specky4eyes's Xanga

My Christmas summarised

Sun, 27 Dec 2009 22:13:01 GMT

http://www.garfield.com/comics/vault.html

13th December 2009

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 01:37:23 GMT

Recently, I’ve found myself feeling really fatigued. Weary is perhaps a better word of it. At the end of summer, I felt really hyped up from Momentum and I started off the term with a goal in mind, a focus that was beyond the humdrum cycle of daily living, but rather something that was holy and something that I knew to be right. Yet having had that focus in mind, I still somehow found myself caught up in the busy chaotic rhythm of commuting, uni, lectures, commuting, home, study, what-do-I-have-to-do-next, sleep, commuting, what-do-I-have-to-do-tomorrow, preparing for this-and-this-and, commuting, sleep, uni, class, 360 night, study, what-do-I-have-to-do-tomorrow, Bed, Waterloo, London Bridge, Bed, prepare for this-and-this-and Sunday, commuting, teen leader, church, teacher, commuting, whatdoIhavetodonext, eurgh Monday, whatdoIhavetodotomorrow …

At school, I was the geeky kid who read ahead in lessons and started tasks before the teacher finished giving explanations because I’d already studied finished reading the instruction sheet. I was never satisfied with the present and instead I craved for more, more possibilities, more explanation for things. It was never about any egotistical sense of academically trumping my peers, just the satisfaction of pushing my faculties to the limit. Living at the limit of what my body and brain can handle is a dangerous and unfortunate habit of mine. Again, maybe I’m using the wrong word, since “habit” doesn’t really describe it. I thrive in challenging situations, but there’s a very fine line between a stimulating number of challenges and an overwhelming number, the latter situation (which is more often the case) resulting in my switching to autopilot “stress and compromise” mode.

I’m all out of sync and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m trying to juggle everything and as a result, I’m not being fair on anyone. It’s not fair on the teens at SOC that I’m dashing off each Sunday instead of spending some quality time to get to know them better; it’s not fair on the kids at Hounslow that I only see them briefly twice a month; it’s not fair on my friends and family that I’m not paying them much attention by being so busy; I’m not being fair on myself by forcing my mind and body in so many directions at once and compromising my own studies. Ultimately, it’s not fair on God by trying desperately to manage and make do and power-on through everything myself as well as cutting chunks out of time that belongs to him.

Matt 11:28-30

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (NIV)

I’m all out of sync and only wish my heart were still enough to REST!

We were discussing the actions and character of Pharaoh whilst studying Exodus ch.8 during 360° this week when the question was raised of whether his stubbornness was justified in the face of what he considered to be a rebellion amongst his subordinates. What was disturbing on reflection was how easy I found it to play devil’s advocate and empathise with Pharaoh. To “imagine yourself in Pharaoh’s position” was too easy to do. Pharaoh had been shown time and time again God’s awesome power and yet each time a plague passed, he returned to the same obstinate state as before.

Am I like Pharaoh? How many times have I witnessed God’s mercy and grace in my life, and yet each time trouble passes I find myself lapsing…

I was sure by now, God, that you would have reached down…

But one again, I say amen and it’s still raining

As the thunder rolls I barely hear You whisper through the rain,

“I am with you”

…my strength is almost gone

How can I carry on if I can’t find You?

And I’ll praise you in this storm

And I will lift my hands

For You are who You are

No matter where I am

And every tear I’ve cried

You hold in your hand

You never left my side

And though my heart is torn

I will praise You in this storm

I lift my eyes onto the hills

Where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth

I lift my eyes onto the hills

Where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth

(Lyrics from “Praise you in this storm” by Casting Crowns)

It dawned on me like words of fire

Sat, 01 Aug 2009 00:23:27 GMT

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.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Tue, 19 May 2009 18:49:42 GMT

Perseverance is a gift from God, given so that we may be able to know him better through the undertaking of everyday tasks. We suffer through the everyday and the mundane, not because of dutoy to ourselves or others, but because we have been called to persevere for the sake of our Father in heaven.
We are called to persevere through the mundane so that God can show us just how extraordinary he is.

falling apart around me...the house that is, not my life

Tue, 12 May 2009 22:52:37 GMT

OK, so I wake up with the worst headache ever, the sun piercing through my eyelids and the screech of my mother's voice, screaming at me to get out of bed... it seems something big was going on. Two hours later (I fell asleep again after helping mum...my headache was the excuse), I come downstairs to find that two dudes with hammers had dessimated the office and the sitting room, such that the carpets had been rolled back and the ceiling to the office was now on the floor, along with half the plaster from the walls. It really begs the question as to what could have possibly caused me to sleep through the noise of my house being pulled down around me? .... I guess all the pent up tension from charging around being "busy" has finally caught up with me. Allow my body the luxery of 9 hours sleep and this is what happens...my immune system takes a holiday and I crash. One week before exams.
If the condition of the house were a metaphor of how I am at the moment, then one could say that the two builders with their kit are the viruses hacking away at the walls my upper respiratory tract and the woodworm is the backlog of work that is slowly eating away at my conscience, but having yet to do anything about it, the house and myself will inevitably collapse into a pile of rotten joists and dusty grey matter.

Taken, Blessed, Broken, Shared

Sun, 19 Apr 2009 21:37:39 GMT

Jesus was taken and blessed. He was broken for us, so that the debt of our transgressions may be erased and that God’s boundless love for us may be shared.

I am chosen and blessed. I was led through darkness, only so that I may learn to share what I have.

It is only through brokenness that things may be shared.

Brokenness in itself isn’t such a bad thing.

Last weekend at Easter Conference set me on an amazing journey up a steep learning curve and it just goes to show that if God wants to speak to you, there’s no set way in which he’s going to do so. Although I wasn’t a part of the main conference, being a leader in the children’s program, God used what I was doing and where I was to meet with me.

One thing I learnt about myself this weekend is that I’m not good at asking for help. This may come as a surprise to some who know me and are reading this, but seriously, I’ve never quite clocked onto this minuté aspect of my character. I just put it down to maybe a slight over-confidence (which I know isn’t exactly nice either); however, the appearance of confidence appears to arise from the fact that I’m terrible at asking for help. I much prefer to sort my problems out myself and when it gets all a bit too much for me to handle, I bury the problem deep down so that I don’t have to deal with it. I pretend that everything is fine. That much has been evident in my blogs lately.

Near the end of the celebration service on Saturday evening, everyone was invited to come to the front of the chapel to be prayed for by one of the leaders. The last time I attended a service where prayer was offered to everyone in such an open manner was a couple of months ago, when I had been feeling pretty miserable. The last time, I’d stayed pretty much glued to my seat whilst everyone else on my row got up at some point to pray with someone else (whether in praise or for intervention). The last time, I felt unable to tell my problems to someone I didn’t know, or rather, someone who didn’t know me, and to be prayed for by them. I told myself that my problems were too messy, what would people think of me if I told them that I was just pretending to be OK, I don’t need someone to intervene for me… What a fool I was. Wallowing in self-pity stopped me from realising that I needed to ask for help and that I was too proud to ask for it.

This time was different. Recent experience had already taught me how deep hurt runs in my life and I knew already that I really do need prayer, and yet, through the fear of standing up in amongst hundreds of people to ask for help a verse came to me, which we had read in our morning group devotion: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” – Joshua 1:9. God’s voice was both an encouragement and a command to Joshua in the context of the passage as it was to me, sitting in the chapel that night.

If you read the first chapter of the book of Joshua, you will find that God tells the chosen leader of the Israelites to “be strong and courageous” a total of 4 times in the short space of 17 verses. It seems even mighty warrior leaders chosen by God to do great things also need reminding of the divine assurance we have in God let alone us normal mortals. Have I not commanded you? Not only are we encouraged to trust in His faithfulness to provide and guide us, but it is imperative that we do so.

The devotion notes from that morning sums up my thoughts at that moment rather nicely, which say “it is good to recognise our own limitations, [for] only when we have an awareness of our own personal inadequacy that we can fully appreciate the assurance of the divine sufficiency”.

As I stood there near the front of the chapel, waiting for a person to become available to pray for me and still rather nervous about sharing my broken heart with some stranger, God came through for me. He showed me just how faithful he was and how he would never make me do anything that he knew I couldn’t achieve. Through the small crowd of laughing, sobbing people, I saw Aunty Ann smile and beckon to me. I almost felt God’s smile shine through hers, smiling at my doubt and fear. It’s OK, I’m here. Do you really think I would abandon you when I'd promised to guide and protect you?

I think I cried a lot that night (my memories of what happened after being prayed for are a little fuzzy). I don’t cry, not publically…I’m not really a public emotions sort of person. I’m sorry if I confused people at the time or made friends overly concerned. I was just feeling a little broken. I think I’m better now.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Thu, 16 Apr 2009 18:11:22 GMT

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?!

Friday, April 03, 2009

Fri, 03 Apr 2009 23:59:22 GMT

Being honest with myself

I thought everything was going to turn out to be OK. I wanted myself to be OK. I told myself, “you’re OK”, “this is all for the best, you’ll see”. How strange that I find it easier to pretend that I’m OK and not hurting rather than to tell those who care, no, I’m not great. You know what? My life sucks and I’ve been feeling depressed for some time. How can I tell you if I didn’t even consciously know this myself?

Moving home seemed to be a good decision at the time. My parents weren’t ready. Life was moving too quickly and perhaps, our bond wasn’t strong enough to weather such a dramatic transition. Let’s regress; let’s take baby steps…one…step…at…a…time. It is not wrong to heed a parent’s will and advice in matters of life, such as where you ought to live and what time you ought to stay out till, and yet, part of me strains at the restrictiveness of the situation. I yearn for more freedom but with every new step I encounter more resistance: call us at this time, we will pick you up at this time, be here, do this, we know what’s best for you…

If obeying my parents is right, then are my desires wrong in wanting to go against their wishes and to set my own agenda for my life? Surely the desire for independence isn’t a bad thing? If so, then why do I feel so guilty every time I disobey my parents’ wishes and return home late, or refuse their assistance?

Don’t they TRUST me?

Could it be my pride that precipitates the feeling of restriction from my parents, whilst in reality, that restriction doesn’t exist at all? If so, where does this pride come from and why does it cause such ugly results every time we argue? Why do I not feel satisfied with what I have?!

I have been hurt

I’ve done a lot of soul-searching, trying to get to the bottom of my problems, which seem to lie deeper than my childish frustration at my protective parents. Why do I get so angry and upset each time they call to ask what time I’d be home?

The twisted, ugly truth is this:

I was let down and hurt by those whom I thought I could trust to support me – an unspoken promise was broken and someone I relied on to defend me kept silent. I fought my case. I lost. I couldn’t deal with the pain of fighting anymore in the knowledge that I would lose the argument again. I felt guilty for causing so much pain. It was easier and less painful for everyone involved for me to give up, to withdraw, to bury my wounds deep so that no one would get hurt any more. I lie. I got hurt. I got hurt BAD but I didn’t realise it because I buried my wounds so deep.

Besides, the issues stemming from deep-set denial, one other thing that arises from subconscious burdens is the loneliness that it brings. The inability to identify my problems and to express them made life terribly lonely. I've heard about counselling groups that offer to lonely folk a chance to talk about their problems, and if they don’t know what their problems are, then at least they can feel lonely alongside other lonesome people. I never understood the point or the sense of such groups until now. Loneliness is a natural human emotion that arises in people who are by themselves because people are not made to be alone. However, suffering loneliness alongside others helps ease the burden, because despite the persistent pain, it helps to know that others are also suffering the same emotion. Feeling lonely whilst on your own is a terrible situation to be in, I know that now.

Sunday, March 08, 2009

Sun, 08 Mar 2009 23:00:16 GMT

I feel like a spiritual yo-yo....things keep on going UP and then down
..then UP again....but then things happen, or I catch myself slipping up and I'm all the way down there again.

Why can't I be more CONSISTENT?

Monday, January 19, 2009

Mon, 19 Jan 2009 21:49:09 GMT

I've been feeling pretty rough lately: both in a spiritual and a mental sense. I could spend a long time ranting on about why I've been feeling this way, but no, this is not what this blog is going to be about. This blog is going to be about the people and more importantly the God who has brought me through the bad times (and who is STILL there for me).
So, to keep it short and sweet, this is to thank Tim for listening to me ramble on about how miserable my life seems to be, but mostly for telling me that messes in life can always be traced back to some mess going on in the spiritual walk with Jesus. It's true, my spiritual life has been full of ups and downs, shallow and completely lacking in consistency. The speaker on Sunday was right about the problems of "praying nice", oftentimes, one's heart isn't even in the prayer; one part of my mind could be mumbling "God, please bless the children...blah...blah" whilst the other part of me would thinking about what lecture notes I have to prepare for the next day. (So I guess this is also a 'thank you' to Wilf(?), the speaker from Sunday.)
This is a thank you to everyone and YOU (yes, you, person reading this) who has taken the time to ask how I am, especially in the past few months. You have no idea how much a smile and a "how are you" has gone in improving my day when I was feeling particularly depressed.
This is also a BIG thank you to Karen who said: "It's easier to trust someone when you know them" during 360° last week. I realised that the reason why I haven't been able to let go and why I've found it so difficult to trust God is because of how little I really know him.
I want to thank you, my friends, my brother and sisters, who have supported me with your kind words and remembered me in your prayers.
Throughout everything, God's love has been the one fixed point in life, the one person who has always been there, encouraging me to trust and to love, even though everything hurts. How many times have I wallowed so deep self-pity that I've been unable to appreciate how amazing He is? How many times has God invited me to get to know him a bit better but I've been too 'busy' to listen?

So here I am, once again. I've found my focus and re-learnt the things that I thought I already knew about what it means to follow Christ. I know it's not going to be easy, but then again, I think I've always known that. I'm still learning, still changing. Who knows, perhaps I'll be alright afterall?
I came across this song by Starfield today that seems to say EXACTLY what I wanted to say to God at the moment. I thought I'd share it with you.

"Cry in My Heart" - Starfield

There a cry in my heart

For your glory to fall

For your presence to fill up my senses

There’s a yearning again

A thirst for discipline

A hunger for things that are deeper

Could you take me beyond?

Could you carry me through?

If I open my heart,

Could I go there with you?

(For I’ve been here before

Yet I know there’s still more

Oh Lord, I need to know you.)

Chorus:

What do I have if I don’t have you, Jesus?

What in this life could mean any more?

You are my Rock

You are my Glory

You are the lifter of my head