I decided to drop the idea of transcribing my Hillsongs notes into a coherent narrative that I can put here daily. I just got too lazy and they don't make sense anyway, once rearranged like that. Instead, they will stay in my physical notebook, ready to dish out when the time calls for it.
I learned something new today. As I drove home, the van's engine was cut off just before I got to the motorway. Luckily I managed to get it restarted before the traffic moved along. Five minutes later, I felt the pedal was getting heavy just as I was climbing up harbor bridge. Luckily it didn't die there. Down the bridge I went, and to the side of the road because the engine had cut off again. The first time around I thought it was battery problem, because that's what I had with my car previously. The second time around, I realized that I have ran out of gas. I was about three minutes away from a petrol station, so I kicked it to start and fought along. Ten meters later, I knew I wasn't going to make it. So there I was at the side of the road. The solution was quite simple, just walk to the petrol station, borrowed a container of some sort, get a few liters of diesel, and walk back. Problem was, there was about 40m left of the motorway, without a footpath. So, one block away from a police station, I broke the law. Twice. Everything went as planned. Nobody broke into the van. I didn't see a single cop. And the van is up and running now. The whole ordeal took a bit less than half an hour.
Looking back now, an hour later, it feels funny. But an hour ago, I sure wasn't laughing. It wasn't a dire situation. I knew exactly what to do, I had lots of time, the sun was still up, and it wasn't raining like it had the whole day. There were so many other things that could've gone wrong but didn't. It could've been raining. I could've gotten hit by a car on those 40-60m of illegally walking on a motorway. Afterall, it's illegal for a reason. I could've met a cop and had to explain all that stuff. Instead, everything went absolutely fine. That's God right there.
That was just a small thing. The biggest thing about it is that I've never experienced that ever before. Well, now I have. I learned something new today. Sometimes things don't go as planned. Sometimes I have to take a detour, an extra half an hour to the journey. Sometimes I have to do things I've never done before to keep going forward. In a tidy culture here in New Zealand, a detour is an annoyance, a disturbance in the force. Not always so, I learned today. So the next time things don't go as planned, I will remember that it may not be so bad afterall.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Hillsongs 2010: Day One
Since I had the good sense to *not* write these blogs every day every night after every full day of conference, I'm going to write these things based on my notes, day per day. I took these notes continually during the day, so the sense of time is continually present. Here goes.
Day 1, 5/7/10
Empty station, sterile, cold, underground tunnels. Fifteen minutes after I landed on this city, the metropole hides. It's 10 degrees here, the screen says, but it feels much warmer than the 12 degrees back home. Nevertheless, it's good public transport.
It's Monday morning. Tired faces are everywhere, breaking out through their owners' attempts to hide, making them look even more tired. The buildings stand tall, somber grey, tidy, imposing, and arrogant. So depressing, so metropolis, accurate commentary and fitting company for the countless faces crawling beneath them, slaving away for their financial masters, imprisoned by their own prisons, their own inability to choose a different life for themselves. They could live cheaper elsewhere, this town is expensive to live in. But they're bound here by the invisible threads tying up their hearts, binding their soul to this city.
Sydney is like an old game. I know the story by heart, I know the bosses, mini-bosses, and and I know where the save points are. Yet, everytime I come back here I find something new. This place changes like crazy. I also change, and that makes all the difference in perception.
First thing I ate: Krispy Kreme
Then: Max Brenner
Waste no time. Wanderlust has no patience.
The tall buildings of yesteryear are no longer as impressive as I remember them to be. The giants did not fall. The grasshopper just grew up a bit. Some giants still impressed me mightily though.
Darling Harbour have changed immensely. Pictures can't do it justice. The bridge I spent hours meditating on is still impressive. This place have really turned into an event central now.
My feet are hurting. My muscles and legs are fine, only my feet are hurting like crazy. I got to the hotel nearly 9am, but check-in was 2pm. After nearly four hours of walking around, my feet are just about to kill me. I should've spared two days of doing completely nothing here. This city is amazing. It's depressing, yes, but it's amazingly depressing.
The train is an honest machine. Beyond the business-like CBD, the in-between places showed a depressing scene. Desolate graffittied walls, abandoned buildings, rubbles all over the place. Cost or result of development, we'll never know. To the average slave that dwells here, this face is probably the daily reality.
This year's conference opening is not something that I can describe. But it is something I'll remember for a long time. All musical instruments, they're not tuned to each other. There are hundreds of keys in a piano, none of them are tuned to each other. They are all tuned to the one scale fork. When I heard that, I knew this year would be special. Rather than thinking long and hard how to get along with this guy, how to work together better with that girl, how to make a team work, how to run this or that gig better etc, I should just tune in to the Fork. If the whole team tune to the same Fork, we would all be tuned just fine to each other.
The thing with momentum is, one way to lose it is by forgetting why you're moving on the first place. When you get so lost in the process that you forget what this whole mess is for, it's easy to burn out and stop. Even when you're moving fast, there is grace to momentum. Things happen when you're moving forward, some of which have nothing to do with you. Copying others doesn't work, because everybody's different and facing different situations. I have to live my own momentum, my own motions, adapting to my own problems. But I think the best news is that just because you've lost it doesn't mean you can't get it back. The force of momentum is measured by how much it takes to stop you. So the more opposition I get, the bigger the momentum. Just because you're doing everything right doesn't mean nothing bad will happen to you. Stuff happens to good people and bad people alike.
This all started with Steve's "Don't avoid the hard stuffs" from the week before. I'm sure he didn't know what Brian Houston was gonna preach on that opening evening. The puzzle is falling together here.
Day 1, 5/7/10
Empty station, sterile, cold, underground tunnels. Fifteen minutes after I landed on this city, the metropole hides. It's 10 degrees here, the screen says, but it feels much warmer than the 12 degrees back home. Nevertheless, it's good public transport.
It's Monday morning. Tired faces are everywhere, breaking out through their owners' attempts to hide, making them look even more tired. The buildings stand tall, somber grey, tidy, imposing, and arrogant. So depressing, so metropolis, accurate commentary and fitting company for the countless faces crawling beneath them, slaving away for their financial masters, imprisoned by their own prisons, their own inability to choose a different life for themselves. They could live cheaper elsewhere, this town is expensive to live in. But they're bound here by the invisible threads tying up their hearts, binding their soul to this city.
Sydney is like an old game. I know the story by heart, I know the bosses, mini-bosses, and and I know where the save points are. Yet, everytime I come back here I find something new. This place changes like crazy. I also change, and that makes all the difference in perception.
First thing I ate: Krispy Kreme
Then: Max Brenner
Waste no time. Wanderlust has no patience.
The tall buildings of yesteryear are no longer as impressive as I remember them to be. The giants did not fall. The grasshopper just grew up a bit. Some giants still impressed me mightily though.
Darling Harbour have changed immensely. Pictures can't do it justice. The bridge I spent hours meditating on is still impressive. This place have really turned into an event central now.
My feet are hurting. My muscles and legs are fine, only my feet are hurting like crazy. I got to the hotel nearly 9am, but check-in was 2pm. After nearly four hours of walking around, my feet are just about to kill me. I should've spared two days of doing completely nothing here. This city is amazing. It's depressing, yes, but it's amazingly depressing.
The train is an honest machine. Beyond the business-like CBD, the in-between places showed a depressing scene. Desolate graffittied walls, abandoned buildings, rubbles all over the place. Cost or result of development, we'll never know. To the average slave that dwells here, this face is probably the daily reality.
This year's conference opening is not something that I can describe. But it is something I'll remember for a long time. All musical instruments, they're not tuned to each other. There are hundreds of keys in a piano, none of them are tuned to each other. They are all tuned to the one scale fork. When I heard that, I knew this year would be special. Rather than thinking long and hard how to get along with this guy, how to work together better with that girl, how to make a team work, how to run this or that gig better etc, I should just tune in to the Fork. If the whole team tune to the same Fork, we would all be tuned just fine to each other.
The thing with momentum is, one way to lose it is by forgetting why you're moving on the first place. When you get so lost in the process that you forget what this whole mess is for, it's easy to burn out and stop. Even when you're moving fast, there is grace to momentum. Things happen when you're moving forward, some of which have nothing to do with you. Copying others doesn't work, because everybody's different and facing different situations. I have to live my own momentum, my own motions, adapting to my own problems. But I think the best news is that just because you've lost it doesn't mean you can't get it back. The force of momentum is measured by how much it takes to stop you. So the more opposition I get, the bigger the momentum. Just because you're doing everything right doesn't mean nothing bad will happen to you. Stuff happens to good people and bad people alike.
This all started with Steve's "Don't avoid the hard stuffs" from the week before. I'm sure he didn't know what Brian Houston was gonna preach on that opening evening. The puzzle is falling together here.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Walk On Clouds
I was standing on a carpark today, waiting for the humongous amount of fried rice that I hope will carry me through to lunchtime tomorrow. As I was standing there I watched the clouds go by, deep eternal blue in the background, and dark green trees in front. It's amazing what these things can do to you. I watched the deep blue sky and marvelled at how my eyes can't seem to touch it. My eyes itch, like they were expecting to hit something but they can't. It's as if the sky was there but you have no proof that it's there. The clouds were running ahead, I could feel the winter breeze but the sun was up and it wasn't terribly chilly. I watched the trees, their branches shivered in the wind, as if they're feeling colder than me. I began to marvel at the details that my eyes caught. Now, I don't have perfect eyesight, and haven't been for more than maybe 15 years now. But I think what I have is pretty amazing still. I felt the breeze on my face. I took a deep breath and felt the cool air fill my lungs. I carried two cellphones in my pocket, one of which was the reason I was standing there alone instead of with my friends at that time. I felt my cheap jacket protecting my torso from the wind, my cheap haircut keeping my head warm, and my shoes letting me stand there comfortably. All these things, they brought me to a question: Is this it?
All these things that I have, what are they for? Sure, they are there for me to enjoy, gifts from my heavenly Father. But is that it? Is that all there is to life and all that I've been given? I'd like to think that everything exists for me. Eat, drink, be merry, for tomorrow we die. Really? I have a reasonably good job, get paid reasonably well, spend unreasonably low because unreasonably I live rent-free. For the past half a year my goal in life has mostly been to save up money to cover for the time that I lost in university. Save up, climb up the corporate ladder, jump up when the opportunity comes, because I've had a very late start and now I have to catch up with everyone else. Side question: who is "everyone else"?
It's been a while now since I've aspired to do anything more than just surviving work and saving as much money as I can, allowing space to improve the material quality of my life here and there. I bought a better car reasonably cheap. It's been quite a while since last time I had to think about whether or not I should spend money on coffee. Being single, employed, and rent-free, four bucks a week seem somewhat small now. I'm now saving up to set myself up some passive income, hopefully one apartment soon and three apartments in less than five years. Along the way add to that a better job, twice the pay in five years time, and hopefully a girlfriend. But is this it? Everything that I have in me, let alone outside of me, is this all they are for? I haven't taken much risks lately, haven't thought of higher things, haven't considered anything that isn't for me. I've been selfish, and I know it. It's comfortable, furnishing your own cave, adding things into it, putting more cushion on your bed. These things, they help you sleep at night. But what do you do when you're a fugitive chased by your own heart? What happens if one day your true heart catches up with you, and the true reasoon you exist breaks your shell open? To put it in the simplest way: Is my life meant for something more than just myself?
I've been quite comfortable lately. Yes I've had some really tough times at work since Easter, and I don't think it's gonna get easier there. But maybe it's time to stop playing victim, time to stop saying "I'm doing my best" because quite frankly I know I'm not. Maybe it's time to stop thinking "I'm doing what I'm supposed to do" because if that is true then why do I still feel guilty?
I think I still feel guilty because deep down I know this is my Ur, my Haran, and that somewhere out there in space and time unknown lies my Canaan. Unlike Abram, however, I haven't heard the voice that tells me to go out somewhere. But what if the call is not to a physical place, but to a spiritual place? What if the call is for me to get out of the cave of my heart, stop playing safe, stop saving my heart's limited energy, stop putting up so much defense, but instead start opening up again, start caring again, dare to be hurt again, dare to fail again without a sword in my arm ready just in case? How possible is it that maybe once the attitude of the heart is taken care of, the call will come and the doors will open?
Earlier this week I had a dream. There were about four-five people, one of which was an android, chasing something. I was privileged enough to be an eye in the sky, shadowing them as they went. They chased this thing all the way up to the mountains so high up that it went above the clouds. Then up the mountain they came to a dead end. They ended up on a cliff with pillars on them, as if once upon a time there was something there. At some distance away they saw this structure, I'm not sure what. It could've been something built on a cliff of a different mountain. It looked to me like a castle in the sky. The leader of the group [not sure male or female], as positive as ever, said "C'mon! Follow me! Just step where I stepped, and you'll be fine!" The group was, of course, not happy. But the leader kept on saying, "Trust me!" And then I was privileged again to see through each of their eyes. From the eyes of the leader I saw floating platforms that they could jump on, all the way to the other castle in the sky. After some thought, some people in the group could see it too, although some still could not. Then I went to the android's head and I couldn't see it. The android, because it had to calculate everything, couldn't see what the humans could. I heard it calculating over and over again, and came always to the same conclusion: there's nothing there. It struck me there. Not only calculations are not smart enough to see these things, they can also disable you from seeing. Your tools can be precisely the things that stop you. In the end, the group went anyway, like Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. Everybody followed the leader's steps exactly. For those who could see it before, the platforms reveal themselves as they step on them. For those who couldn't, they looked down and all they saw was clouds. They couldn't explain how they're still there, but they couldn't deny that the leader was right afterall. At that point, all everybody could think of was just to follow the leader's steps exactly. How and why were no longer important. It wasn't a short journey either. It's not only scary to start, but it's also terrifying in the middle when you realize that you're doing something impossible and there's no turning back. It's those moments when you think, "What the heck have I gotten myself into...." But you have no choice but to keep going forward. In the end, they managed to get to the other end, all safe and nobody died, exactly like the leader said.
When I woke up I got the feeling that that was God. It's like God was insisting, "Trust me." "Just follow my steps, and you'll be fine. Wherever I'm telling you to go, I've been there before. I'll be walking just ahead of you." You can't expect any voice from heaven any clearer than that in this lifetime. Doesn't mean it's easy to do, though. So the challenge is there, the order is more or less there, the facility is pretty much guaranteed. In the end, the question remains:
What're you gonna do with this gift, dear child?
Get life, get love, get soul?
There is no reason to hide
All these things that I have, what are they for? Sure, they are there for me to enjoy, gifts from my heavenly Father. But is that it? Is that all there is to life and all that I've been given? I'd like to think that everything exists for me. Eat, drink, be merry, for tomorrow we die. Really? I have a reasonably good job, get paid reasonably well, spend unreasonably low because unreasonably I live rent-free. For the past half a year my goal in life has mostly been to save up money to cover for the time that I lost in university. Save up, climb up the corporate ladder, jump up when the opportunity comes, because I've had a very late start and now I have to catch up with everyone else. Side question: who is "everyone else"?
It's been a while now since I've aspired to do anything more than just surviving work and saving as much money as I can, allowing space to improve the material quality of my life here and there. I bought a better car reasonably cheap. It's been quite a while since last time I had to think about whether or not I should spend money on coffee. Being single, employed, and rent-free, four bucks a week seem somewhat small now. I'm now saving up to set myself up some passive income, hopefully one apartment soon and three apartments in less than five years. Along the way add to that a better job, twice the pay in five years time, and hopefully a girlfriend. But is this it? Everything that I have in me, let alone outside of me, is this all they are for? I haven't taken much risks lately, haven't thought of higher things, haven't considered anything that isn't for me. I've been selfish, and I know it. It's comfortable, furnishing your own cave, adding things into it, putting more cushion on your bed. These things, they help you sleep at night. But what do you do when you're a fugitive chased by your own heart? What happens if one day your true heart catches up with you, and the true reasoon you exist breaks your shell open? To put it in the simplest way: Is my life meant for something more than just myself?
I've been quite comfortable lately. Yes I've had some really tough times at work since Easter, and I don't think it's gonna get easier there. But maybe it's time to stop playing victim, time to stop saying "I'm doing my best" because quite frankly I know I'm not. Maybe it's time to stop thinking "I'm doing what I'm supposed to do" because if that is true then why do I still feel guilty?
I think I still feel guilty because deep down I know this is my Ur, my Haran, and that somewhere out there in space and time unknown lies my Canaan. Unlike Abram, however, I haven't heard the voice that tells me to go out somewhere. But what if the call is not to a physical place, but to a spiritual place? What if the call is for me to get out of the cave of my heart, stop playing safe, stop saving my heart's limited energy, stop putting up so much defense, but instead start opening up again, start caring again, dare to be hurt again, dare to fail again without a sword in my arm ready just in case? How possible is it that maybe once the attitude of the heart is taken care of, the call will come and the doors will open?
Earlier this week I had a dream. There were about four-five people, one of which was an android, chasing something. I was privileged enough to be an eye in the sky, shadowing them as they went. They chased this thing all the way up to the mountains so high up that it went above the clouds. Then up the mountain they came to a dead end. They ended up on a cliff with pillars on them, as if once upon a time there was something there. At some distance away they saw this structure, I'm not sure what. It could've been something built on a cliff of a different mountain. It looked to me like a castle in the sky. The leader of the group [not sure male or female], as positive as ever, said "C'mon! Follow me! Just step where I stepped, and you'll be fine!" The group was, of course, not happy. But the leader kept on saying, "Trust me!" And then I was privileged again to see through each of their eyes. From the eyes of the leader I saw floating platforms that they could jump on, all the way to the other castle in the sky. After some thought, some people in the group could see it too, although some still could not. Then I went to the android's head and I couldn't see it. The android, because it had to calculate everything, couldn't see what the humans could. I heard it calculating over and over again, and came always to the same conclusion: there's nothing there. It struck me there. Not only calculations are not smart enough to see these things, they can also disable you from seeing. Your tools can be precisely the things that stop you. In the end, the group went anyway, like Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. Everybody followed the leader's steps exactly. For those who could see it before, the platforms reveal themselves as they step on them. For those who couldn't, they looked down and all they saw was clouds. They couldn't explain how they're still there, but they couldn't deny that the leader was right afterall. At that point, all everybody could think of was just to follow the leader's steps exactly. How and why were no longer important. It wasn't a short journey either. It's not only scary to start, but it's also terrifying in the middle when you realize that you're doing something impossible and there's no turning back. It's those moments when you think, "What the heck have I gotten myself into...." But you have no choice but to keep going forward. In the end, they managed to get to the other end, all safe and nobody died, exactly like the leader said.
When I woke up I got the feeling that that was God. It's like God was insisting, "Trust me." "Just follow my steps, and you'll be fine. Wherever I'm telling you to go, I've been there before. I'll be walking just ahead of you." You can't expect any voice from heaven any clearer than that in this lifetime. Doesn't mean it's easy to do, though. So the challenge is there, the order is more or less there, the facility is pretty much guaranteed. In the end, the question remains:
What're you gonna do with this gift, dear child?
Get life, get love, get soul?
There is no reason to hide
Sunday, May 9, 2010
The Man In The Iron
I wasn't gonna blog about this, but I guess this was a long time coming. Yes, okay, I have to say Ironman 2 was a flop from what I think is the normal person's perspective. It got a lot of bang, but got slow in the middle, super-anti-climactic finale, and the plot was negligible. But I'm not a normal person, I'm a fan, and a big one at that too. Since the plot was largely non-existent anyway, I don't think I'm in danger of giving any spoilers. As usual with movies lately, I appreciate the jokes more than anything. In that department, I dare say Ironman 2 is second only to Batman. I think I read in Wired that this movie was made with fans in mind. That much was clear to me. Tony's line, "You wanna be war machine? Go ahead!" was a dead giveaway to me. That line wouldn't even register in a normal person's head. But I caught that line and I knew immediately the silver suit was gonna turn black. And turn black it did. I almost stood up and saluted.
But what I have the urge to talk about is not that. The one line that stuck with me [apart from War Machine's last joke] was when The War Machine dude came in to Tony's office and pleaded with him. "You don't have to do this alone, Tony!" Then, contrary to normal hero standards, Tony Stark didn't just repented and did the right and warm and fuzzy thing, like starting to trust his friends more and stuffs. Instead, like a normal person, he waved him off, "Contrary to popular belief, I know what I'm doing."
That line kept on going in my head for the past two hours or so. "You don't have to do this alone!" I have no idea how many times in my life have I been on the transmitting end of that line. But if I may be honest for a second here, everytime I say that to myself, nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. I would try to trust people more, involve myself with other people's "business" more, but I would always quickly high-tail it out of there, away from their personal sphere, and mind my own business. In my head I understand this completely. I need to need other people more, otherwise 20-30 years from now I'll die a lonely man, most probably in a one-bedroom apartment somewhere. I don't have to do this alone, I know that. I don't have to live life alone, don't have to shoulder all my burden alone, don't have to think through my future alone. I know all that. But you know, maybe the hardest gate to break through is not on a guarded fortress. Maybe it is hardest when it's a door deep in the privacy of your heart, and you hold the key. Heavy artillery will bring any fortress down, but maybe there's nothing the physical world can do to turn that key hanging on the padlock of your heart.
I don't like people touching the drum kit when I'm setting up, especially when I'm about to play. I like to do it myself, I like to have everything exactly where I want them to be, and I don't like having to explain myself about any of it. Nobody else needs to know or be concerned, it's my throne. If they dare to comment, they better be a heck a lot better than me. My normal reply to an offer of help would be, "It's fine, I got it." I'm a sharp cold steel blade. The samurai lived off a great principle. The samurai is also extinct.
It's easy to tell people to open up. But I can't tell you how horrifying it is, even just the thought of opening up when your heart is on the line. "But I opened up my heart and all I did was bleed." I say amen to that, pastor Jon. But it has to change. I can't keep on like this. One day, the world will become too much for this one person. One day this guy will no longer have all the answers to all the questions. One day this guy will fall and there will be nobody there to help him up. Something better change before that day comes.
In the end, Tony Stark didn't actually end up trusting anybody else either. Nick Fury certainly didn't really get through to him. Tony Stark didn't end up being anybody's best buddy by the end of the movie, and I don't think that's much of a spoiler at all. But I'm not Tony Stark. I don't have a metal suit to hide in, rocket boots to float in the sky with when I'm lonely, a metal mask to hide my bloodshot eyes after an insomniac night, and I got no villains to beat up to make me feel good about myself when I'm doubting my self-worth. So I gotta do something else.
A thought just occurred to me, and this might just take the cake. This whole thing I've been talking about, in a very symbolic way, I think this was also being "talked about" in the movie. Early in the movie Jarvis said, "Ironically, sir, the thing that allows you to live longer is killing you at the same time." The thing that's keeping me alive, this false sense of security, the "I can handle it" attitude, is also killing me at the same time, by getting me more and more reliant on myself, more and more alone. "Everytime it is used it accelerates the damage to your body", as Jarvis put it. Notice where this "thing" was? It was inserted into Tony's heart. As long as he had that, his blood intoxicity kept on rising up. See what happens when your "heart" is sick? You become toxic. You change it over and over again, but as long you keep replacing it with the same thing, you'll just get more and more toxic in the end. Noticed what changed Tony Stark's life? A change of "heart".
Didn't think I could ever say that about Ironman.
A cheerful heart is a great medicine
But a sad heart crushes the bones
It is not good for a person to be alone
.... because if he falls, then who's gonna help him get back on his feet?
But what I have the urge to talk about is not that. The one line that stuck with me [apart from War Machine's last joke] was when The War Machine dude came in to Tony's office and pleaded with him. "You don't have to do this alone, Tony!" Then, contrary to normal hero standards, Tony Stark didn't just repented and did the right and warm and fuzzy thing, like starting to trust his friends more and stuffs. Instead, like a normal person, he waved him off, "Contrary to popular belief, I know what I'm doing."
That line kept on going in my head for the past two hours or so. "You don't have to do this alone!" I have no idea how many times in my life have I been on the transmitting end of that line. But if I may be honest for a second here, everytime I say that to myself, nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. I would try to trust people more, involve myself with other people's "business" more, but I would always quickly high-tail it out of there, away from their personal sphere, and mind my own business. In my head I understand this completely. I need to need other people more, otherwise 20-30 years from now I'll die a lonely man, most probably in a one-bedroom apartment somewhere. I don't have to do this alone, I know that. I don't have to live life alone, don't have to shoulder all my burden alone, don't have to think through my future alone. I know all that. But you know, maybe the hardest gate to break through is not on a guarded fortress. Maybe it is hardest when it's a door deep in the privacy of your heart, and you hold the key. Heavy artillery will bring any fortress down, but maybe there's nothing the physical world can do to turn that key hanging on the padlock of your heart.
I don't like people touching the drum kit when I'm setting up, especially when I'm about to play. I like to do it myself, I like to have everything exactly where I want them to be, and I don't like having to explain myself about any of it. Nobody else needs to know or be concerned, it's my throne. If they dare to comment, they better be a heck a lot better than me. My normal reply to an offer of help would be, "It's fine, I got it." I'm a sharp cold steel blade. The samurai lived off a great principle. The samurai is also extinct.
It's easy to tell people to open up. But I can't tell you how horrifying it is, even just the thought of opening up when your heart is on the line. "But I opened up my heart and all I did was bleed." I say amen to that, pastor Jon. But it has to change. I can't keep on like this. One day, the world will become too much for this one person. One day this guy will no longer have all the answers to all the questions. One day this guy will fall and there will be nobody there to help him up. Something better change before that day comes.
In the end, Tony Stark didn't actually end up trusting anybody else either. Nick Fury certainly didn't really get through to him. Tony Stark didn't end up being anybody's best buddy by the end of the movie, and I don't think that's much of a spoiler at all. But I'm not Tony Stark. I don't have a metal suit to hide in, rocket boots to float in the sky with when I'm lonely, a metal mask to hide my bloodshot eyes after an insomniac night, and I got no villains to beat up to make me feel good about myself when I'm doubting my self-worth. So I gotta do something else.
A thought just occurred to me, and this might just take the cake. This whole thing I've been talking about, in a very symbolic way, I think this was also being "talked about" in the movie. Early in the movie Jarvis said, "Ironically, sir, the thing that allows you to live longer is killing you at the same time." The thing that's keeping me alive, this false sense of security, the "I can handle it" attitude, is also killing me at the same time, by getting me more and more reliant on myself, more and more alone. "Everytime it is used it accelerates the damage to your body", as Jarvis put it. Notice where this "thing" was? It was inserted into Tony's heart. As long as he had that, his blood intoxicity kept on rising up. See what happens when your "heart" is sick? You become toxic. You change it over and over again, but as long you keep replacing it with the same thing, you'll just get more and more toxic in the end. Noticed what changed Tony Stark's life? A change of "heart".
Didn't think I could ever say that about Ironman.
A cheerful heart is a great medicine
But a sad heart crushes the bones
It is not good for a person to be alone
.... because if he falls, then who's gonna help him get back on his feet?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Walk On Air
There is this thing between me and heights. It's called Fear. I am known to fear tight narrow spaces, I'm claustrophobic. I'm also known to fear great heights, and not-so-great heights. This fact made today went really interesting.
So apparently some people decided to hook some wires and planks around some trees in a forest in Kumeu. Apparently they've been there for five years, and by a staff's own admission, not many people know them anyway. I went today fully expecting them to make me piss my pants. They didn't quite get there but they sure didn't disappoint.
Here's how it works. You go up a ladder, you grab on a wire, and walk along some cleverly-placed planks, rope, logs, wires, or combinations of them attached to various trees around the place, all the while always secured by not one but two locks to a thick wire to ensure gravity doesn't kill you. Repeat at different heights. That's about it. It's clever, simple, and a sure magnet for adrenaline junkies.
I'll be honest with you. Within the first two minutes I started thinking, what the heck am I doing here. The first course was probably two-three meters above the ground and I was scared out of my head. But of course, I wanted this to happen to begin with, that's why I was there in the first place, so I pushed ahead. At about the fifth obstacle I was still scared. In fact the fear never actually left me. But at that point, I no longer thought of quitting. I was there, up in the air, standing between two trees with a wire under my feet and another piece of wire I held on to at about chest level. My old breathing techniques came in handy as I forced myself to keep looking forward and not down. But that's kinda hard to do most times, when you're walking on planks set some width apart, they force you to look down to watch where you're stepping. Clever, as I said. By the second course I was finding my footing. I got used to breathing fast and gritting my teeth. I no longer hurried my steps. By the third course, my breathing techniques failed me, and I resorted to swearing black and blue into thin air. My "ssshhh...." were not attempts to calm myself down, I was swearing in acronym.
After the fourth course we took a break. This was a mistake. Then we got in there again for the second half of the thing, kinda like "the real thing". In the first thirty seconds of that I found the same quitting thoughts in my head again. I thought, I've done this before, only in slightly lower altitude, so there's no reason to stop now. I actually realized that they were recycling obstacle ideas at about course three, that all they've done is set up the same course slightly higher at every repetition. This had an amazing effect: the first time you go through something, you go through it really slow because you're really scared. The second time around, though it's higher, you don't take as much time because you're not that scared anymore, as long as the altitude increase is not huge. I think they lift things up about half a meter or a meter everytime. There's a lesson in there. The first time around you face a certain demon in your life, everything goes crazy. The next time you face it again, even if the stakes are higher, maybe it still scares you, but you've got the hang of it at that stage. It's no longer as paralysing as the first time.
When we were having a break, we noticed that most people that go through this go through them really fast. Most of them don't even hold on to anything. That's not recklessness either, it's perfectly safe. Life is so much easier once you believe that your fall, if you do fall, wouldn't be fatal. To me, I know the safety mechanisms are strong, I wouldn't break a leg or anything if I fall, I wouldn't even go down half a metre if I step off the platform as the chains will hold me. But still, being up there looking down with none of what I am used to have as "safety" scared me. It's a pseudo-fear. It's fear of something that isn't really there anymore. Much of my life has been lived that way. When you don't fear the falling down because you know it's not gonna happen, but you fear the height anyway, you know something in you needs to change. I understand that now. This year has been leading me up to this point, pounding this lesson into me over and over again in different ways until I really get it.
On the sixth course I got two kids going right behind me. They were really tailing me, right on my back. They were about 10 years old. Due to security measures and rules, there was a lot of waiting to avoid overcrowding on the wires and platforms. I was the last in our group to go, that's why I had these kids tailing me. They've been tailing us pretty much the whole day. As I stood on the platform, waiting for Lucko and Wulan to clear the next wire, I started talking to the kid. "Bro, you've done this before?" I asked, because he was so fast in clearing these obstacles. He said no, it's my first time. Later on I figured that he probably meant it was his first time on course six, he might've done the others before. I said "Sorry we're so slow ey bro, this is our first time, and I'm really scared." To my surprise, he politely said, "That's okay, I'm scared too". Somewhere along the line I was on this moving-log thing that I was so afraid of. Lo and behold, the kid was right there behind me, on the same log. I was scared enough when the logs were stable, let alone with a kid breathing down my neck hurrying me up without saying anything. I asked him, "Bro, are your parents near here somewhere?" He said no. I said, "That's good. Sorry about my mouth ey bro". Again, the ever-so-polite kid giggled a little and said, "That's okay". And I continued to swear black and blue into the air.
Much to my surprise, however, he started talking to me after that. "Woah that was freaky", he said after one obstacle, "now I don't know if I really wanna do course seven and eight after this." At one point he even asked me to help him move his safety lock from one wire to another because he wasn't tall enough to unlock them easily. That struck me rather deeply. This was a chance encounter. I didn't get the kid's name, and never will, as I quit at the end of course six because my arms wouldn't lift much more and grip was as good as gone. I was getting blurry and my mind wasn't there anymore at about halfway through course six, so I wasn't really there anymore by the end of it. But there it was, instant communication. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the altitude, maybe it's just easy to get people going when you're ten-twelve meters off the ground with just a cable wire under your feet, I don't know. But it's there. Maybe communication is hard to maintain, as was the case with this kid. But it sure is easy to initiate. And everything starts with a beginning.
This whole thing reminds me of Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. Do you remember what Indy got after he stepped [in faith?] off a cliff to a bridge that he couldn't see? The Cup of The Covenant.
So apparently some people decided to hook some wires and planks around some trees in a forest in Kumeu. Apparently they've been there for five years, and by a staff's own admission, not many people know them anyway. I went today fully expecting them to make me piss my pants. They didn't quite get there but they sure didn't disappoint.
Here's how it works. You go up a ladder, you grab on a wire, and walk along some cleverly-placed planks, rope, logs, wires, or combinations of them attached to various trees around the place, all the while always secured by not one but two locks to a thick wire to ensure gravity doesn't kill you. Repeat at different heights. That's about it. It's clever, simple, and a sure magnet for adrenaline junkies.
I'll be honest with you. Within the first two minutes I started thinking, what the heck am I doing here. The first course was probably two-three meters above the ground and I was scared out of my head. But of course, I wanted this to happen to begin with, that's why I was there in the first place, so I pushed ahead. At about the fifth obstacle I was still scared. In fact the fear never actually left me. But at that point, I no longer thought of quitting. I was there, up in the air, standing between two trees with a wire under my feet and another piece of wire I held on to at about chest level. My old breathing techniques came in handy as I forced myself to keep looking forward and not down. But that's kinda hard to do most times, when you're walking on planks set some width apart, they force you to look down to watch where you're stepping. Clever, as I said. By the second course I was finding my footing. I got used to breathing fast and gritting my teeth. I no longer hurried my steps. By the third course, my breathing techniques failed me, and I resorted to swearing black and blue into thin air. My "ssshhh...." were not attempts to calm myself down, I was swearing in acronym.
After the fourth course we took a break. This was a mistake. Then we got in there again for the second half of the thing, kinda like "the real thing". In the first thirty seconds of that I found the same quitting thoughts in my head again. I thought, I've done this before, only in slightly lower altitude, so there's no reason to stop now. I actually realized that they were recycling obstacle ideas at about course three, that all they've done is set up the same course slightly higher at every repetition. This had an amazing effect: the first time you go through something, you go through it really slow because you're really scared. The second time around, though it's higher, you don't take as much time because you're not that scared anymore, as long as the altitude increase is not huge. I think they lift things up about half a meter or a meter everytime. There's a lesson in there. The first time around you face a certain demon in your life, everything goes crazy. The next time you face it again, even if the stakes are higher, maybe it still scares you, but you've got the hang of it at that stage. It's no longer as paralysing as the first time.
When we were having a break, we noticed that most people that go through this go through them really fast. Most of them don't even hold on to anything. That's not recklessness either, it's perfectly safe. Life is so much easier once you believe that your fall, if you do fall, wouldn't be fatal. To me, I know the safety mechanisms are strong, I wouldn't break a leg or anything if I fall, I wouldn't even go down half a metre if I step off the platform as the chains will hold me. But still, being up there looking down with none of what I am used to have as "safety" scared me. It's a pseudo-fear. It's fear of something that isn't really there anymore. Much of my life has been lived that way. When you don't fear the falling down because you know it's not gonna happen, but you fear the height anyway, you know something in you needs to change. I understand that now. This year has been leading me up to this point, pounding this lesson into me over and over again in different ways until I really get it.
On the sixth course I got two kids going right behind me. They were really tailing me, right on my back. They were about 10 years old. Due to security measures and rules, there was a lot of waiting to avoid overcrowding on the wires and platforms. I was the last in our group to go, that's why I had these kids tailing me. They've been tailing us pretty much the whole day. As I stood on the platform, waiting for Lucko and Wulan to clear the next wire, I started talking to the kid. "Bro, you've done this before?" I asked, because he was so fast in clearing these obstacles. He said no, it's my first time. Later on I figured that he probably meant it was his first time on course six, he might've done the others before. I said "Sorry we're so slow ey bro, this is our first time, and I'm really scared." To my surprise, he politely said, "That's okay, I'm scared too". Somewhere along the line I was on this moving-log thing that I was so afraid of. Lo and behold, the kid was right there behind me, on the same log. I was scared enough when the logs were stable, let alone with a kid breathing down my neck hurrying me up without saying anything. I asked him, "Bro, are your parents near here somewhere?" He said no. I said, "That's good. Sorry about my mouth ey bro". Again, the ever-so-polite kid giggled a little and said, "That's okay". And I continued to swear black and blue into the air.
Much to my surprise, however, he started talking to me after that. "Woah that was freaky", he said after one obstacle, "now I don't know if I really wanna do course seven and eight after this." At one point he even asked me to help him move his safety lock from one wire to another because he wasn't tall enough to unlock them easily. That struck me rather deeply. This was a chance encounter. I didn't get the kid's name, and never will, as I quit at the end of course six because my arms wouldn't lift much more and grip was as good as gone. I was getting blurry and my mind wasn't there anymore at about halfway through course six, so I wasn't really there anymore by the end of it. But there it was, instant communication. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the altitude, maybe it's just easy to get people going when you're ten-twelve meters off the ground with just a cable wire under your feet, I don't know. But it's there. Maybe communication is hard to maintain, as was the case with this kid. But it sure is easy to initiate. And everything starts with a beginning.
This whole thing reminds me of Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. Do you remember what Indy got after he stepped [in faith?] off a cliff to a bridge that he couldn't see? The Cup of The Covenant.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Walk On Water: Side Story
Once upon a time there was a rich man. He found an empty land, and on that empty land he found a treasure. The moment he found the treasure, he quickly buried the treasure again, went home, sold everything he had, and bought the land. But the biggest thing about this little story is that it begins with "The Kingdom of God is like....."
For us, soil and dust with breath of life in it, this guy sold everything he had and bought us overpriced, all for what little treasure we hide within us. The crazy thing is, he sold everything. An empty land is worth a lot if you have something to build on top of it. But without anything else under his name, the empty land will stay empty, if not for the hidden treasure. See, he bought the land not because of what will become of the land. He bought because of what's already in it. And I think that's insane.
But if the Kingdom of God is like that, so to make "Your Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven" we have to see other empty lands the same way. My only problem with that is these days I have a short fuse, I really do. If I've had a bad day, and especially if this empty land is not the female kind, I get pissed really really fast. Let's just be honest here, I'm a man too, and a single man at that. I'm willing to tolerate women more than men, I'll just be honest here. But then this side story didn't say anything about that. He found a land, found a hidden treasure, and did everything he could to save it. It's a simple story. It just takes a lot to follow.
A lot of times it takes so much, in fact, that I feel that to keep on doing it I have to be walking on water.
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus
For us, soil and dust with breath of life in it, this guy sold everything he had and bought us overpriced, all for what little treasure we hide within us. The crazy thing is, he sold everything. An empty land is worth a lot if you have something to build on top of it. But without anything else under his name, the empty land will stay empty, if not for the hidden treasure. See, he bought the land not because of what will become of the land. He bought because of what's already in it. And I think that's insane.
But if the Kingdom of God is like that, so to make "Your Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven" we have to see other empty lands the same way. My only problem with that is these days I have a short fuse, I really do. If I've had a bad day, and especially if this empty land is not the female kind, I get pissed really really fast. Let's just be honest here, I'm a man too, and a single man at that. I'm willing to tolerate women more than men, I'll just be honest here. But then this side story didn't say anything about that. He found a land, found a hidden treasure, and did everything he could to save it. It's a simple story. It just takes a lot to follow.
A lot of times it takes so much, in fact, that I feel that to keep on doing it I have to be walking on water.
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Interlude
When I was growing up I wanted to be strong
When I've grown up I wanted to be even stronger
So I put on an armor, a heart of steel
And then I met you
You said "There is more to life than this"
I walked with you, learned from you, ate from your table
I was a child again
And then I grew up
I thought I understood you, so I felt safe
In my arrogance I thought I understood
In my arrogance I came full circle
And my mistake brought me back to you
Back to you, back to you
The child, a grown up now
but back to how he was, naked and armor-less
and his heart no longer cold steel
flesh stripped bare to the cold winds
back unguarded, open to kill and steal
I come back to you, walking on water
with my eyes fixed on you, I have no one else
I come back to you, no longer strong
Still a fighter, but no longer just trying to survive
Back to you, coming back to you
Trying to be complete again, because only you can
complete me, fill me up
Fill this God-shaped hole
Because only you can
When I've grown up I wanted to be even stronger
So I put on an armor, a heart of steel
And then I met you
You said "There is more to life than this"
I walked with you, learned from you, ate from your table
I was a child again
And then I grew up
I thought I understood you, so I felt safe
In my arrogance I thought I understood
In my arrogance I came full circle
And my mistake brought me back to you
Back to you, back to you
The child, a grown up now
but back to how he was, naked and armor-less
and his heart no longer cold steel
flesh stripped bare to the cold winds
back unguarded, open to kill and steal
I come back to you, walking on water
with my eyes fixed on you, I have no one else
I come back to you, no longer strong
Still a fighter, but no longer just trying to survive
Back to you, coming back to you
Trying to be complete again, because only you can
complete me, fill me up
Fill this God-shaped hole
Because only you can
Walk On Water, part 3
I have misunderstood God. In very short four words, that's what I learned in the past two weeks. I thought I was walking right with God, being part of this ritual-less generation of believers. It was only recently that I realized I have gravitated towards ritual as I walk with God. So little faith, I'm ashamed to say. It's easier with rituals, after all. It's like everyday life. You pay money, you get your stuff. With God and faith, there is no money to pay with. The concept of Grace and God as a Father, they exist outside the realm of logic. The concept of Christ dying on the cross to save humanity is based on the belief that we cannot save ourselves. In other words, for all our powers we can't do a lick to change our fate, to move a stone in the course of this universe. That's why God has to do these things for us. In my arrogance I have come to believe that I can do something about it. In my familiarity I thought I can create something that isn't already in God's hands. Easter bears new meaning for me this year.
Easter Sunday, as we prayed for communion, I thought I heard Steve slipped his tongue. I don't know if he really did slip, or did he do it deliberately, or if it was just me. When Steve prayed over the bread, describing again how this is God's offer to take part in him, I thought I heard him say, "Let me die for you." From that word, this became the first year in my walk with God that I had to take the communion sitting down. My legs went out, and I bawled my eyes out. "Let me die for you", I heard God said. I grew up a survivor. I learned to be self-sufficient. A long time ago a friend warned me that I risk dying alone because I have a problem receiving from other people. In Hillsongs a few years back Joseph Prince said that the church today doesn't have a giving problem, it has a receiving problem. Grace is an easy concept to understand, but nearly impossible for me to take in. I understood their words back then, but this time my heart was broken open.
"Let me die for you", Jesus said. He could've said "let me buy you dinner", or anything, I would've broke down just the same. "Let me" anything. It's been a long time since last time I let anybody do anything for me, anything significant beyond the little chores. I have asked favor from people, and received them, but those were matters of utilitarianism on my part. I was using them because I know those were easy tasks for them each. This time, it felt like completely something else. Somebody wants to do something for me, not because I asked, not because it's easy for him, not because I can pay him back. He just wants to. In my survivor's mind, that's crazy. Why would anybody do that? And it's a big thing as well. It's a matter of heart. I have quite a big privacy sphere. Anybody unwanted who enters this sphere will find themselves kicked out, first gently and later harshly. I have been told of this before, and that I will always be alone if this sphere keeps up. I know that in my head, but I haven't had the courage to let go. Taking it to an extreme, I can call this sphere the AT-field, otherwise known to [my type of] geeks as Absolute Terror field. It is true, most things that get that close to me terrifies me. But as Jesus said that, along with the bread and wine that I took, I was hit and hit real hard.
As I learn to accept and receive, I feel that I'm walking ever closer to the edge. I'm living more dangerously now, I feel. Take risks, let myself be hurt, keep going forward under a rain of fire, and my only defense is a deep breath. I'm a willing target now. As I put these thoughts down to words, my mind can see a big one coming, a blow to shatter me. But I have to learn. I have to learn that all things work for my good. I have to learn that my God is not a boss, my God is a good Father. Everything has been prepared for me, I'll just have to come and grab them on the right time. It's hard to believe. I'm walking on water right now. As the waves lick my feet, I become more and more afraid, the thoughts of drowning fills my head. But the thing is this: I'm wet, not drowned. Despite all this terrifying things ahead of me, I'm still alive, I'm still typing, and I'm still thinking [although maybe not very straight]. This is a different kind of survival. I am nothing. All I have to hold on to is God and God's promises. I'm walking on water, and this time the water is no longer calm.
I stare down the rain of fire
I gaze at the hail of swords
and all I can do is stand back,
be still, and know you are God
Easter Sunday, as we prayed for communion, I thought I heard Steve slipped his tongue. I don't know if he really did slip, or did he do it deliberately, or if it was just me. When Steve prayed over the bread, describing again how this is God's offer to take part in him, I thought I heard him say, "Let me die for you." From that word, this became the first year in my walk with God that I had to take the communion sitting down. My legs went out, and I bawled my eyes out. "Let me die for you", I heard God said. I grew up a survivor. I learned to be self-sufficient. A long time ago a friend warned me that I risk dying alone because I have a problem receiving from other people. In Hillsongs a few years back Joseph Prince said that the church today doesn't have a giving problem, it has a receiving problem. Grace is an easy concept to understand, but nearly impossible for me to take in. I understood their words back then, but this time my heart was broken open.
"Let me die for you", Jesus said. He could've said "let me buy you dinner", or anything, I would've broke down just the same. "Let me" anything. It's been a long time since last time I let anybody do anything for me, anything significant beyond the little chores. I have asked favor from people, and received them, but those were matters of utilitarianism on my part. I was using them because I know those were easy tasks for them each. This time, it felt like completely something else. Somebody wants to do something for me, not because I asked, not because it's easy for him, not because I can pay him back. He just wants to. In my survivor's mind, that's crazy. Why would anybody do that? And it's a big thing as well. It's a matter of heart. I have quite a big privacy sphere. Anybody unwanted who enters this sphere will find themselves kicked out, first gently and later harshly. I have been told of this before, and that I will always be alone if this sphere keeps up. I know that in my head, but I haven't had the courage to let go. Taking it to an extreme, I can call this sphere the AT-field, otherwise known to [my type of] geeks as Absolute Terror field. It is true, most things that get that close to me terrifies me. But as Jesus said that, along with the bread and wine that I took, I was hit and hit real hard.
As I learn to accept and receive, I feel that I'm walking ever closer to the edge. I'm living more dangerously now, I feel. Take risks, let myself be hurt, keep going forward under a rain of fire, and my only defense is a deep breath. I'm a willing target now. As I put these thoughts down to words, my mind can see a big one coming, a blow to shatter me. But I have to learn. I have to learn that all things work for my good. I have to learn that my God is not a boss, my God is a good Father. Everything has been prepared for me, I'll just have to come and grab them on the right time. It's hard to believe. I'm walking on water right now. As the waves lick my feet, I become more and more afraid, the thoughts of drowning fills my head. But the thing is this: I'm wet, not drowned. Despite all this terrifying things ahead of me, I'm still alive, I'm still typing, and I'm still thinking [although maybe not very straight]. This is a different kind of survival. I am nothing. All I have to hold on to is God and God's promises. I'm walking on water, and this time the water is no longer calm.
I stare down the rain of fire
I gaze at the hail of swords
and all I can do is stand back,
be still, and know you are God
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Walk On Water, part 2
We want what we cannot humanly have. We see in others what we want for ourselves. We see in others what we want for them to have. Everything has its cost, but there is no rule that says who has to pay for them. We want them to have it, but they don't wanna pay for it. So we pay the price for them.
Is this right? Is this wrong? The heck with right or wrong! We willingly bear the sin of arrogance, of paying for something the receiver might not want. We willingly bear the sin of intrusion, of being the mustard seed that grows on a barren field where it is not wanted. We willingly bear the sin of annoying persistence, of growing back up everytime we're chopped down. We willingly bear the sin of subordination, of insisting that in some things we know better than our elders. Insistence is a strange thing. It is what parents do to their kids, when they know for sure what's good for them. So when we insist on something we believe is good but our elders refuse, we reverse our roles. We willingly bear the sin of natural subordination, a rebellion against natural order, of insisting to our superiors what we believe is good for them. And most of all we willingly bear the sin of the audacity of hope, of being so audacious as to believe for a moment that we can move God's heart, as we noisily and persistently knock on heaven's door.
This journey is gonna cost me, and it's gonna cost me a lot. Fighting in someone else's battle is not what I usually do. But I think it's high time that I be real. I am real. Life is real. God is real. I want God to be as real in my life as this desk in front of me, this towel on my wet hair, this chocolate bar in my mouth, these blinking lights that I'm watching, and the autumn sun shining down from the sky. So this is my attempt at Kingdom Come. Life is passing me by, and I'm just one man trying to make his way in the universe. There has to be more to life than this. There is God, and God is here. But to have God's presence known and felt and noticeable, now that's real. This next period of the year is for this purpose, of inviting God to be real in my world and my reality, as real as can be, so real that I can almost reach out and touch his shadow. Funny how I have to come to this conclusion by someone else's battle. But maybe that's what we are. It is not good for human to be alone, it says. Fighting your own battles is one thing. But fighting for someone else, in a business where you don't get to determine where it is headed, where you can lose a lot just by being in a supporting role, that's something else altogether. My comfort bubble isn't real. Life isn't always comfortable. This is real. Living and fighting with and for others, this is real.
This is our attempt
to bring the Kingdom down here
on earth as it is in heaven
This is our attempt
for what the eyes have not seen
what the ears have not heard
and what the mind has never even thought of
Is this right? Is this wrong? The heck with right or wrong! We willingly bear the sin of arrogance, of paying for something the receiver might not want. We willingly bear the sin of intrusion, of being the mustard seed that grows on a barren field where it is not wanted. We willingly bear the sin of annoying persistence, of growing back up everytime we're chopped down. We willingly bear the sin of subordination, of insisting that in some things we know better than our elders. Insistence is a strange thing. It is what parents do to their kids, when they know for sure what's good for them. So when we insist on something we believe is good but our elders refuse, we reverse our roles. We willingly bear the sin of natural subordination, a rebellion against natural order, of insisting to our superiors what we believe is good for them. And most of all we willingly bear the sin of the audacity of hope, of being so audacious as to believe for a moment that we can move God's heart, as we noisily and persistently knock on heaven's door.
This journey is gonna cost me, and it's gonna cost me a lot. Fighting in someone else's battle is not what I usually do. But I think it's high time that I be real. I am real. Life is real. God is real. I want God to be as real in my life as this desk in front of me, this towel on my wet hair, this chocolate bar in my mouth, these blinking lights that I'm watching, and the autumn sun shining down from the sky. So this is my attempt at Kingdom Come. Life is passing me by, and I'm just one man trying to make his way in the universe. There has to be more to life than this. There is God, and God is here. But to have God's presence known and felt and noticeable, now that's real. This next period of the year is for this purpose, of inviting God to be real in my world and my reality, as real as can be, so real that I can almost reach out and touch his shadow. Funny how I have to come to this conclusion by someone else's battle. But maybe that's what we are. It is not good for human to be alone, it says. Fighting your own battles is one thing. But fighting for someone else, in a business where you don't get to determine where it is headed, where you can lose a lot just by being in a supporting role, that's something else altogether. My comfort bubble isn't real. Life isn't always comfortable. This is real. Living and fighting with and for others, this is real.
This is our attempt
to bring the Kingdom down here
on earth as it is in heaven
This is our attempt
for what the eyes have not seen
what the ears have not heard
and what the mind has never even thought of
Thursday, March 11, 2010
All Too Human
A few days ago, an old guard passed away in the family. It's been a long time coming, and I think it's safe to say that most have been expecting it. But life is such an awesome thing that the weight of a matriarch's death is still a heavy burden. I spent an entire day sweeping the subject under the rug, much to my dad's confusion. Yesterday, it hit me that I was being inhuman. Yes it's awkward, yes I didn't know what to say. But isn't it more wrong to not be present, whatever that means these days, in such situations? Then I watched a part of Summer Wars. After the part where their matriarch passed away, I scrambled a few txts and sent them away.
"... because the saddest things in life are being hungry and being alone..."
I'm used to being both of those, sometimes in turn, sometimes at once. But I hardly felt sad. I quite enjoy it most of the time, in fact. Such is my inhumanity.
Then I took my mind off things by polishing my cymbals. They sit proudly in my room, glistening under the light. The medium, intimidating and thin. The ride, enormous and imposing. Light does that to you when you reflect it well. You only need to be polished every now and again.
I originally intended to write long and imaginative. But this week has been a bit of a quiet rollercoaster ride, and my words have failed me in this past hour. So many things I can write about, so many angles I can analyze from. But really, what else do I have to talk about other than us, humans being humans?
One man trying to find his way in the universe. What would his tomorrow bring? Which path should he take? There are no save points in life. You make your choices, and you don't look back. His sword arm tightens. "Whatever comes", he thought, "I can handle it". But his sword slashes the wind, his legs chase after shadows. He walks and travels far and wide. He sees much, gains much, listens a lot and speaks his part. Yet he has nothing. "Let your sword arm go", says a whisper. "Let go." The world is bigger than you. You, a survivor in this concrete jungle, let go. Live on, but don't forget you're human.
A woman fights her way under a steel sky. She puts her armor down and opens herself vulnerable to those who wants her help. She gives, and gives, and gives. A fountain never runs dry, as long as it keeps its water flowing. And so she gives, she gives, and she gives. Then it all becomes too much for her. A fighter, she refuses to sit down. But a human, she can only handle so much. Human, all too human. She finds herself down on the ground, without knowing why. She wants to keep going, but her self refuses to move forward. Rest, warrior, you will need it. Rest, child, you deserve it. There will be another day to fight, another day to save others. Remember you're not alone.
An old matriarch passed away. Two generations come and mourn. Few days of ceremony, then everything's back to normal. Everything? Nothing. Nothing will ever be the same. A man stood on farewell. Goodbye, he said, the last of your generation. Without you I wouldn't be here. Without the past, the present wouldn't be here, and the future wouldn't come tomorrow. Fare thee well, old generation, all of you. You are part of us, like you made us part of you when you were here. Goodbye, past. You are not nameless memories. You are real people, with real impact. Rest in peace, everybody. Rest assured, we will not waste this future you've paved for us.
Rest in peace
Opa, Oma, Mak Akoh
Fare thee well, all of you
We are one, but we're not the same
We hurt each other, and we do it again
But we have to carry each other
Carry each other
Hear us come, Lord
Hear us crawl!
Hear us knocking,
knocking at your door!
"... because the saddest things in life are being hungry and being alone..."
I'm used to being both of those, sometimes in turn, sometimes at once. But I hardly felt sad. I quite enjoy it most of the time, in fact. Such is my inhumanity.
Then I took my mind off things by polishing my cymbals. They sit proudly in my room, glistening under the light. The medium, intimidating and thin. The ride, enormous and imposing. Light does that to you when you reflect it well. You only need to be polished every now and again.
I originally intended to write long and imaginative. But this week has been a bit of a quiet rollercoaster ride, and my words have failed me in this past hour. So many things I can write about, so many angles I can analyze from. But really, what else do I have to talk about other than us, humans being humans?
One man trying to find his way in the universe. What would his tomorrow bring? Which path should he take? There are no save points in life. You make your choices, and you don't look back. His sword arm tightens. "Whatever comes", he thought, "I can handle it". But his sword slashes the wind, his legs chase after shadows. He walks and travels far and wide. He sees much, gains much, listens a lot and speaks his part. Yet he has nothing. "Let your sword arm go", says a whisper. "Let go." The world is bigger than you. You, a survivor in this concrete jungle, let go. Live on, but don't forget you're human.
A woman fights her way under a steel sky. She puts her armor down and opens herself vulnerable to those who wants her help. She gives, and gives, and gives. A fountain never runs dry, as long as it keeps its water flowing. And so she gives, she gives, and she gives. Then it all becomes too much for her. A fighter, she refuses to sit down. But a human, she can only handle so much. Human, all too human. She finds herself down on the ground, without knowing why. She wants to keep going, but her self refuses to move forward. Rest, warrior, you will need it. Rest, child, you deserve it. There will be another day to fight, another day to save others. Remember you're not alone.
An old matriarch passed away. Two generations come and mourn. Few days of ceremony, then everything's back to normal. Everything? Nothing. Nothing will ever be the same. A man stood on farewell. Goodbye, he said, the last of your generation. Without you I wouldn't be here. Without the past, the present wouldn't be here, and the future wouldn't come tomorrow. Fare thee well, old generation, all of you. You are part of us, like you made us part of you when you were here. Goodbye, past. You are not nameless memories. You are real people, with real impact. Rest in peace, everybody. Rest assured, we will not waste this future you've paved for us.
Rest in peace
Opa, Oma, Mak Akoh
Fare thee well, all of you
We are one, but we're not the same
We hurt each other, and we do it again
But we have to carry each other
Carry each other
Hear us come, Lord
Hear us crawl!
Hear us knocking,
knocking at your door!
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