No one asks to remember things from books, but things stick to your mind like walking over unlit pavements strewn with post-its, and when you step back into the light the only things that settle are the ones that stuck. Somewhere in Siddhartha, our titular protagonist observes that a stone sinks in the quickest way it can; as it is meant to. But what if the stone doesn't sink any deeper. What if the coagulated droplets of water, the seas and oceans, the earth itself pulls up and over the stone. Poor confused stone doesn't sink into the depths; the depths rush up to meet it. Gravity pulls unbidden: it is law. Tonight I feel like a stone, and beyond this rocky shell the world speeds past me

(personally editing myself, again I must remind anyone reading this that I have no theological training, no deep study into the teachings of scholars and theologians who have come before me. I'm an 18 year old teenager who has ideas. So do take whatever's here with a pinch of salt.)

The other evening I was reading C. S. Lewis' The Problem of Pain (and no, there are no sections on EE/TOK/IA, though one might easily be able to extend 'suffering' to include any aspect of IB), and was struck by one particular rumination about the type of experience one would undergo in Heaven. In particular, one section which I will here first quote verbatim, and further expound on later.

... Surely, that each of the redeemed shall forever know and praise one aspect of the Divine beauty better than any other creature can. Why else were individuals created, but that God, loving infinitely, should love differently? And this difference, so far from impairing, floods with meaning the love of all blessed creatures for one another, the communion of the saints. If all experienced God in the same way and returned to Him an identical worship, the song of the Church triumphant would have no symphony, it would be like an orchestra in which all the instruments played the same note."

What Lewis describes here, upon reflection, seems to work as a conclusion. But we must not get ahead of ourselves; let us step backwards.

Let the thesis I first push forward first be this: that God loves each person uniquely. I do not use 'unique' as most mean it, not in the sense that the love He pours abundantly on us is distinct, but that it is unique, the only one of its kind. That the way with which our Heavenly Father loves us is completely special to us.

We know quite concretely that God is love, and by experience we have felt that truly He does love us, but the common man often asks: "If He says to love me, that I can scarce swallow! So if He says He loves us all, it seems to me to have lost a little significance. Does He love me for me? Or does He simply love humanity on a whole, and in that bloc I have been lucky enough to be included." Of course, some might quip that God loves us each infinitely, loving without detracting from the love of another. It is an idea that we find difficult to reconcile with our own ideas of Love, and some might find refuge by claiming it again to be an avenue available to the Omniscient One; all-powerful God and therefore well within His realms. in this reconciliation let us not miss out on an important truth: that God, who shaped and made all, does not love us each in the same mass-produced manner, as if from synthetic food, each block of candy tasting exactly the same as the other. no, our Divine Creator does not love each in the exact same manner; He loves us uniquely, in the way that every lock has a unique key, and as His love pours it will fit that lock in a unique way.

I must be careful here to state that God does not differ in magnitude of love (if here we temporarily accept the absurd notion of quantifying love). If love were rain each would be loved as boundlessly as if each atom were an ocean in itself. If love were warmth each would be loved with the heat of a million suns. No, God loves us each infinitely, and if there were only one of us that sinned and fell short of His most righteous glory the Son would undoubtedly still undergo the same unimaginable tortures to set that one soul free. Again, He does not love your neighbour more than He loves you, nor you more than your neighbour; but He does love you different than your neighbour.

Each soul is different, unique, individuated from its fellow not merely biologically, in its DNA, nor psychologically, through its experiences and circumstances; no, we are different on a spiritual level, each imprinted with the Master's seal, hand-crafted in the secret place for a specific purpose to His Glory and pleasure. And even as we have sinned and distanced ourselves across a mighty chasm, God first bridged that chasm in the act of sacrifice on the hill of Calvary, then strove to fill the selfsame chasm in ourselves; to fill our hearts with the love He so desires to. But the love which fits the mould of each heart is unique to that heart; why else do we experience the presence of The Counsellor in such different ways? Some experience the presence of God as a thrilling feeling of electricity running through the body as the Divine touches the mortal. Some experience a deep warming sensation that fills one with peace and leaves with contented sighs, as the Prince of Peace makes His entrance. Some experience the prickling of goosebumps in the body's response to a Power that it stands in the midst of. Yes it does follow patterns, but does the Spirit not bestow upon us different gifts, different anointings and blessings appropriate to the course He decides to set for us? I believe His love for us to be individuated, as His crafting of each soul is individuated.

Surely you have felt that sometimes in the world we live in, corrupted as it is, the tinges of something that seems to move something indescribable in you. Lewis quotes the sensations one feels when looking at certain sceneries or backdrops, or when listening to certain types to music, in attempts to voice out our sort of need. A deep, gaping, chasm of need, need for something we can't quite put our fingers on. We see, sometimes, in our closest friends and the ones we love deeply, the faintest inkling of resemblance of both the needs, much like finding someone who appreciates a fine bottle of fuji apple like you do, or in the faint resemblance of the Divine in others, whatever infinitesimally tiny portion of God in another that so happens to fit one valley in the undulating landscapes of the locks of our hearts; some part of God others have been blessed with that fits the need in yourself (but we must take utmost care never to attempt to let it take the place of God; a droplet is nothing compared to the boundless ocean, nor a crumb to a full seven-course meal).

As each lock differs from another, so does our need differ from others. And as one key differs from another, so His love differs for each person. Make no mistake though; all have the same type of need, that can only be satisfied by our God. And all the types of love that loves us is only a part of the bountiful, majestic love of our Creator, Master, Father, Lover; infinite in width and breadth and depth. The love that loves us each is different, but its origins are the same. And the sum total of it all is the unending love that He pours upon us.

And as He loves us each differently, so do we see that singular Divine aspect uniquely. What He affords to us is one part of Himself that no one else sees, or gets to see quite like we get the honour of seeing. In the inimitable nature that He loves each distinct soul, He presents that portion of Himself that was made for it. Thus Creator and Created are linked individually through that connection which is beyond words; a piece of the Eternal God and King which He awards freely upon each new soul. No, not 'awards', for it is not given. It is imprinted in each soul; it is the reason for each soul. It is the key the lock is moulded from. The special imprint of an aspect of Himself which then becomes the soul, from which mind and body are layered accordingly.

What follows when we assume this thesis is quite an amazing conclusion when we bring ourselves before the Ultimate Conclusion, or rather, the conclusion of the prologue chapter. When the Son of God appears again, and we depart from Earth with our souls and new bodies, leaving the temporal for the Eternal, we carry that unique imprint onto ourselves. Such that in the Heavenly Realms, when His Bride assembles and sings the songs of endless worship, each soul exalts the Father, lifting up that particular aspect of Him that they and they alone have been given privy access to. Indeed, there may be bits that correlate with the aspects others may see, for certainly all worship the same God, the same Father, the same Son, the same Spirit. But through the uniqueness of their souls they are able to worship that special aspect of the Divine none of their fellows may.

Thus it occurs to me the reason for individuation. I fall were loved as same, and all returned love as same, then would it not be the sound of an infinite trumpets playing the same note. Or even if, indeed, He loves us all same, but that within ourselves which causes us to respond (in love) differently, a filter so deeply crafted into us certainly cannot be from our own doing, but from the hand of the Creator. Thus the song of Heaven is that of an untold millions of voices, different as tambourine from piano, singing in perfect harmony with each other the everlasting songs of worship and praise.

Then see also, the sacredness of each soul. Through the mighty working of His hand He allowed the possibility of falling away, for an aspect of Himself to be imprinted on souls that may not, at the end of the day, come to join the orchestral choir. Then understand the depth at which each needs God, and in God, will not lose the uniqueness of his or her soul in a faceless crowd of converts, but will discover the true nature of one's own soul, the richness from that relationship with the Almighty, and in its own distinct, special, unparalleled and inimitable voice join in the Eternal song.

(many thanks to my editor. I apologise for how long this particular post is, but I think it makes up for the drought right?)

(I first wrote this poem when inspiration hit me, while I was in taiwan, after a shower. I wrote the first stanza on the fogged up mirror with my finger, which freaked out my mother when she stepped in after me)

NIGHT FALLS: a poem

The literates of the world will tell you that night
falls, as if it were
the clothes draped over the deceased, or the
lowering of the coffin lid;
as with a certain
suddenness.
That is not the case.

As any casual observer of the stars will tell you,
night does not fall.
It seeps.
It blends and mixes with the light till it becomes dark.
From the afternoon sun, it bleeds white to blue
to the stillness of the night.

Night is slow. The few awake at its apex
have seen the speed of the night,
the crawl of the stars high above in their own
desired paths. There is a stillness,
a quiet, a shutting down and out and ending
of the things of the previous day.

The literates will say that dawn breaks.
This, though, I wholeheartedly agree with.
Dawn does not appear with any suddenness,
for the light of the sun heralds its arrival
far before the luminous sphere itself
appears in the sky. A wave of blue rings
out in ripples across the clouds, and the
brightness of dawn draws out the rooster's
call. No, dawn is not swift in its arrival,
but it is ever on time.

For night seeps in sideways, not from where the
Earthbound ever fix their sight: straight upward
into the clouds; or from beneath their feet, the
haven for awkward eyes in awkward times. No, it creeps in
from periphery, the blind spots, till the
unaware find themselves utterly caught
in it (as if they knew not
that night has to fall).
But dawn, dawn always breaks.
It hides nothing for it knows the way
darkness flees. Dawn breaks as cloth tears;
as stones roll away. And as dawn returns,
life endures, continues, evermore.

Labels: poem

To the uninitiated, my birthday's coming in a week, and Christmas is just slightly under 3 weeks away. Blatant self-advertising aside, I'm going to advise you not to get me anything living as a present. Really, anything breathing or green should be struck off your lists immediately. My house is great when it comes to taking care of people, but animals are very much less lucky. We have had hamsters that died of either suffocation or pneumonia, fishes that either thought they could fly or believed themselves to be salmon; frogs that preferred an eleven story free-fall over captivity, and even my pet rock grew mould and fell out a window. Point is, my house doesn't grow creatures very well.

And it's a weird thing having living creatures in your house. Why? Because living things grow. And when they grow, they change.

It's a common saying, that "change is the only constant". Want to know why? Because we are alive. In a world full of dead things and people, nothing would change. The spark of life in our temporal situations are what fuels change. Things change because things grow.

On a side note, this is also why I think a zombie apocalypse would be survivable. The undead? They're, well, medically dead. So their bodies don't grow. So whatever damage they sustain will never be healed. Sun, rain, winds, we survive them because we can heal. Zombies can't.

Returning again to the point, growth always brings change. Sure, there are plateaus where we don't grow much, but those are the times we don't change much either. If I may drop some scripture on us, here's a verse from 1 Corinthians 13:11

"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me."

That's what I mean. We grow, so we change; so we put our pasts behind us in order that we may look ahead.

Here's the thing, healthy life always means growth. A healthy 16 year old is growing. If a 13 year old teenager remained the exact size and shape, evidently something is amiss.

Same with our spiritual lives. If we are alive in the spirit, praying regularly, worshipping often; if our spiritual lives are healthy, then our spiritual lives are growing. If you've had a healthy relationship with God for 3 years you definitely won't be in the same mental, emotional, spiritual place you were 3 years ago. Life means growth, spiritual life means spiritual growth. Understand these implications on your personal walk.

Life means growth. And growth also means change. Which is also something we need to understand.

A stagnant ministry, a stagnant church, one without change, is one without growth. A church or a ministry that is alive in Christ will have growth. That is a given. Be it spiritual growth within the individual members, or physical growth in terms of worshippers in attendance, life means growth. And growth means change.

Personally, let me make it clear that I'm not a big fan of change. I'm a man of routine. I like my usual schedules, my usual tv shows (HIMYM, TBBT), my usual drink (fuji apple), and I don't like it when those change. I go to school by the same route every morning and go home by that same route. When something is committed to routine I don't like to change it.

But change is necessary. Because growth is necessary. Because life is necessary.

As do most of my posts, this one feels unready, unpolished, but I think the point is clear enough. Change isn't bad. Change is a sign of growth. And growth is a sign of life.

And life is good :)

Sheep are strange creatures, strange strange creatures.

Sheep have a tendency to do strange things, like running full-on into rocks, or suddenly sitting down in the grass for no reason.

And sheep aren't very acrobatic creatures either. Think about it, have you ever seen a sheep do a forward roll? Okay, how bout intentionally. Sheep don't do forward rolls or cartwheels, no handstands or headspins, think about it, sheep don't even walk sideways. At most, maybe they stumble backwards and forwards, but never sideways.

Sheep go forwards, that's what they do. And sometimes backwards, but never very far nor for very long. Mostly, they go where their heads point.

And that, mein freunde, is the point I'm trying to get at, in a very, very roundabout fashion (and roundabout fashion doesn't refer to clothes for plus-sized people. Har de har har)

In a lot of ways, we're like sheep. We tend to go where we're focused.

Not with our physical bodies, not really, more with our minds. We tend to go where we focus ourselves. You focus on God and you'll go to God, in the same way that sheep that focus on the shepherd go to the shepherd.

And when the sheep spend their time focusing on where they're not allowed to go, they tend to go there.

Yes friends, that's us.

You know how to get out of sin? Not by focusing on it, constantly telling yourself not to do it, not that. When the shepherd blocks off a piece of land because it's filled with thorns and briers, but the sheep start focusing on those pieces of land, they'll gravitate to it. And when the shepherd reminds them not to, the sheep ends up focusing so much on not going to the patch of thorns and briers that it doesn't spot the patch of mud it ends up getting stuck in. Sometimes we end up ignoring the one big sin that the smaller ones creep up on us. We focus so much on getting away from the big things that the small ones kill us slowly. It's like the ancient chinese death by a thousand cuts, small almost insignificant slices being cut away and, before we know it, we're dying spiritual deaths.

And sometimes we focus on the distractions, on the hobbies and little fun things we can do to take our minds off of things. We end up being like sheep so focused on one patch of grass that we lose sight of everything else, the entire field that the shepherd's given for us to graze in.

The only way our lives turn out right and fine is when we get our focus right. When the sheep focus on the important things, then the sheep turns out fine.

Focus on God first, and you'll see that everything else follows

Whether it's getting out of a sin that you're stuck in, finding a solution to a messed up situation, or searching for answers to any question, focus on your shepherd.

I'm going to echo the words of Matthew 6:33,
"seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well."

Ever since God placed it in my heart to named this blog after, from what I've heard, an incredible book that I STILL haven't read yet, I find that one word 'Eternity' to be particularly important. So today as we were listening to the words of Rev. Danny, one particular point stood out. He was talking about faith, and the qualities of faith, specifically on how true faith focuses on the eternal.

He quoted Hebrews 11:13,
"All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth."

Just some background, the passage before it covers what is known as the Hall of Faith. Heroes from the Old Testament who are noted for their faith in God. These heroes, most of them died before seeing the destiny that they were working for. Abraham was promised descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky, yet he only had 8 sons at the time of his death. That's the number of stars you see in a single Singapore night, hardly a generation. But here's the difference: he left his country, his home, even before he had a single son. He left seeing through eyes of faith, through faith in God's promise. The heroes of faith lived by faith, not by sight.

But more than that, it was the last part of the verse that caught my attention.
"And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth."

I find it funny the way that it's phrased. It's not 'and they realised that they were aliens and strangers on earth'. It's not 'and they had a sudden epiphany that they were aliens and strangers on earth'. It's written right there that they admitted it. And that means that they already were aliens, they just didn't admit that.

It's written thrice in the bible that we are 'aliens and strangers' in this world, and it says quite clearly that we're not quite meant to be in this world. I mean we are in it, we're just not of it. The God in us sets us apart, makes us consecrated. Jesus Himself said in John 15:19, in words that are so good I'm not gonna para-phrase them.

"If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you."

That's pretty much the reason. God loves us, chose us, pulled us out and made us a new creation in Him. And because we're different, we're no longer of the world.

But I don't think I've fully admitted that yet.

And I think many of us haven't either.

If we did, I don't think we'd try so hard to act like we weren't.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that we should lock ourselves in our rooms for 6 hours a day and do nothing but read the Bible over and over and over again. Sure, we're told not to be of the world, but we are commanded to be in it. We'd be terrible evangelists if we became too heavenly for any earthly good. It's just that there's a fine line between understanding the culture of this generation and delving fully into it.

We aren't creatures of the temporal. As much as we would love to try, we've been brought to the knowledge of a life beyond. Even those who don't know Christ can agree with me when I say that there are those moments in our lives where we just stop to ponder what life is all about, our purpose, and what happens beyond. As King Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes 3:11, "He has set Eternity in the hearts of men". Something inside us just tells us, reminds us, every once in a while, that there's something beyond this life that we live.

We're new creations. We have Eternity set in our hearts and been blessed with knowledge of a love that will carry us through it. We're aliens and strangers in this world, and our eyes should be set on a far further destination. Let's be Driven by Eternity.

There are four words in the Bible that I love. Well, many, but four that stand out. Four words that pop up often enough that I remember :) and a few weeks back God brought them back to me.

They're found in 1 Corinthians 10:13, NKJV version
"but God is faithful".

If you've read the whole chapter, you'd know that Paul mostly talks about temptations, about the things that the early Israelites went through. They had their incredible experiences with God, and they had their falling away from God. And Paul calls them examples for us, examples that we would do well to learn from. Basically, the heart of Paul's message is this: don't be confidant in yourself, put your confidence in God.

I find this echoed in Psalms 118:8-9, "It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in princes." The words come from King David, a man spent a good portion of his life on the run, in danger, or in some form of instability and uncertain threats. But the words that he wrote echoes great wisdom, wisdom that comes battered by experience. It is better to put your hope in the LORD, than any trust in man. And that's the reason why I love those four words.

but God is faithful.

You can put your hope, your trust in God, because God is faithful.

Even when we aren't.

If you were to look at your relationship with God like that of a marriage (something that the Bible talks about, with the church as the bride and Jesus as the groom), in a week we probably commit more adultery than all the women on Desperate Housewives in those six seasons. Combined.

We don't do good as faithful people to God. We're like the slutty woman in a B-grade soap opera who continually cheats on her boyfriend, though he remains eternally faithful to her. And although she always goes on about how their relationship is 'non-exclusive', but he's all like "I'm the one for you" (why yes, I am secretly referencing that scene between Brooke and Lucas from One Tree Hill season 3, wayyy back). I'll admit it, we make terrible brides sometimes.

And that's why I love those four words.

But God is faithful.

I don't know about you, but I've been pretty unfaithful. My supposedly regular times spent alone with God every day hasn't been so regular, I've been focusing my attention on trying to be someone better than on being God's child, and I haven't been the best friend I can be lately. I've failed, and truth be told, been found pretty faithless at times.

But God is faithful.

That's His promise to us. It's a promise of grace for the prodigal ones. No matter how far we are from home, He's still gonna run to the gate to meet us with an embrace the moment He sees us coming over the horizon. No matter how messed up, screwed up, faithless and fallen we are, He still loves us. Our wildest imaginings of what His love is like would only be a drop of water in the ocean that it really is. It's a love that simply won't ever end.

So I'm hoping that this is a reminder for all of us who are hurting, who are far, who are faithless and lost in ourselves.

Maybe you feel like you've failed Him,

maybe you're stuck in lies that you told,

maybe you're struggling with sin that's slowly started taking control,

maybe you're broken,

maybe you've hit rock bottom.

But God is faithful.

Yes, we're faithless

But God is faithful.