The views expressed here are entirely my own, and do not represent the views of any formal or informal organisation with which I am affiliated.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
The hardest thing
The hardest thing is watching those three words change from present tense to past tense.
Saturday, December 24, 2016
Old House
Down the street on which old leaves sleep
Is my old house, where I used to live.
It is the same place, with the same sights and smells
With the same inhabitants living there still.
It had been 27 days since I last left the place,
27 days since I last said goodbye;
27 days since I stopped calling it home
27 days since I had gone.
I had decided that it should have ended,
though I hadn't want it to.
I could carry on and just pretended,
But it was best for me to go.
So
Forcefully
Painfully
I excised that which suffused
With my very being.
It hurt a lot.
But what scared me the most
Was finding relief
From the cleanness of the cut.
Today, I walked past my house again
and the memories come streaming through my mind
There are remnants of the place, some traces I retained
That still won't leave with the passage of time.
Down the street my house I passed,
With a twinge of nostalgia for memories past,
Of the same sights, and the same smells,
And the same people living there still.
But all the same, I walked back home,
The new home to which I had gone;
It is where my soul joy and solace finds,
From the day I entered till beyond time.
Is my old house, where I used to live.
It is the same place, with the same sights and smells
With the same inhabitants living there still.
It had been 27 days since I last left the place,
27 days since I last said goodbye;
27 days since I stopped calling it home
27 days since I had gone.
I had decided that it should have ended,
though I hadn't want it to.
I could carry on and just pretended,
But it was best for me to go.
So
Forcefully
Painfully
I excised that which suffused
With my very being.
It hurt a lot.
But what scared me the most
Was finding relief
From the cleanness of the cut.
Today, I walked past my house again
and the memories come streaming through my mind
There are remnants of the place, some traces I retained
That still won't leave with the passage of time.
Down the street my house I passed,
With a twinge of nostalgia for memories past,
Of the same sights, and the same smells,
And the same people living there still.
But all the same, I walked back home,
The new home to which I had gone;
It is where my soul joy and solace finds,
From the day I entered till beyond time.
Saturday, December 3, 2016
Macam Yesus tapi Bukan
We live our lives based on expectations. Our expectations are shaped not so much by what we wish for, but more on how it matches up to the promise that we perceive it offers.
So if something, say an advertisement of a product, a holiday, our achievements, a relationship, looks promising, then we expect it to be so. And it's the same if it's the flipside. That's the rational way of looking at it.
But lately I've been reflecting on how reality doesn't always coincide with our expectations. Sometimes we get pleasantly surprised, if our expectations had been pretty low. But if we had set our hopes on something that we thought was promising, then... it can be pretty heartbreaking.
I cope by trying to have the most minimal of expectations. I don't think it's necessarily a good thing, neither is it necessarily a bad thing. It's just a personal way of managing expectations.
But I think while it's alright to hope for the best for all sorts of promises - material things, career, relationships, life in general - to put all our hopes and expectations and joy on these things would only lead to a hollow, empty feeling.
All these things, in this lifetime, will bound to let us down one way or the other. Our career might take a step back, the object that we bought doesn't work so well as advertised (boy, that's usually the case), a parent/sibling/spouse/friend/pet will hurt us. We will sometimes (or often) be placed in life's deepest pits.
All these things that we seek out for won't give us complete, perfect, fulfilled joy.
It may sound like I'm a downer, or that I'm just a weak person who can't cope with letdowns in life.
But it's more accurate to say ... I've savoured something so good, so precious, so infinitely wonderful compared to any goodness I can squeeze from the things I've mentioned.
I've tasted the gospel, I've seen how God's promises are yes in Christ (2 Cor 1:20). I know how Christ alone far surpasses anything I can enjoy in this lifetime.
So I'm thankful that when my wandering heart strays from Him to find less magnificent treasures, even God-given ones, God is pulling me back to show me that all these pleasures "macam Yes(us) tapi bukan".
So if something, say an advertisement of a product, a holiday, our achievements, a relationship, looks promising, then we expect it to be so. And it's the same if it's the flipside. That's the rational way of looking at it.
But lately I've been reflecting on how reality doesn't always coincide with our expectations. Sometimes we get pleasantly surprised, if our expectations had been pretty low. But if we had set our hopes on something that we thought was promising, then... it can be pretty heartbreaking.
I cope by trying to have the most minimal of expectations. I don't think it's necessarily a good thing, neither is it necessarily a bad thing. It's just a personal way of managing expectations.
But I think while it's alright to hope for the best for all sorts of promises - material things, career, relationships, life in general - to put all our hopes and expectations and joy on these things would only lead to a hollow, empty feeling.
All these things, in this lifetime, will bound to let us down one way or the other. Our career might take a step back, the object that we bought doesn't work so well as advertised (boy, that's usually the case), a parent/sibling/spouse/friend/pet will hurt us. We will sometimes (or often) be placed in life's deepest pits.
All these things that we seek out for won't give us complete, perfect, fulfilled joy.
It may sound like I'm a downer, or that I'm just a weak person who can't cope with letdowns in life.
But it's more accurate to say ... I've savoured something so good, so precious, so infinitely wonderful compared to any goodness I can squeeze from the things I've mentioned.
I've tasted the gospel, I've seen how God's promises are yes in Christ (2 Cor 1:20). I know how Christ alone far surpasses anything I can enjoy in this lifetime.
So I'm thankful that when my wandering heart strays from Him to find less magnificent treasures, even God-given ones, God is pulling me back to show me that all these pleasures "macam Yes(us) tapi bukan".
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