Fortress and Refuge

A Fortress.

A Refuge.

Been pondering about the great Word given by Pastor Kong today, and it was interesting how both relate to 'a place'. Both were shelters, both were places of protection. In a way, both related to defense.

But what was interesting is how the word 'fortress' is derived. In Hebrew, the word is "metzuda". Synonyms in the description of such a place include 'castle', 'stronghold', 'strong place'. 

Lest I drift too far away, let's not forget the English definition. It basically means a military stronghold. It is a source of refuge and support. Protected and Impenetrable. 

A refuge, or 'machaseh', is a place of shelter, notably from rains and storms and from danger. To me, it is a 'hiding place', somewhere to go to when things are a little too rough for you outside.

And herein lies the difference. The Fortress is a place of 'defense', while a refuge is a place of 'hiding'. 

I'd hardly think that a fortress, though possibly a source of refuge, is a place of complete safety. When under siege, the defending soldiers are DOING stuff. They are manning the ramparts, loosing arrows, pouring burning oil on invaders, firing ballistae, pushing down scaling ladders, rushing from one wall to another to fend off the enemies who have managed to secure footholds. 

All these done while under peril of arrow and sword in their battles, of death and destruction in their situations and of sadness and despair against overwhelming odds. 

Of course, our battles no longer take that form, but it is something to note.

In a refuge, we hide. We take shelter from raging storms and prowling predators.

In a fortress, we fight. We defend ourselves against adversaries i.e. negative thoughts and circumstances threatening to invade and overwhelm our lives.

One active. The other inactive.

Not saying that one is more important than the other. Sometimes we really need to just take a breather and get away from the madness threatening to swamp over us.

But at other times, we need to make that decision to be active...And fight against negative situations.

And you know what? I know that I have a God who is both my offense and defense. My Nemandja Vidic and van Persie. My Sword and my shield. 

My Fortress, and my Refuge.

"I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." (Psalms 91:2, ESV)

Graduation

This post has been a long time coming.

Well, I'll be honest here - I never attended my convocation (for vocabulary's sake) at all.

In case anyone was wondering (Not that anyone I know would, of course, since no one asked) where my photos of my graduation had gone to, they never existed. (Speaking this as a fact, dear friends, in case anyone starts pointing out I'm just being bitter. ^^ )

Everything from the smiles, the joy, the TROLLing photos to the tears, the emotions displayed with reckless abandon and the group hugs....

There was nothing.

In case anyone felt that I was a little off for the past few weeks, this was one of the main reasons. Think about it - Every single one of your peers who entered university the same time as you graduated with an Honours, while yours is a Bachelors due to certain reasons. Coming on top of that, the school has apparently forgotten its promise to 'let you know' when the gown-fitting, photo-taking and graduation dates are. The icing of the cake came, of course, when hardly anyone knew I graduated or was going to graduate this year.

The truth hurts.

I reflected back on my university life and thought that perhaps there was something to take back. Something positive. Something that I could hold in my memory and cherish it as a great time worth remembering.

Positive, yes.

Cherish?

...........

You might think me emotional, but there are many things a person can think of others. They can be right, and they can be very, very wrong. Perhaps one can be right in deducing the state of being, but the reasons are far more complex than nuclear physics' equations and formulas. 


Am I sad? Angry? Depressed? Angsty? Perhaps...But the keyword here is the change of 'Am' to 'Was'. It will pass, it passes, and it has passed.


Bottom line? Please refrain from judging. Especially if you don't know the circumstances and don't even bother to ask.


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

On a lighter note that brightens up the truth a little, I've been thinking about the word 'Graduation'.

What does it mean? Here's the dictionary definition:

"An Act of Graduating."

Of course, graduation usually pertains to a time where you receive a certificate, a diploma or a degree to signify that you have gone through a period of schooling, often in a learning institute, and came out of it by passing or acing all your courses with different honours decorating your transcripts.

To me, it feels like I've received a 'Graduation' of sorts, with an unofficial certificate from the recent Emerge 2012 conference - Evolve.

The whole finale was awesome, of course...And it resonated with a finality in my heart with the conclusion that broke me out of the joyous and heartwarming reverie.

I am no longer a 'youth'.

I am...A prime adult.

And I have to be ready for the world.

Not just ready to start work, earn money, be a provider to my family...But also start to graduate from things that you can do as a youth.

Yet...

A Whys Departure

A Whys Departure

Times you see darkened sky
Times your plans go awry
Times your love run dry
Times you ask Him why

Why has it gone this path?
Were my efforts not enough?
Journey never smooth, always rough?
Why is there once again such a vast gulf?

One moment sunny, the next a blizzard
Suddenly you feel like a hazard
Have I done wrong in Your sight
That upon me comes a terrible blight?

Yet with quietened heart and calmed soul
Even faced with shoulders possibly cold
I seek His face, heart torn to bits
Coming before the throne where He sits

And say:

"Though I know not what offenses I made
Yet this yearning I will freely trade
For Your sovereignty to reign in my life
That between heart and mind there be no strife."

"Yet lest man or woman tell me so
The mistakes I made - how would I know?
Thus I open heart and ears to hear
That everything transpired can be made clear."

"Though I still know not, despite it all,
I can hold my head up, and walk tall.
For He has examined my heart in full,
And found no fault, through and through."

So with all my heart I believe
That through Him I shall gain reprieve
The truth shall set you free, says He
And free indeed, shall I be

~Exel Goh~

Walk On

What do you do when in a valley?

Walk on.

What do you do when you're stuck halfway up the mountain?

Climb on.

What do you do when you hit a dead end with your writing?

Write on.

What do you do when your business hits a snag?

Work on.

What do you do when you don't get what you were promised?

Wait on.

What do you do when you fail to establish or progress in a good relationship?

Move on.

What do you do when you are are defeated by circumstances and the Enemy?

Trudge on.

What do you do when you fail your own faith and feel like you're hanging off the cliff's edge?

Hang on.

What do you do when hardly anyone responds well to you despite your best efforts to love them?

Love on.

What do you do when it seems like you're walking through Hell?

......Walk On.

Reflections of a Bench-warmer

Ever wondered what a bench-warmer, or a reserve thinks? Better yet...ever been in that position?

I have...And it's suddenly came back to me these past few days. On a whim, I decided to share just what it looks like from the perspective of a reserve.

Being a reserve, a backup, a substitute, a bench-warmer or worse still - a 'water-boy' has been common for me. Only above average in sports despite my passion for it in my school days, I recalled having the ability to grasp the basics of almost any sport in lightning-quick manner - Only to realise that the advanced techniques and tactics were very slippery fish that could not be caught without the net of guidance and support, both of which I lacked.

I recalled being enthusiastic about soccer, yet the only real good ability I had was that I loved to run and hassle opponents. Even though I was tired, I remembered chasing after more skillful peers like a bloodhound who smelled the game in the round thing that was (figuratively) glued to the feet of the star player on the other team.

As time wore on, influences from various mediums - books, television, fellow soccer enthusiasts - began to help me evolve my game. It helped everyone evolve theirs. Slowly I began to be aware that I had a better sense for when that through pass was coming, or which direction my friend was going to feint to.

But that was it. That was the extent of my abilities. I could not cross, nor take a thunderous freekick. I could not do long throws, or calmly slot in penalties. I could not do the Zidane turn or the nutmeg properly without looking like an idiot. I could not pass properly, nor even shoot.

And despite my efforts to improve, that was the end of the route. While others improved, while others were fortunate enough to have a company of people they were always with to form a team, I was relegated to being the 'bloodhound' or when there wasn't anyone willing to do it, the goalkeeper. The custodian who has to face the onslaught of attackers and where every mistake is magnified a hundred times.

The relegation remained, of course, all the way into university. While injuries forced me to remain in the futsal courts and I did relatively well, I was never the best. My teammates were sometimes hesitant to switch me to a outer role for fear of my lack of composure and ability.

It didn't feel good, of course. It never did, knowing that you were just the substitute. Ever since primary school, I ignored it. "Just have fun!" A part of my mind, still innocent then, cheered me on. But that part has been stifled, or it has passed on.

The only bright spot, perhaps, was that I managed to make something out of the substitute role. A dash of hard work, a dollop of determination, and I felt as though I had pulled it off. Not quite rags-to-riches, but certainly something akin to it.

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

I wasn't so lucky with my badminton school team, however. Things started out fine. Being without a bit of background at all at Secondary 1, it was almost a glorious moment when I heard my coach said that I was alright for 'C' division regular doubles the following year.

Yet, an unexpected (and I still believe, highly unintentional) betrayal came when a fellow player who knew my number, was close to me in the CCA and in class did not inform me that there was holiday training. Being an ignorant young pup, I had no idea...And it was unfortunate he did not inform me either, despite knowing my contact.

The axe came swift. After I found out and got to my coach as soon as I could, I got a great roasting from him, was nearly kicked out had it not been for some of my seniors and suffered a huge dip in form and confidence.

That was the beginning of my nightmare as a bench-warmer then. It soon became apparent that I will never regain my form or confidence despite the hard work I put in, and I daresay that I worked the hardest among all the players.

And I remembered the feelings, the perspective of a bench-warmer. Always being the cheerleader, the water-boy, the praying man, the man to count on for the regulars to warm-up. The man to be the linesman in a badminton match for other schools.


Always acting, but never in the main role.

Always working, but never lauded.

Always around, but was never paid any attention.

And though I finally, finally FINALLY got my turn as a regular in JC, it turned out I was probably put there because we already lost. Simply put, the other school was too strong. To rub salt into the wounds, The first singles that I played against was, in actuality, their third singles.

And I was beaten easily despite good spells.

Just a sacrificial lamb, thrown on to 'see what you can do'. Till the very end, it was all for naught.

Perhaps it was after that I thought that working hard amounted to little. Unless you had good support. Unless you were likable. Unless you had talent.

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

Depressing as the whole thing sounds, I did learn things as a reserve. Being more helpful and kinder to those who were weaker because you knew how it felt to be inferior and looked down upon. Being able to cheer those on the frontline and build a cordial relationship with some of them.

In the end, though, it feels like I'm still a reserve. The Michael Owen of Manchester United. The player you always benched, "Just in case", but only played when all is won - or already lost.

Even now, sometimes it feels like that.

But the move of God can be mysterious, no? He uses the foolish to shame the wise, no?

Those few strands of hope...are things that a reserve can hold on to.

And once given the moment to shine, I can only hope that I will wow the crowds so greatly that no one else - even if it was for that one fleeting moment - dazzled as greatly as I.

I can only hope.

Learning in Brokenness

"What is it that You want me to learn from this, Lord?"

Out out all my moanings, grumblings, whinings, chest-beatings, bouts of weeping and delirious ramblings, that was the one sentence I remembered.

Earlier in Facebook I posted something like this:

Sometimes, God takes away everything you've ever depended on for strength - Health, finances, talent, charisma, strength, knowledge, wisdom, relationships - and breaks you down so thoroughly so that He can mould you into something so much more than what you are, so that He can bring you through the change and breakthrough you've always yearned for.

So that you get to know Him on a deeper level...

Many friends - or at least those who cared enough - would have known by now that I've been sick (and still am) for 6 days counting, and these 6 days have been literally a different kind of hell for me. The fever took away my ability to think coherently, working in tandem with a completely blocked nose and a ear blockage that inexplicably happened one fine humid night. To make matters worse, it was the ear that could hear clearly, as my left ear is partially muted due to a half-assed operation to take something out 10 years ago.

The ear is still blocked, by the way, and I can't judge the volume of my own voice at all...So if you actually READ this at all, (which I really hope you do) I'll apologize first for being a little hard of hearing of late.

In any case, I felt punch-drunk, staggering most of the time when I walk, wondering why I suddenly had two mothers at one point. Then the voices came. Nothing but mere gnats at first, they grew exponentially as the days wore on with almost nary a proactive call or message from friends (only one or two).


"They don't care about you." "See? You call these 'friends'? foolish, foolish man...Didn't I warn you before?" "You're just a number, just a statistic. You're there because you're useful, not because you are who you are."


No, really. I get the feeling many think I'm exaggerating, but simply put, I'm not.

There was that. Next came the sleepless nights, where the pain in my right ear suddenly became terribly unbearable ONLY AT NIGHT. Perhaps this is spiritual warfare, I thought, and prayed for that. Nothing happened.

The last straw was the silence. Literally.

He stopped speaking to me, stopped letting me feel Him at all, despite repeated prayers, despite mounting desperation as my ailments worsened.

I don't know when it came about, but it reached the boiling point (literally. My body was probably hot enough to cook several dozen eggs in one night) and my desperation felt so tangible that I despaired and cried out, throwing everything behind. The lack of concern shown, the inability to go out, the differences in response to same words or questions I ask of some people compared to others, the insufferable drunkenness of a world with muted sounds, The setbacks from the resolutions I set....

....Everything.

And then I realised that what I've missed most terribly is the presence of God. At the point, desperation gripped my heart with an iron fist and threatened to crush it. It was then I realised, that perhaps this period of suffering wasn't forced upon me.

It was allowed. Permitted.

God had allowed it. He had permitted it.

As those thoughts registered and I thought of the many questions I asked God back then, it zoomed in to the first one.

"What is it that You want me to learn from this, Lord?"


Indeed, I've learned quite a bit. At least, enough such that I know it's impossible to be the same after this experience.

What have I learned?

Perhaps I might just share in the next one as I allow Him to heal me over time.

 

"Your Last Save Game is..."

You know how when you play some games, such a sentence always appears after you lose? After failing to defeat an enemy, which leaves little argument to the outcome; After running out of time hopping from one train car to another to defuse a bomb; After failing to save a character key to the progression of your story.

That's what games are. You die, you lose, no worries. There's a save game there for you to re-load and retry it all over again. Do things differently. Use poison instead of spamming fireballs at the boss character. Memorise the timings of the enemy guards' patrols. Remembering to use a Healing spell at the right moment for that damsel in distress. If you failed to save...Well, that's really your own problem, then.

And if you think I'm going to say how games aren't like real-life, complete with the finger-wagging and stern look that lecturers always give to students who get their answers wrong, you're right. At least with the first part.

But recently I've discovered that Life isn't simple like that. It doesn't simply mean that since games don't resemble real-life in all it's glory (or infamy), there's no room for a depiction of principles found there in reality.

You see, the curve balls Life throw...They have a pattern. They are, after all, thrown according to the one constant - Your life.

Your life, your experiences, your emotions. The joys and sorrows, the trials and blessings, all of them are in accordance with your life and how you live it.

And every now and then, some of the curve balls are so remarkably similar that you can say, "Hey, I've seen/experienced this before!"

That is, if you've been paying attention to yourself and seek to learn from every success and failure experienced in your life.

Recently it's been a little like that, and almost immediately I thought of the Save Game analogy. It certainly isn't the same situation, with the same elements, but they are similar. For example, I might deal a critical hit to the boss which helps me finish him off easier this time round, and such actions are subject to the computations and calculations (some of them random) of the programmers.

And just like that, it's not the same, but definitely similar. Symmetrical, even. 


Similar circumstances. Similar people. Similar emotions. Similar (or perhaps even the same) motivations.

The key thing, of course, is to learn from previous experience, then make a decision not to do things that caused one to lose what he/she could have been blessed with.

It isn't easy. But armed with the knowledge of what went wrong and what you can do right this time round, it  gets a little less hard....Like decreasing the difficulty of the game if your entire party was massacred in a heartbeat.

So what's your Last Save Game?

MaTtEr

Does it really matter in the end?

All these things...the apparent signs, the little bits and pieces of ruined jigsaw floating around, sometimes twisting and turning till they forcefully fit themselves into the unfinished picture of your life.

These worries, these concerns....They are certainly beyond me to handle all at one shot. Not especially when every single one of them is fighting for my attention, whispering maliciously about all the possibilities, seducing me to start comparing and keep on doing it, enticing me back into the blackest state of mind.

They are truly beyond me.

....But they are not beyond 'I Am'.

'I Am', from whom light comes forth, where Hope resides and the prospect of a beautiful future shines brightly like a blazing sun, burning away the insidious voices as they scream in agony, fading back into the shadows, hissing and gnashing away.

'I Am', who grants you the Sword and the Shield, the Armor that protects you from the maddening vicissitudes that threaten to consume your sanity. The One who, the mightiest warrior ever, makes you to be like one. Like a Lion.

'I Am', who tenderly cradles you in His bosom, comforting and cooing you to a tranquil peace and a wonderful rest. He makes you like Him. Like a Lamb.

'I Am', who, despite our disobedience, forgives our waywardness and always finds it in Him to welcome us back into the fold with open arms, embracing us, loving us.

'I Am', who gives an unending supply of dreams and visions to those who wish for it. The One who revives dying lives, dying aspirations. The One who makes the last first, who makes the foolish wise.

Does whatever we have on our minds matter, then?

Yes, it does.

For we are human, and have been given free will.

In the end, though, it is still a choice we make.

Do we set our troubles and disappointments above Him, or do we make the choice to believe in Him, the 'I Am' who has and WILL make all things good in His time?

What really matters?

Love Poem

Read a blog post about a love letter, and it touched my heart.

I've never really written a love letter to any girl or woman before, the last being an utter disaster in that (1) it didn't have me "confessing my undying love" for her (creepy, if you ask me) and (2) She rejected it all the same. Figures, right?

At that time, though, I thought it was the Michaelangelo's David, the Leonardo's Mona Lisa. It was like a failure masterpiece to me, and it flowed right out from my heart.

But at times, when I attempt to write something beautiful, something poetic that will melt even the stoniest of hearts to the people I truly care for.....My mind goes blank.

Just like in the blog, it was the same for me. My mind totally goes blank when I attempt to think of something artful and enticing, something that makes full use of the latent potential I have in writing, something that capture hearts and stir the deepest of emotions and desires.

Yet.....My mind goes blank.

But when it came to thinking about whether I care for a person, I have little problem. I could easily envision that person and the situation in which I can care for her or him. Sometimes the imagination prefers to be unbridled and free of logic, so I relent and let it run wild for a time. Sometimes the dreams get ludicrous too, though much of it had to do with joyous and happy things.

And every now and then I look back to my empty Microsoft Word screen, my empty Twitter space for typing, my empty space to update statuses in Facebook, wondering if I could make it so deliciously intricate, oh-so mysterious and enticing that it could touch the heart of that girl and make her see me in a different light.

But it seems that's going all the wrong way.

The Love Poem I really need to know....Is to Him, then to myself....And lastly, to my very special other one day.

It might not be filled with sweet-smelling roses and hearts, but the possibility that ambrosias and dandelions will be packed in there....Let it be so real.

Let it so very real.

Loss and Gain

As the year draws to a close, as the curtains fall upon the stage of our lives in this act, I suddenly get this strange mix of feelings. It's like having applause and yet with a few sporadic but prominent boos making their way into my ears.

It's about Loss and Gain.


It feels like I'm about to lose something. It could be anything - A precious item, an essential thought, an irreplaceable person. More often than not I feel it's the last one, and it worries me.

Yet on the other hand, the feeling that I'm going to gain something as well. Things that I have absolutely no idea about. Things that could be completely new, yet even better than what I've lost.

So many possibilities ran through my mind. some enticing, of course, like the loss of a friend and the gaining of a lover. Like the loss of a method and the gaining of an idea. Like the loss of even more time and money and the gaining of a soul in the kingdom of God.

And even as this strange feeling continues, I think the only thing that I can really do is this.

Trust God.

Trust Him that things will work out. Trust Him that He will actually bless me with what I want. Trust Him that He will make the impossible possible. (The second was the hardest, really.)

What will I lose, and what will I gain?

I have no idea....But one thing I know I will never lose.

God's love.

Thanks and Giving

Thanksgiving time together today. Had a great time, needless to say, despite being stricken with worsening flu and feeling giddy all over.

Yet the moment the fellowship and games start, the pain stops. Amazing how it works out, huh?

After the performance (Awesome stuff by Ryan, Jimmy and Kaixiang) and a little testimony from Jimmy that gave glory to Him, after the sharing of giving glory to God and thanking Him for the year, after yet another bout of noisy and fun fellowship, I was left wondering.

All the thanks....I haven't given it properly to the people who have stood by me silently, sometimes desperately, knocking, knocking on the door that hardly seems to bulge.

Yet by the gift of personal gratitude shown to those, especially those who have stuck with me and impacted me in more ways they could imagine, it feels like there's something...different.

Have I changed? Have I become more thankful, more giving?

Looking into the mirror, it doesn't seem so. Isn't it the same, plain old TL, albeit with a bit more scars, looking a little more tired with a little more crinkles, a little less healthy?

But something....something tells me I've indeed been more thankful....and more giving.

So many things have happened this year. Some challenging, some really depressing, some wonderful, some joyous, some confusing, some enlightening, some humbling....

So many, many things.

And when I look back, it suddenly feels like I'm on a mountain, even though it's just a small one. It feels like I had a good view of my troubles and trials, my blessings and experiences. Instead of huffing and puffing and sighing a breath of relief, thanking God that it's finally over, it feels like I'm truly thanking God for making the year a really....interesting year. A really good year.

And every step I take....It feels more and more like I'm reaching the destiny God has for me.

Thank You, Lord.

Thank you, E520

Thank you, dear, dear friends who have made a great impact in my life.


Thank you.

Challenges and Struggles

A Challenge or a struggle. Which do you prefer? Which do you think you're doing more of?

Despite the textbook similarities in the meanings of both words, there is difference between a struggle and a challenge. The former is what most people would be doing, just surviving, just fighting back, being passive and waiting for the fight to come to them, fighting tooth and nail to live on, to crawl through the circumstances simply just to say 'I want to survive.'

Nothing wrong with that, especially when the going gets really tough. But what I'm more interested in now is taking the fight to the enemy.

It seems a little confusing for others, as noted in the reactions of a few people whom I've discussed with about this. Some insist both are the same. Others are just plain clueless. Justifiable, of course. After all, we do refer to dictionaries and language rules about definitions.

My definition, though, determines that a challenge means the direct opposite of a struggle. It is Active. Taking the fight to The Enemy, or your circumstances, instead of waiting for it to come to you. In layman's terms, you deal with it before it deals with you. A simple concept, but often more difficult to carry out than it looks.

Being Active also means that you have to be Aggressive in a challenge. Ever seen challengers for the greatest accolades and honours, especially in sports? Do they wait for the defending champion to come at them? Does the archetype challenger run around in a boxing ring like a monkey and wait for the champion to come at him after losing patience? (Perhaps, in some cases. But note that these types usually have a counterattack strategy, which is also Aggressive in a different way.)

That's what I believe it means to take the fight to your opponent. Throw the first punch. Fire the first shot. Draw first blood. 先下手为强。Common sense, really.

Yet, many of us continue to live in passivity. Some go about their daily routines without a sense of purpose. Others set a simple goal and leave it at that. Then there are some who dream about castles in the sky in the sweet by-and-by....and I'm not exempt from that either.

And when you find the need to be Aggressive towards the things challenging you - especially your identity, beliefs and values - there will always be the need to be Armed. 


Not the Magnums or the Andurils or the Big Berthas, mind you. What I'm talking about are things that can form the core of your beliefs. Your role models. The idols you look up to (not chase after or worship, mind you), the positively beneficial lessons you have learned in life, the concepts that frame your world and make it worth living.

For me, it's The Word. It's the belief in Him that beefs me up, the faith. Then there is prayer, and more believing as well as the various good concepts that help to mould me into a better person.

Take note, that these things should be mostly positive. Considering that most of what The Enemy does against me is negative, and that common sense tells us all that whatever an opponent, a competitor does to us has a negative impact, we should use it's greatest bane: Positivism.

Strange, isn't it? But sometimes the things you have to fight against aren't people, for they are only the agents of the real threat. Those detractors, those backstabbers, those who spurned you despite your very best intentions, those who distance themselves away from you because of misconceptions....They are only the mediums for negative thoughts.

What you should be watching out for is actually....

...Yourself.

No, really. For it is you who determines your own world. For it is I who determine my own world. our words frame our world. What we think about and tell ourselves make or break us. And it is to this enemy that you have the be Active, be Aggressive to and be Armed for.

So....What are you waiting for?

What am I waiting for?

Short-sighted

Where do I go from here?

Things are looking up, then down. Then down and down again. Still, the start always seems to be the hardest to go through with.

Already the withdrawal symptoms are showing. Already The Enemy has stirred. Ever since deciding on taking greater responsibility for lives and taking the fight to him, attacks come hard and fast. Illnesses, nightmares, fears, temptations...

It isn't easy.

And sometimes I lose sight of the things that are set before me. The promises He had, the dreams, the visions, the unfulfilled potential, the infinite possibilities what I can become. What anyone can become.

So easy to just see what's in front of us and determine our lives based on just that alone. So easy to just say, "Oh, that's how it's going to be." or when someone asks you what you have planned out for the next five years, you shrug your shoulders and say, "I don't know. Just see how it goes."

We are all so Short-sighted.


Already the problems are looking like the Himalayas to me - insurmountable, daunting, unconquerable. Standing at the bottom and looking up, the peaks can hardly be seen.

Yet....we were meant to be greater than conquerors. Where then, is this indomitable spirit that we should have? Didn't we have great aspirations to work towards? Why did the vicissitudes of life so easily lay claim to our attention, our thoughts and ultimately, our lives?

We are all so Short-sighted.


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On another level, sometimes people walk in and out of your lives. People who you thought would think of you as friends. People who you thought cared. People who you thought you had a chance with to develop the relationship to the next level, be it from an acquaintance to a friend, a friend to a close friend or even from a close friend to a significant other.

The reason? Sometimes you don't know. Most of the time, actually. But there are times where instinct, analysis and smart guesses can net you the right but undesirable answers.

Most of the time, the reason range from you having made a decision or taken an action that are assumed to be offensive to your friends. Your lack of everything that makes you interesting, i.e. looks, charisma, personality and to the fact that you are just being compared to someone else, and we all know there's always someone else better and closer.

Well.....

We are all so Short-sighted. 


And it can't be helped. No one knew that Albert Einstein as a kid was going to be a globally renowned scientist that changed the world at his time.

No one knew that The Beatles was going to be great when they were deemed 'not good enough' by one of the biggest recording companies at their time.

No one knew that Paul Potts was going to win the first 'Britain's Got Talent' contest in 2007 at that time.

No one knew that Nick Vujicic was going to be impacting so many lives despite being born with Tetra-amelia syndrome (the absence of our basic limbs) at that time.

And no one knows that you, or him, or her, or me, will actually become a strong, attractive, charismatic, powerful, mature and great man or woman in our time. A world-changer and a history-maker. A person who, now seemed so frail, weak, dependent and lacking in purpose, will impact nations throughout the world.

And as such, people who left you? They don't know what they are missing. They seriously don't.

But lest it becomes a bitter thought that keeps us in bondage or a taunting one that further erodes our relationships, remember this:

We are all extremely Short-sighted. Even you.

And the only thing we can do, is focus on ourselves more. Become better. Learn how to be an overcomer, a more reliable, attractive person. Learn how to move towards your goals, yet at the same time learn how to be relational lest you become vindictive, proud and aloof.

I'm taking that step to do all those, though it's a long road and already it seems hard. I too, am short-sighted, after all.

Let's take the step together.

Miracle

It did happen, just as Brother John Avanzini preached about it. It did happen.

Okay, not the mind-blowing, wheelchair-tossing, love-finding kind, but to me, a miracle, however minor, is still a miracle. 

Some may make light of it. Others simply think that it's so common that the question marks over their heads are almost visible....But, I won't allow ANYONE, seraph or hell-spawn, man or woman, leader or follower to hijack my belief that this is a miracle. 

I don't know if the people can see this, but it's certain that it's thanks to them. Never have I thought I would have enjoyed myself tremendously. It was as if some part, some real part of me had been liberated from the shackles of self-loathing and doubt and calmly walked out of the prison.

And when the wardens of terrible emotions threaten to rear their ugly heads, seeking to grab the escapee and bring me back into captivity, the amount of authority and firmness I felt when crushing them beneath my feet were astonishingly strong. 

How, when all I had been doing was fight battles, mostly losing ones in that area? How, when it seems like there were too many wars on too many fronts for me to handle?

How?

There was only one thing: Him. The Liege that armed me. The King that protected me within his lands, who sent his Knights to defend my heart, who gave me hope and restored my waning strength with his awe-inspiring Words, who, despite my repeated betrayals, welcomed me back into his Kingdom with open arms, never fearing that I would stick a dagger through one of his Ministers or Sons and Daughters. 

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

And it was today that I truly felt this.

I don't talk often about daily occurrences, but really....Just felt...blessed. Filled with hope, perhaps. Thankful for the dissatisfaction boiling over about the lack of progression with Him, with my relationships, and with myself. 

Grateful for the strength given unto me by Him, for the fellowship of the saints, for the laughter, the joy, the jokes, the retorts, the eye contact, the smiles, the discussions, the sharings....

For every little thing, I'm thankful.

Really, guys. Thank you....Because of you, one man feels like he has the courage to feel again. To be himself, and to love again, more than ever.

Thank you....

...and thank You. :')

Heart

Recently been looking at statistics, and doing so simply made me lose heart. 


One page view. One. for one post. Then another, then another, then another....Okay, I knew I was unpopular, probably a little weird, and definitely the last person almost anyone would want to talk to (even friends), but this? It just saps the heart of writing out of me.

The first thing I expect others to say, obviously, is that "I'm complaining again. Why don't you try harder?"

And the same answer, right from the bottom of my heart, is thrown back to them. "Why don't you try being in my shoes? Who are you that you can tell me this? You hardly even KNOW me, despite being friends for that long."

And despite being happy, I'm also frustrated at the same time. Despite wanting to try things, I didn't have the heart to try to step out of a normal routine, simply because efforts have proven me wrong time and again that just by having the heart to try to change is NEVER enough. For example, speaking out of turn in an attempt to crack a joke ends up in an immediate silence after that, no matter how long/short it is. Trying to make new friends and get to know people....I just get this feeling that they are never comfortable around me.

Do I need to shut up and change? Yes, to the latter half. I won't shut up, obviously, simply because it's better to let others know what's going on and have them label you as a whiny little prick rather than keep everything to yourself, let it all explode once the threshold is breached and having it result in blame-games ("Why did you keep it to yourself?!") or irreversible situations.


But then again, it's the heart that continues telling me to never give up.

No matter how tired the journey is, it seems that it's the heart, not always only the mind that determines just how far you can go in spite of the deserts, the snowstorms, the hurricanes and the darkness one faces.

And I have that heart in the King.

So despite all this, gotta pick myself up again and again and again and again...Till something good happens. Till there's a change so great that all my blessings would be peanuts compared to it.

A Breakthrough.

It may seem so simply, so natural to some. It may seem like an easy miracle to others, having gotten it in a short amount of time (By the way, 1 year IS considered short). But for me, it's the greatest miracle that I could ever want to happen.

To fellowship freely. To feel like no one's feeling uncomfortable with me. To feel like I'm no longer weird. To stop feeling like I'm part of the group and yet alone. To be an interesting person that not only have people talking to me, but also me being totally sincere to them. To be able to forge great relationships with people, to the point where I can actually hope for something more than that.


In short, to know how to love people properly.

So, I can't lose heart.


Not especially when such a big opportunity to see that come to pass is coming.

I can't.

You're (not) Alone. (Not).

The snow falls.

Each flake seems to descend gently, yet forlornly upon his lonely figure. He walked, and walked, trudging through the snow, meandering across the bleak white fields of cold, hard sleet.

He falls, then picks himself up, and he falls again. With each fall a new bruise appears on his legs, his hands, his face. He looks at the sleet as it reflects the distorted image back, each injury mocking him, laughing at him, reminders the hopes he once had, hopes he once placed. Hopes found, then lost. Then there were hopes that were never ever discovered, little lies, however, unintended, formed through the careless words of folk who knew little of its consequences, some of whom genuinely believed it would have helped. Even as he moves towards the hills, their silhouettes barely visible against the harsh winds reprimanding him for his follies, he could almost feel the warmth, then it fades away teasingly, like a fleeting mirage that he thought was real, but never did materialise.

And then they were suddenly upon him. Dark, hooded figures, cloaked in black. Standing atop the hills with two to one. They stood there, motionless, as though they themselves were nothing more than figments of his imagination and they too, shall pass and fade back into the shadows.

But they endured. Endured the biting gales and the lashings of his stinging pragmatism. 

He had found Them.

It should have been a feeling of triumph, but somehow he could feel nothing but emptiness and a resigned acceptance. He was the reluctant hero-No, that would not be appropriate to describe him at all. Traveler, or a Adventurer might sound a little more apt.

Then voices rang out in his mind. Called out to him, reminding him of the warmth they had emitted, reminding him of the promises they held, the hope they gave him. Then a steely cold one reminded him of the failings in believing, in hoping, in thinking that things will always become better. That things are going to happen soon enough. That after so many years, the people would finally start noticing him more and befriend him, get to know him in a deeper manner in spite of the aura he emits, the actions he does, the lousy jokes he cracked.

He struggles. Roars. Screams. Then whimpers as he took the first step towards Them. He knew...He knew that They were like him, and he was only a few steps away from becoming part of Them.

But behind him, the winds seem to die down and the snow starts to thaw. One feet in each realm. One mind with two intentions.

It was going to be another long, hard battle.

And he was once again, alone.

Nice Guys Finish Last

To be honest, this isn't entirely original since I'll be basing my post off this interesting video I saw sometime back.

As the saying goes, "Nice guys finish last." Going by that logic, it would seem that the bad boys are the ones who get the girl(s). They are the talented, smart, rich, popular dudes in school/campus that have a 'badass' attitude. Throw in some arrogance, maybe a little narcissism, and also this air of superiority and streak of rebelliousness, and there you have the stereotypical 'bad boys'.

All those stereotypes and quotes have been used to death, though, and that isn't what piqued my interest.

What REALLY did pique my interest is the ending of the video itself (All three versions, actually) that nice guys DO finish last.

Or rather, should I say, nice guys are the ones who finish it, and are the last ones standing.

Deep down, there are plenty of average guys out there who want to be noticed by the girl they like. Therefore, they decided to follow the example of the bad boy who always seem to attract the attention of girls, especially the only one he has eyes for.

Thus comes makeovers, both within and without. Looks change, attitudes warp, and they attempt to be another person through buying clothes with skulls, piercing their ears, listening to some dating advice that always reiterates the idea that being a 'bad boy' will draw the girl(s) to you.

Unfortunately, bad boys aren't a long term thing.

In a sense, girls who actually prefer nice guys who are more sensitive, romantic, familial and responsible are the ones who are far-sighted and take note of their future, as compared to those who simply prefer traits that characterise a bad boy.

Not to say all of the girls in the latter category are near-sighted, shallow and silly, because sometimes they mistake attraction for romantic feelings, as some of them later go on to mistake sex for love, resulting in unsavory social consequences for themselves and the society. It's worse if a young life is extinguished in the process. Inhumane, even.

But at a certain age, say about the time where one can be considered an adult, albeit a young one, that's the time the female ought to start thinking properly about the future instead of always partying and looking for the 'fun-loving guys with good looks, good bod and always make me laugh.' (Not that humor is a bad thing, but looking out for the more concrete traits is much more...sensible and the smart thing to do.)

Neither is looking for the perfect one that 'looks like this Korean idol or that Taiwanese hunk of an actor' realistic, not especially if you are in your twenties already. Grow up.

To be fair, guys should also stop trying to always learn things that are popular and stop being themselves in the process. It's unhealthy and can cause identity confusion. Are you the nice guy who's holding back whenever you feel like doing a bad boy thing, or are you a bad boy who isn't quite that...well, badass?

Likewise, looking for the perfect girl is absolutely out of question. To do so is to indulge in the fantasies of a teenage boy with little experience in society and has hardly any concept of common sense. If you're still thinking like that, GROW UP.

Not to say I can sit on my high horse and judge others, but it's simply a reflection of what I've seen and experienced. In a sense you can say that I'm screwing myself over as well. XD

Most people have been through that phase. Many are going through it now as teenagers, while others are still trapped in their own little fantasy bubble even as adults, still dreaming of their perfect Prince Charming or ideal Belle of the Ball. Then there are those who simply party away until they are too old and then start facing the consequences of problematic relationships that built their foundation on the sand of Fun instead of the rocky foundation of Stability.

Nice Guys do finish last.

Bad Boys don't even finish at all. Lest they turn to being nice guys.

Now, that would be nice.

Imprudence

The thought came to me as I walked down the road after collecting my new pair of specs (As expected, no one except my mom and bro commented on them).

There was this group of secondary school kids. All in shorts, chatting, laughing, maybe making fun of a geeky classmate. They were occupying the entire width of the path, forcing people walking in the opposite direction to step into the glass patches or uneven terrain at the sides to get past them, and they hadn't noticed that.

As a habit, I usually give way to elderly people, peers, cyclists, families, pregnant women and people who are in a rush. The only other times I veer away from the path is to overtake people who aren't used to walking faster.

So I kept to the path, but obviously stuck to the side. It was the least I could do, since it felt sensible and logical instead of cutting through the group.

To my surprise and indignation, the few kids nearer to me suddenly stuck his head and looked up and kept to their path. I barely sidestepped them, somehow retaining my balance and direction on the path.

It irritated me, of course (as evident by the adjectives used). But it also got me thinking. That slight show of defiance, that "imprudence", as I would call it, was interesting.

Perhaps when we get older, we tend to forget were were once like that - seemingly fearless until the storm clouds appear over the Discipline Master's or our parents' faces, always wanting to show the world what we can do, always looking for a chance to go against the system.

In a sense, I find it strangely commendable, except in cases that are pretty insensible and honestly speaking, silly. Like the one I experienced. What if 'I' was a thug or a bully? What if 'I' hated kids like that and gave them a good one? What if, on a whim, I decided it was fun to take my frustration out on them?

Of course, as a disclaimer, I WON'T DO THOSE THINGS.

One might think I'm brewing a storm in a teacup, but look at it this way - It's the small things that accumulate to become big ones. Don't despise the humble beginnings, the Bible says. Likewise, it's the foxes that steal the grapes, not tigers or lions.

Imprudence in measured amounts is good. Imprudence against the system in order to fulfill a lofty dream or even better - a GOD dream is extremely commendable. Without flouting the right rules that cause you to compromise your character and values, of course.

And maybe, just maybe, there's something there that we as adults can learn. To start being defiant again against the odds, against the inequities of the system and environment that threatens to shut down our dreams, scribble on them, crumple it then toss it away in a wastepaper basket while laughing mockingly.

Though once again, let's be "imprudent" about the right thing.

Boxing Match

You're in a boxing ring, in a boxing match of 10 rounds. You can feel the sweat pouring down your face in torrents as you struggle to focus, your senses conflicted by the smell of sweat, blood and of an unidentifiable odour, the excited crowd cheering the fighters on and the disapproving voice of the referee as one of you attempts to foul the other.

As the man in charge separates you and the bell rings, you focused on your opponent. That daunting Fighter S, who has scored countless downs against you approaches ominously, menacingly once more, his silhouette seemingly a great giant of darkness that threatened to consume the sliver of light that is the hope in victory. Your victory.

He taunts you, calls you stupid. Makes you wonder why you are even here, why you were even born. He remembers those days where you slipped and fell at the punching bags, where you failed to listen to instruction and forfeited a match, bringing embarrassment and shame to your gym and trainers, where you felt guilty for being unable to keep to an acceptable weight for your next upcoming match. He sees it. He knows it.

And he uses it against you.

Previously, you had moped. Got depressed over it. Felt as though the guilt was gnawing a large hole in your heart and through your chest. Every moment you have felt something like that, Fighter S deals a punch gleefully. A roundhouse. An uppercut. A Dempsey roll. Every time it happens, you only remembered blacking out momentarily, then gazing up at the unforgiving spotlights high up in the ceiling, casting you as the protagonist of what looked like a comedy or a thrashing as Fighter S's supporters, the infamous D Spitfire Fan Group jeered, laughed and repeated S's insults.

No more! As anger at the humiliation builds up each time you get back up, the boiling point is reached and you rushed him. This time, a smirk, a whispered threat and a sneer are all you see before the pain spreads throughout your brain and you fall flat again onto the seemingly comfortable mat.

Your eyes close. Your senses are dulled and suddenly you feel like you should be sleeping here. After all, Fighter S was so much stronger. His suggestion to give up did seem plausible. You are nothing but a common fighter, destined to stop at the lower rungs of the sport. Why try so hard? Why do it when you know your gym mate would betray you? Why fight when The Fighter Os and Ds and Ss are always there to knock you down? Might as well give up, right?

Get up! Somehow, you managed to hear a voice and you get up just as the bell rings, signaling the end of the round. Saved by the bell. You return to your corner, dejected, head hung so low it would have touched your stomach. The chair is held out for you, and you slump into it, simply relieved the round is over. You are on the verge of tears, feeling as though the whole crowd had abandoned you and your team are but silent undertakers, ready to receive another corpse, dead of hope, bereft of life.

But the chair feels surprisingly soft. A deafening silence falls over the crowd, drowning out the cacophony the D Spitfires have caused to deal more mental damage to you. Something seems to flow into you, through you as you sit. You look up in disbelief, and see a familiar face.

It's Daddy G, and as He smiles, the tears you have defiantly held back finally broke down the resistance you've put up and began to flood your cheeks, flowing down your face and washing away the tough facade you've planted in.

Memories start coming back, and somehow it feels as though Daddy G was the trainer you had first left for a  'greater, bigger, better gym with more well-off trainers', or He was the one you had never listened to. in any case, He is here, and the feeling of shame still stayed.

It is all right, son. He puts a kindly hand on your shoulder and holds out the bottle. Drink, He says, and though you struggle, this time you do as you are told and the wonderful liquid quenches your thirst and stills your nerves.

Next, He holds out the towel and you reach out. To your surprise, he wipes the sweat off your face and drabs at the wounds with antiseptic and cotton. Miraculously, as you allowed Him to do so, they close up and you feel as good as new.

You feel ready as He speaks words of encouragement, of affirmation to you. As you listen, you realise strength has returned. You realise that the crowd - the A Faithful Fan Group are cheering, singing, encouraging you. You get up as the last words left the lips of Daddy G, and you step back into the ring as the bell sounds.

You lock eyes with Fighter S, and his mocking gaze nearly causes you to snap as you stalk forward, ready to give him a beating.

A hand sticks out from the man in charge and to your surprise, it is Daddy G again! Wait, He says. Wait.


But he's just there! I'm ready to go at him, Ref! I'm ready to fight him! Come on, lemme at 'im!

He smiles. Wait. Though the hand stays there and could easily be batted aside, the voice is firm but warm. You decide to listen again and wait, slowing your breathing until you feel yourself calm down. In and out your breath goes, until the cloud of confusion over your mind is dispersed.

As you open your eyes, suddenly there seems to be no shadow. Suddenly there seems to be no ominous figure in front of you, but a babbling, weak fool who had probably lied his way to so many victories he had notched up. Suddenly the D Spitfires are covered by silence, a blanket of tentativeness mixed with realisation and fear of that one truth that is unavoidable.

Fighter S can't win. Not when you are in this state.

Not when You have Daddy G as your second, encouraging you, stirring you up till the A Faithful are encouraged themselves to cheer you on.

Not when Daddy G is the referee who stops you and ensures you are ready before plunging into another brawl with S.

The bell rings, and you move forward, arms at ready in the peek-a-boo style, eyes focused and determined. With each step, Fighter S seems to shrink and retreat. His words bounces off your mind uselessly as you smile confidently.

You lunge with fists raised, knowing that as they fell, the belt is yours for the taking.

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


Just a quaint little idea I thought up of as Daddy G spoke to me about being empowered and being prepared.

Even as we are empowered, sometimes we get a little too impetuous and lunge back into a fight that has knocked us down countless times.

But you see, Daddy G reminds me that He is the second and the referee to my match, though even as that is a given, I still needed to make the choice to accept His decisions and advice. I needed to obey.


And perhaps this little story might help you on the path to doing so as well...And finally truly help you achieve the victory that has already been given to you.


Peace out.

Nike vs. Singlish

A strange, strange title. At least to me, it is.

Let's get straight to the point, since most probably wouldn't understand what I'm talking about in the title unless I really go into depth.

Nike vs. Singlish.

Just Do It vs. Sure Or Not?


Which would you choose? I think the answer should be pretty clear.

But more often than not, when the choices presented to us aren't clear and there are people, circumstances, issues all around us, influencing us one way or another, we tend to take the Singlish way. The Easy way. The way we know best.

But should it be like that?

No!

I've come to realise one thing - Ultimately, when many people start showing disapproval or ask you to be careful, those signs are often misunderstood merely as being disapproval, period. What I've been taught time and again (and it's something I should have realised on my own) is that these people care for you, or else they wouldn't even bother to give you any advice.

So yes, we should appreciate these people and their advice. But more than that, do not let doubt delude us into thinking that these people are attempting to sow seeds of doubt into your heart and therefore are all being used by The Enemy. As such, you should not listen to them.

Listen...LISTEN. If we ever thought like that, the one being used by The Enemy is US.


It's not them, but our doubt and our own perceptions that are forming those opinions. Not only does this sow discord between you and the people who care for you, it also waters the seeds of anger, hatred, resentment, arrogance and all the negative emotions you can think of. Ultimately, it gives rise to bitterness and unthankfulness where people are unable to understand and thus support your dream or whatever you're doing - especially if it's something really different or radical - and that leads to not life, but death.

And sometimes when we keep thinking, we just hesitate and stop. We just keep asking ourselves. "Sure Or Not?"


What we should really be doing is Just Do It.


Ultimately, though, we still need something to keep us in check, and this is what I'm going to keep close to my heart -

Proverbs 4:23
"Above all else, guard your heart,
for everything you do flows from it." (NIV)


"Guard your heart above all else,
for it determines the course of your life."




Really, Just Do It.