peace . love . joy

Yesterday we did a Bible study about "putting sin to death" with our group of 17 year olds. Along the way, someone mentioned that it's quite hard to put sin to death, acknowledging that often we fail to do so, saying at times the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. And that caught my attention at once.

Does that, that quote of the spirit being willing, but the flesh being weak, sound familiar to you?

Well, it should. It appears in the Bible. More specifically, it is spoken by Jesus Himself in the garden of Gethsemane before He was betrayed and arrested:

'And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And he said to Peter, "So, could you not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."'

~ Matthew 26: 40-41

Methinks it is a fact, that while sometimes we are able to control ourselves, to discipline ourselves, to attempt to "put sin to death" by doing so, we do encounter situations where we find it practically impossible to succeed. But this struggle has a strange twist in that while we are so enthusiastic, so idealistic, so driven to want to resist committing a particular sin, or to obey a request of God's, we somehow find ourselves incapable. The primary enemy here, we realise, being not so much the devil, perhaps, as ourselves.

For example, feeling led to attend a night sermon, one cheerfully does so, but finds one cannot stay awake for its duration.
Or perhaps trying hard to kick the habit of watching pornography, one somehow finds oneself failing and going back again and again, even though the interest is consciously stifled, as though the finger has a mind of its own and automatically clicks on a link, and the eyes become glazed and passively watches subdued.

Admittedly, failure, especially repeated failure does get us down. We start off with the best intentions, the most excitement and resolution, but somewhere along the way riddled with in-vains after in-vains, those initial motives become blurred, those sentiments become muffled and abandoned. It is very easy to throw in the white towel, quoting what the Savior Himself conceded, saying we've tried, no doubt about that, we've tried and we were so willing to change, but our σάρξ, our flesh, our physical bodies were just so weak. It is as the Christ had said, it is as our Bible study student had said.

But aren't you forgetting something?

That was not all Jesus uttered that evening, and it is of vital importance when reading the Bible to read the entire verse, the entire chapter, or even better yet, the entire book. It is extremely crucial to not neglect and to quote out of context, out of reference, for such is the way of the devil. Half-truths are never Truth.

On the one hand, Jesus did say that while the mind may be indeed willing, the flesh is no doubt weak.
But on the other hand, He also subtly implied the invalidity of that statement by reminding us of the whole Truth; die ganze Wahrheit.

We are reminded, even before that truth of contrast between our "volatile strength" and "weak physique" was confessed, that we have residing in us a power far greater than our own puny human capabilities and abilities, a power far greater than the influence of the physical body, and that entity has been invited into our being the moment we said yes, the moment we realised our insufficiency and error, the moment we acknowledged our status with respect to another, the moment when we humbly took our place at His feet and bowed to the Sovereign God.

Our infinitely gracious and urgently loving Lord and Friend did not simply remind us that we have living within us a force we can use, in fact are to use. He left us precious instruction.

Our job is to submit to conviction and to commit to resolution. I like what Jonathan Edwards said to be "Resolved, never to give over, nor in the least to slacken, my fight with my corruptions, however unsuccessful I may be". That is our duty, our choice, our first step to partake in a victory already won. Not forgetting, however, that because the flesh is weak, we must exercise and fully comprehend that reminder: we must not fail to draw on that higher power, to call on that higher being - God; we must not forget to pray, to call for His help, to seek His counsel, to be filled with His strength, to obey His instruction.

And He will answer. That I promise you.

Watch & Pray, said He.

Two things. Two beings. Two hands to clap.

Our all-powerful God is willing and ever-ready to respond, to help and to conquer.

Question is:

Are you?

I am tossed into a cube.

It's large enough for me to sit comfortably in it, but small enough that I can't stretch my legs out from under me. I can't raise my arms above my head, neither can I reach out beyond my bent knees.

It's made of a material that cannot be chipped, ripped nor broken. A transparent material. And I am made to look out of it, made to see. I cannot blink. My eyelids have gone.

There are no doors, no hidden contraption.
No way in, no way out.
Just me in it.
Looking out.

Looking helplessly out.

That cube is then tossed into the ocean.
But this ocean is unlike the ocean you and I know, teeming with life and movement; this ocean is still and dead.

Death is all around me.

As the cube sinks deeper and deeper into the depths, I see bones, cartilage, lifelessly limp bodies of creatures. Those few still alive, one by one, shudder in uncontrollable fits, screaming and moaning, then grow still as death snatches their life away.
Unfair.
I want to get out.
I need to get out.

I can't get out.

That's my nightmare.

It's everything that I fear most: a bottomless ocean, the grim trail and evidence of death, being made to witness what I'd much rather not see..
And being unable to help, not possessing the knowledge to help, absolutely incapable to help.. Being helpless. You cannot even begin to imagine how much that scares, no, torments me.

What is your nightmare?
What do you fear most?

Can you imagine yourself in that situation?
Can your imagination even voluntarily picture you in that situation?

Maybe you're already in that nightmare of yours. Maybe you're already under the circumstances that causes you to fear, to become frustrated, to suffer agonising fits.

Seems like there's no way out. You can't crawl under a desk, grab your blue blankie, curl into a ball, suck your thumb and wish it all away.
It's there, staring you straight in the face.

And then, amidst all that pouting and rolling, amidst all those tears and cries, you suddenly hear a voice. A small voice. A quiet voice. A voice you know so well and have grown to love even when it reprimands. And it says:

You've touched these tired eyes of mine
And mapped my face out line by line
And somehow growing old feels fine

I listen close for I'm not smart
You wrap your thoughts in works of art
And they're hanging on the walls of my heart

I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
And though I may not look like much,
I'm yours.

And though my edges may be rough
I never feel I'm quite enough
It may not seem like very much,
But I'm yours.

You healed these scars over time
Embraced my soul, you loved my mind
You're the only angel in my life

The day news came: my best friend died
My knees went weak and you saw me cry
Say I'm still the soldier in your eyes

I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
And though I may not look like much,
I'm yours.

And though my edges may be rough
I never feel I'm quite enough
It may not seem like very much,
But I'm yours.

I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
I know I don't fit in that much,

But I'm yours.

My mother loves to listen to recordings of Christian talks and seminars. And she was doing just that yesterday when I walked into the kitchen to wash up from lunch. Usually, I'd just walk on by, slightly cringing (because I don't quite like people angrily screaming into my ear, for some strange reason, preachers tend to love doing that), but then something the speaker said caught my attention:

No Christian has his theology perfect.
And we've all been guilty at some time of not only misinterpreting texts, but our own experiences.
And what Wesley says about that is our experience is not the final authority;
the Word of God is the final authority.

So if there is some kind of conflict between the Word of God and the experience, which one of those has to be wrong?
That would be the experience.
Experience is not an independent authority in our lives. A Lot of people say things like "I can't deny my experience". My response is "yes, you can".
You have to critically evaluate your experiences.

Here's the point:
A genuine experience may not be a true experience.

(Rev. Dr. Ben Witherington III, Rapture or Parousia?, Aldersgate Convention)

Here, he was answering a question about someone's apparent vision of the Rapture and being left behind. Now, what interested me was not discussed topic of the End Times, but his ideas of our experiences.

All of us experience things, from simple physical stimulations, like sounds and smells, that our body and brain register, to more complex intangible and invisible sensations, some of which we find great difficulty in expressing and recounting in exact terms to others. Human beings were created with, to borrow from Jane Austen, sense and sensibility. And all of it is very real to us, however you choose to define 'real'. That's what Rev. Dr. Ben meant when he mentioned a "genuine" experience.

But here's where the confusion and complication begins:
he claims not all experiences, no matter how "genuine", are "true".
By "true", he was refering to experiences that originated, that are created and sent by God to us.

This statement resonates profoundly within me. Because I, for one, place great significance and value on my faculties of sensibility. My belief is that God has given me a body, a working physical body complete with its hidden inner mechanisms, whose functions I shall exploit to understand and glorify Him as best I can. Through my body, its receptors and processors, through my past and present circumstances, through my experiences, the Bible and its contents have been brought to life, God has been made real in my life.

But while some experiences are "true" and God-inherent, others aren't.

Descriptively put, our brains are not permanently and exclusively tuned to God's channel.

We are like radios that require manual-tuning, you know, those with the little knobs that you turn to adjust the frequency, to listen to different radio broadcasting stations. Sometimes, there is a clear and abrupt change when you turn the dial: just one degree of rotation and the station changes without a confusing mish-mash of voices, static and what not. But sometimes, there is a transition, there is this range of frequencies within which, you can register two different channels and so, you simultaneously hear two different stations layered upon each other. And that's when you'll have to decide which station is the one you desire to listen to.

Messages, words, pictures or visions, voices, sensations.. Some are honestly from God, of God, good, correct, True. Others are obviously not. But those that aren't so clear-cut, those whose frequencies straddle the fence, slyly overlapping and sharing them frequency ranges..

Testing our experiences, what we perceive, calls for discernment, wisdom, knowledge and a very strict and critical mind.
Methinks this is not an easy task at all fundamentally because our experiences are so authentic, so difficult to dispute with, to deny, to doubt, to call into question.
But sometimes, it's also because the Truth is not what we want to hear, to see, to know.

A genuine experience may not be a true experience.

"Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world.
By this you know the Spirit of God:
every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God,
and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the antichrist, which you heard was coming and now is in the world already."

~ 1 John 4:1-3

A Youth-Centred Culture is a Backward Facing One.

That's one interesting statment that most certainly caught my attention! On first glace, it doesn't make much sense to me. Well, maybe my being part of church ministries serving the youths has something to do with my lack of understanding. But then comes the qualifier:

A society with such a culture is one where people honour who they used to be.

Look around you, I think this culture, this taken to reminiscing and romanticizing about the past, is very much alive in this world. Certificates, medals and achievements are laminated, framed and prominently displayed, plastic surgery becomes an answer to the aging body. In fact, I'd generalise even further to extend that honouring to the wider past. Museums are built to remember the dead and the deed, the young are educated in affairs of the past.

There isn't anything inherently evil about looking over the shoulder. For some, the past is simply an interesting string of events that occurred, a means for understanding the present, a reference that guides better-informed decisions of the future. I, myself, am rather fascinated by history, both the larger world history and my own personal past. But when does that celebration and commemoration become a worship, an idolisation, an obsession?

Why is it that while we always speak of "the future", and we write brilliant imaginative essays, draw fantastical pictures of a life yet to come, we tend to treat it as though it were something vague, distant and crawling?
And all the while leaving a foot in the door that we are peeking out from, the doorway of the past..

While there may be many reasons for this reluctance to move on, a significant keeper of this jail, I fear, is fear.

The fear of the unfamiliar comes head to head with the assurance of the familiar.
Which shall emerge triumphant?

We came from the past. It has finished, it is over, it cannot change any more than a satellite that has been knocked off its course in the vastness of the theoretically ever-expanding space. The truth is we find comfort in the unchangable, unchanging past. The glorious days of the life we once lived and the achievements we've made give us a reason to be proud of ourselves, to continue believing in ourselves when we fail. And that is something we hold very dear to our hearts, something we need.. Or is it?

The future is uncertain. We cannot tell what the future holds. And that is scary. Change! Change is scary. We, Christians, are called to greatness, to fulfil deeds and speak words and live lives so marvelous. "Yes! Amen!", we say, but then we go and forget all about it, drowning what is yet to come in the fermented vines of the past, cutting it out of the juicy pies of the present, reducing the could-be, would-be fantastic to boring mediocrity.

We fear letting go of who we were, what we held on to because we don't know who we will become, where we will end up. We don't know if we will like it.

We forget, then, that we have a God, that we belong to a God who 'works for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose', who is that 'Perfect Love' that 'casteth out fear', who 'arms us with strength', who is our 'shield', 'rock', 'fortress', 'deliverer', whose very Name is 'a strong tower'!

All too often we fear the future, we fear the unknown, we fear. But in that fear, O trembling one, realize that you do know the final permanent outcome, you do know the One who sees all, each minute detail and macro picture, you do know what will last for eternity.

Eternity.. such a strange and foreign concept..

But hey, our God is the God of eternity, no?
Our God is eternity.

Be brave and have faith:
Release the self you once knew;
The person that grew,
And become the you,
Spirit-bathed.

'Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave nor forsake you.'
~ Deuteronomy 31:6

It's a strange feeling coming home.

Six months don't seem like a long time. One minute races into the next, the numbers on the clock relentlessly rotate and progress, days slip and slyly skulk by, the pages on the calendar torn off one by one at an alarming rate.

Maybe it's not the time.. But the person.
Maybe it's the person that adapts and changes that makes time stretch, as though who they were before had long gone, not even the shadow of the former self lingers. And there, a stranger stands.

For the first time in a long time,
I come home to a family of six, live in such close proximity with them such that it's impossible to pass a single day without speaking to each one of them at least once.
I share a bed with someone, a bedroom with three others, a study with five more.
Someone shops for groceries instead of me, decides on what to cook instead of me.
Someone yells at me to come eat, tells me to go to bed, wakes me in the morning.
Someone instructs me on how to sit at the table, where to eat, what (not) to wear.
I have a curfew again.

Living alone away from home, moving back home to a family..
I guess there are both good and not-so-welcomed sides of each.

One of the things that I'm trying to get back in step with is controlled freedom.
Trust me, it's not that easy a shift to progress from a rather strict control of freedom (dressing, drinking, curfews, etc.) to absolute total freedom, and then straight back to the way things were before. Eyes are opened, ears are unclogged, skin is thickened, spirits have soared to new territories.. and somewhat enjoyed the new experiences, new indenpendence, new freedom.

Maybe it's part of growing up, I don't know.

My "growing up", my taste of "adult life" came like a bullet train. Once I stepped off the platform of safety, let go of my parents' hands, and onto the carriage, the ties that bound me to the familiar world of protection and, to some degree, dictation were abruptly severed, and I was left to either survive or live.. on my own. But as quick as it came, as quick it made its rounds and docked back at that old familiar station, and I alighted.

But while it is tempting to demand our parents step back and let go, thinking we've all grown up (maybe we have, maybe we haven't), perhaps we've even "prooved" that we can do it, wanting, desiring to taste yet again the juicy grapes and sweet wines of independence, of freedom, to push boundaries, or better yet, demolish them entirely,
I pray you stop and consider:

'Regard (treat with honor, due obedience, and courtesy) your father and mother, that your days may be long in the land the Lord your God gives you.'
~ Exodus 20:12

Sure, you're growing up, perhaps thinking it is in some respects a step already towards it, and you'd want "some space". Try talking to your parents, all the while exercising self-control and patience, sit them down over scones and tea, and hold a good solid conversation, not one of those flimsy uncertain flippant remarks, but one that aims at conscious (for all parties) negotiation.

They might let up or even relinquish control over some things.

But what if they adamantly and vehemently refuse?

What then will you do?

'Children, obey your parents in everything, for this is pleasing to the Lord'
~ Colossians 3:20