Thursday, June 28, 2007
New Song Feature | nouveau chanson présenter
Music makes up an essential part of my life. Really thankful for this feature that allows me to share fave songs from time to time. Here's one that I particular like from my fave album."A beautiful and blinding morning
The world outside begins to breathe
See clouds arriving without warning
I need you here to shelter me
And I know that only time will tell us how
To carry on without each other
So keep me awake to memorize you
Give me more time to feel this way
We can't stay like this forever
But I can have you next to me today
If I could make these moments endless
If I could stop the winds of change
If we just keep our eyes wide open
Then everything would stay the same
And I know that only time will tell me how
We'll carry on without each other
So keep me awake for every moment
Give us more time to be this way
We can't stay like this forever
But I can have you next to me today
We'll let tomorrow wait, you're here, right now, with me
All my fears just fall away, when you are all I see
We can't stay this way forever
But I have you here today
And I will remember
Oh I will remember
Remember all the love we shared today" -Awake, Josh Groban
Mantou at 12:15 AM
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Monday, June 25, 2007
For my dear bro | Pour mon frère chéri.
I love stories. They always do heaps to encourage me. This one's for you.The woman flops down on the bench and drops her trash bag between her feet. With elbows on knees and cheeks in hands, she stares at the sidewalk. Everything aches. Back. Legs. Neck. Her shoulder is stiff and her hands raw. All because of the sack.
Oh, to be rid of this garbage.
Unbroken clouds form a gray ceiling, gray with a thousand sorrows. Spot-stained buildings cast long shadows, darkening passageways and the people in them. Drizzle chills the air and muddies the rivulets of the street gutters. The woman collects her jacket. A passing car drenches the sack and splashes her jeans. She doesn't move. Too tired.
Her memories of life without the trash are fuzzy. As a child maybe? Her back was straighter, her walk quicker... or was it a dream? She doesn't know for sure.
A second car. This one stops and parks. A man steps out. She watches his shoes sink in the slush. From the car he pulls out a trash bag, lumpy with litter. He drapes it over his shoulder and curses the weight.
Neither of them speaks. Who knows if he noticed her. His face seems young, younger than his stooped back. In moments he is gone. Her gaze returns to the pavement.
She never looks at her trash. Early on she did. But what she saw repulsed her, so she's kept the sack closed ever since.
What else can she do? Give it to someone? All have their own.
Here comes a young mother. With one hand she leads a child; with the other she drags her load, bumpy and heavy.
Here comes an old man, face ravined with wrinkles. His trash sack is so long it hits the back of his legs as he walks. He glances at the woman and tries to smile.
What weight would he be carrying? She wonders as he passes.
"Regrets."
She turns to see who spoke. Beside her on the bench sits a man. Tall, with angular cheeks and bright, kind eyes. Like hers, his jeans are mud stained. Unlike hers, his shoulders are straight. He wears a T-shirt and baseball cap. She looks around for his trash but doesn't see it.
He watches the old man disappear as he explains, 'As a young father, he worked many hours and neglected his family. His children don't love him. His sack is full, full of regrets.'
She doesn't respond. And when she doesn't, he does.
'And yours?'
'Mine?' she asks, looking at him.
'Shame' His voice is gentle, compassionate.
She still doesn't speak, but neither does she turn away.
'Too many hours in the wrong arms. Last year, last night.. Shame.'
She stiffens, steeling herself against the scorn she has learned to expect. As if she needed more shame. Stop him. But how? She awaits his judgment.
But it never comes. His voice is warm and his question honest. 'Will you give me your trash?'
Her head draws back. What can he mean?
'Give it to me. Tomorrow. At the landfill. Will you bring it?' He rubs a moist smudge from her cheek with his thumb and stands. 'Friday. The landfill'
Long after he leaves, she sits, replaying the scene, retouching her cheek. His voice lingers; his invitation hovers. She tries to dismiss his words but can't. How could he know what he knew? And how could he know and still be so kind? The memory sits on the couch of her soul, and uninvited but welcome guest.
That night's sleep brings her summer dreams. A young girl under blue skies and puffy clouds, playing amid wildflowers, skirt twirling. She dreams of running with hands wide open, brushing the tops of the sunflowers. She dreams of happy people filling a meadow with laughter and hope.
But when she wakes, the sky is dark, the clouds billowed, and the streets shadowed. At the foot of her bed lies her sack of trash. Hoisting it over her shoulder, she walks out of the apartment and down the stairs and onto the street, still slushy.
It's Friday.
For a time she stand, thinking. First wondering what he meant, then if he really meant it. She sighs. With hope just barely outweighing hopelessness, she turns toward the edge of town. Others are walking in the same direction. The man beside her smells of alcohol. He's slept many nights in his suit. A teenage girl walks a few feet ahead. The woman of shame hurries to catch up. The girl volunteers an answer before the question can be asked: 'Rage. Rage at my father. Rage at my mother. I'm tired of anger. He said he'd take it.' She motions to her sack. 'I'm going to give it to him.'
The woman nods, and the two walk together.
The landfill is tall with trash - papers and broken brooms and old beds and rusty cars. By the time they reach the hill, the line to the top is long. Hundreds walk ahead of them. All wait in silence, stunned by what they hear - a scream, a pain-pierced roar that hangs in the air for moments, interrupted only by a groan. Then the scream again.
His.
As they drew nearer, they know why. He kneels before each, gesturing toward the sack, offering a request, then a prayer. 'May I have it? And may you never feel it again.' Then he bows his head and lifts the sack, emptying its contents upon himself. The selfishness of the glutton, the bitterness of the angry, the possessiveness of the insecure. He feels what they felt. It is as if he'd lied or cheated or cursed his Maker.
Upon her turn, the woman pauses. Hesitates. His eyes compel her to step forward. He reaches for her trash and takes it from her. 'You can't live with this.' he explains, ' You weren't made to.' With head down, he empties her shame upon his shoulders. Then looking toward the heavens with tear-flooded eyes, he screams, 'I'm sorry!'
'But you did nothing!' she cries.
Still, he sobs as she has sobbed into her pillow a hundred nights. That's when she realizes his cry is hers. Her shame his.
With her thumb she touches his cheek, and for the first step in a long nighttime, she has no trash to carry.
With the others she stands at the base of the hill and watches as he is buried under a mound of misery. For some time he moans. Then nothing. Just silence.
The people sit among the wrecked cars and papers and discarded stoves and wonder who this man is and what he has done. Like mourners at a wake, they linger. Some share stories. Others say nothing. All cast occasional glances at the landfill. It feels odd, loitering near the heaps. But it feels even stranger to think of leaving.
So they stay. Through the night and into the next day. Darkness comes again. A kinship connects them, a kinship through the trashman. Some doze. Others build fires in the metal drums and speak of the sudden abundance of stars in the night sky. By early morning most are asleep.
They almost miss the moment. It is the young girl who sees it. The girl with the rage. She doesn't trust her eyes at first, but when she looks again she knows.
Her words are soft, intended for no one. 'He's standing.'
Then aloud, for her friend. 'He's standing.'
And louder for all. 'He's standing!'
She turns, all turn. They see him silhouetted against a golden sunrise.
Standing. Indeed. - The Trashman, Max Lucado.
Mantou at 11:04 PM
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Monday, June 18, 2007
Father's Day | Bon pere n'est pas
Yes, today was Father's Day.. Spent the most part of it with my Heavenly Father though, greeting Him with a worshipful heart right in the morning. The feeling was good. Then at service, round 2 with Graham! Just awesome, being ministered to by his leading. Here's another song that spoke to me today. Maybe it'll speak to you too. I'll share it anyhow. It's called 'The Way is Open'. Spent the afternoon at worship prac.During the prayer meeting, He would do what He just does all the time. Faithfully but firmly bringing you to that place where you acknowledge your hurts before Him and release it to Him in forgiveness. It was in unspeakable pain when I did that but I know it paid off. It gave me the booster to initiate to meet my dad for a meal tomorrow. I think he appreciates it. Just a simple meal no doubt, but I do pray it paves the way for reconciliation and whatever God wants to do in this relationship. Just typical of my Heavenly Father to stir up these responses in me. *shakes head* I do appreciate it a lot. But it drains me out too. Haiz. For those of you who have prayed for me or given me well wishes about my family issues, thank you so much. Really appreciate it.
This short term pain long term gain thing seems to be the lesson He wants me to learn lately.. Obedience will pay off somehow when it hurts. He started with my finances and boy that's one of the toughest areas for me. But there are breakthroughs and I thank God for them. Never thought I'd go past giving tithes to God but it feels good now that I've gone beyond it. =) Painful to part with the money, but I thought about it and know that my money's better used by God than by myself. So it never hurts to give back to Him, technically.
Mantou at 12:58 AM
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Friday, June 15, 2007
The revamp
Well it's just about time ain't it? =)
More than one person has complained to me about my blog being hard to navigate.. So I decided to change it once more.. Hope it's much more viewer friendly now..
Went to a Graham Kendrick Concert today. It was just awesome la.. Out of the ordinary.. Nothing else I say would justify it.. For a good part of the concert we were singing along to songs that were composed on the spot. What do you say to that?
Glad that I managed to invite my friend to the concert, and glad that he had no adverse reaction to the way the night's proceedings. Another seed planted. Yay.
Been finding more and more questions being addressed by God Himself these days. That encounter with Him featured in my previous post seemed to have open a door to more intimacy and direct communication with our Heavenly Father. Thank God for His wisdom. This song that you see at the corner of my blog, Crucified Man, speaks a lot to me about my journey with Him. It's really about nothing else that I can hope for but what He had already done for me on the cross. The lyrics really moved me.. Hope it touches you guys too.
Mantou at 11:53 PM
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Sunday, June 10, 2007
The Search
"I was living for a dream,loving for a moment
Taking on the world,
that was just my style
Now You hold me in Your arms,
I can see forever
The search is over,
You were with me all the while" - Survivor, The Search is Over (some lyrics changed to suit setting)
Yep, I'm a fan of the oldies and this song stuck on like a barnacle because it's got nice lyrics and an unusual melody. You got to listen to it to know what I'm saying. =)
Something amazing happened today. Something almost indescribable. But I shall attempt to blog it anyway.
You see, recently I've been made to think about the vicious cycle of worldly choices and consequences that I suffer because of some lies I have believed in. Yes, I realise that this is stuff I've been talking about since I was a new Christian, but I guess we all know the difference between understanding, believing and acting upon the truth. So to counter the vicious cycle I got myself and accountability partner to pray with me and support me as I endeavor to expose and disable the effects of those lies in my life. That made quite an impact on my spiritual life and there was a ripple effect that showed in many areas of my life. However, it was not all smooth sailing and I found that the lies I had believed in for so long had formed ruts in my mind and the moment I got close to the ruts I'd slipped back into believing those lies again. So that journey has had many ups and downs. And everytime I slip back in I grow more and more disillusioned about this step of faith I had taken, and was plagued with many doubts. I have to say it's not easy to try to honor God who's invisible when all the circumstances around you are so real and tangible. If one is not convicted by the Spirit one should not even try it or their very faith might be shaken.
Despite all the downs getting me discouraged, one thing stood out and showed my the meaning of grace from a holy God. The unconditional acceptance of a fellow brother in Christ and constant exhortations and encouragement showed me that the grace of God means believing that I can be the way God made me in Christ Jesus. I believe that glimpse of grace gave me a semblance of God's love and helped me to respond to Him.
Today was such a day. Chris Chan was just sharing and ministering to the congregation today using Psalms 32, which talks about the joy of forgiveness. He said some stuff but the main point that struck me was that some of us were really trying to be righteous in our own strength and allowed pride to subtly creep in so that we blame ourselves heavily for making mistakes but carry on serving God while feeling the heaviness of the struggles, not realizing we can be restored when we confess to God of our wrongdoings. So the time came for us to respond to the Word, and Chris gave the option of either meditating on the passage or praying. I did both. And I acknowledged to God that I had been holding on to all these burdens of guilt and shame, and even acknowledged to Him the hurts and anxieties I had. And then it happened. All of a sudden I was very aware of the nearness of God. And His gentle countenance was just beckoning to me. My heart quickens even as I recount the experience again. He felt really real and right there, just gently... there..
And while the song 'When I survey the Wondrous Cross' was sung in the background I could sense myself reaching out, throwing my arms out to hug Him! I hugged my Savior in spirit! I burst into tears then, and the weird thing was that I could picture that He was crying too, with tears of joy and longing, the kind that one would shed after someone lost was found. It was such a sweet, unspeakable moment. I felt all my sorrows melt away and gratitude come flooding in as I just lingered in the moment in amazement and wonder. This was truly my first time responding to Him in such a manner, and I wondered why it took me so long. It's been three years since I became a Christian, and there's been many times I've responded to the altar call. Today there was no altar call, but He met me right where I was seated. Then, in that intimate moment I continued to respond by singing along. It gave me such a different perspective to worship because this time that God was so near I could really feel that I was singing to Him and expressing my worship while He looked on. And as I sang, I saw with my mind's eye that He held my hand and walked along with me. So real was it that I marveled and tears just kept streaming down my eyes. I even asked Him; would I leave Him to chase after the world again? The sad reply was 'Yes'. It really pained my heart this time to hear that I would turn away. But somehow the assurance came that He lived in me, not at some hard to reach place. I have yet to make sense of that but I believe that means I will be changed to let Him live in me, and not my old man.
That experience left me dazed for a while and that was pretty embarassing cos I brought my student down to service with me today. I wonder what he would think of my behaviour today. *scratch chin* Oh well, it's not every day that you meet your Creator in such a way so I guess it was worth it. It really speaks volumes to me about the nature of God. The song I mentioned earlier had a bridge that went,
"it finally struck like lightning from the blue. Every highway leading me back to You"
God is so sovereign and faithful He's just gonna try to lead us home, us who realize we need to rely on Him and love Him.
Mantou at 9:07 PM