The first sentence that mother said to me when she arrived back from Hong Kong last Tuesday was to criticise the “mess that the house is in” and how stained the kitchen looked. I had finished cleaning the kitchen sink and the dishes just as she was walking in through the door; Dad had cleaned the entire house the weekend before. Every word she’s spoken to me in the past week has been words of criticism, the way I dress, my personal grooming, my study habits, my grades, my commitment… “I don’t know anyone studying medicine that “studies” as much as you do. All this hard work must be reflected in your grades then, no? Well, does that mean you’re more stupid than anyone else I know who goes to university?” I’ve achieved the grades, I got into medical school and I’m getting decent grades (despite circumstances). On top of all that, I’m twenty years old and she still doesn’t trust me to decide for myself what I wear. “People are laughing at you behind your back…you look a mess…your appearance will make people think that we are abusing you…” Really, Mother? If people were truly so concerned about me, then surely someone would have said something to you or to me? Is this all just about the puffer jacket that you bought me in HK that I said I didn’t like? Well, you’ve known forever that I hate puffer jackets and this one is particularly awful for the crime that it looks like a puffed-out black body bag.

This morning, I decided to take some time out and study at home. What I anticipated to be a quite morning was shattered when, seizing the opportunity, mother launched into a well-rehearsed rant covering the topics of the above paragraph. “It’s not the matter with what I say, it’s your heart.” Wait, is it not the other way round?? It’s not so much a matter with me but merely how you see me? I was so angry with her for the suggestion. It seems that she doesn’t clearly perceive me at all. Could she not tell how depressed I’ve been for the past year? I was angry at her blinkered vision of the world and her lack of understanding. How many people does she really know goes to university? Does she really know them enough to give value judgements? How dare she criticise me when she doesn’t understand? If anyone is to make value judgements, at least allow the opinion to be based upon knowledge or solid experience and not some fantasy ideal about what should be the case. In general, one would say that it’s foolish to neither have an understanding of a subject upon which you speak, nor to seek knowledge about said subject before forming opinions on it. Shouldn’t the same principle apply to knowing people and in relationship building?

Why is nothing I do done well enough…?

Why is she complaining when I haven’t actually done anything wrong…?

Meaningless, meaningless, meaningless. There is nothing new under the sun.

It would be so easy to run away…

I must have quite a masochistic nature to stay here…

I AM NOT MEANT TO FEEL LIKE THIS!

20^th October 2008: “I made my decision out of strength not weakness. I am not going back home because I am accepting my mother’s rule over me, but that of my Heavenly Father. I am not going home to be ruled over, but so that my mother will not be anxious anymore”

This relationship was never meant to be this way. I can see a better future – it may not be what other people deem normal, but it works for us and it is good. I’m tired of running away, yet I’m weary of this war. Conflicting emotions of anger and frustration. I know things were not meant to be this way and I must be patient and stand my ground until the day that things get better. I was sure by now, that God you would have reached down, and wiped my tears away. But once again, I say ‘amen’ and it’s still raining. And as the thunder rolls, I barely hear you whisper through the rain “I am with you”

So I’ll praise you through this storm, for I know that you my God are with me and will bring me towards the sunrise.

In Jeremiah 13, the prophet (Jeremiah) is told by God to take fine linen belt and to hide it in damp place by a river where it would become rotten and useless. The point was to graphically illustrate the broken relationship the people of Israel had with God. Eugene Patterson explains the passage like this:

Israel was the fine garment that God wanted to wear, but she wasn’t ready yet to be used for His purposes. She wanted to live an ordinary life first, so she wadded herself up and stuffed herself into the secure routines, separating herself from what God had at great cost purchased her for, but when that day comes, it will turn out that she is good for nothing. The beautiful moral life that she set aside for a more convenient day will turn out, when she picks it up, to be mildewed and moth-eaten. (From ‘Run with the Horses – A Quest for Life at its Best’)

Replace the word “Israel” with “Elim” and, well, that’s what has been going wrong with my life recently. But this isn’t all, the Lord says a little later in the passage: “…because you have forgotten me and trusted in false gods. I will pull up your skirts over your face and your shame may be seen – your adulteries and lustful neighings, your shameless prostitution! I have seen your detestable acts on the hills and in the fields. Woe to you, O Jerusalem! How long will you be unclean?” (NIV)

It’s not just been a matter of getting lazy with quite time and filling up my schedule to the brim with ‘important’ things, but I had let these things become ‘false gods’ and I had become detestable in the eyes of God. It hit me that my thoughts and my actions (or lack of), and by repeatedly abandoning God’s calling, has made me no more reputable than if I had gone and sold myself on the streets of Amsterdam! Disgusting, moth-eaten, shameful. I wouldn’t do it in life, so why do it in my spiritual life? Our heavenly Father knows when we run from him, even when we’re so good at kidding ourselves into thinking that “I’ll do it tomorrow” or “this is enough effort”. At the end of the day, we’re just kidding ourselves into thinking we’re secure in what we do and that everything is OK when it isn’t, because in reality, the things we do are shameful…what’s worse is that subconsciously we may even know this and yet we carry on because what we do is comfortable and cosy.

Yesterday, I casually told a friend that I could never put up with a man who was constantly passive-aggressive in his attitude towards my work and my mistakes (in reference to my supervisor at work, who to be fair is actually a really nice guy), so today I guess I received my just deserts. I could almost hear the words being screamed at me from the page as I read them.

HOW LONG WILL YOU BE UNCLEAN?

These six small words for me conveyed both the anger and despair of a righteous father, but also, they seemed to say “when will you come back to me?”

Father, how can I come to you when I have done such shameful things in your eyes?

…and the answer always comes as this: because I have already redeemed you. Because you are mine since I made you and then paid for your bail so that you may come home to me again.

Father, I’m sorry…I love you too.

1 John 4:19 says “we love because he first loved us”, similarly, we live not because we deserve life (since the things we do are despicable and contrary to the purpose we were created for), but for the reason that we have been redeemed out of love; since by grace, Christ Jesus (being God) took the just punishment (being death) for our sins and in rising from the grave, he removed that debt so that it were as if our sins have never existed. We live because our lives are no longer our own but rather because we have something greater than ourselves to live for. I can return to the Lord because the awful things I have done, and thought about doing, because I have already been forgiven.

I’ve been hurt – part 2 (that which continues after part the first)

And where was God in amongst all of this? Well, right there beside me actually. It was in most private and miserable moments where I found Him.

I remember a time where I was so lost that I pleaded for God to reveal to me why I felt so bad; after all, I should be glad that my parents are not longer always so angst-ridden that they’re calling me up every hour to check where I am and to ensure that I wasn’t skipping meals. I should be proud of myself for being able to take the step to compromise, and appreciative of the fact that my folks care so much about me.

God spoke to me in such times, after a while, after I’d stopped pouring out my sorrows and complaints like the writer of Psalm 102. The depth of my hurt and pain is a reflection, albeit a poor one, of the hurt and pain felt by our Father and his desire to have a relationship with us. It shocked me to realise that whilst I was busy being miserable, God was hurting more, for me! The Maker of Heaven and Earth was hurting for me and waiting to turn back to Him.

I rediscovered that, for me at least, it is in my moments of vulnerability that God speaks strongest to and through me. 

In my preoccupation with my vulnerability and my problems, it seemed that I had become the one thing I had always thought it was against my nature to be: passive. I am not referring to the beautiful fragility and strength displayed by so many ‘church women’ or the energetic peacefulness exuded by content housewives. The passivity I saw in myself was more of the couch-potato, apathetic kind. When it comes to principles and important matters (other than studying as a rule), I’ve always like to think of myself as an active, passionate person (some who know me more closely may call this trait stubbornness). Imagine then, my shock when I found myself being so enervated in my faith – God as supposed to mean everything to me! Did I not sing and shout to testify as such during worship and to my Christian peers? Why then was I flinging my arms out like a small spoilt child who was too lazy to take any responsibility for herself? “Bless me, Lord…make me change (but please make the change easy and effortless)”

I had forgotten how to fight for the divine-given spiritual transformation of the self that comes from true passion and life in faith. I had become so bogged down in my so-called suffering and fixated on “letting go and giving it to God” that I had lost the urgency and drive to take action in faith.

I remember, about this time last year, I wrote about ‘active surrendering’; where I found myself constantly battling against my natural urge to do things my way, so I may conscientiously surrender to God’s will. Now, it seems, with my natural urge to fight for things switched off, the counter-instinct to dampen down this impulse lies redundant as well, which gives rise to my recent pathetic state.

I remember how I found joy in fighting for my faith, in clawing back that extra half an hour in the day so I may have some quite time before dinner (even though it was amongst manic exam revision); however, I also remember the peace I found when I first truly surrendered to His guidance. Perhaps the ideal spiritual condition and my aim ought to be the equilibrium of these two states?

Yet the question remains: HOW?!