out of relationship. I haven’t shared this blog with many people, and those whom I have shared this with, I truly trust and consider my dearest friends. I have allowed myself to be vulnerable to people, something I have found very difficult to do all my life, but can do with the strength of God. So keep me in your prayers. I’ll do the same for you, fo sho.

Uni starts in over a week, and I’m really excited! I’ll be flying to Texas tomorrow, where I’ll call
home for the next two years. I guess journey mercy would be a great thing to include in your prayer for me, haha. But yeah, that’s about it.

And here we go!

2015 whaddup

So it's finally midnight here in NYC.

Looking back at 2014, I still don't think I could have made it through such a challenging year on my own. God has been faithful throughout 2014. I commenced sophomore year in ADP with flying colors. I applied and got into a Christian uni with a sizeable amount of scholarship. I finished my second term in CF and made lifelong friends. I found the courage to share Jesus with a close friend. Oh and I got a job at a hipster cafe when I thought I wasn't cool enough lol. On a heavier note, I took on psychotherapy to deal with my anxiety and anger. I had to learn to put myself on the line and love others in spite of my fears of having them unrequited.

But more importantly, I learned to make God my refuge and strength regardless of my circumstances. I've learned so much of His Word this year, and its been a light unto my feet. I may not have had many close friends, I appreciate the few but faithful angels I have by my side who I've encountered this year. I found my voice and stood for what I believed in despite what the conforming thought was.

2014 has been a year of many firsts. God placed me on the training ground of life, prepping me for something bigger. This year, I'm up for the test. This is the real thing.

Thank you loves (you all know who you are) for such an amazing year. Goodbye 2014. Welcome 2015. Happy New Year! :)

Left for America

Praise the Lord. I'm officially in the U.S. of A!

There's so much uncertainty as to what's waiting for me in the next two years, but surprisingly I'm not too taken aback right now. Things were a little rough last month, as I contemplated the aftermath of my departure and the things I had to let go of, but I think it's safe to say that I don't feel too bad now. I'd expected sentimental me to burst out in tears the night I took off, but I didn't.

It's pretty strange, but I think something really felt right. I don't know for sure what it is, but I think it's gotta be God. I don't think I've ever been this NOT anxious before. I know for sure that He has gone before me, and is looking after me even as I'm here now.

Yet, I can't say that nothing's been on my mind. I'm still pretty wistful about things at this side of the world. As I witness Snapchats sent by my friends at church, I feel like everything has moved on pretty well even without me. It's strange really, I'm starting to feel as if my existence in youth has been rather, unreal. Not surreal, UNREAL. As if I was never there. I was just an annoying speck of dust, and once I was gone, things have taken off pretty well.

I know, it's a really selfish thing to say. But I guess that's what one feels when they leave, I suppose. Like they're just afraid things will conveniently slide back into normalcy (yet again, what is normal, per se?)

Well, Vivian, the world doesn't revolve around you. More of Christ, less of you, remember?

I guess it's also partly to do with love language differences. Just because the send off I expected didn't happen, it doesn't mean I am any less loved. And even if I was less loved, what does it matter? I need to constantly remind myself that these little things that people do that I give meaning to, are of no significance, compared to the marvellous extent of God's great glory. And anyway, if I place such emphasis on earthly things instead of kingdom driven things, how will the Holy Spirit work in me?

To be fair, I don't deserve it in the first place. Any of it. Not in a "yeah-I-don't-deserve-it-now-pay-attention-to-me-because-I-want-your-affection-dammit" kinda way; I truly am honest. I don't deserve it. What kind of friend have I been to people at church? How much have I cared and how much have I loved? Somehow, I feel for the most part that I've only cared about getting the truth, and sometimes my version of the truth that it has taken away the element of love. I honestly think I don't deserve having people send me off, or having people do all those things I'd cared about, because I have to admit that I haven't really gotten to know and love them. And I don't expect one year to mean lifelong relationships either, how could I reap when I didn't sow?

I could have done better than I have.

Even so, now's not the time to look back and wallow in dejection and self-pity. Life must go on, and so it will. I refuse to let this year's failures turn the tide of how I will live next year. If anything, I must learn from my mistakes and carry on. Self-condemnation cannot be the key to transformation - Jesus didn't condemn anyone, and so I shouldn't do that to myself. Instead, I must look to Him to go on with life.

But anyway, enough about the past. I figured I'd fill you guys in with some of my initial thoughts about the U.S (YAY).

I've been in New York for about a day and a half now, and I'm really liking it here. The weather wasn't as dreadful as I'd expected it to be - it hasn't snowed and when my family and I arrived, it was only about 7 degrees Celcius, which I think is a decent temperature for winter. We headed for our Queens first thing upon arrival at New York and took a decent nap before braving the cold for dinner with our relatives. We had Korean food for lunch, which I have to say, was pretty darn kickass, and the company wasn't bad either. My relatives are rather outrageous, but they are an amazingly hospitable bunch.

We set out for Elmhurst today, where my relatives live, first thing in the morning today. My grandaunt taught us how to navigate the subway and led us there. She also helped us get a U.S. SIM card and we went over to her apartment to chill for a bit. The rest of my day was pretty much just touring Manhattan and Queens.

My granduncle drove us all to Chinatown for a Cantonese lunch and then we scoured the area for some iconic tourist attractions on the island. We went to Wall Street and checked out the infamous bull (which we didn't quite see due to the influx of tourists) and South Street Seaport which had pretty kickass ships and a landing overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge. We also took a ferry down to Staten Island NOT to check out the island, but to take absolutely low quality and kiamsiap pictures of the Statue of Liberty with our cameras against the dirty glass windows separating us from the crazy chill outside. At night, we headed down to Flushing and had dinner at some dimsum place there that was well known for their xiao long bao.

All in all, New York's been pretty cool. While there are things I'd have to get used to, like the units of measurement (what the heck is 32 Fahrenheit oh yeah 0 degrees Celcius whoop), how to use coins here (seriously what on earth is one dime) or even the large portions here, I really enjoyed strolling by the streets and going to places I'd previously only seen on TV. The subway system here is really convenient, and as long as you plan your journey, you're bound to get from one place to another without hassle. It's probably gonna be different when I head down South, but for now I'm really just contented taking in the sights and the sounds of the Big Apple :)

Photoset: HOME

"We're gonna miss you when you're in U.S."

"Haha, we'll see about that."

"I know when you go there, you won't miss us one lah."



Oh you have no idea, dad. Absolutely no idea.

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.

Thank you Jesus

For having mercy on me and never giving up on restoring the relationship between my Dad and I.

For the interview I'm about to attend tomorrow to see if I land that part-time job.

For the smooth settlement of my university application submission.

For helping me let go of the past so I can genuinely bid Josh farewell.

For the good lunch and dinner I had today.

For helping me get through singing back-up during worship earlier with Your presence.

For using me as your mouthpiece and tool on this earth.

For the encouraging and convicting message that you imparted through Peter today on Your steadfast love and being anchored to You.

For my sister's renewed commitment to You through that altar call today (it was inaugural, it was MOMENTOUS).

I cannot thank you enough God, for everything. I can only burst into tears of joy.

Thank you.