Delayed Rebound?

These...




...were what I bought today. It's been 8 years since I bought anything remotely resembling them. Kinda stopped wearing makeup since I left my country and joined Operation Mobilisation... (missionaries are not supposeda be enamoured by stuff like this, so I reckoned).

OK, so why buy them now since I survived on borrowed makeup all these years?

Last Saturday's dinner was different. I mean, I've been to dozens of dinner events and gotten dolled up couple times a year, but something was different last week. I didn't realise it until I put on the makeup, checked the mirror and... man, it felt really good. I mean, I looked fine (ok, so I looked kinda good) and felt great.

I sure hope it's not a rebound syndrome from "neglecting my appearance" all these years. You know, swinging from one extreme to another and all that. Whatever it is, the stuff's already in the bag, ready for use.

Next: This Saturday's wedding!

Thorns Can Be Good

So. I seriously do not know what's happening to my body. Get sick once in an average of 2 - 4 weeks, a bone spur, loss of strength in arms, fingers, etc, anaemic and... I am forced to entertain the thought that immortality is grossly overrated. I may meet my mortal end sooner than I think.

Morbid? Yeah. Depressing? Slightly so. Only because I am none too entirely prepared for it. I turn 37 this year. Had some really fantastic life behind me, and I think I am richer than anyone I know coz I already have and done all that matters. However, one thing still leaves me stoked. The rush of seeing the light turn on in someone's heart and mind when they understand Truth.

Yesterday I was a wreck and feeling worse. An impending flu attack left me with terrific headaches, bodyaches and a sinister soreness creeping up my throat. I was frustrated, angry, defeated (being sick makes me this way). As I sought solace in my chatmail, a friend signed in. We exchanged pleasantries, jokes and then started talking about doctrine.

The discussion quickly picked up speed. She asked, I answered. I asked, she replied. In that flurry, something happened. A sudden illumination dawned. Truth visited her. A great work of the Holy Spirit.

God works any way He chooses, but it is in frailty that His strength is most evident... why then, are we so afraid of being weak? Of being helpless?

Grant courage Lord, as not to shy away from pain, from suffering and from the thorn where Your grace is sufficient.

Born Twice, Die Once...

What we fear is not death, but its process, Henri Nouwen tells us. He has a point there. We all know death is inevitable, but who - except those really old or terminally ill - would give the matter a serious thought?

My friend in YWAM is pushing 60, underwent several major operations, and had 4 friends die on her in the past 2 months (3 of cancer, and another - a young man in his 20s, committed suicide very recently). Shrouded in this morbid atmosphere, she awaits the biopsy results done on one of her breasts.

I have always admired this friend / mentor. She never married and was the one who forged the path showing me that abandoning all for God is not only examplery, but plausible... and ... desirable. A tremendously gifted Bible teacher, she has the rare quality of inspiring her students to want to dig deeper to uncover the truths marvelously encrypted in Scripture. She herself was a diligent student of the Word, a woman of practical wisdom and tender kindness. However, the one thing that made her stand out was her willingness to be vulnerable. To the point of baring her thoughts, like peers do, to me - someone more than 20 years her junior. What an honour and privilege. And what a great blessing.

It is this very distinctive child-like quality in her that reveals her deep, trusting and personal relationship with the Lord Jesus. For a person who's going nearer to the "other world" than she is to ours, she is beginning to ponder on the things that most of us tend to push aside.

Have I lived well?

Have I loved to my fullest?

Am I ready to meet God?

And so I ask myself these questions today too. And to my utter shame, I find that I am ill-prepared to even think of them. And yet, they are the most important questions I would ever have to answer. 1 Cor 3:12 tells of the different rewards Christians get when they meet God. Immediately, pictures of some tangible trophy comes to mind. But as any mature saint would explain, it is Christ Who is our great reward. Heaven is all about being with him in a way that is impossible while we are on earth.

Martha Snell Nicholson, the gifted poet whose verses had been used to bless many, wrote this before she died of long illness in 1957.

When I was an inarticulate child, if anyone had asked me why I was happy (despite the terrible illnesses), I would have replied, "Because it is all true about Jesus." And now, with the silver in my hair and my body bent and twisted, I can still think of no other way to express my joy rather than to say, "Because it is all true about Jesus Christ."

It is all true.

In life and death and the life everlasting.











Link

Year of the Pig(s)

What a way to start the New Year. Binge-ing and stuffing faces till drop. Two friends and I decided to spend the first two days of 2007 at their hometowns of Teluk Intan and Sitiawan. We had planned a Pangkor trip earlier, but last-minute calls back to work derailed those intentions. So while the reservations were canceled at the 11th hour, Gracey and Ivy said what the heck, we would still go somewhere for the holidays. With no reservations anywhere else (we actually didn't try... what's the point?) the girls decided to head homeward for a quick break.

31 Dec
Arrived Ivy's home in Teluk Intan in time for the NY Countdown. The streets were packed. We passed by the famous Chee Cheong Fun shop (opens 7pm - 7am) and the line was about 15 people long. Too many cars parked there. Decided to give the cff a miss. Reached Ivy's home after midnite. Ate supper, showered and zzzzzzz!!!!!

1 jan
Woke up to the bright sunshine in Ivy's room. Showered. And performed the necessary bodily functions. Brekkie waiting for us at Ivy's mom's stall at a coffee shop nearby... yay!!!! Had CCF and a bit of curry mee. Coffee (yes, yesssss!!!). Then to Gracey's house in Sitiawan. The minute we stepped outta the car, the BuBur Cha Cha was waiting. Happening...lotsa taro, sweet potato cubes and kidney beans in rich, sweeet coconut milk... my favourite! Then the table started filling out with fresh strawberries marinated in plum sauce (slurp!) and this fruitcake baked by a nun. After this inconventional spread of hors d'oeuvres, Gracey's mom took out the killer dish... her Ang Chew Mee Sua. Ok ok, some people may think it's confinement food, but this is actually a popular dish in the Foochow community, with males and females alike. We were salivating when the chicken pieces in the red wine soup was brought out. Munch assault! The vermicelli came. And I would have never guessed the carnivorous Ivy would enjoy this dish as much as she did.

Just as we thought we could not eat anymore, Gracey's dad returned with the famous local Kon Piah, this er - let's just call it a Foochow version of the pizza. The Sitiawan Kon Piah is really different from its Sibu and Kuching cousins. Eat and discover for yourself. Then we drove out to the famous Cendol stall outside the Indian Temple. By this time, my tummy made an overload protest. But I did taste the Cendol - very rich and fresh coconut milk.

Too soon it was dinner time. We were taken to this kinda out-of-bounds lesser-known-to-tourists restaurant, where we gorged ourselves on a feast of Foochow dishes, capped with Irish Cream Bailey's on the rocks. And you'd think people can't die from overeating...

After all that food, we needed to "work out" (to ease the conscience). So it was off to Teluk Batik beachwalk, and then to Lumut Esplanade. Then it rained, and as Gracey would say "so mangkuk", hence we got stuck at the mamak drinking Milo panas.

(I am reeling in disgust as I write this... can't believe what a pig I was).

Jan 2
The only snag to an otherwise perfect slumber experience was the irritating noise from Ivy's cellphone alarm! It rang twice and woke everyone else except the person who had it on. Food was waiting for us when we got up. Didn't even have time to brush teeth properly. Peanut dessert with whole peanuts cooked in glutinous gravy... something like that. Then fruitcake and... rambutans!

"No, no... we have to leave room for lunch" we pleaded. Then got entangled in this conversation with Gracey's dad for about 2 hours talking about comparative religions, etc. We extricated ourselves in time to meet Ivy's parents for lunch. Had another sumptous meal, and I quietly vowed not to eat anything again for the next 24 hours....

30 minutes later Ivy brought us to her friend's coffee shop and ordered us a bowl of Assam Laksa each.

Sigh.

We ate no more the rest of the day. And prob shouldn't for the rest of the year...

Email from the Past

Pat emailed me today. She hasn't done that since her husband Alistair died. It's been a year since my good friend from Carlisle passed on. What do - should - I write about someone who had been a major part of my life in the faraway boonies of the English Lake District, a land of spectacular landscapes, where the grass is greener than green and every turn a postcard-perfect rendition of nature?

I would always recall with fondness the stunning landscapes of Penrith, Borrowdale, Keswick; but even those could not hold a candle to memories of my friend Alistair, as wicked as his humour was. He would probably have been 60 this year. A self-taught historian and guide at the Carlisle cathedral, his jokes about the local verger and keen appreciation for anything historical (and everything is historical) was what made him, well, great to be with.

Alistair took it upon himself to "educate" me on English and Scottish history. So began the field trips and meals and fireplace conversations that lasted almost 3 years. Thanks to him, I saw the site of the Lockerbie crash, visited obscure and quaint villages, learnt about chieftains and clans and their castles, manors, homes. Buildings and places came alive with their past glories narrated by a learned student... and such was Alistair Davidson, son of the (obviously) Davidson clan. Being with Alistair meant I learnt about different pleats, tartan and crest designs, suits for the infantry throughout the years and you've guessed it... he is an avid modeler. Which means he knew about weapon and artillery designs say... from the medieval era till WW2.

(In return, he got healthy doses of Asian cultural indiosyncrasies and great helpings of Asian food.)

More important than merely being a student of history is the skill of interpretation that makes sense of the present and hopefully, the future. Alistair and I used to have long discourses on God - the sovereign Architect of history. We diverged at the point of being born again.

One cold, unforgiving winter's day, we went fly fishing at the creek. The waters were deep in the countryside so we hadda cross over a farm and walk alongside the fences. All of us (Alistair, Pat, their grandkids Iesha and Angus, and I) were warm inside our windbreakers though the windchill factor was below humane. Alistair cast his line and waited. I did the same and the hook caught my jacket, tearing the fabric in a merciless tow. Great. Wind meets skin. Mine.

Some luck-less hours later, we decided the fish were either:
1. Hibernating or
2. Moved to colder Trans-Atlantic waters to hibernate

So we trudged home, each thinking happy thoughts which included Pat's awesome Yorkshire puddings. At a stopover at the farm, Iesha and Angus patted the pony behind me, which had the snuffles (Later I found out the animal was chewing at the tear in my jacket.)

We arrived home empty handed, but all the more richer for the great company. That turned out to be Alistair's last fishing trip with me. His body was too weak to accommodate another.

Do I miss my friend? Terribly so. Will I see him again? I am not sure. And sometimes I wonder if there was more I could have done for him.

Ah! This side of eternity and all its unanswered questions!

Celestial Steakhouse International

With an acronym as such, there was no difficulty striking a conversation with the owner of CSI, Gary May, to find out more about his "killer" Cajun dishes. Less said is more, so he promptly strutted out his stuff:






































(From top to bottom):
Soup of the day (in this case clear veggie) with the variety of breads and rolls.

New York Cheesecake with strwberry topping and oreo crust. Divine!

Sundae Brownie with pecan and fudge topping. To die for.
























(Fr left, back row):
Seafood Quesadillas, BBQ Beef ribs (yummy!!!!) Taco Bowl with special Ranch dressing.

(Fr left, front):
Rainbow trout glazed with honey, pecan and huckleberries; Grilled halibut with Jambalaya rice, Chilly Fries.




Check them out:
B-G-01, Jln SS6/20, Dataran Glomac, Pusat Bandar Kelana Jaya, Selangor.

Not Worth the Compromise

It was Nick's 11th birthday tonight. Well, technically his birthday was yesterday, but we celebrated it tonight coz there was Krsytle & Jared's wedding yesterday. There were more than 20 people at Nick's bash, mostly adults. I can't believe he's already in Standard Five! Seemed like yesterday when I held him as a newborn, took loads and loads of photos of him, watched as he got disciplined, etc...

During the dinner I had another spasm attack. My facial muscles jammed up first, followed by tingling sensation on my arms. I started to palpitate. Great. Just as I was about to attack the nicest part of the dinner too... in moments like these I really begin to think that I would not be able to outlive the people at the table. Given, some of them are like in their 50s but they seemed to enjoy more robust health.

That's fine with me.

The idea is not to live the longest, but to max it out in obedience to God.

Nick's parents are my godbro and godsis. They took me under their wing when I was a homeless ,persecuted young Christian. Not only that, they invested years of their time and money on me, sacrificed and did things that could only come from Love Above. If it weren't for them and my godparents, I would have become a lesser person.

And in those years they never murmured. Once when I told my godbro how I appreciated him, he said, "you know, one day I hope you be the same person to someone else."

The dinner tonight was not just another birthday party. It was another chance to be thankful for the friends that we have, to drink in the merriment and cherish the bonding - something you can't buy, shouldn't postpone and can never re-enact.

Everytime I met my godbro and godsis, I am reminded never to compromise on my relationships. It is never worth it.

Dammed (up) Place

Kenyir, Terengganu: No mobile phone coverage. Perfect isolation.






No leeches here, but "ada pacat".





Journey to kelah sanctuary begins here.




Lesung for chilly. Chilly for fish. Fish for hungry people.

Four Sleepless Nights

I can't believe I spent a couple days just poring over the passage in Gen 22, re: the sacrifice of Isaac. Just for a 75-min study. Why would a good God order such a cruel, inhumane deed? Why didn't Abraham intercede for Isaac the way he petitioned for Lot? And what manner of mental retard is Isaac to allow himself to be bound and sacrificed as a burnt offering - the kind that is killed before being wholly consumed by fire?? I mean, literally toast.

Neatly-packaged answers abound. It was a test for Abraham. God would not allow human sacrifices and deemed it an abomination when the Canaanites practised it those days. Which accounted for why Abraham was prevented from slaying his son at the altar. Many of us would never go through the severe test Abraham did. Scripture does not record whether Abraham really did intercede for his son Isaac to be spared, but we know that he obeyed God immediately when the strange command was given. Later, we realise that the test was for Abraham's own benefit. He needed to know the extent of his love and obedience to God. As for Isaac, well, he was a meek character. Not weak. Huge difference coz meekness is great strength under control. And reveals great faith under wraps. Perfect metaphor for the providence of Christ as the atoning sacrifice for mankind.

The thing I like about the Bible is its no-holds-barred description of events - the characters are real, flawed and human. The problem I have is that it does not give me a picture of God that is comfortable. I am uncomfortable with a God Who does not conform to my understanding. I am uncomfortable with a God Who suddenly pulls the rug under the feet of His saints and subjects them to encounters of the near-delirium type. I am uncomfortable with a God Whom I cannot predict.

Call me a glutton for punishment, but this unknown factor in the equation is actually drawing me like a moth to a lightbulb. So I am convinced God is good, holy, faithful and trustworthy. But He is also dangerously unpredictable. Would I be tested on this kinda scale one day? One part of me hopes not, the other is actually (gasp!) entertaining the prospect, wondering what it would be like.

Dear God, You test Your children to bring out the best possible good. Help me live in daily obedience - for that "easy transit" to the biggie test...

Superman Returns... about time too

Yay... Superman Returns in 24 hours!

Yup, watching the world premiere at Midvalley, thanks to a friend who got me a pair of free tickets. Honestly never thought I would be watching it two days earlier, since my chances of getting tickets were pretty slim this year. BUT, as chance (or some would say Providence) would have it, my friend called this morning to offer me the tickets (good to have such friends).

So I am going for the 9.30pm show tomorrow with LP. if its gonna be anything like last year's Revenge of The Sith, we gotta place our handphones in the car (lest we gotta surrender them at the cinema entrance) and dress formal. Don't know which is worse. Still, I can hardly wait.

Oh well..

Sick again... aaargh...

Fever yesterday that blew into massive sore throat and general weakness (er, the kind that makes the entire body quiver and bones ache...)

Sigh.

Hate being sick.

Just as I was about to attack the apple crumble cheesecake too...

(Groan).

Can't Go

Oh no. Everytime - well, most of everytime - I read a missive of sorts from a missionary, I feel it should have been me out there. Me going and not staying. What's wrong with me? I have been home almost 5 years and I should be settled! Should be thinking about furthering my career, getting married, building a retirement fund, getting on with life, etc. But here I am, thinking how to get back to the field and resisiting my own thoughts at the same time! Talk about mental torture... aaaaargh...

Why I like Toronto

1. Don & Ollie (tho they are not there anymore... moved to BC)
2. My 6th Aunt
3. Feels like 'home'
4. People are tolerant, courteous, etc
5. Public library every coupla blocks
6. Tim Horton's
7. Love the Fall and Winter
8. I dunno... I can't explain why, but I sure know the way it makes me feel...

Chocolates & Mudslides

So I spent 3 hours in this chocolate factory. Nice. Swiped some vanillin on my tongue... it's white powder so I could pretend I was clutching a giant bag of heroin waiting for the Feds to close up on me while I hatch an ingenious escape plan outta thin air. Next scene - I am lazing under the Bahamas sun, on a deck chair with reformed Adonis feeding me (peeled & seedless) grapes. Don't blame me. I grew up on pathetic cops and robbers plots on daytime tv.

Anyways, back to chocolate factory. It was just a small outfit but we saw the entire process. It wasn't enough to put me off chocolates forever, not even when they poured the mud sludge into a giant mixer with bits of cereal, nuts and etc. I kept thinking about the mudslides that kill people. Imagine people buried alive in mud, all orifices choking full of muck. Till sludge oozes outta every imaginable outlet in the body.

BUT of course I am not through with chocolate. Not yet anyways. Tho I am slowly but surely losing my sweet tooth.

Working Late

Aaargh! It's late at night and I am still working. Looking for this diamond-polishing facility which seems to be eluding me past couple days. Sheesh! Doing the costing, planning, schedule for the shoot.... but I kinda like this kinda work, so I guess it is still ok.

MK helped me in my search too, so nice of him. Looking forward to working with him again, haven't done so in almost a year! Yikes... I can't believe I have been off-hands in production for that long! Anyways, I have been busy with other stuff so that's ok.

Spent major part of today preparing and typing Bible study notes for class. After that I drew up the study guide for the next coupla weeks. Should be enough to tide me over till end July.

Sure hope the productions don't clash with the Bible studies. The girls are doing so well. Bea is downloading sermons from the internet and getting herself frazzled in the process, while LP insists she is on her way to becoming an atheist. What great encouragement.

As for me, I sure could do with some excitement in my life... think will pray seriously about trip to Toronto again (my favourite city in the entire world!). Been meaning to visit some friends in BC too. Can't wait to slurp some Tim Horton's hot chocolate and sink my teeth into the doughnuts... aaaaaah!

Dream, dream, dream...

Loneliness

Need someone to talk to about...

why people pour out their problems unto me and I don't have someone to do the same to?

why do I seem to be disinterestedly out on a hinge in this world?

why do I think so differently?

why am I so wierd?

According to AW Tozer, it's all right. Dig this article below:



The Saint Must Walk Alone

AW Tozer





Most of the world's great souls have been lonely. Loneliness seems to be one price the saint must pay for his saintliness. In the morning of the world (or should we say, in that strange darkness that came soon after the dawn of man's creation), that pious soul, Enoch, walked with God and was not, for God took him; and while it is not stated in so many words, a fair inference is that Enoch walked a path quite apart from his contemporaries.

Another lonely man was Noah who, of all the antediluvians, found grace in the sight of God; and every shred of evidence points to the aloneness of his life even while surrounded by his people.

Again, Abraham had Sarah and Lot, as well as many servants and herdsmen, but who can read his story and the apostolic comment upon it without sensing instantly that he was a man "whose soul was alike a star and dwelt apart"? As far as we know not one word did God ever speak to him in the company of men. Face down he communed with his God, and the innate dignity of the man forbade that he assume this posture in the presence of others. How sweet and solemn was the scene that night of the sacrifice when he saw the lamps of fire moving between the pieces of offering. There, alone with a horror of great darkness upon him, he heard the voice of God and knew that he was a man marked for divine favor.

Moses also was a man apart. While yet attached to the court of Pharaoh he took long walks alone, and during one of these walks while far removed from the crowds he saw an Egyptian and a Hebrew fighting and came to the rescue of his countryman. After the resultant break with Egypt he dwelt in almost complete seclusion in the desert. There, while he watched his sheep alone, the wonder of the burning bush appeared to him, and later on the peak of Sinai he crouched alone to gaze in fascinated awe at the Presence, partly hidden, partly disclosed, within the cloud and fire.

The prophets of pre-Christian times differed widely from each other, but one mark they bore in common was their enforced loneliness. They loved their people and gloried in the religion of the fathers, but their loyalty to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and their zeal for the welfare of the nation of Israel drove them away from the crowd and into long periods of heaviness. "I am become a stranger unto my brethren, and an alien unto my mother's children," cried one and unwittingly spoke for all the rest.

Most revealing of all is the sight of that One of whom Moses and all the prophets did write, treading His lonely way to the cross. His deep loneliness was unrelieved by the presence of the multitudes.

He died alone in the darkness hidden from the sight of mortal man and no one saw Him when He arose triumphant and walked out of the tomb, though many saw Him afterward and bore witness to what they saw.

There are some things too sacred for any eye but God's to look upon. The curiosity, the clamor, the well-meant but blundering effort to help can only hinder the waiting soul and make unlikely if not impossible the communication of the secret message of God to the worshiping heart.

Sometimes we react by a kind of religious reflex and repeat dutifully the proper words and phrases even though they fail to express our real feelings and lack the authenticity of personal experience. Right now is such a time. A certain conventional loyalty may lead some who hear this unfamiliar truth expressed for the first time to say brightly, "Oh, I am never lonely. Christ said, `I will never leave you nor forsake you,' and `Lo, I am with you alway.' How can I be lonely when Jesus is with me?"

Now I do not want to reflect on the sincerity of any Christian soul, but this stock testimony is too neat to be real. It is obviously what the speaker thinks should be true rather than what he has proved to be true by the test of experience. This cheerful denial of loneliness proves only that the speaker has never walked with God without the support and encouragement afforded him by society. The sense of companionship which he mistakenly attributes to the presence of Christ may and probably does arise from the presence of friendly people. Always remember: you cannot carry a cross in company. Though a man were surrounded by a vast crowd, his cross is his alone and his carrying of it marks him as a man apart. Society has turned against him; otherwise he would have no cross. No one is a friend to the man with a cross. "They all forsook Him, and fled."

The pain of loneliness arises from the constitution of our nature. God made us for each other. The desire for human companionship is completely natural and right. The loneliness of the Christian results from his walk with God in an ungodly world, a walk that must often take him away from the fellowship of good Christians as well as from that of the unregenerate world. His God-given instincts cry out for companionship with others of his kind, others who can understand his longings, his aspirations, his absorption in the love of Christ; and because within his circle of friends there are so few who share inner experiences, he is forced to walk alone. The unsatisfied longings of the prophets for human understanding caused them to cry out in their complaint, and even our Lord Himself suffered in the same way.

The man who has passed on into the divine Presence in actual inner experience will not find many who understand him. A certain amount of social fellowship will of course be his as he mingles with religious persons in the regular activities of the church, but true spiritual fellowship will be hard to find. But he should not expect things to be otherwise. After all he is a stranger and a pilgrim, and the journey he takes is not on his feet but in his heart. He walks with God in the garden of his own soul - and who but God can walk there with him? He is of another spirit from the multitudes that tread the courts of the Lord's house. He has seen that of which they have only heard, and he walks among them somewhat as Zacharias walked after his return from the altar when the people whispered, "He has seen a vision."

The truly spiritual man is indeed something of an oddity. He lives not for himself but to promote the interests of Another. He seeks to persuade people to give all to his Lord and asks no portion or share for himself. He delights not to be honored but to see his Savior glorified in the eyes of men. His joy is to see his Lord promoted and himself neglected. He finds few who care to talk about that which is the supreme object of his interest, so he is often silent and preoccupied in the midst of noisy religious shoptalk. For this he earns the reputation of being dull and overserious, so he is avoided and the gulf between him and society widens. He searches for friends upon whose garments he can detect the smell of myrrh and aloes and cassia out of the ivory palaces, and finding few or none, he, like Mary of old, keeps these things in his heart.

It is this very loneliness that throws him back upon God. "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." His inability to find human companionship drives him to seek in God what he can find nowhere else. He learns in inner solitude what he could not have learned in the crowd - that Christ is All in All, that He is made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification and redemption, that in Him we have and possess life's summum bonum.

Two things remain to be said. One, that the lonely man of whom we speak is not a haughty man, nor is he the holier-than-thou, austere saint so bitterly satirized in popular literature. He is likely to feel that he is the least of all men and is sure to blame himself for his very loneliness. He wants to share his feelings with others and to open his heart to some like-minded soul who will understand him, but the spiritual climate around him does not encourage it, so he remains silent and tells his griefs to God alone.

The second thing is that the lonely saint is not the withdrawn man who hardens himself against human suffering and spends his days contemplating the heavens. Just the opposite is true. His loneliness makes him sympathetic to the approach of the brokenhearted and the fallen and the sin-bruised. Because he is detached from the world, he is all the more able to help it. Meister Eckhart taught his followers that if they should find themselves in prayer and happen to remember that a poor widow needed food, they should break off the prayer instantly and go care for the widow. "God will not suffer you to lose anything by it," he told them. "You can take up again in prayer where you left off and the Lord will make it up to you." This is typical of the great mystics and masters of the interior life from Paul to the present day.

The weakness of so many modern Christians is that they feel too much at home in the world. In their effort to achieve restful "adjustment" to unregenerate society they have lost their pilgrim character and become an essential part of the very moral order against which they are sent to protest. The world recognizes them and accepts them for what they are. And this is the saddest thing that can be said about them. They are not lonely, but neither are they saints.

Strange yet Familiar

Strange things often happen in my shower/ bathroom.

No, I don't mean horrifying strange things. I mean the kind of situations where one goes into the shower with one kind of mindset and emerge from it with a totally different one.

Let me explain.

I do a lot of thinking in the shower. Way too much, I think. There must be something about being in an enclosed area, undressed before no one but God, that immediately stimulates my mind to overdrive in a "supernatural" way.

To put it simply, God speaks to me in the shower. A lot. Profoundly too. And in many occassions I have found this to be a pervailing pattern. I cannot explain this phonomenon, I sure didn't stage it in any way. Heck, I don't even think about it much, but numerous times throughout the years, many an important decision was sealed in the bathroom. And it is not like I take forever to conduct my business (usually it's 10 mins, 20 mins max) . I guess Moses had his burning bush, and I have my bathroom. (Moses had a rod too, what am I supposed to do with the shower head???)

As I see it, God is sovereign, so He can speak to us any way He chooses. In my case, it may not be the most common method to communicate, but it rings with a tone of loud familiarity. It is a tone that is easily recognisable by the person to whom it is addressed. Man, do I hear it!

So yesterday, while I was down in bed the entire day with a severe nausea and headache (suspect it's anaemia aggravated by menstruation), I called the girls to cancel our Bible study. I could not get up from bed / chair without a splitting headache and fainting. Life sucked.

After that I went into the shower and wow, like immediately when I latched the door shut, a strong thought came, "...by faith Abel, ... Enoch... Noah... etc". That was followed by another, "it is not by flesh, nor circumstances, but by faith..."

I could not allow my physical condition to assail my commitment to God. No way. I decided to go ahead, and if I faint, then I faint. But at least I have done what I should have.

So I conducted the study. Man, the headaches were terrible. By the time the study ended, I was almost vomitting and about to faint. The girls had to send me home in my own car.

Was it worth it?

Yes.

Was it stupid?

My mom thinks so.



Dear God, people say I try too hard to live for You. That may be true, but I am not one who takes chances in these matters. If I die tomorrow, I sure want to hear the familiar voice again, but this time saying "Well done My faithful servant..."

A Bit(e) of Italy

I am not exactly a fan of Italian food, but given time and practice, I may just turn out to be one. Had some great Italiano at Buono Sera in SS2 Petaling Jaya. Good food, good company, good service and dessert to die for... mammamia!




Australian Rock Melon with cured Italian Parm ham. Appetizer not easily found in these parts...









Rosemary Chicken. The taste of fresh herbs permeated every part of the meat. My bro's favourite.











Seafood Spaghetti. Check out the giant shrimp and mussels. Has a wonderful homemade flavour.









Pork Sausages. One of the better ones I've tasted in a while.








My favourite - dessert! Homemade tiramisu with chocolate pot and vanilla ice-cream and rum & raisin gelato

Created for Something

So I rediscovered the meaning of shopping. And it is while I was filling up the first aid kit for the car. Strange that such a simple excursion would bring so much... satisfaction. Maybe it was the mental gymnastics trying to figure out what to put inside the box. Maybe it's because I know them things would serve a valuable function when needed. It is the assigned purpose for which each element in the box is created.

Kinda like humans.

Can only find fulfillment in knowing and doing what we have been created for.

Carlisle Remembered

A friend from Carlisle visited recently. He came with his mom to attend a wedding. We met for a meal and some sightseeing, and he brought me up to speed with some updates of the people I know and places I frequented. Looks like things have changed (as they would, for sure) in this town (or city, as Carlisleans call it), but mostly the place remains recognisable still.







St Paul's. My church for two years. Pastor Alan was quite a "happening fellow".

Streetshops: Never bought anything from this street...



Franco's: Walked past it every day, but never had the chance to eat there - could ill-afford it.

Market Square. Where I hungout every day during lunchtime, just to get a sense of having a crowd around me. Pathetic, I know...




Outside WH Smith: Summer blooms in full force. Took pix for my mom.