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.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
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.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
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.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, September 19, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, August 5, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Freedom and Autonomy
A random thought struck me as I was reading through a few articles on right-wing extremists - thanks mostly to the recent news about a rather good-looking and mild-mannered 32 year-old Norwegian committing acts of terrorism in the name of God.
Ironically enough, that was the same kind of reasoning given by the Islam-based terrorists who believed they were waging a holy war and doing jihad for righteous reasons.
Upon reading through an analysis of the potential harms right-wing extremists can cause to the U.S government and country itself, one word kept popping up in their line of reasoning - Freedom.
Makes me wonder - What kind of freedom are they talking about here? Freedom from sin, or freedom from "oppressive measures by the government" and from "a land of infidels"?
Anders Behring Breivik seemed to fall into the latter category, what with his 1500-page manifesto and his admittance to doing it due to his dissatisfaction (too mild a word, perhaps) at multiculturalism and Muslim immigration. Not that I am one to judge, but his actions certainly spoke really loud - literally with a bang.
Now, what I can't understand is how he, in the name of freedom, deigned it appropriate and justifiable that he should serve the role of a judge to decide that. That he should take a bomb and a gun and proceed to ROB 90+ victims of their freedom to live.
The same could be said of the right-wing party in U.S politics right now, whereby they seem to be arguing simply just to oppose a president they think should never have been. I'd like to see how those arguments help with the freedom of the people, thank you.
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But more than all that, it gets me to think that everyone has their own freedom of choice.
"Wait just a minute here! I was born into poverty, I live in a run-down apartment with no lighting, inconsistent water supply, crazy neighbours who come back drunk or beaten up every other night and am forced to work as a trash collector. What do you mean I have freedom?"
"Listen, smarty pants, these bills are taking away my rights as a citizen. Can't a man get some protection for his house and his pet with just one or two lil' firearms? You don't live in America. You don't understand, dumbass."
I certainly don't, since I have never truly experienced either scenario (both excerpts from conversations I've experienced or seen online). However, I do know one thing.
We are STILL free to make our own decisions, just as God made us.
Sometimes others would argue that the circumstances force them to make but that one or two choices, and sometimes I think they are right. But ultimately, we still make our own choices. At most, circumstances influence those choices, but never truly force us to do so.
Like when a person walks away and shuns everyone who has done practically nothing wrong to him/her. Like when you shout at your boss under heavy stress. Like when you decided that your abilities are enough and that you don't need God.
Feel free to interpret this whatever way you like, since all I'm doing is illustrate a few examples I've seen or experienced thus far in life....Some of which has hurt me bad enough to leave a permanent scar.
And at that point, I too had a choice - Turn my back on God because what He promised didn't come to pass, or reflect and evaluate on my own actions and get back to Him despite the crap I went through.
There was no better answer than reading the story of the Prodigal Son.
We all still make bad decisions, of course...But the important thing is to always grab hold of autonomy and make choices rather than blame the circumstances and people for 'forcing' you to do certain things. That makes us all irresponsible and immature, no matter how old or self-sufficient we think we are.
So, what do YOU believe?
What is YOUR choice?
Ironically enough, that was the same kind of reasoning given by the Islam-based terrorists who believed they were waging a holy war and doing jihad for righteous reasons.
Upon reading through an analysis of the potential harms right-wing extremists can cause to the U.S government and country itself, one word kept popping up in their line of reasoning - Freedom.
Makes me wonder - What kind of freedom are they talking about here? Freedom from sin, or freedom from "oppressive measures by the government" and from "a land of infidels"?
Anders Behring Breivik seemed to fall into the latter category, what with his 1500-page manifesto and his admittance to doing it due to his dissatisfaction (too mild a word, perhaps) at multiculturalism and Muslim immigration. Not that I am one to judge, but his actions certainly spoke really loud - literally with a bang.
Now, what I can't understand is how he, in the name of freedom, deigned it appropriate and justifiable that he should serve the role of a judge to decide that. That he should take a bomb and a gun and proceed to ROB 90+ victims of their freedom to live.
The same could be said of the right-wing party in U.S politics right now, whereby they seem to be arguing simply just to oppose a president they think should never have been. I'd like to see how those arguments help with the freedom of the people, thank you.
-----------------
But more than all that, it gets me to think that everyone has their own freedom of choice.
"Wait just a minute here! I was born into poverty, I live in a run-down apartment with no lighting, inconsistent water supply, crazy neighbours who come back drunk or beaten up every other night and am forced to work as a trash collector. What do you mean I have freedom?"
"Listen, smarty pants, these bills are taking away my rights as a citizen. Can't a man get some protection for his house and his pet with just one or two lil' firearms? You don't live in America. You don't understand, dumbass."
I certainly don't, since I have never truly experienced either scenario (both excerpts from conversations I've experienced or seen online). However, I do know one thing.
We are STILL free to make our own decisions, just as God made us.
Sometimes others would argue that the circumstances force them to make but that one or two choices, and sometimes I think they are right. But ultimately, we still make our own choices. At most, circumstances influence those choices, but never truly force us to do so.
Like when a person walks away and shuns everyone who has done practically nothing wrong to him/her. Like when you shout at your boss under heavy stress. Like when you decided that your abilities are enough and that you don't need God.
Feel free to interpret this whatever way you like, since all I'm doing is illustrate a few examples I've seen or experienced thus far in life....Some of which has hurt me bad enough to leave a permanent scar.
And at that point, I too had a choice - Turn my back on God because what He promised didn't come to pass, or reflect and evaluate on my own actions and get back to Him despite the crap I went through.
There was no better answer than reading the story of the Prodigal Son.
We all still make bad decisions, of course...But the important thing is to always grab hold of autonomy and make choices rather than blame the circumstances and people for 'forcing' you to do certain things. That makes us all irresponsible and immature, no matter how old or self-sufficient we think we are.
So, what do YOU believe?
What is YOUR choice?
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