To know Him alone

Tonight, I spent two incredible hours with amazing girls who love God. And not just those who say they do or are "religious" but girls who's eyes sparkle when they talk about the word, girls who are not afraid to cry as they share their brokenness for the lost, girls who are not afraid to do something radical for God like going to Uganda for a semester or having the courage to break off relationships that are unhealthy or even have the courage to say "I'm not ready" after an amazing time with a Godly man. Tonight, I was inspired. Why can't all days be like this?

Tonight I learned what it means to be "spoiled by God." Tonight I learned what it means to be faithful in prayer and with holding on to God, no matter how tempting the easy way out is. Tonight, I learned about compassion, I learned that beauty lies in having just candlelight and talking to friends, tonight I learned healing.

Last week, I read parts of Nehemiah and God allowed me to see how building the wall of Jerusalem is much like the healing of our hearts. Whenever we do something for God, attacks come alongside and this is true for my heart. Everyday is a battle. However, God teaches us to humble ourselves and ask for help. Nehemiah had to ask for help from those who lived in the city, so that they could build the wall together. Friends and relationships are so crucial in our lives. They allow God to be exemplified, they allow God to be glorified, they allow God to move. And finally, healing takes place slowly and in its turn. I often get impatient with my heart, wanting it to be healed right away. The desire to be whole pulls my heart to the point of exhaustion. It is then when I realize that each hurt needs its own time and each broken part of our hearts need complete healing before another can begin. Just as the Jews were assigned one part of the wall to build and able to claim ownership over that part, so we are healed one part at a time.

God is amazing.

Each day, I feel tired after my Revelation and Apocalyptic Literature class. I feel so down from reading passages about the Apocalypse and all that people had to say about those who were saved and unsaved. I feel worn out from picturing the horrors that some will face. I just want to God for who He is and not worry about what is going to happen to me or my life. Why can't people just be still and stop the war? stop the fighting? stop the theological arguments. I am tired of listening. I am tired of it all.

I just want to know Him.

I want to know Him like I did tonight in the eyes of those girls, in the words that they spoke, the wisdom that they shared.

"Failure is only when you repeat your mistakes"

"Prayer is good"

"God spoiled me this weekend. We sat for 8 hours and fished. I was liked for who I am, hands and nose and everything"

Garlic growings

I remember sitting in the middle of the hallway with only the hall lights to illuminate my Music History Textbook. I don't remember what I was reading at the time, but I do remember it was the Spring of my Freshmen year, and I sat right outside the dark brown wooden door to Morris 329 which had "Rach" and "Catherine" name tags stuck on.

I was waiting for my room mate to return with Meal#16 from Jack in the Box with a large coffee. It was 2 in the morning and I figured that I'd need the caffeine boost soon enough to memorize all-the-way-from-Antiquity to Baroque adventures.

Freshmen year was so crucial to my peers. They believed that it was the time to find themselves. That in some revelatory moment, a light bulb would turn on in their minds and they would know who exactly they were and what they were meant to do. I do not say this sarcastically, but it really was the mentality at the time. I remember talking to my room mate about this phenomenon during one of our many philosophical conversations in the darkness. She agreed with me that finding yourself is a process and it can't possibly all take place during your freshmen year.

It is true that many of the decisions you make will define who you are and most of these decisions come at you like a speeding bullet during your freshmen year. Will I choose to obey the law and abstain from alcohol? Should I continue to go to the same denominational church I have been raised in? Should I set a curfew for myself? These questions are important, but more importantly, it's not about which choice you make but why you make those choices.

For example, I spent weeks and weeks staying up till 4 in the morning and waking up at 8.30 to practice piano. What that equaled to was getting sick often and panda eyes. I then decided that 12am was just about bedtime...and I've mostly stuck to it.

Anyways, the point of my post is based on a recent reflection of a characteristic that I have developed over the course of my college career and that is being non-confrontational.

Of course like any character trait, there is a good side and a bad. A Confusionist would say, try to stay in the middle of that "non-confrontational attitude" which i shall label as NCA for laziness-to-type's sake. This would imply that one should confront when it is absolutely necessary but to have wisdom in picking one's battles.

OK.

Well, I don't think I'm doing a very good job since I haven't had sleep for the past 5 nights, brooding over this constant-water-dripping-issue. One centers around the fact that I've been hurt and I'm too scared to say anything about it. Not scared about what I believe in, more for the friendship's sake. Will confrontation mean the end of my friendship with so-and-so?

My second scenario, while having the same issue, is: should I tell my best friend that I don't think what she's doing is such a great idea.

She's getting married. That's kind of a big decision.

Of course in my Utopia, I would have the dang courage to talk to both of these girls and speak my mind. However, can I just escape the confrontation and forgive them without having them know that I have felt this way all along? Am I being selfish by not confronting these people?

I'm sure in the grand scheme of things, this may be trivial. But I do appreciate what my wise piano professor said,

"It's one thing to agree to disagree, it's another when your feelings get hurt. Then it is not about disagreeing, it's about having no respect."

Peace

I don't usually blog twice a day...mainly coz that means I have no life...ha ha...

But...man, tonight...standing in the dead cold...I felt...peace...and it was the most beautiful peace I have felt in a long time. Tracy said, our hearts are the battleground. All the world tries to assault our hearts. How true is that.

God, guard my heart. Let Your word be the foundation of all we live for.

"In the stillness, You are there"

Mornings at 6.47

I found myself tickled this morning. It was righteously cold and as I made my way down to open the coffeehouse, I saw two policemen. I chuckled. Not too long ago, one of them gave me a ticket for parking more than 2 hours under the sign that said "2 hour parking."

I walked speedily to the coffeehouse, scarf flying around my neck. Someday, I will get choked, I suspect.

The alarm was ticking. I ran towards the back to turn it off. It did not do the usual beep signifying it's "dis-alarm-ed-ness" but rather, as if posing a question, continued blinking, waiting for me to press another key. Thankfully, I remembered which one it was.

I turned on the lights and with a merry heart, put on The Fray, my current theme song. After doing all I needed to, I proposed some food to my dear hungry self. Although, shortly before, I enjoyed some grapes and a biscuit, I was rather unsatisfied. Perhaps it was my frisky run to the car in 30 F weather with a fork and Styrofoam cup with my biscuit that was supposed to be breakfast, wasn't too convincing.

I decided to make a chicken salad sandwich. I got everything ready as I waited for the frozen bagel to defrost and get toasted, one after another. As I splatted chicken salad on my bagel, I tried not to spill it over the edges but ti my dismay it spilled everywhere. My fingers were covered with the mayonnaise thingy it lived in, and pieces of chicken fell on the cutting board. For some reason, I found that rather funny. Perhaps, an analogy worth thinking about.

I realized at that point that life is messy. Even if it has great ingredients. Even if it has great spices, life is still messy.

But I did get to see the sunrise this morning...somewhat...

I decided to top off my sandwich with some honey, hoping for some sweetness to come. How cheesy.

Then I laughed, reading..."Because then I lost my temper and splashed him with holy water."

When I actually have to write...I have no idea what to say...

I've been trying to write my "support" letter for Colorado...and I am totally blanking out.

One morning in Malaysia, I had a word come to me..."...but do you have room for my voice?" I realized that for the past 2 years, being a religion major has definitely been a challenge upon my faith. I used to be so sure of the Word of God but with all the analyses and actually understanding the historicity of the works in the Bible, I've been left baffled, unsure and uninterested. I remember days when I would just sit in my room, in the quiet and search and read and love the Word for the refreshment that it gave me. Recently, it has become another book I take to class. the word that came to me woke me up. I have accumulated so much knowledge about the empires and the authors that I have failed to read the Bible as what it is: the Word of God.

I knew that I wanted to use that as the beginning to my letter yet I have no idea what it has to do with Colorado. Ahhh! I am praying for more insight.

To those of you who are wondering what talk about Colorado this is about...well, recently, I have been blessed to be a summer missionary in Gunnison, Colorado. I will be there from May 30th to August 10th 2007. Because this is a mission trip based on my own desire, I have to raise my own support to be able to fly out there (and New Orleans for Mission Lab) and whatever other finances that I will have to pay for. No idea what that comes out to but I'm sure it is a decent amount. Well, I'm not so stressed about the amount, but more about being real in this letter. I know either way I shouldn't be worried...but I want this to be...honest...unfortunately, I don't know what that means. *laughs*

Kinda feel like this:
-Pic of Ashlynn, my niece



Anyways, how is everyone out there?

A Time and a Place

One of the most beautiful things in Malaysia is waking up to the morning breeze and the smell of dew and the sound of birds chirping and fluttering their wings outside my window. It is priceless.

My first morning home was incredibly peaceful and every morning since has been a story of its own. Sometimes it's waking up to my 2 year old niece walking around smiling, waiting to push me off the mattress; sometimes it's hearing her cry, excuse me, I mean yell out for "memmy" (her mother, Jamie) or "mama" (her grandmother) or "LV?"; sometimes I wake up to my brother-in-law's typing, other times the blinking of the dining hall florecent light shinning in my eye accompanied by a slight buzz of the lightbulb. Most of the time, I wake up at 5 in the morning, while the sky is still red and the morning still asleep. Jet lag.

I stare out the windows close to the ceiling and I call out,

"Father, hear me."

I've shopped, I've eaten more than I can handle, I've babysat and photographed, I've seen cousins and grandmothers, uncles and aunties, and in their eyes I still see the same traditions and love that I've grown up around. It's strange. Despite the years that have gone by, I still remember my native tongue; I still remember to accept change with my right hand; I still live the Nyonya-Iban-Chinese way (yes, I'm a combination of all 3).

Home...

I used to be protective of what I called home. I never thought that home could be a number of places...well, not really places, but it's how people around you make you feel, really.

From Klang to Subang Jaya, Selangor, to Wellesley, Boston, to Charlotte, North Carolina, to Spartanburg, South Carolina...there has always been one special moment that I've had making those places home.In Klang, it was sitting in my hammock underneathe our wooden stairs. I was born and raised till 4 years of age here. In Subang, it was when I hurt my forehead (the scar is still there) on the edge of a stair and saw blood on my arm for the first time. I yelled for dear life as mom came rushing to see her 4 year old bleeding. In Wellesley, it was sitting on the deck, looking out unto the lake decorated with geese and swans, sipping my hot chocolate and writing in my journal, feet up and all. In Charlotte it was in the car...with a boy I was in love with and his family, after a Christmas eve get-together, and in Spartanburg, it was the night I cried during band practice and was loved by the most unsuspecting people.


"Jesus was homeless", in physical terms (Irresistible Revolution). But I believe making people feel at home emotiaonally is more important. Isn't that what Christ showed us when He walked on earth? No matter who it was, He allowed them to feel at home around Him. Leper, Prostitute, Stressed-out-one. He opened up His heart to them.

My moments of "home" have meant so much to me. And it's beautiful to see that I've been brought to all these places by the One who loves me. I am assured that I will always have a home.

Where to next?