Goodbye, and hello

I'm saying goodbye to this blog. 

Not that I'm taking it down or closing it. There was definitely a lot of cringeworthy content, especially during my teenage years! But I won't be ashamed of my younger self, for trying to write and for putting herself out there. 

I frequently have these opposing inclinations - of wanting to express myself, and then of feeling self-conscious and narcissistic when I do. I'm still trying to figure out what it means to write, to blog - and to do so publicly. Do I want engagement? Am I comfortable inviting discourse and inputs from the reader? But if I do, then I feel terrified of being at the receiving end of their judgment and scrutiny. 

Why I've decided to move away from this blog, is because while I have loved blogging here, I've found that there were moments where my content & writing here have been driven by people's opinions and approval. Meaning to say, I sometimes write because I had wanted to appear a certain way - I was preoccupied with how those reading my blog would perceive me and think of me. No one really gave me snarky or rude comments (that I could remember!). But after a while, I was too paralysed to write or blog, simply because the weight of others' expectations (and my own) felt too overwhelming. Whatever topics (or ideas, as this blog title references) I wanted to write about, don't seem significant enough to warrant a blog post. I'm just an ordinary lady leading an ordinary life - what have I to shout about? 

But I couldn't shake off this love of writing. And the excitement I feel when people write their thoughts, when people share what they're reading, when people talk about their ideas & reflections. Life moves in hyperspeed, and I'm trying to contribute to a culture or a norm where people don't shy away from sharing what they're thinking and what they're experiencing on a deeper level. I'm trying to hold on to the belief that life is more than just the grind and the day-to-day. And building a literary culture - not necessarily the reading of classics - but having the exchange of ideas, carving out time for reading and writing, I think is one way I could do that. 

So I've decided that I want a fresh start - to write and blog about things that I want to. Even if my writings are pretentious, too emotional, anecdotal, "fluffy", unstructured - whatever you may call it, I want to continue doing it. Just perhaps in another place where there's not too much association with a past where I mainly looked at blogging as another form of social media. 

I've opened up a new blog, where I hope to cultivate an approach to writing that helps give voice & clarity to my thoughts, instead of causing me to overthink further. I'm pleased to say hello to this small & humble endeavour. The title comes from a conversation with a friend, about how the writing and art that we produce may not necessarily need to be Important or Useful for mankind; but whatever we write we let it go into the universe (or the void, as I call it) and let it be, whether or not it is impactful to the readers. Its existence should not be diminished or despised for that. 

Hotch Potch is still open, but I take it as juvenilia which forms the foundation of the new blog. Hopefully I will not lose steam with the new place, but to allow it to be safe space for what I think & feel. 

Quote

The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one. - credited to Otto Ludwig

Sense of Loss

For me, grief is linked heavily to the grief of having lost oneself. Of having to say goodbye to a stage in life that you yearn to hold on to... but is now gently but firmly prised from your grip. 

I've recently had to deal with the loss of my grandparents. Perhaps more than anything else, they were emblematic of my childhood. They had represented those years when I had been romping around the neighbourhood, wildly immature and incredibly mischievous. They represented a stage in my life when I was wholly dependent on others for all my needs and wants, and yet not for a moment did I feel unsafe or unloved. 

But over the years I grew out of this dependency. Unconsciously and without meaning to, I started to move away from my need of them. And as I move towards youth, they started to decay and fade.. much like my childhood. And soon, my childhood years vanished.. and they too left me. 

For one of our family gatherings many years ago, we played a montage of my mother's old family pictures to the Bee Gee's song "First of May". There perhaps could not be a song more hauntingly reflective of the bittersweet nostalgic sentiment which accompanies the journey down memory lane.

I miss my grandparents. And partly, I miss the child I was.  

Is it a selfish grief if, alongside my missing the person I've lost, I miss also the stage of life that I was in? 

This question emerged more starkly when I felt both overjoyed yet profoundly sad when I met up with a dear group of friends from my university in Durham. It was a special occasion because two in the group would be tying the knot. I'm not good at expressing myself verbally or in person, but my heart was bursting when I met these friends of mine. Who else but this group would ask me - upon the first half hour of my arrival - "how are you doing, really? How are you doing spiritually?" It was intrusive, shocking, perplexing - yet very welcome. 

I didn't "lose" anyone in this group per se. But these friendships have changed greatly over the years, as these things naturally would. Sometimes in my dreams, Durham still returns to me as a haven untouched by the cruelty of time, as a relief from the crushing pressure of current realities and adulthood. 

I see my university years heading towards the same direction as my childhood. That stage of my life smells of idealistic optimism, of simple unwavering rectitude, of painful yet genuine friendships, of "adult" freedom unburdened by responsibilities. But all too quickly, it is slipping through my fingers. Durham has changed, my friends have changed - I have changed. 

What is the thing that lasts, then?  

Grief and death of childhood

 Since I was a baby, Setapak Garden was the place my brother and I would spend many days at because my grandparents used to stay there. My brother and I would have our tuition class there, our grandparents would bring us to KFC and the Ong Tai Kim there – and the neighbourhood playground was our kingdom. 

For my brother and I, we would see our popo and kung everyday – and being with them was part of our normal daily routine. Kung Kung had the important responsibility of fetching us home from school, and my grandmother held the equally important responsibility of making sure we were well fed. And like so many of the other eulogies can attest to, any family or friends of popo were EXTREMELY well fed. She enjoyed making different dishes for us for our lunch and dinner – and occasionally she treated us to fried chicken and snacks for tea time. 

It was a job she loved and one that she took very seriously. 

But more than just feeding us, she was our constant companion. She would teach us weird Cantonese songs. We would watch TVB dramas together, and our afterschool pastime was going out for shopping trips to Sungai Wang and Alpha Angle together. 

She was there with us in our everydays. 

So how do I say goodbye to someone who had been a constant presence in my life? 

I start by thanking God for her. She was someone who loves her family immensely, who was always eager to chat and spend time with us. She liked having a jolly time and she enjoyed big gatherings and a good laugh. She had a really sharp and quick wit – she liked a good banter with others, and enjoyed gently poking fun at people. She was too much of an expert at mahjong – always beating the rest of us younger ones at the game. She was a social butterfly, who could strike up a conversation with a complete stranger and chat with them like they were a long time friend. And it helped that she was a polyglot and can speak English, Cantonese, Hokkien – even Tamil. 

She was by no means perfect. She had deep flaws and weaknesses, just like anyone else. She was a sinner. But I thank God that eventually she put her trust in Jesus as her Lord and saviour and that she found her peace in him.

It's hard to accept that this companion of mine for 28 years has now bid goodbye. Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different? Setapak Garden seems a lot different now. The roads have changed, more apartments and shops have sprung up, and my grandparent’s house seems to have fallen quiet. I used to feel slightly annoyed when I get calls from popo in the middle of the workday. But now I won’t ever see her phone number flash on my phone screen again. 

Our days here on earth are very short, they are numbered – and it helps give us a sense of how short our lives can be in comparison to eternity. I grieve for my popo, and I naturally wish that mortality and death hadn’t taken her. But in my heart of hearts, I can be joyful because for her, there is much hope even in death. Even though she has closed this chapter for this life, her next chapter begins – an eternal life with Jesus who has loved and saved her.

In Memoriam

She was 62 when she passed, and she was shorter than me. Her hair was generally frizzy, dyed a maroon colour, and she walked with a slight limp. She liked to wear two layers of clothing, a long-sleeved shirt (typically striped) over a polo T. It never made sense to me because the Malaysian weather was always so hot and she complained about the heat every time she came to sit in Winson’s car. 

Her birthday was Nov 13, same with my Kung Kung. That’s something they shared in common. She would say that she preferred not to make a big deal about her birthdays, not to spend so extravagantly on dinners and meals. But she does love going out. On the days when we met up for meals or to spend quality time, you could tell she really enjoyed those times being with people and being surrounded by loved ones. She was in her element when she was at large gatherings. At Nathaniel’s wedding, she enjoyed being the centre of attention when she was the one receiving the drink during the tea ceremony. She gave him advice, the kind of aunty advice that makes you both amused and exasperated - and she probably knew deep down with glee how her remarks would invoke such a response. 

What would strike you the most about her was her ability to chatter non-stop. It was extraordinary how she could sustain an hour-long conversation on her own, with the other party barely getting two sentences out the entire time. The first time I met her, she downloaded to me her complete family history, about her family of seven sisters and three brothers - all within the hour. Having to listen to her attentively, it had been draining for me. But I always looked back at the first encounter with a sense of gratitude. I had been really intimidated by having to meet her. But when she came - loudly chattering away, an aunty remark for most everything - it filled me with a sense of warmth. 

It was hard for us in 2018. She was diagnosed with a cancer tumour, and it was a hard journey for all of us. Yet there is something about adversity that unites family members with disparate lives, hectic schedules and who usually display lukewarm complacency towards each other. There was now a goal to come together for. There was a mission under which to rally together. That experience of sending her for doctors’ appointments, surgery and chemotherapy sessions - it was a tough grind. There were a lot of moments where tempers flared and resentment brewed to an explosive point. Me myself. I too struggled with feeling frustrated, getting easily irritated. Yet, the experience had bound us so closely. Having to fight this struggle together - it made our relationship so intertwined and interdependent. We would stay at the hospital for a few hours on end, waiting for doctors. Just me and her. It felt strange at first. Yet familiarity grew. Through unextraordinary moments like these, an extraordinary kinship was forged. We got through the first recurrence with a kind of victory. 

After those sessions, we would sometimes go to Strawberry Fields in PJ Old Town, or the Pappa Rich there, for dinner or lunch. It was so nice to spend time together, but yet it was so tiring as well. After spending four hours at the hospital together, my introverted self is crying for relief. More so, when her chatty self doesn’t stop talking. I’m happy with having meals together. But I get cranky when she asks me to bring her to run errands. Sometimes I would get annoyed at why she would tell me to go here and there (without asking me a day before). She would call me in the middle of the workday too, and asks why I did not pick up her call earlier. She sends me  a lot of text messages as well, throughout the day. I am terrible at replying, but it was so cute to see her type “ha. Ha. ha” in an SMS. And strangely, I now want to be annoyed by her again.

Whenever we saw her, she would load up our cars and room with so MUCH stuff. Bags and bags of clothes, bags, snacks, and soft toys she knit herself. Wrapped in countless layers of plastic. The amount of items really shocked me. There were clothes that aren’t really my style - and soft toys that I wouldn’t really use. For instance, she wanted to have Winson and I prop up a rather scary-looking pair of dolls for our bridal car - which we said no to. The amount of items given to us, to me - it can be rather extreme. 

But this is emblematic of who Mum is as a person. For her, there was no such thing as a middle ground. It’s either you go all the way, or you don’t do it at all.  

I still have the ten boxes of Belvita she passed me, in my room. She knew I liked the cookies, and she gave them to me. 

I think the times she really enjoyed spending with us were those when we took family trips together or when we went to watch a movie together. We watched Crazy Rich Asians together, and we had gone to Cameron Highlands and Penang together. We had talked so much together as a family, the four of us taking the long, winding road up to Cameron. One of her anecdotes caught us by surprise and made us burst out laughing. What we thought was a nostalgic recounting of her village life growing up  in Alor Setar turned into a mischievous confession of how she accidentally killed a baby chick.  

She’s a mother to me. We would get irritated at each other. We would make time to do activities together. We would be complacent and too comfortable with each other. We would miss each other on days we don’t see each other. In the two short years we have known each other, she treated and saw me as her daughter - nothing less. 

She meant so much to me, and I’m certain the feeling was mutual. On the same day we rushed over to her place when we found out we were losing her - I found the Christmas gift she meant to give me in her apartment. A picture of Winson and my wedding registration day - made into a glass souvenir tied up neatly with a ribbon. She had also made a glass souvenir of the card I made for her 60th birthday. 

I want to wish away this empty hole in my life where her presence used to occupy. I want to wish away the guilt as well. The guilt of not having cared for her properly, when she had cared so deeply for us. The guilt of not enquiring more carefully about the recommendation for chemotherapy, about her state of health. Of not being wise in managing her health. The regret of not being able to have the Christmas Eve meal with her as we had planned, and that she had been so excited about. 

I’m glad that she knew God and that she was trusting in Jesus right to the end. This loss is so sudden, however. And I’m still trying to grasp it, if I ever can.  

-------------------------------------------------

REFLECTION: I once told a friend that writing was like torture. He thought it was amusing, and perhaps to some, it seems peculiar that the writing process could be described as such. But I continue to be struck by how Eugene O'Neill's wife, Carlotta, described his experience writing one of his finest plays: “When he started Long Day’s Journey, it was a most strange experience to watch that man being tortured every day by his own writing. He would come out of his study at the end of a day gaunt and sometimes weeping. His eyes would be all red and he looked ten years older than when he went in in the morning". 

That process of staring at life's adversities, of bare-facedly staring at your personal brushes with pain and loss - is that not torture? And what is even more torturous, is to allow yourself to be subsumed by them and to concretise that experience into words. Yet writing it out - that process keeps you sane.

I used to marvel at Tennyson's poem for his friend Arthur Hallam. He spent 17 years composing In Memoriam, and I used to wonder at how one could have been so affected by death to have a long, sustained need for such an outpouring of grief. But after experiencing for myself the pain of being robbed of people dear and beloved, it makes a whole lot of sense. No one ever “gets over it” or “moves on”, so to speak. Although life resumes and moments of profound happiness are still generously given by God, you can never fully erase that imprint that person has left on your mind, nor lose the deep affection you have for someone who was so embedded in your life’s monumental moments and unextraordinary routines.

ENDS

How a book is loved

You can tell a book is loved, when it has been

highlighted
underlined
annotated
scribbled all over.

The spine is a bit worn, the pages well-thumbed.


That is how you know a book is much loved, and its words are much valued.

When Satan tells me of the guilt within...

I've come to realise that a lot of my actions are driven by guilt and fear. I would feel the weight of guilt pressing down on me when I didn't "perform" as well as I should, and I would feel the fear of letting others down. 

It's not just at work either, this mentality has leaked into the way I do church ministry. What should be joyful and happy obedience as a response to the gospel sometimes devolve into self-abasing when I do not fulfill God's law to the tee, or when I have it in my mind that someone is displeased with what I had done / hadn't done. 

It is true that godly sorrow leads to repentance - 

"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done." 

- Paul to the Corinthian church (2 Cor 7:10-11). 

But there is a key difference between remorse and guilt. While remorse galvanises Christians to carry their crosses with more focus and eagerness, the residual guilt that comes from the fear of unforgiven sin feeds into doubt and self-pity. So I become despairing when I fall short of the standard of what a perfect Christian should be, and wallow in misery. 

I don't think we should indulge in this misery, though. I had also mistakenly perceived my struggle with guilt as "the right Christian response to sin", and as a good way to motivate me to mortify sin. Yet wanting to gratify my guilt and attempting to "compensate" for it stem from the insidious attitude that I've unconsciously adopted that I must become Christ. Not Christlike, but Christ himself. 

And it's actually a subtle, more dangerous form of sinning against God. I'm still attempting to dethrone Him by placing myself as the important person - the saintly martyr who has to give of herself because I "need" to be the Messiah to others. 

And how terribly prideful, how agonisingly frustrating to believe that even just a mite!

Realising this, I have then fallen into despair again. The foundational and fundamental gospel of grace I have yet to truly grasp!

But how wonderful it is that everytime I struggle with this guilt complex, I can remember these sweet words:

"Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. 

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful." 

-Hebrews 10:19-23

What is the basis of this hope and assurance? His faithfulness which is proven by the blood He shed. Note the passage I quoted - our hearts are sprinkled and our bodies are washed. Words that are both in the passive form, i.e. that has happened to us, and in the past tense, i.e. has already taken place. Earlier in the chapter, the author of Hebrews wrote that Christ's sacrifice is perfect and complete - accomplishing the redemption of His people once for all. 

So when I am liable to fall into despair because of all the ways I am not living out my Christian life rightly - I can remember I have an advocate with the Father, who forgives all my sins. What great encouragement indeed to keep pressing on to lead God-glorifying lives! 

Urgency and patience in gospel work

The gospel is eternally serious business, inextricably tied to the glory of God and the destinies of real people. Given the stakes, there has been a good and right recovery of the urgent task to see the gospel go to the world's hardest places and least-reached peoples.

 And yet if we're not careful, I fear we will wrongly identify urgency with speed, failing to remember that a task can be urgent and yet demand a slow, methodical approach that thinks in years and decades instead of days and months.

Simply put, the church desperately needs to recover categories for both urgency and patience in missions. Spreading the gospel is urgent, but it demands men and women with the patience to commit to God's means in order to accomplish God's ends.


- Josh Manley, "Be patient, missions is urgent"

Trekking through Bangkok - 2017

Loooooooooong overdue post. (And picture-heavy, too).

The Startrackers (The Star's graduate trainees) and I took a trip to Bangkok together last September - and here are some stories and pics.

When I first set foot into the working world officially, I was apprehensive. What are people really like in an office environment? You hear things about office politics, and you wonder how much of it is true. 

But these girls made working life not only fun, but as something to look forward to. Yep, what you do at work matters, the nature of your job scope matters. But who you're surrounded by matters too. And these ladies -  Aisyah, Natalie, Lina, Michelle, Su Hsien, Rowena (plus Melanie, who couldn't make it for the trip!) - they are supportive and caring, always there to offer advice, a shoulder to cry on, any form of help and support they can give, or lame jokes to brighten up your day. They genuinely rejoice to see you do well in your job or in your personal life, and they are there when the odds seem to be stacked against you. 

I'm so thankful to God that He's placed each one of them in my life :)

And I'm glad that we got to take a trip to Bangkok together.

DAY 1: 

- We flew into Don Mueang Airport, Bangkok

- Checked into Restiny Hostel at Ratchatewi Road. Very nice establishment, and the staff there are really generous. 

- We went for dinner nearby at Faridah Fartanee, it's a halal restaurant so that's great for Muslim travelers. 

- Later, we marched on to Pratunam Market for a look see, look, see. 

DAY 2: 

There's a reason why Thailand is a popular tourist destination. They've all sorts of quirky places to visit. We rented a van for the seven of us to take us around some sights in Khao Yai (altogether about 3600 baht). 

- We stopped by a chocolate factory, which sells premium chocs. 

- There was some random B&B place (?) next to it, and there were goats. 

- Next we went to Chokchai Farm. Hahaha, to be honest, I found it slightly odd...? Like it's essentially a farm, where cows are milked - how can this turn into such a profitable empire? But if you watch the introductory video at the beginning of the tour you'd understand why. From this one product, milk, there were a whole load of business units branching out from that product. It's fascinating! That's how enterprising and creative the business owners are. 

After lunch, we went to PB Valley. We didn't do the wine-tasting tour thing, just walked around and snapped some shots. 

- We then hopped into the van and went to The Bloom, which is a sort of flower garden.

And I guess if you wanna see Europe in Thailand (lol), one can always journey to Primo Piazza - where there are alpacas. (The highlight of the Khao Yai trip). 

Milk tea is very yums. It went for about 20-25 baht. We had dinner at Pe Aor, where they had delish tom yum noodles. 

And of course, we ended the day by playing Jenga in the hostel. 

DAY 3: 

Hot blazing days are always good for a trip to the temple. In our case, we took the opportunity of the toasty temperatures to visit Wat Arun. It's named after the Hindu god Aruna, often personified as the rising sun (according to Wiki). The temple sits on the Chao Phraya riverbank, and apparently it had existed since at least the 17th century. 

We heard that there is a dress code for tourists visiting the temples - but perhaps it wasn't really enforced, or maybe they're chill about it so long as it's not too revealing. I saw people wearing shorts and it was fine. 

- We took a river boat there. I don't remember the price now, it should be around 40-80 baht? 

- Then we went shopping at Siam Square. There was some really nice stuff for cheap there. Opposite was Siam Paragon and Siam Centre, where there was some nice stuff for not-so-cheap. (really not so cheap). 

Our journey then took us to Ratchada Rot Fai night market, where there was lots to eat and drink and shop, but nowhere to sit. 

                                             

DAY 4: 

Last full day in Bangkok - and was able to squeeze time to meet a dear friend named Guy, whom I knew from iFocus Durham days. We went around the hot Chatuchak Market, and there was so much to see - it's a very eclectic selection. Thai massages, milk teas, clothes, bags. And I think there was a stall selling only plastic bags.

Guy and I basically just chilled at the park after a while, talking about life and Thai politics (which is never a dull topic). 

And we spent the evening in the hostel, washing up and gearing up to go to the airport. We spent the night there, but couldn't get proper sleep because it was too darn cold. 

---

It wasn't my first time to Thailand or Bangkok. But that's the fun thing about traveling - it's a different experience each time. And I think what made this one so special were the companions. I had 6 other girls who are genuinely super fun and chill, and whom I'm really comfortable with. The late night chats (the sharing sessions), the laughter and jokes, and even the sad moments / pains in our lives that we got to chat through - I'm grateful for them. 

Yep, the sights and sounds of Bangkok city were great. But what was even greater was being able to share some time with you girls. :) 

The Glory of the Impossible - Samuel Zwemer

The challenge of the unoccupied fields of the world is one of great faith and, therefore, to great sacrifice. Our willingness to sacrifice for an enterprise is always in proportion to our faith in that enterprise. Faith has the genius of transforming the barely possible into actuality. Once men are dominated by the conviction that a thing must be done, they will stop at nothing until it is accomplished.

[...]

The pioneer missionary, in overcoming obstacles and difficulties, has the privilege not only of knowing Christ and the power of His resurrection, but also something of the fellowship of His suffering.

[...]

Who would naturally prefer to leave the warmth and comfort of hearth and home and the love of the family circle to go after a lost sheep, whose cry we have faintly heard in the howling of the tempest? Yet such is the glory of the task that neither home-ties nor home needs can hold back those who have caught the vision and the Great Shepherd.


- Samuel Zwemer, "The Glory of the Impossible"

True Spirituality - The transforming power of the gospel

It is at the cross that we cast away all our pride and self-sufficiency and admit to God what idolaters we really are. It is at the cross that we stop covering up our lack of spiritual reality. It is at the cross that we humbly admit to God that our hearts are spiritually cold and hard. It is at the cross that we find rest for our souls.

I am not presenting just one more plan or program for spiritual self-development. Instead, I am presenting a person, Jesus Christ, who says not only "repent and believe the gospel" (Mark 1:14b-15), but also "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28-30).

- Steve Childers

One great thing

You don't have to know a lot of things for your life to make a lasting difference in the world. But you do have to know the few great things that matter, perhaps just one, and then be willing to live for them and die for them.

The people that make a durable difference in the world are not the people who have mastered many things, but who have been mastered by one great thing. If you want your life to count, if you want the ripple effect of the pebbles you drop to become waves that reach the ends of the earth and roll on into eternity, you don't need to have a high IQ. You don't have to have good looks or riches or come from a fine family or a fine school.

Instead you have to know a few great, majestic, unchanging, obvious, simple, glorious things - or one great all-embracing thing - and be set on fire by them. 


- John Piper

Reflections on "Preaching the Whole Bible as Christian Scripture" by Graeme Goldsworthy

TL:DR version - read last 3 paragraphs.

Goldsworthy starts his book with an anecdote. In Sunday school, a child was asked what is gray and furry and lives in eucalyptus trees. Puzzled, the student replied “I know the answer is Jesus, but it sounds like a koala!”

Though amusing, the anecdote does raise a good question - what does it mean when Christians say “Jesus is always the answer”?

While the pithy slogan sounds a little silly, there is profound truth undergirding it. The person of Jesus is absolutely central to the message and meaning of Christianity. Although we know that in our heads, we need only examine the habits of our instinctively narcissistic selves to see that we don’t always act that way – even in our “Christian” practices.

This attitude pours over into the way we read our Bible as well. Do we read it only to find “inspiration” for ourselves? Or do we read it to understand God more? The way we read and draw out meaning from Scripture points to how we view our relationship with God.

Goldsworthy is at pains to illustrate how reading ourselves into the Bible is an unhelpful enterprise. Even if we read in it “instructions” to be a good Christian, we very often are inclined to put ourselves as the centre and cut Jesus out of the picture. As Goldsworthy writes:

“It is clear from the New Testament that the ethical example of Christ is secondary to and dependent upon the primary and unique work of Christ for us. Yet this does not seem to be clear to many when it comes to the Old Testament. The message of the Old Testament is too easily reduced to the imitation of godly example and the avoidance of the ungodly example.”

As an antidote, it is crucial to see the gospel (i.e. Jesus’ death and resurrection for our salvation) as the essence of the Bible, even in the Old Testament. Goldsworthy continues:

“At the heart of this saving work is not the ethical teachings of Jesus, but his obedient life and death, his glorious resurrection and his ascension to the right hand of God on high.”

For Goldsworthy, if we are to take the Bible seriously, there are basic principles on how the Bible should be viewed and read, and he addresses them in the chapters of the first part of his book:

1. The Centrality of the Gospel
2. What is the Bible?
3. What is Biblical Theology?
4. What is preaching?
5. Was Jesus a Biblical Theologian?
6. What kind of unity does the Bible have?
7.  How does the Gospel Function in the Bible?
8. What is the structure of Biblical Revelation
9. Can I preach a Christian sermon without mentioning Jesus?

Goldsworthy proposes that everyone is an interpreter of the Bible, which, even in a postmodern world, is a claim that no one would refute. But despite what postmodernism asserts (haha), there is correct interpretation and there is wrong interpretation. For someone to be a good interpreter of the Bible, he / she should be a Biblical theologian.

Biblical Theology, is a very loaded term, and the chapter on it, given Goldsworthy relatively academic style, can be bewildering for a layperson. Basically however, according to Goldsworthy, Biblical Theology upholds that all Scripture should be read as one unity, rather than seen as separate chunks that do not interrelate. It is seeing each narrative / passage in the Bible as contributing to one greater narrative – that of the redemption history that God achieves through Christ alone.

Even if we are convinced that all Scripture is the one story about Christ, resolving to know nothing but Christ crucified is ironically quite a tricky undertaking. Goldsworthy shows that there are themes that develop consistently across Scripture, and there are certain motifs that are specific only to that time and context. Therefore, it is important to take into account the rich variety of literary genres, the historical development across the books, and the progressive revelation of the redemption story. It is important to develop a sensitivity in distinguishing between elements of continuity and discontinuity.

Thus, there is a tension in the way we interpret Scripture: to see the Bible narrative as one unity, but to also recognise the variety of its different books. But Goldsworthy doesn’t leave us without guidance on how to handle this tension. He divides the Bible into three very broad epochs:

• Type (Historical epoch: creation to Israel’s decline)
• Type confirmed (Prophetic eschatology: prophecies of kingdom to come)
• Antitype (New Testament fulfilment: Jesus Christ and the church)

These are broad divisions, but it gives some structure in the way we can navigate the timeline of the Bible. He then dedicates the second half of the book to illustrating how different genres link to Christ: 

• Historical narrative texts
• Old Testament Laws
• Old Testament Prophets
• Wisdom literature
• Psalms
• Apocalyptic texts
• Gospels
• Acts and Epistles

Pulling out specific passages for each genre, he works out both the unique themes of that passage and how it would appropriately find its fulfilment in Christ.

Personally, although the book can be academic in its tone, there is much to gain from reading it, even for the layperson. The gist of it is that we cannot put ourselves in the shoes of the original readers without first seeing how the text finds its significance in Jesus’ death and resurrection. My biggest takeaway is understanding that even in the epistles, which are closest to our contemporary context, there still needs to be care in the way we relate the apostles’ writings to our current situation. Certain adjustments still need to be made.

Goldsworthy belabours the necessity of reading Scripture in a Christ-centred way, but not because of pedanticism. It’s because the centrality of the gospel is essential for us to know God through Christ. It’s because it does spell out different implications in the way we live our lives as Christians than if we had merely lifted the passage out of its context.

Some may balk at the idea of having to make the connection to Jesus every time they read a Bible passage. Certainly I was more than a little annoyed when I was told this too. “It is too tedious!”, “Repetition would bore people!”, “There is no need!” may be some of the objections. But tediousness is no excuse for laziness, nor is repetition for complacency. And maybe we could say that there is no need to link the text to Jesus – if it weren’t for the fact that Jesus himself said that all Scripture points to him (Luke 24: 44-45).

As Goldsworthy writes,

“It would not appear that Paul’s determination to know nothing among his hearers but Christ and him crucified led him into the trap of predictability. Of course, if by predictability we mean that people will come to expect every sermon to expound something of the glories of Christ, then let us by all means be predictable! Since there are inexhaustible riches in Christ, and the implication of these for our Christian experience are endless, I doubt very much that there is any need for a preacher to be boring and repetitive.”

There is a hope

There is a hope that burns within my heart 

That gives me strength for every passing day

A glimpse of glory now revealed in meagre part

That drives all fears away;

I stand in Christ, with sins forgiven, 

And Christ in me, the hope of heaven, 

My highest calling, and my deepest joy, 

To make His will my home. 

There is a hope that lifts my weary head, 

A consolation strong against despair, 

That when the world has plunged me in its deepest pits

I find the Saviour there;

Through present sufferings, future's fears, 

He whispers "Courage!" in my ears, 

For I am safe in everlasting arms

And they will bring me home. 

There is a hope that stands the test of time, 

That lifts my eyes beyond the beckoning grave

To see the matchless beauty of a day divine, 

Where I behold His face; 

Where sufferings cease and sorrows die, 

And every longing satisfied, 

And joy unspeakable will flood my soul, 

For I am truly home. 

--

This is one of my favourite songs. There is such beauty in seeing how the Christian can still rejoice even in the midst of despair and suffering. The words "hope" and "home" are repeated in the beginning and end of each verse respectively, showing the link between our hope and our eternal home - with Christ. 

I like how there is progression in the song - moving from a deep-seated hope within the heart of the Christian, to the courage to face the external battles of the world, to when everything is made right in New Creation. The third verse brings everything to final completion, where the "sufferings" of verse 2 cease, and "deepest joy" of verse 1 will come in its entirety. 

What wonderful lyrics. :)

Idleness

Previously, I wrote about busy-ness and how it can really disorientate your mind and rob a person's time to reflect and ruminate.

But idleness can be equally deadly. And what is worse than an idle body is an idle mind. You can tell a lot about a person by what their mind instinctively turns to. I realise that in my idleness, my mind turns to festering thoughts that lead me down the road to doubt and sadness.

It's a very real thing for Christians to be tempted to despair, to find it hard to peel away from such thoughts; this was painfully apparent to me when I was holidaying in Australia. Even while I was having a good time with my family seeing the sights - yes, even when I was having a genuinely good time - my thoughts kept returning to the pit of despair where no ray of hope seems able to burst through.

Someone very close to me told me that I was too naive, too optimistic - which was, according to him, a "cliche"; he did not understand that I was desperately warding off the hopelessness that was daily seeping within me.

There is much to sorrow about. The tragedies in this world just keep leaving us beleaguered, and there seems to be no ceasefire or respite.

But I think the bigger cliche is to feed that greedy beast of despair. Too easy is it to cling to despair, too easy is it to indulge in it, too easy is it to close our eyes and believe that this is the normal. Too easy is it to believe that there is no hope.

Now I want to make it clear that there is nothing wrong with grieving, with depression (both clinical and non-clinical), and sadness. Indeed, it is during this bleak period, when I have to trudge through the everydays that I see my own helplessness and God's measureless grace which fuels me for the tomorrows. But our sinful hearts are inclined to make the sadness and despair the closing chapter, the denouement of this play. If we are truly honest with ourselves, life seems like one blanket of tragedy - where characters are left with the broken pieces and no answers.

But for Christians, we fight to rejoice, we strive to rejoice, not because we want to manufacture artificial saccharine ecstasy, because we have a deep-seated, legitimate reason to do so. What I'm saying sounds like a load of "positive thinking" nonsense, and I would agree that "positive thinking" doesn't actually lead to "positive thinking". A hope is only as strong as what it's grounded in. For Christians, we do not have a false, empty hope that leaves us to be pitied of all men. It is a true hope. A hope grounded in the person and finished work of Christ.

So yes - my mind turns to despair, and will continue to do so. As long as I am in this side of eternity, sadness will come whispering in my ears every so often. I am emotionally battered, and feel very fragile. But I shall be able to keep crawling through the muddled murky midnight that besets me in my idleness, not because I am strong, not because I have positive thinking, but because God is faithful in ensuring that the Holy Spirit would lead me hoping and taking refuge in Christ.

Poem - I watched you mourn

For my friends
who know
the feathered thing
we call grief.

--

That day the morning hardened
And the clock stopped on the wall;
What happened had happened all of a sudden
And I could do nothing at all.

Regret flooded me
And more than just a little shame
And I wished as hard as I could
That I could sip your pain away.

"I could have"s came to mind
As I watched you mourn
        separated by a gossamer shadow;
But I resign to the fact that I am not Christ,
Who alone brings hope for tomorrow.

I myself, stand here waiting,
To quietly offer what I can manage,
To receive your sorrow folded in words
And your sadness in silence packaged.

Busy-ness

It's hard to settle myself down nowadays. 

I think I'm naturally predisposed to being lazy, but ironically, I also hate wasting time. So to counter idleness, to make sure I'm making the most of my time, I've been filling up my diary with things to do. Be it meeting up with people, going for cool seminars in church, serving in church, spending time with family, making sure my actual daytime job gets done well. Because I'm a Christian and I recognise that my days are numbered,  I want to squeeze the most out of every single minute. 

While that's all well and good, I also do believe that my busy-ness partly stems from less-than-noble intentions. Namely, my desire for wanting to do everything under the sun and my intense fear that I'm missing out on something great if I don't go for it. 

I've realised that lately I've just been filling up my days with so many activities - church, family, friends, work - that it's just been a whirlwind of buzzing up and down. I do think it's good to be active; but in another sense, I think it's bad that I now find it a struggle to slow down and draw myself away from all the hustle and bustle. Sometimes I've forgotten what it's like to not have something scheduled in. 

It's at times like this when I wish I was back in Durham, where if things get so busy, I could step outside to take a walk. Things seem less stressful there than when you're battling the long commute and congestion of KL City just to attend something you want to go for.  

But anyhow. I need to remember that I'm weak and limited as a human, and that while it's great to go out and be doing stuff, there're always great opportunities to be God-glorifying and wise with our time - even when we stay at home, not having any appointment penciled in. 

In fact, that's also what we need to do from time to time, to make sure we've not been idolising companionship, fun activities, busy-ness. What a great thing it is, to draw back from all that noise and go back to Jesus. 

Book Review: "For Whom the Bell Tolls"

Contrary to the John Donne sonnet from which its title was taken, the novel For Whom the Bell Tolls reflects not the common adage for which the poem was famous - “No man is an island” - but it instead speaks of the total isolation that man faces in the midst of war.

The poem that Hemingway references aligns with the novel’s themes in that it echoes the universal tragedy that occurs after a loss of a life. There is a common sadness, a common grief that is to be shared when even one individual suffers death and pain. But interestingly, instead of badgering the readers with platitudes about the horrors of war, Hemingway also pulls at the tension between the tragedy of war and its necessity. His tone remains one of neutrality: it is horrible, it wounds and hurts men, bringing out the worst in them; yet it is necessary for them to fight.

There is a kind of putting away of self in taking up a cause, a forgetting of one’s own interests for the sake and advancement of that cause. “[War] gave you a part in something that you could believe in wholly and completely and in which you felt an absolute brotherhood with the others who were engaged in it. It was something that you had never known before but that you had experienced now and you gave such importance to it and the reasons for it that your own death seemed of complete unimportance only a thin to be avoided because it would interfere with the performance of your duty.” As much as crises bring out the worst in men, it gave them reason and opportunity to rally behind something, to throw their entire energies into that purpose.

But it would be wise to remember that this line is part of Robert Jordan’s thought processes, one of his many veering thoughts that attempt to rationalise and make sense of the circumstances he’s in. The notion that crises brings about an “absolute brotherhood” is uncomfortably questioned. Jordan is the only American in the small band of guerrillas that has been tasked to bomb the bridge. While he seems to make connections with the group, at the end as it was at the beginning, he is alone. The refrain “His mind was very good company” which occurs throughout the book points to his solitude.

The book’s blurb according to my edition (Arrow Books, 1994) advertises the story as a romance, highlighting the relationship between Jordan and Maria. But after reading it, I was not much compelled by Robert Jordan and Maria’s relationship. It was beautiful in some sense, but it did not have the emotional weight I expected it to have based on the blurb.

Jordan’s soliloquys in trying to drown out his self-interest and trying to concoct some semblance of rationality in the war were I think the thrust of the book. And it culminates in the actual execution of the bomb operation. It was duly suspenseful and thrilling, which makes slugging through the first 200 pages worthwhile. But what was interesting was how although the operation itself needed to be orchestrated harmoniously by a few key players, the mission played out in silos. There were many instances of the aloneness of the individuals in war: the lone messenger delivering the message to the General, the guerrilla member Pablo betraying and sabotaging the operation, Robert Jordan having to coldly calculate and dissect each person’s loyalties and capabilities.

Even when they are supposedly on the same side, people are still moving in their own orbits instead of really moving towards one common direction. Thus ironically, for a book whose opening poem was a bold declaration that “no man is an island”, the novel also rings aloud with the isolation in which men insulate themselves during times of crises. 

Book Review: "God's Plans for You" by J. I. Packer

I thought the book would be a wishy-washy, hyper-spiritualised kind of book that you would find at the "New Age" section on the bookstore shelf. Haha, me and my prejudices. Genuinely, however, the trouble with books of these titles is that it tends to puff people up with self-absorption and self-obsession, and leads people to think that God is some kind of wizard to fulfill all your wishes.

But Packer's book is packed with good solid theology, and is - thankfully, and quite rightly - focused on God's actual plans for us, rather than what we want God's plans for us to be.

Packer sets the right tone by expounding on what a theologian essentially is. A lot of us, including Christians, tend to think that a theologian is a ponderous academic, a religious pundit almost. But in reality, we are all theologians. We all have ideas about whether God exists, what He's like. That's really what theology means - what we think about God.

He then later goes on to talk about God's plans for us. But before Packer gets to God's plans for us in our day-to-day lives (which we are most keen to know about, being instinctively self-interested), he addresses God's grand plan for the whole of humanity: that of human salvation accomplished through Christ's incarnation, death, and resurrection. The book reveals God's plan to make Christ lord of all, and that all things shall be united with Christ as head (Ephesians 1:10), for Christians to have a perfect relationship with Jesus, for them to be able to approach God's throne with full confidence (Hebrews 4:16), and for His spirit to conform us to Jesus' likeness (Romans 8:28-29).

Interestingly and importantly, although Packer does acknowledge that Christians ought to prayerfully seek for God's guidance in their decisions and lives, he does also emphatically state that trying to pin down "God's will" through some supernatural means can actually be harmful, and for me personally, doing that may hint at a sinful heart that does not trust God.

He writes:
"The source of anxiety is that a desire for guidance is linked with uncertainty about how to get it and fear of the consequences of not getting it. Such anxiety has an unhappy way of escalating. Anxious people get allured by any and every form of certainty that offers itself, no matter how irrational. They become vulnerable to strange influences and do zany things."

Wanting to know God's "will" then, can be distorted to become a way to manage and control God, and instead of leading us to humble dependence on Him, leads us to muscle through in our own way somehow.

After Packer truly establishes that God's purpose is to be found in trusting Christ as Lord and Saviour, Packer goes on to how this would look like in practical terms, i.e. in our daily living. He draws out what it means to be a Christian in sad times and in good times, and how being a Christian leads to self-understanding and also love for others.

Overall, it's a really good book that starts out very strongly by laying the foundation of God's grand purpose for mankind, before delving into the nitty gritty of how this plays out in all our small, but joy-filled lives. Packer does not make this an explicitly doctrinal book (in that, he does not explicitly elaborate on Christian doctrines and creeds), but it is a very helpful book to have in order to gain perspective on God's bigness and how we should re-orient our lives around Him.

On a side note, I received this book from such wonderful Christians when I was baptised. And I'm grateful for them.

The Paper Trail

I comb through the many articles that may seem like junk
To the untrained eye; but to my mind these things make my treasure trunk.

I traced what I've kept, following a paper trail
Curious and apprehensive of the nostalgia it would entail.

Little bits of notes and large slabs of cards
Words that spoke of a future that now belong to a past.

Dates that used to mean something but now have to be foregone
Cute little drawings, and even cuter songs.

Stuffed toys and books and all the photographs
Memories that were sweet, but are now, I suppose, done.

I followed the paper trail down our times,
Then placed them in a box again and put it aside.