Every man and woman, boy and girl, has one essential project in life, and that is to seek his or her place within the scheme of life. For this reason, every human person has a fundamental right to exist. His sheer existence dictates that he is afforded a place in this universe, not because he is healthy or productive or income-generating, but because he is a human person and has a right to occupy a place of significance in the scheme of creation.

We have a right to exist and to continue existing for as far as our life journey will take us, so that we may find our vocation and the reason for our being. No human person is an accident, and no human person's worth is to be measured by how much goods he may produce for the benefit of others. He has a right to exist because he exists.

Existence is a right in order that we may exercise our duties to seek the meaning of life and the vocation to which the Maker has called each person. It is utterly important, a non-negotiable, that one's life is lived in accordance to how one has been designed.

In that instance when one has discovered his reason for being, the source of his being, and what he is to fulfill in this life, he must pursue that which is his to fulfill. The instance at which he does so, it will be as if the present and eternity are collapsed into a single moment, because he knows what he must continue to do and where this would lead him towards in the future. It will feel as if nothing else matters.

That feeling is called an "epiphany".

Posted by SK at 2:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Hi everyone! I apologise for the long silence. It’s true, I haven’t said very much on this blog in recent times, except for the surge of photograph postings from some recent significant events (especially since my ordination).

To make up for the long silence, I decided to post up something more “personable” rather than just another reflective article, or worse still, a theological article! But this doesn’t mean that I’m done with all the theological stuff I’ve been wanting to share. Remember the series “Liturgical Contemplations” I started a while back? I intend to continue with it as soon as time permits. There is still much more that needs to be shared, especially with those of you who may be more conscious of the dire need for a liturgical renewal in the Church today.

Of course, if you’ve attended some of my formation sessions before, you’d probably have heard me speaking too much about the liturgy. In fact, I’ve probably half battered the subject to death, having dwelled on it for extended moments. But the liturgy is the source and summit of our lives, so it’s always an issue worth talking about.

Well, before we get back to Liturgical Contemplations in a day or two, what have I been busy with? Lots of talks and formation sessions in various places, in service of the Church of Jesus Christ. I’ve also been busy assisting my Bishop and some priests in the liturgy, most of the time with me preaching the homily. I’ve enjoyed most parts of my experiences as a Deacon, to be sure, but I’ve also missed home so much after having travelled around quite a fair bit.

Two days ago, I passed the one-month threshold of my life as a Permanent Deacon in the Church. Some people have asked me how life has been since this new “indelible mark” had been imprinted onto my soul. I’ve enjoyed my vocation very much so far! After years of struggling with the idea of what God might want me to do with my life, I finally feel at peace with who I am and what I am doing. This doesn’t mean there’s no challenge, certainly; but it does mean that I know I have obeyed the voice of Christ for my life (thus far, at least).

When you know that you are fulfilling the will of God, there is an incredible sense of settledness, a peace in knowing that you have chosen to walk within the will of God. Amidst all the tasks that I’m juggling with now, I would say, I’m experiencing that settledness.

Calm.

Posted by SK at 7:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

You know how people often say, "Don't sweat the small stuff". It's really something easier said than done for many people. A vast many people have such low self-esteem and such little faith in their own capabilities that they need an infinite trail of affirmations from others, like the world owes them a series of fortunate events.

When they feel left out or slighted, they make a big deal of it. Because it is wrong that someone has caused them to feel insignificant. So they create a ruckus to remind the world that they're there and should not be dismissed. Such people haven't grown up. Adults they may be, but grown ups they certainly are not. Because the heart is still small and self-confidence is too frail.

The working culture of such people is best characterised by the motto "What about me?" It inadvertently always boils down to the issue of being made to feel significant, as significant as everyone else. After all, everybody needs to feel important; especially the insecure ones.

But really, don't sweat the small stuff. We should be big-hearted enough to overlook things which don't actually matter. Grown-ups trying to work together but ending up bickering over issues of self-significance is quite a disgraceful sight. So in some such things, rather than to take someone to task for having "bypassed" you, be gracious and let things be.

Just because someone bypassed you doesn't mean you're unimportant or insignificant. It just means someone either forgot, or was insensitive, or wasn't patient enough to go through lengthy political procedures. A healthy ego would have been able to live with that.

So here we are, faced with a choice to grow up or to remain little kids. Have you observed how groups of little kids play and sometimes marginalise one or two individuals in their groups? Yep, adults do that too. And the marginalised little kids pout and cry - and yes, adults do that too!

So if you often feel left out or bypassed, in church or at your workplace, deal with it like a grown up. Instead of saying "What about me?", say nothing, and just walk on with a sense of dignity. The fact that somebody has bypassed you says nothing about you. Don't sweat it.

Posted by SK at 1:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by SK at 6:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

For the record, I don't believe in horoscopes. But at Chinese New Year, the picture of the year's Chinese horoscope is all one seems to see everywhere.

This year, it is the Tiger; to be exact, the Metal Tiger (the characteristics of every animal on the horoscope are tempered by the elements of Metal, Water, Wood, Fire and Earth).

Tigers do not find worth in power or money. They will be completely honest about how they feel and expect the same of you. On the other hand, they seek approval from peers and family. Generally, because of their charming personalities Tigers are well liked. Often, failing at a given task or being unproductive in his personal or professional life can cause a Tiger to experience a depression. Criticism from loved ones can also generate this type of Tiger reaction. Still, like all felines, Tigers always land on their feet, ready for their next act in life, pursuing it with unyielding energy and hunting it infallibly.

The Metal element gives the Tiger its sharpness in action and speed of thought. Tigers born in the Metal year like to stand out in a crowd. With an inspiring assertiveness and competitive demeanor, they determine their goals and then do anything necessary to achieve them.

Every personality, if one notices, has its strengths and devastating pitfalls. Every human characteristic is both a potential virtue for success and a weakness for failure. The two are often just both sides of the same coin.

One must choose carefully how one employs the powers imbued into his potentials. But even so, failure is only to be expected as part of life's many occasions, whether one is a Tiger, a Dragon, a Monkey, a Snake, a Pig, or some other "animal". The greatest virtue is not success, but rather, the ability to stand up again in the face of failure, shame, humiliation, and pain.

An inspiring song to remind my heart...

Posted by SK at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Greatness and significance... are they the same thing? Perhaps many are confused about what they seek in life.

Greatness isn't the path that every person is called to tread upon. It is a perilous path, for while greatness in itself speaks of an amoral state of existence, the love of greatness unleashes a journey into the kingdom of lust for power. Many reside there and drown in the currents of power. In desiring greatness, they desire power to lord it over others. But in loving greatness, they are themselves more imprisoned than they have ever been. Greatness isn't to be desired.

But significance is something else. The desire for significance is an innate inclination within every human heart. It speaks of a longing to be known, to be loved, and to love. There is nothing wrong in desiring to be significant. It has nothing to do with greed or the desire for power. It is simply about our state of createdness; it is about being made in the image of the God who himself desires to be known and to know us.

The human journey is about discerning the difference between greatness and significance. The sooner we learn that our quest is for significance rather than greatness, the sooner we find a sense of centredness within the depths of our souls. But when one is confused between the two, the desire for greatness inevitably triumphs.

He who desires greatness seeks subjects. But he who desires significance seeks friends.

Posted by SK at 11:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

One of the most difficult things in life, I've found, is the excruciation of waiting. It's the uncertainty which comes along with the waiting that kills, really. You know you need to get somewhere, but never know if you'll eventually arrive there. Worse still if there seem to be a thousand and one hindrances between your present point and the intended destination.

Still, waiting is often something that's imposed on us. It's not something we choose to do, for if we could have what we thought was ours to have, we'd all want it instantaneously. We'd want to avoid that pain of unsureness and have in our ready possession that which we think is rightfully ours.

The problem with waiting in anxiety is that we so lose sight of the present and fixate our attention on a future which hasn't yet come to pass. When one is obsessed with waiting, one stops living. The two cannot exist in harmony.

Maybe one needs to know what it means to live in the present and let the waiting deal with itself. If we live faithfully in the present, fulfilling all that is our lot to fulfil, perhaps the waiting itself is immaterial as time will unfold the fruit of our present faithfulness.

The problem is, faithfulness does not always seem to yield the desired fruit. There are times when faithfulness to truth and justice often seems to place us at a grave disadvantage. But only if we measure it in terms of temporal time. With the world being the way it is, the law of cause and effect may not always work the way we expect it to.

But there is another world I know of, where all the faithful waiters who have failed to reap the fruit of their patient waiting will find their their deep consolation. All that has been unduly owed to them will be paid up a hundredfold and they shall come out rejoicing.

Waiting is a discipline that needs to be cultivated. Not just waiting, but waiting faithfully. And if the waiting does not yield that which we have hoped for, then we'll just have to trust that things have a way of sorting themselves out one fine day. It may not turn out to be what we've hoped for; in fact, it may be more than what we've hoped for.

Posted by SK at 8:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm afraid, if I don't begin authoring my concluding blog post for this year now itself, that it will never come to pass. When 1 January 2010 begins, so does my frantic travel schedule for the month and for the rest of the year. So these final few days leading up to the New Year's Day of 2010 need to be spent in preparation for what is to come. Hence, with the little luxury of tranquility I have on my hands now, I will reflect on what has been in order that I may be better made ready for what will be.

This year, 2009, has been one of the most pleasant of my past three years. Not that there was much fun or partying in it. In fact, many moments occurred throughout the year when I was forced to spend lots of solitary time in attempting to make sense of what was happening in my life and the lives of those closest to me. But by and large, the year was rather smooth sailing compared to some of the recent years past.

Of course, this doesn't mean that there weren't certain dramatic "points of impact" throughout the year. If there is one main thing that characterises my life, it is not mundaneness. Now, if I had to be selective about naming the most impactful events in my life this year, I would say that there were three.

First, there was the sudden passing away of a very dear friend and mentor who had helped me along through life in the past decade, from the time I began my seminary formation all the way to the time just before he had passed away.

Mr Anthony Yeo, being both my personal counsellor and my seminary lecturer, had strengthened me to go through all the storms that had struck me and prepared me for the many impending storms I was going to have to brave through. Even now, in the face of what often seem to be complications, I still ask myself the very question he used to ask me, "What is the worst that can happen?" And my soul is still.

Just as the storms were about to cease and my life was about to drift into one of its calmest seasons, he passed away. I miss him. But his time in my life, and on this earth, was up. Truth be told, he was too good a man to be left here for too long. I am glad for him, and I am sad. I still pray for him and frequently ask that he be praying for me.

Second, there was the occasion of my permanent profession into the Secular Franciscan Order (SFO). Not many people know about the SFO. It is a secular institute in which men and women, laity and diocesan clergy, make a life commitment to live the Evangelical Counsels by "going from gospel to life and life to the gospel". The SFO was started by St Francis of Assisi himself some 800 years ago and continues to exist today as an Order recognised by the Holy See and having its own Rule and Constitutions. I love this order for its ordinariness and simplicity, for its inability to boast about anything.

As an Anglican seminarian, I was quite well formed in Franciscan spirituality by a very elderly Anglican priest (who has since passed on). We used to have long conversations about Franciscan spirituality and how life would be like as a Franciscan Tertiary (the Anglican equivalent of the Secular Franciscans). But for providential reasons, I never made a profession as a Franciscan Tertiary. It was only upon my reception into the Holy Catholic Church that I actively pursued the intention to become a Secular Franciscan.

What was so impactful about this occasion of my permanent profession into the SFO? I supposed it's that we seldom make life commitments, and when one does make such a commitment, it's a big thing. For me, being a Secular Franciscan is truly about a commitment towards simplicity - having simple people as my brothers and sisters in the Lord, people who might otherwise not have been considered by the rest of society as being significant in any way. But the more I know them, the more I know Jesus loves them.

Third, there was the relocation (yet again!) of my family from Seremban back to Johor Bahru, 300 kilometres down south. The reason for this relocation was my appointment by His Lordship, the Bishop of Melaka-Johor, as Director of the Melaka-Johor Diocesan Pastoral Institute and candidate for permanent diaconal ordination.

Since I officially commenced duty on 1 August 2009, I moved down first to Johor Bahru, leaving my family in Seremban for several months. But just before this past Christmas, the entire family (father, mother, wife, two dogs) moved down to Johor Bahru. We have now settled comfortably into our old house which has been repainted and slightly refurnished.

So I would say these are the three major events that have taken place over this past year. They're not the only important events, I assure you. A good many other crucial and impactful events took place. But I would think that these three events are guaranteed to have an almost permanent effect on my present life as I know it.

What am I expecting to happen in the coming year? Some really big things. Yes. But I'm not living my life each day waiting for those big things to happen. When the time is ripe for that which has been ordained to take place, that which is necessary will come to pass.

For me, my daily struggle and constant cry is that of faithfulness, even in the small and insignificant things of life. I just want to be a faithful son to my parents, a faithful brother to my sister, a faithful husband to my wife, a faithful child of God and His Church, a faithful friend to my acquaintances, and a faithful master to my dogs. If I can be that for those around me, I think God would be rather pleased.

So I'm intentionally fixing my heart on the little vitalities of life amidst the big bangs that take place. For someone who thinks in big pictures and acts at macro levels, it is not easy. But this is precisely why it is so important for me.

For all that has been, for all that will be, I make the words of this song my own:

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

I wish you a Blessed New Year, my dear friend.

Posted by SK at 12:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Just very recently, I had witnessed fury like never before; most definitely more fury than most of you would witness on an ordinary day.

Besides making me wary, excessive exhibitions of anger deeply disturb me because they speak of a person's lack of self-awareness and inability to master one's own interiority; perhaps even a lack or an absence of a relationship with the Divine source of peace. It also betrays a person's lack of peace with one's self.

Our sense of interiority comes from an unseen Reality. It is a Reality that we know is greater than ourselves and whom we acknowledge to be in total control of the outcome of all situations in life. When our interiority is grounded in this Reality, so is our sense of peaceful security.

When this heart of mine beats to the rhythm of the Divine Life within me and without me, when I am at peace with who I am and whose I am, the energies of my soul are recollected. Then uninhibited anger has no hold over me.

I shall walk in a world - daily - that constantly threatens to demean me, to betray me, and to abuse me. But when I walk to the rhythm of the Divine Life, the value I place upon myself will not be contingent upon what a violent world does to me. And even when I am hurt and abused, I shall not be an angry man. I can, and I shall, forgive.

A young friend of mine has just taught me these words: "Forgiveness is me giving up the right to hurt you for hurting me".

Posted by SK at 7:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

It was a very long time ago that I was a ten year-old boy. Certainly it was more than 20 years back. But there are some very vivid memories, even unresolved issues and experiences I had, which have lasted with me until today.

Of my most vivid ten-year-old experiences, there is one which I wouldn't call painful or hurting; it is just one that has kept me extremely curious and therefore remained unresolved. At least until a short moment ago.

You see, I was a boyscout when I was in the primary school. I know, I know, looking at me today, you wouldn't believe that I was once a boyscout. But I was, sincerely! And on one particular day during the holidays, we were tasked to pair up among our boyscout friends who lived around our residential areas and go around doing odd jobs together. The allowances we received from those odd jobs would contribute to the funding of the boyscouts, obviously.

So there was this friend of mine, a year older than me or so, who lived in the housing area next to mine. We had made an arrangement for him to come over to my house on that particular day just after lunch, and we were supposed to begin going around doing our odd jobs together until evening. If I'm not mistaken, it was a Saturday afternoon.

He never turned up. There I was, sitting at the verandah of my house all afternoon, waiting for him to turn up. I never got an answer as to why he never turned up, and his failure to turn up kept me wondering perennially as to what had actually happened. I did not have his house telephone number, and mobile phones we not used during those days (did they even exist then?)

To make things worse, I never got a chance to meet with this friend again, as the next thing I heard about him was that he had been transferred somewhere else because of his father's job. All these years, I never got an opportunity to meet with him, let alone have an answer to what had actually happened on that day. I had been in my scout's uniform awaiting his arrival all afternoon and he never turned up. Not only was I disappointed; I was extremely puzzled.

All these years, I had absolutely no idea where this childhood friend of mine had disappeared to. There had been no news of him and no connections with any other people who might be in touch with him. But I've often still wondered, with that same old puzzled feeling, what had actually happened that afternoon when I was all dressed in my scouts uniform waiting to go around doing odd jobs. In fact, my neighbour who had offered me the first odd job for the day (i.e. washing his old white car), was also waiting. It never got done.

Tonight, I suddenly managed to get connected with this long lost friend of mine by some sheer miracle called Facebook. We've both grown much older, of course. He remembered me. Now, if I had brought this matter up to him, I'm absolutely sure he'd find this strange, since he'd most likely have no recollection of this event whatsoever.

But strangely, after the brief chat and exchange of phone numbers with him, I suddenly realise that this puzzled feeling which has remained with me for more than 20 years has disappeared. And I feel a strong sense of relief. He's safe, and he's doing very well in life. That's all that matters.

It's quite a mystery how the impact of certain events from our childhood remain with us for the rest of our lives, how we remember with fondness and nostalgia the minute details which might have absolutely no meaning to anyone else.

I've waited for this moment, not just for an afternoon, but for over 20 years. 23 years, to be exact. It was a long wait. And well worth it. I still don't have my answer, but it's all right; maybe it wasn't an answer I was looking for.

Posted by SK at 1:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I have no idea who this story originated from, but it's certainly a story I'll be remembering for a long time.

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

'Hello Barry, how are you today?'

'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'

'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'

'Fine.. Gittin' stronger alla' time…'

'Good. Anything I can help you with?'

'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' th em peas.'

'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.

'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'

'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'

'All I got's my prize marble here.'

'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.

'Here 'tis.. She's a dandy.'

'I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.

'Not zackley but almost.'

'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'. Mr. Miller told the boy.

'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.

With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.

When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.

Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking.

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about colour or size....they came to pay their debt.'

'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho ..'

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

Posted by SK at 3:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

To be sure, this is not a writeup or a review about the movie (which I personally thought was splendid, by the way). Surely, somebody's going to write a book on that novel/movie to debunk all the myths found within it about the (Un)Holy Catholic Church. For what it's worth, I have more to talk about the Church than I have to talk about the movie itself.

After just over ten years of serving a community that calls itself "Christian", "Church", "Body of Christ", "People of God", among many other titles it gives to itself, I find the real personification of the above statue to be a most adequate caricature of the Church.

It is strange how God brings into His fold all kinds of people, from those desiring to be holy to those who are rather content with pure evil. Of the latter, psychologists may call them the emotionally damaged or the psychologically disturbed, but the fact is, they love evil. Or at least, they seem to love being evil. And yes, they're found among God's fold; some even hold prominent positions among His fold.

Someone has recently told me, just after much less than a year of serving in a ministry environment, that he was totally disillusioned by the dynamics of ministry. He had every reason to be. He had higher expectations of people serving in ministry - and rightly so. But people in ministry had failed his expectations.

For centuries, the Church has taught about itself as being at once sinful and holy, at once human and divine. Holy Mother Church has understood, through centuries of her existence, that just as not everyone who is outside of the visible Church is necessarily damned, not everyone who is visibly within the Church is necessarily saved.

St Augustine wisely remarks in his homily: "How many sheep there are without, how many wolves within!"

Homilies on John, 45, 12

This picture of the statue precisely makes the theological statement that within the Church are to be found angels and demons. But lest we be quick to judge by trying to separate the angels from the demons, intentionally damning the latter, let us remember that in the one body can be found both the faces.

As I ponder on this issue, especially in the face of people to whom I very quickly attribute evil, I've often wondered if I was an angel or a demon. I have now realised... I am both.

If you aspire towards ministry, priesthood, or the religious life, thinking that it would mark the end of your confrontations with worldly evils, you couldn't be more wrong. Very often, that of the world which you try to escape can be found in the Church tenfold in magnitude. And worst of all, it forces you to be confronted by the other side of your face - the demon.

Welcome into the Body of Christ.

Posted by SK at 12:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Indeed, indeed... it has been an extremely long (almost) two weeks since I visited this blog to say something. After many days of traveling, speaking, meeting people - basically working - I'm now back in my home in Seremban with the family.

It's a peaceful night and I refuse to entertain any considerations pertaining to ministry and work. Not tonight. Tonight is a night for peace and tranquility. If this is the one moment for which I have done all my travelling, I'd say it has been well worth it.

It's strange how many people spend their lives chasing things which they'd only end up finding undesirable or ungratifying. A good example of this are fame and fortune. Fame and fortune are truly illusions that trap only the gullible deluded minds of the world.

For those whose feet are firmly planted on the ground, they understand that the ultimate importance in life is to be found in the people who truly know you - the wife who stands at the doorstep of your home to greet your return, the parents and sibblings who can't wait to hear stories of your travel adventures, the kids who pounce on you for extended cuddles, and the dogs who can't stop jumping in glee at the master's return. That's where, in a real sense, you can truly find God.

So, yes... it is strange how we devote such significant parts of our lives endeavouring to develop images of fame and fortune, position and recognition, around people who hardly know us and who're probably not interested to know the real us. In the process, we leave behind those who have deeply come to understand who we are and keep on loving us anyway.

All that glitters is not gold. What we mistake for gold may just be candy bars in golden wrappings.

What man thinks is a desire for fame and fortune is actually a desire to be known and to be loved. If we open our eyes, we may just find that what we've been searching for is actually already there around us. But few ever learn it in time. They are to be pitied.

I have a family that knows me and loves me - I am therefore the most famous and fortunate person in the world. That is my treasure.

Posted by SK at 11:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by SK at 11:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

In the next 24 hours, I'll be relocating back to Johor Bahru after four years in Seremban. I've announced this earlier on in the month, whilst many others have in fact already known this several months back.

This relocation is no big deal, as I've lived in Johor Bahru for more than ten years prior to my last move to Seremban. This return to Johor Bahru will be, basically, going home.

I've been in Seremban for four years. And in the scale of the human life, four years is by no means a short duration. Much has happened within this timeframe. Here are some of the most significant milestones in these four years:

• I bought a new car, which now isn't new anymore;


• I married a wonderful girl;


• I was received into full communion with the Bishop of Rome;


• My parents and wife were received into full communion with the Bishop of Rome;


• I graduated from seminary with a doctoral degree in Theology;


• I made my temporary profession into the Secular Franciscan Order;


• I served as Pastoral Associate in the Catholic Church;


• I was called back to Johor Bahru to serve His Lordship, the Bishop of Melaka-Johor.

These "successes" were very much fraught with failures, disappointments, losses, and at times, excruciating pain for both my family and me. Life teaches many lessons which we would do well to learn.

Anyway, this is not a goodbye post. It's just notice of relocation. For those of you who've had too much of me, I don't expect to be disappearing from your life anytime soon.

At this time also, I'm taking a moment to remember some very dear friends who've passed away within these past four years. It's impossible to forget some people whose imprints in your life are felt every day. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.

Posted by SK at 8:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

The grass is always greener on the other side.

The married man says, "How nice it would be if I could be single like my bachelor friends, to be free of bothersome obligations towards my wife and children". The bachelor says to himself, "How great life would be if only I had a family to be with when I return from work each day and loneliness is wiped away forever".

The poor man looks across the road and says to himself, "If only that house belonged to me and I could be rich like that man, and I wouldn't have to strive so hard to make ends meet". The rich man looks through his window across to the poor man's simple hut and says, "Lucky man, his cost of maintenance is so low he doesn't have to worry much about survival".

Much of our discontentment in life and lack of gratitude stem from myths we entertain about other people's lives. We often think that other people somehow have it better, that perhaps their lives are better than ours, that the gravity of their problems is somewhat significantly lighter than ours. We think that if we had their lives, or perhaps that if we could swap our disabilities with theirs, life would have been much better.

I have met and spoken with enough people to realise by now that everyone is confronted by very personal problems in life. And no matter how small we may think their problems are, everyone thinks his problem is huge. Just like we too think our problems are humungous.

Our liberation comes when we realise that each is apportioned his lot in life, and that we are all called to carry our crosses. For a cross to constitute a cross, it has to be proportionately large to the bearer. Otherwise, it wouldn't truly be a life trial, and therefore, hardly a cross at all.

Too often, we try to separate ourselves away from our crosses like Peter Pan's repeated attempts to separate himself from his shadow. But true liberation comes when we embrace our own shadows and do the best we can to live with them.

Our life project isn't so much about killing our shadows or solving problems that may be unsolvable. It is probably more about befriending our shadow and integrating it as a part of our life identity. It is also about nurturing the shadow so that it becomes a source of strength for us rather than the source of our downfall.

Carrying our crosses calls for a very special skill, that is, the skill of self-mastery. And all of our lives are a process of cultivating self-mastery, beginning with an awareness of one's own inclinations, intentions, and motivations. When one masters the self, the shadow becomes a friend and no longer a foe.

Contrary to what we may think, we are not the only broken people in the world. If we cared to listen to stories that people may tell about themselves, we would come to realise that people are generally wounded, because we're all born into a wounded world. But in befriending our shadows, our wounds can become sources of healing to ourselves and to others.

Posted by SK at 9:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Today my family and I grieve very deeply over the departure of a very great friend. Anthony Yeo passed away yesterday.

To many, he was an iconic figure for mental / emotional healthcare, an expert in counselling and the Father of Counselling in Singapore. For me, he was much more than that. He was my lecturer for three years in seminary and my counsellor for almost six years.

One of his favourite topics of discussion in class was death. One of the first assignments he gave us at seminary was that of preparing the order of service for our own funeral. In explaining why this preparation was necessary, he said, "Life is a preparation for death".

He has crossed the threshold very gracefully. I'm extremely saddened by his unexpected departure. And I'm thankful that he rests peacefully in the loving arms of Jesus. For eternity.

Few people have inspired me so much. Anthony did. He was no icon; he was my friend.

Posted by SK at 11:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Wow, never had so many people giving me birthday wishes before in my life. In previous years, my birthdays had been so silent I often remembered my birthday only a few days after it had passed - that's how silent they were! Thanks, everyone, for wishing me godspeed as I grow several more wrinkles.

In response, here's a song of gratitude and petition to the Holy Mother of God to lead us in our journey of devotion towards her Son with her as our example par excellence:

Posted by SK at 11:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Sometimes when I watch some of these talent shows that have really brilliant kids performing, it can be a somewhat heartbreaking experience.

Some of these kids have made really good friends with one another, and when one of them wins, he weeps because his winning means his friends losing.

Kids know what it's all about in life. They know that winning loses its meaning when it comes about at the expense of relationships. They understand that such winning means nobody wins, and everybody loses. They're nothing like grownups.

Kids are so real. In their purest form, they can't handle competition. Because they know it means excluding others, and they're by nature inclusive people.

The grownups need to grow up.

Posted by SK at 12:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The world has changed so much and so fast.

Just twenty years ago, I never knew of the existence of the Internet. At the age of 12 or 13, I was marvelling at this new machine they called the "computer". And of all my friends, only one had this machine, which his family had purchased for nearly 10 thousand ringgit. It was something that would cost around 2 thousand ringgit today.

Through most of secondary / high school, I remember how letters were either handwritten to our very treasured friends or typewritten (using the conventional typewriter) to our less precious acquaintances. There was something about handwritten notes that reflected the quality of a friendship.

When I bought my first computer at the exhorbitant price of almost 5 thousand ringgit, it was years later, and was purely purchased for the completion of assignments given at the university. It was also subsequently that I discovered the power of the Internet. Even so, it was a rather obscure feature in our daily living. We went to cybercafes and friends' houses who had snail-paced Internet dial-up facilities.

By then, I had an email account. But still, the frequency of checking and replying my emails was probably fortnightly or monthly, which was extremely regular in comparison to that of my contemporaries. Such things were just never very much a part of our daily lives back then.

I don't remember having seen a mobile phone before during my schooldays. At university, I began by owning a pager, as a mobile phone was at that time a luxury for the rich and a necessity only for businessmen. My pager attracted admiration and stares from people around. It was technology.

Even when I subsequently owned a mobile phone, I had never heard of short messages (SMS). It was many years later that SMSes became a part of my daily way of communication.

Today, I am on the Internet practically every day. I check my email countless times a day. I communicate using my handphone from wherever I am. I can even check my email and surf the Internet using my handphone when I choose to.

I don't write letters anymore. I send emails. Ten years ago, people would've complained that I had lost the personal touch; but today, no one's complaining. Because that's what we're all doing now.

Things have changed so much and so fast. Has the world become better? Has the human race become better? Have people become better?

Have I become better?

Posted by SK at 4:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Life consists of a series of negotiations.

There must be a negotiation between that which is desired and that which is possible.

Human desire is such that we always desire what is not possible or is utterly difficult to attain. That is what makes it so desirable in the first place.

Much of life, then, involves managing that tension between our desires and what life offers.

The sooner we learn to do so, the sooner we become happier people.

Posted by SK at 1:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

On 06 February 2009, Microsoft CEO Steve Ballmer delivered a speech at the U.S. House of Representatives Democratic Caucus Retreat. In his speech, he echoed the view that the problem with the economy is that it grew for 25 years on unrealistically cheap debt and that is over. For us, this meant "a fundamental economic reset".

Here is part of the speech:

For the past 25 years, the world has certainly enjoyed incredible, incredible global growth. Average incomes around the world grew at unprecedented rates, millions of people moved from out of poverty into the middle class for the very first time.

I think that expansion was built on three things: innovation, globalisation, and debt, increasing debt.

American technology was certainly at the heart of the innovation that played the central role in the process. The PC, the Internet, fiber optics: Those things were things that continue to keep America at the forefront of technology, and really at the lead of a growing global economy.

But over time, over the last period of time, the balance has really shifted. Instead of innovation and productivity driving growth, it’s really been unsustainable levels, particularly of private debt, that have been a key driver of economic growth.

The hard truth is this, in my opinion: The private sector of our economy has borrowed too much money, businesses and consumers alike, fueled by the a lot of different things, some notion that housing prices would go up forever, that you could borrow money cheaply.

I gave a speech at Stanford Business School a few years back, and I was talking, we’re a company that has been conservative, per the yellow pieces of paper. We like to keep cash. And a very smart PhD in the audience puts his hand up and said, “Why don’t you borrow money?” I said, “I don’t like to borrow money”. He said, “But it’s so cheap; you’re depriving your shareholders”. I think it reminds us that essentially consumers and businesses alike have really borrowed too much money.

The bubble has burst. We can no longer rely on consumption by refinancing our homes or inexpensive money to fuel economic growth, and that’s certainly had a huge impact.

At our own place, what we think about PC sales, they are discretionary in most home budgets, the second, the third PC. Consumer electronics has that characteristic. Fifty percent of capital spending in this country is on information technology. Less capital, less spend on information technology. No sector will be immune.

What has gone wrong? And what does this mean for us? Listen to Father Robert Barron as he speaks of some economic fundamentals that need to be recovered:

Posted by SK at 2:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

When I was a little boy, my father used to sit by my bedside and serenade me to sleep. And this was one of the songs in his repertoire which has never left my memory.

I've fallen in love with this song all over again.

O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.
The summer's gone and all the flowers are dying;
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.
And I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow;
Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so.

And if you come when all the flowers are dying,
If I am dead, as dead I well may be.
I pray you'll find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me;
And all my grace shall warmer, sweeter be,
There you will kneel and whisper that you love me;
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

Posted by SK at 10:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I will soon be depositing the final printed copy of my dissertation with the Seminary. I thought that it would be appropriate to post up the contents of the acknowledgement page on this blog as well. Appreciations are, after all, meant to be shown in the open.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Dei gratia

It is difficult to note in mere writing one’s heartfelt gratitude towards people who have deeply affected his life formation; it seems almost too flippant.

The following communities and individuals have definitively moulded my personhood through shared experience as well as spiritual and scholarly guidance:

Holy Mother Church: For waiting, receiving, and embracing. May the full unity of the Body of Christ - an irrevocable characteristic of the Church, symbolised by Christ's seamless garment - be one day realised in a visible way through our persistent prayers.

Trinity Theological College, Singapore: For teaching me. I have come to realise that not all seminarians have the luxury of being proud of their alma mater. I do.

Church of the Visitation, Malaysia: For being a sanctuary of refuge to all who need a place of safety, regardless of who they may be. For being my spiritual home.

Brothers and Sisters of the Ordo Franciscanus Saecularis: For being companions on my journey towards perfect union with God. Special acknowledgement goes to my fraternity, the fraternity of St Elizabeth of Hungary.

My religious friends: For being sacramentals that inspire me to radically embody the life of the Kingdom. Special acknowledgement goes to the Franciscan friars (OFM Caps and OFM) in Malaysia and Singapore and the Discalced Carmelite Sisters in Seremban.

Supporting ecclesial communities: For great generosity in sustaining my goal to find my vocation within the scheme of God’s Kingdom. Special acknowledgement goes to the Church of the Good Shepherd (Anglican) in Singapore and Hebron Presbyterian Church in Malaysia.

Emmy, my wife: For being there, for believing, and for loving. For wholeheartedly embracing the call to do the dance of life with me.

Dad and Mum: For faithfully being proud parents when I have often felt like you had no reason to be. This is for you.

Sheree, my sister: For being the mouthpiece for the words I badly needed to hear throughout life’s trying seasons. For being someone that nobody else can be.

Chayim and Carissa, my two dogs: For being the ever-present source of simple joy and an abiding reminder of my responsibility of representing God to all creation.

Charis (July 2003 - May 2005), my deceased dog: For living. For being an indelible memory.

Revd Michael Chua, my parish priest (and very much more): For acting impersona Christi throughout my seasons of desolation. For being the eikon of Christ I so needed to see.

Revd Dr Simon Chan, my spiritual father: For simply being who you are, that I too might desire to be. For faith and friendship in life’s journey.

Mr Anthony Yeo, my counsellor: For upholding the conviction that the dignity of the human person is of utmost consequence despite the brokenness of humanity.

Dr Roland Chia, my thesis supervisor: For such astonishing patience and gentle trust whilst accompanying me throughout this arduous journey of scholarly labours.

To all my friends, for keeping faith with me. For helping me to experience the mysteries of God surrounding me, through you. Thank you all, for being such sources of inspiration to my theological imagination, for the privilege of dreaming together with you.

Pax et bonum!
Sherman Kuek, SFO

Posted by SK at 10:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

... for the year, that is.

This has been a pivotal year, to say the least. It was characterised by drastic changes in almost every sphere of my life. It brought along with it changes in relationships, daily routines, vocation, work description, and living conditions, among others.

This was 2008 for me in a glance:

• In March, I was received into full communion with the Roman Pontiff and the Catholic Church at the Easter Vigil. The rite was called the Rite of Reception into the Full Communion of the Catholic Church.

  
  

• In April, I moved to another rented house a distance away from my previous rented house. This house is bigger and has more space for our utility.

  
  

• In June, I accepted responsibility as a member of the editorial board of Catholic Asian News (CANews) for whom I have written about eight articles to date. CANews is a monthly periodical which discusses contemporary issues confronting the Church, especially in Malaysia.

  
  

• In July, I officially assumed responsibility as Pastoral Associate at my local parish in Seremban.

  
  

• In August, I assumed responsibility as a Resident Researcher at the Kuala Lumpur Archdiocesan Ministry of Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs (AMEIA).

  
  

• In August, I was informed that my doctoral dissertation had been passed for the Doctor of Theology degree, marking the fruition of five years of academic research.

  
  

• In December, I made my Temporary Profession into the Ordo Franciscanus Saecularis, an 800 year-old Franciscan Order approved and recognised by the Holy See, which consists of laity and diocesan clergy.

  
  

• I made two nearby overseas trips this year (excluding Singapore). I went to the Quezon City (the Philippines) in August and to Cipanas (West Java, Indonesia) in October.
  

As it is with every year-end, I haven’t the foggiest idea what the new year intends to bring my way. But this year, there has been a very important lesson I have learned which keeps me from being anxious about the future.

It is this: that I am God’s beloved. That no matter what happens, no matter where life takes you, and no matter what complications in life confound you, God sets His eyes on you and never loses sight of your life. In all that happens, good and seemingly bad, He hasn't lost control.

And no matter what resolutions and aspirations you carry with you into the new year, there is nothing you can do to make God love you more than He already does. Beyond all your aspirations for performance and dreams you seek to attain, you are God’s beloved, and that’s all that matters.

Here’s wishing you a traditional Gaelic blessing as you step into the year 2009:

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

(Note: To keep track of my 2009 schedule, refer here.)

Posted by SK at 11:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Christian Identification with Immigrants


Sherman Kuek, SFO
Published in Catholic Asian News
(December 2008 / January 2009 Issue)

“...[F]or you yourselves were once aliens in Egypt” (Leviticus 19.34).

This was God’s justification to Israel for why they were obligated to accord alien residents in their midst with dignity equal to their own (Leviticus 19.33-34). For they, like the current alien residents living in their midst, were once aliens in somebody else’s land.

But now that they had been delivered from the horrors of several hundred years of sojourn in Egypt, God knew that they could all too easily forget the centuries of torment and oppression they had suffered under the hands of the Egyptians. Israel was, after all, a rather forgetful people. And if they had forgotten that they too were once aliens – pendatang – they would eventually forget to treat aliens in their midst in the way they themselves had desired to be treated in the land of Egypt.

For this reason, when God was educating these previously enslaved people on how they were to live as a free people in the wilderness under His divine tutelage, He also reminded them to be utterly kind to the aliens in their midst, “for you yourselves were once aliens in Egypt”. More than just being superficially kind to them, Israel was required to treat aliens in their midst as though they were one of them, “native-born”, equally loved as the Israelites themselves.

This faith of the Israelites formed the roots from whence came the Christian faith. And hence, just as they were called to remember, so are we. We are required to call to mind the historical realities of our identity as a People of God that our faith is a faith of immigrants. It is a faith of a delivered people.

If God had not delivered us from our sins, we would not have become a people properly belonging to Him. But just as this deliverance would have been extremely difficult for later generations of Israelites to remember, let alone identify with, it is also something difficult for many second-, third-, and fourth-generation Christians to remember. And without this remembrance, obedience to God’s commands may appear “senseless” at some point.

So we are told to remember that the Christian faith – salvation history – is one that is fraught with various events of immigrations; some forced, others voluntary, and yet others divinely instructed. These immigrations very often took place with the Israelites as refugees fleeing either famine, enslavement, or slaughter. And because our faith is a faith of immigrants, God deems it fit that we should know how to treat aliens in our midst. All aliens are to be treated not as pendatang (aliens), but as orang asal (native-born); because we too come from a religious lineage of pendatang, but were delivered by a God who had saved us and given us birth-rights equivalent to that of the orang asal.

But there is another sense in which we are still called to be aliens. We are told in the New Testament that we still have not arrived at where we truly belong, that we are still “aliens and strangers” in this foreign land that we call the world (1 Peter 2.11).

Of course, some of us are so rooted in the scheme of life in this world that our way of life does not even remotely resemble the life of “aliens”. We look just like any other resident of the world, other than that we are regular participants at the weekly Masses in our parishes. Once again, we are asked to call to mind our real identities – we came from a spiritual lineage of immigrants, and we are still asked to live our lives in this present world order as immigrants because we do not belong here.

It is such a struggle having to live as spiritual immigrants, isn’t it?

Just as we struggle to preserve our Christian identities in a world which threatens to erode every fabric of our faith, we are called to identify with the painful struggles of immigrants who endeavour to sustain their identities in a society which threatens to obliterate their unique ethnicities by failing to honour their uniqueness. Just as we strive to uphold Christian values in a world that jeopardises our morality, we are called to identify with their intense battles to secure their traditional values in an unfamiliar environment that seems to propagate otherwise.

As people of an immigrant faith, sojourners and aliens in the world, we are reminded to look forward to a future “destination” where we can one day exist in full union with God. Similarly, the immigrants around us have a vision of a desired future “destination” (strangely, many have seemed to indicate that this future destination is called “America”, the land of opportunities!) Even if we may hold that this notion is misperceived, there is a point at which we can identify with their aspirations for a better future. The sense of being on a dynamic journey towards a desired future is something we can connect with.

But just as we are prone to forgetting our imminent future because of routinal distractions, the aliens in our midst too are prone to forgetting their future aspirations, especially when they have been rooted in their interim countries for too long. If we were to hang around these immigrant communities often enough, especially those of the refugees, we would probably hear them reminding one another frequently to not get overly comfortable with the way things were because there was a better future towards which they should press on. But essentially, both they and we struggle with the sense of inertia when bogged down by certain regular routines.

The Christian obligation to identify with and provide care for the aliens in our midst – in full awareness of its accompanying risks – does not stem from a notion of exhibiting a simplistic “Christian niceness”. This obligation is rooted in the reality of God’s love for all humanity, even (or rather, especially) for the outcasts, aliens and strangers. For this reason, a serious assessment of Scriptural evidence regarding aliens and strangers consistently points to the need for a compassionate response from the Christian community.

If we were to take the time to reflect further on this issue, we would certainly discover more points of convergence between the Christian experience of sojourning in this world as “strangers and aliens” and the immigrant experience of subsisting in foreign land. And that would perhaps help us to recover God’s call for us to “treat resident aliens as though they were native-born and love them as [ourselves]” (Leviticus 19.34).

For at the heart of the matter, as we should have come to realise by now, we ourselves are not very much different after all.

Posted by SK at 5:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by SK at 1:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The following is a portion of my Parish Priest's pastoral letter to the parishioners:

What does it mean to be Church? Well, many Catholics learn about the Church simply by growing up in or becoming members of a particular church. The Church often doesn't spend a lot of time explicitly teaching "ecclesiology", or the theology/doctrine of Church. Members learn it through the implicit ways it is experienced in the actual life of the church.

Our understanding of Church is as varied as our experiences of Church. Some view the Church as highly institutional, hierarchical and archaic in comparison to the technologically more advanced wider society. Others view the Church in a sentimental way having grown up with fond memories. Some view the Church as a family, a place of refuge, a home away from home, a sacred space to retreat from the excesses of the world, as they find disillusionment in an increasingly depersonalised and secularised world. On the other hand, some have also grown disillusioned with the Church itself, having been scarred by the hurts and wounds received from other members or even from the leadership.

In spite of our many experiences, the Church is bigger than the total sum of its members or their experiences. Our experiences do not make the Church. It is the Church which should ultimately form our experiences.

Posted by SK at 10:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

What made him a hero? His techy self-protective attire that provided the needed anonymity and multi-million dollar equipment that sustained his awareness of the goings on in a city of rogues? The gliding properties of his uniform and his formidable physical prowess that dented the most threatening of rifles?

It is believed that his inner demons were the things that drove him into the streets and dark alleys in search of justice for those he perceived to be oppressed. The demons that taunted him within brought the very pain that propelled him into a righteous anger at the evil plaguing the city called Gotham.

He was a hero to many. People were more than happy for him to flout the county laws in order to clean the streets of Gotham from the heinous behaviours of criminal offenders. People never quite knew what exactly he was, let alone who he was. But his cause promoted him into a position of honour in public eye.

Until the archenemy, the Joker man, started killing people in pursuit of him.

Overnight, when it was their turn to lose their lives for the hero they loved, Batman became a villain. Joker wasn't wrong when he told Batman, "Don't talk about them [the public] as if you're one of them. To them, you're just a freak, like me."

Who knew better the state of the human heart?

Those seeking to be heroes because they think they can make the world a better place, or because they have unquenched anger within, or because they believe that humanity is fundamentally good and grateful for good things, are eventually bound to find themselves in a state of deep sadness; profound disappointment in what they thought to be a good human race.

Within everyone of us, there is a Joker. And that was what the Joker sought to prove. He wasn't after wealth. He was out to demonstrate this philosophy: "I'm horrid. But you're no better. The only difference is, I'm not pretending."

Posted by SK at 1:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I was sternly reminded about this through someone’s life story tonight: we shouldn’t assume that those whom we have treated kindly will never harm us.

It really doesn’t take much for “a friend who was once in need” (who was supposed to have been a friend indeed) to turn against us regardless of what we have done for him.

This person who shared this story had learned it the hard way. He had once saved someone - a friend and business partner - from committing suicide. And when you’ve saved someone’s life, you’d expect the person to be eternally grateful and to never have the heart to harm you, right?

Wrong.

The “friend” had swindled him of a million ringgit. And that was just several days after he had saved him from taking his own life.

The world is not as simple as it sometimes seems. And people don’t always behave the way you expect them to, even if you think they owe it to you to behave well and be like the good human person you are.

Be as innocent as doves. Never stop doing good unto others. Never give up on kindness just because your goodness is returned with cruelty and betrayal. Keep on loving even if it puts you in a very vulnerable situation. And even if you are betrayed and your dignity is compromised, keep on being good anyway.

But be as shrewd as serpents. Be good, but do not assume that everyone else around you is as good as you are. You can help them save their lives, but they will trade you in for something as valueless as their own reputations. They may promise you their loyalty and faithfulness while you’re still of good use to them and serve their happiness; but for the same happiness, they will break all the promises that they’ve ever made to you. To expect their conscience to keep leading them to walk in faithfulness of friendship is to be foolish.

Judas sold Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, the price of a common slave. How much do you think you’d be worth to a friend who wanted to sell you out?

Posted by SK at 10:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I was just having a conversation with an imaginary friend today. He's well-accomplished, distinguished, well-known, respected and well-acknowledged. He's everything I'm not.

My imaginary friend has everything I don't - public recognition, external affirmation, positive strokes (well, we never have enough of these anyway). He is thus assured of his worth.

I must tell you, I don't like him. But since it was my day of rest, I decided to entertain him for a bit. Just to see what he might say to put me down. (You see why I don't like him.)

He spent hours on end telling me how successful he is in life, how he has become everything I'm not. And he told me how I'll never be like him, that my life is a dead end being where I am now.

Out of courtesy, I listened painfully to the thousand and one things he had to say. I felt myself shrinking as the minutes passed.

But finally, it was my turn to say something, so I answered:

Everything you are now, you will lose someday. Everything you have become, you won't be anymore someday. You'll be forgotten, you'll be ignored, you'll be unappreciated.

The only difference between you and me is that I never had it to lose, so I'll never have to cling on to what I don't have to lose.

And whatever has happened to me will happen to you someday, except that it has happened earlier to me. That way, I have a longer time in life to work it out and die being comfortable with myself.

Something in me wonders if he's really imaginary.

Posted by SK at 9:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Once in a blue moon, I have the privilege of coming across a person who hasn’t had things going his way in life, but who will not allow unfavourable circumstances in life to knock him down. I have recently been in conversation with one such person. And I’m awed at his resilience.

He does not have a wealthy background, never had an opportunity to attend college, has a very meek demeanor that makes him a subject of oppression in the workplace, and has financial commitments to ensure his family is secure (but which hinder him from pursuing formal programmes for self-development). Most others would have given up by now.

But one thing sets him apart from many others like him – he knows he’s good, and he wants to be even better. He has never given up on what sometimes seemed like futile attempts to further develop himself and reach for his fullest potential in life. If you watched him consistently, you’d see the fingerprints of determination, relentlessness, and devotion all over his life.

He works in an ordinary place, but performs extraordinarily. He does things which others would not normally do, because these things are beyond the specifications of their jobs. But he does them because he knows these are marks of vocational excellence. He’ll most probably not get a promotion for doing these things – in fact, he has never had a promotion before because he does not have a university degree – but he does them because he is committed to personal excellence and the good of others.

For every one such person I meet, I come across many others who are just so easily beaten down, who suffer from justificationitis, who have thousands of excuses for why they cannot make it in life. They either have no time, or are weak in languages, or are from less developed countries and never had opportunities for good education, or don’t have the money, or don’t have the intelligence. There’s always a valid reason to not excel.

When a person is not committed to excellence, he hasn’t just shortchanged himself; he has shortchanged his neighbour as well. His excellence would’ve otherwise been a blessing to someone else. But in wasting time, in giving up, in relenting, in compromising, he has failed to optimise his potentials which would have otherwise served humanity for a better cause. Of this charge, he has no excuse.

This person I know has not yet “made it in life”, if you need to know. But so what – he’s being the best he can be. And he has inspired me deeply. And he deserves to be called excellent. Because he is.

Posted by SK at 4:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

In respect to growth in personhood and personal development, there exist two kinds of people in this world.

One kind of persons is self-driven in terms of their growth. They have no need to depend on others to direct their growth, for they are like wild weeds by the wayside that survive through any sort of climate and keep growing anyway. They are like the chameleon which finds itself in a variety of environments, absorbs their colour, and adapts without much fuss. In adapting, they learn. And learn. And learn.

They are innately on a constant lookout for new impetuses in their environment which provide for further self-development, and almost never miss a chance to seize such opportunities. Their learning never stops and they are constantly evolving at a fast pace, onward towards betterment and perfection.

For such, there is never a moment when they are found to be static or in the same condition as when you last met them. Meet them a month later and they would have progressed as persons. Because they are consistently striving to reach higher, deeper, wider, and farther.

Another kind of persons progress at snail pace. They are not self-driven and are very dependent on others for their learning. They possess few or no skills in the acquirement of knowledge and self-development. Without someone in their lives to deliberately impart, they go almost nowhere and remain as they are intellectually, linguistically, vocationally, and spiritually.

Such people are highly in need of at least one other person, of the first kind, to lead them in their journey. Without such a person in their lives, they would not have progressed much further beyond where they were since you last met them three months ago.

Life for them is somewhat static; progress is so gradual and negligible it's almost undetectable. Meet them sometime later, and you'll notice that they still write the same way, speak the same things, and spew the same set of knowledge skills they flaunted when you last interacted with them a considerably long time ago.

Ironically, it is often the second type of persons who think they can make it on their own.

Posted by SK at 3:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by SK at 11:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

You may feel confined here, but this is far freer a cage than the one they'd put you in.

Noah Bennet,
Heroes Season 2, Episode 2

Posted by SK at 8:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

In the past two days, I've learned some very important lessons from a certain bishop of a certain major Protestant denomination through a personal conversation with him:

Justice is absolutely important; it is second only to saving your own arse.

Upholding truth is a non-negotiable; as long as it doesn't involve too much energy, time, and money.

Opinion is more important than concrete evidence; especially if you're a bishop and it involves your opinion.

Wise words from a wise man. Thank the Lord for such Christian leadership.

By the way, you should listen to this bishop when he preaches about justice. His tone of conviction almost convinces you that he truly believes in what he preaches.

For now, I'd rather not say anything about corrupt judiciaries and national leadership - the plank is in our own eye.

Posted by SK at 4:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

When the story told seems to have happened all too long ago, we forget. We forget how we fit into that story and how we are somehow heirs – continuations – of that story which has now been relegated to the realm of legend. One day, the legend will become myth. And soon enough after that, it will be heard of no more.

As with all things that decay, so does our memory and our sense of being. If it is untrue that these things decay, it is at least true that they constantly threaten to decay. Our memories of these stories told long ago are what give us strength for today and hope for tomorrow. When we forget, these memories diminish together with strength and hope, hence the onslaught of despair and the reign of terror and fear.

The truth is, we were once Kings and Queens of the Land. But over time, we forgot how to be the Kings and Queens we were designated to be. And over time, we even forgot that we were in fact Kings and Queens. And because we had forgotten, we acted like savages who roamed the land, seeking to exploit all we could dominate and demean.

We even forget how to treat our fellow Kings and Queens, allowing our fallen bestial natures to engage in strife and rivalry over matter that once could have been shared by us all. The cry for power and dominance corrupts our land, which was once Our Land. And the land is infested by a race called “we”, who were once called “We”.

The Lion must return. For when he returns, we will remember. And when we remember, We will once again rule Our Land. He must return, and he must roar, so that we will remember.

Posted by SK at 12:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

If one day you discovered that your faith which you had held for some twenty years was misplaced, would you disown it? If you found another faith which you realised was the right one, would you embrace it?

I realise that most people wouldn’t.

Because for many, faith is as much an issue of social status, reputation, familiarity, and security as it is an issue of truth conviction, if not more so! For most people, the fear of discovering truth beyond their ground of familiarity stems from the fear that if they discovered something beyond that which constituted “truth” to them, their allegiance would have to be shifted. Mentally, emotionally, and dispositionally, they avoid such possibility at all cost.

For others, even if the discovery of “new truth” should take place, it does not necessarily lead to a conversion of heart and a redirection of action. Their discovery of new “new truth” rests at the level of casual acquaintanceship. For such, the usual cycle of relative justification emerges: “Just because you act upon a conviction, it does not necessarily mean that I must act upon mine”. Basically, the development of a new belief for them does not necessarily lead to a conviction to act. Clearly, overriding that faith conviction is an even greater conviction that the present stability and sense of security are to be guarded above all else.

So if you discovered that your faith has been misplaced all this while, would you abandon it at the risk of losing your friends, your family, your job, and all sorts of securities that allow you to sleep restfully in the night (knowing that the next day those securities will still be there)? And if you discovered another faith that was true to you, would you embrace it at the risk of provoking social disfavour and suffering financial, relational, and positional insecurity?

I admire those who would and who have. I have deep respect for those who have left their Christian faith to become Muslim, those who have left their Muslim faith to become Catholic, those who have left their Christian faith to become Buddhist, and those who from being religious people have decided to abandon the idea of faith all together, and others alike. They are people who understand the worth of a conviction.

But the vast majority of “believers” are simply casually religious people, flirting with truth.

Posted by SK at 7:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Would it sound overly triumphant if I advanced the claim that I’m now experiencing what seems to be the most enjoyable stage of my theological journey so far?

I’m learning new forms of theological articulation, discovering new categories and deciphering how my existing scheme fits into the ever-expanding matrix, and in the process, witnessing an influx of new categories that I’d previously never even heard of before. And yes, I’m thinking to myself, “Which part of the planet have I been stuck in before this?”

It seems as though I have just entered a whole new world of discovery. At the same time, it’s not a world entirely unfamiliar to me. There are things that strongly resonate with what I’ve known before, so the sense of continuity resounds. But more than that, there are also things that are really mind-blowing in the light of the paradigm from which I have emerged.

Now it seems like the paradigm I have recently emerged from is at least thirty years backward. It was a world wherein people articulated things as if those were entirely brand new discoveries, when it had actually escaped their realisation that others had already spoken about those very things for decades and have now moved far beyond that.

Oh the folly of thinking that we already know all there is to know. The folly of thinking that our little fossilised little frameworks already contain all there is to know, and the ignorant insecurity of protectionism reflected in the way we guard our fragile little schemas.

But you know, inasmuch as it might sound judgemental to say this, the reality is that some people will always remain where they are. They will always remain happy being in static intellectual existence; they remain happy there because that’s where they get to persist in their delusions of already having known all there is to be known.

Posted by SK at 4:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Knowledge must never be imparted out of insecurity or anxiety.

When knowledge is imparted out of insecurity, it causes one to project one’s self as the subject of knowledge. It makes one flaunt himself as the person who knows it all, while others are subtly implied to know nothing of equal value. In the thick of such insecurity, only the knower’s field of knowledge and realm of discourse are of vital consequence. Such a man knows nothing except his own loftiness.

When knowledge is imparted out of an anxiety that others might not know enough, it causes one to impose onto others the obligation to know as much as the knower does. It does not take into account the different capacities and efficiencies of people to absorb knowledge. Such a manner of imparting knowledge makes people into objects of information; it demeans the human spirit and belittles the learner.

Knowledge, when imparted properly and in the right spirit, liberates the learner. It proceeds from the mind and enters the realm of the heart, transforming itself into life wisdom. It gives the knower a love of wisdom and a desire to acquire even greater and deeper wisdom.

Knowledge is good. But imparting something good is an intricate skill; because when not imparted in its rightful way, even something as good as knowledge can kill the human spirit.

Posted by SK at 9:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I have just completed what I think is the final editing of my doctoral dissertation entitled The New Asia, and will be handing it in this weekend.

I’m told that my examiners will be a professor of Divinity from Cambridge University (external examiner), an associate professor of History from the National University of Singapore (external examiner), and a professor of Systematic Theology from Trinity Theological College Singapore (internal examiner).

Results are to be known in a couple of months’ time, while a publisher for the dissertation is already at hand.

Sure, it makes me shiver and quiver. But honestly, even if I failed, I wouldn’t regret the past nine years of my theological journey. Every bit of it has contributed to the very convictions I embrace today; from the elementary learning of Greek alphabets to the philosophical articulations of theological discourses.

Also, it’s not often that seminarians get to say that they’re glad they read Theology in the seminaries they've graduated from. But I’m truly privileged to be able to say with a deep measure of healthy pride that I read Theology at the feet of some truly brilliant and competent minds, as well as some deeply spiritual people. I’m proud of my alma mater.

Ironically, my theological journey has taken me to a place where I least expected I’d be at when I first stood before the starting line. It has shocked many, and will continue to shock more others.

But here I stand, more confident than ever about what I believe in.

The past six months has seen me engaging in one of the most intensive and extensive theological research efforts throughout my spiritual and intellectual journey. I’ve studied Theology in the past six months as if it was an issue of life or death – because I believed it was so. Had it not been owing to a crucial faith decision that stood before me, it would’ve probably taken me two years to attain all this understanding. It’s strange what conviction does to a person.

And in just six months, my framework of understanding has been further revolutionised, my depth of wisdom challenged, my discernment of life and spirituality deepened. I’ve studied like never before, prayed like never before, queried like never before, and found answers like never before. I look backward and I see a helpless juvenile standing in the shadow of the past.

There is only one way to move on from here: forward.

Looking ahead, I'll be working on the editing of a book on Malaysian contextual theology, the co-writing of another book on Asian theologies, and the possible co-writing of yet another book on the social teachings of the Church.

Yet with much fear and trembling, and with much fervent prayer.

For the rest of this journey, I invoke the prayers of the Holy Mother, the saints from the past, the Fathers and the Doctors of the Church: ora pro nobis.

May I embark on these new challenges with a spirit of awe at God's veritatis splendor.

The end is but a new beginning.

Posted by SK at 2:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

It’s been hardly three years since I moved up north from down south. Prior to that, it’d been a rather long time since I’d been in touch with a more “conservative” ethos of the Malaysian life. For one thing, most of my young adult life had been spent in the more urban settings. For another thing, I spent quite a number of years being immersed in life in a neighbouring country that’s utterly modern; in fact, very Western in many aspects.

Although I’ve often considered myself as being very much of a kampong boy (“village boy”), I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’m suffering from some form of culture-shock, or rather, a reverse culture-shock.

Here’s one big thing that alarmed me during the first few months here, and continues to alarm me: I realised that people here like to make mountains out of molehills. This is true even in the Christian context (or should I say, especially in the Christian context?)

Heck, it's true even in the context of the seminary where Christian ministers are trained. I know, because I taught in one. So let me just use this context as an example, because this was where I suffered the greatest shock after all.

Imagine, the slightest variance from the prescribed dress codes would earn you a spiritual exhortation (by this, I mean just a negligible difference between a collared and a non-collared t-shirt, between having your shirt tucked in and not tucked in). The slightest defiance of a rule, no matter how senseless it might be, could cost you a spiritual tongue lashing.

I’ve also found that the formation of Christians ministers in Malaysia is centred on rules. It’s not uncommon to hear comments like, “It’s the policy” or “I hope you understand, I’m just following the procedures”, no matter how ridiculous or archaic these policies and procedures may be. No one bothers to review the rules – and when someone does review the rules, you can almost always expect that it means a couple of other new rules will be coming up soon. I can’t seem to get used to such legalism. And I couldn’t get used to telling people that they had to somehow abide by such legalism just because “it’s the way things are”. Some people are busy making rules so that things can start running mechanically without them having to think through issues too much.

Another thing I’ve discovered about the formation of Christian ministers in Malaysia – they’re formed in an environment where every molehill becomes a mountain. Make a slightest mistake, no one forgets and no one stops talking about it. Earn yourself a bad reputation, it almost never leaves you and your reputation only gets worse and worse. Challenge the system when it shows itself to be unreasonable, and you’ll get more people cringing at how you’re not guarding your behind than people who’ll buy into your cause. And what’s worse, it gets blown up, blown up, blown up, until it becomes the talk of the entire community.

And here we are, hoping to see Christian ministers becoming people who have a mind to exercise sensible discretion, who don’t abide by rules simply because they need to guard their behinds, who stand up for what is right. We get frustrated when we see ministers toeing the line just because they’re politically intimidated, even if they know what the right way should be. They’re just not being incubated in an environment that embraces such values throughout their formation. The present ethos is making them become that which we least desire for them to be as spiritual leaders in the church.

When you unthinkingly order people’s lives by rules in the present, it’s inevitable that they learn to unthinkingly order their own lives by rules in the future.

So, that was just an example using a context in which I previously worked. It's unfortunate that this context happens to be a seminary - it makes me wonder where the Christian community is heading towards.

And then, at the wider level, it also makes me think about the state of things in Malaysian society, if this seminary context is not perhaps reflective of a wider reality as well. And to think we wanted leaders in society who could actually think.

Sure, there's a bunch of people who are astute thinkers in the Malaysian society - we call them "opposition". If I'm not mistaken, that's what they call such thinkers in the seminary where I taught too.

Posted by SK at 8:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Having always been perceived as a left-winger where I came from,
It feels very strange to be pronounced "right" and "orthodox" where I am now.

Posted by SK at 8:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Yours is a lie,
Mine is a justification.

Yours is complacency,
Mine is relaxation.

Yours is self-deceit,
Mine is a psychological barrier.

Yours is control,
Mine is planning.

Yours is a wrong,
Mine is a mistake.

Yours is a sin,
Mine is a weakness.

Yours is hypocrisy,
Mine is etiquette.

Yours is wishful dreaming,
Mine is hope.

Yours is superstition,
Mine is faith.

The human heart is self-deceiving, always comparing its best with the worst in others, and its worst with the best in others.

Posted by SK at 2:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

You fool! Since when have I ever been politically correct?

I didn't give up all those things in life to be politically correct just so I'd be able to occupy all those chairs of vanity in which you sit to exalt yourself.

I'm more dead to myself than you think.

Posted by SK at 10:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Civilisations are a strange thing.

Some civilisations admire the man who pushes his way to the top in any walk of life, whilst some others admire the man who abandons his ego.

Most world religions claim to admire people who abandon their ego, but are embodied by institutions manned by people who strive to push their way to the top.

Posted by SK at 6:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Here's a confession I've just made to a friend who claims himself to be anti-conflict:

I tend to be anti people who're anti-conflict. My relationship with anti-conflict people tend to eventually go sour.

When asked why, this was my reply:

Because I see them as people who're self-absorbed, who're more concerned for personal stability than for the common good.

Something worth recording down for more personal reflection.

By the way, the opposite of being anti-conflict isn't being pro-conflict. It's simply being open to conflict when necessary and not avoiding it at all cost. But of course, for the anti-conflict people, all conflict is never necessary.

Posted by SK at 1:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

A true ninja endures hardship with patience and strength. He knows how to wait.

Lady Tsunade
The Fifth Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village
from the anime "Naruto"

Posted by SK at 8:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Of course it's the Chinese New Year. But it's also the beginning of the Lenten season! It is a season of reflection, withdrawal, penitence, and of receiving the forgiveness of God. It is a call for us to return to the presence of God in response to his invitation of love.

So after all the New Year celebrations and the red packets and the Chinese festivities, today I've returned to the Lenten mode. This morning, I accompanied a minister to bring the Sacraments and the Word to a group of foreign people in a very interior area.

We walked in the blazing heat through this...

and this.

It was a two-kilometre walk, going through high and low, jungle and quarry, before we arrived and spent some two hours with these people:

It's the Chinese New Year, but don't forget, it's Lent. It's a good time to be honest with ourselves about our failings, and also a good time to come to terms with the love of God which conquers all human failings... if we care to receive it and to be embraced by this love.

Posted by SK at 5:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

It is the eve of Lunar New Year for the people of the Chinese race all over the world. Tonight, families will cluster in the homes, wherein people from two or three generations will celebrate their reunion over an annual feast whilst catching up from where they last left off.

Besides the joy that comes from such occasions, there is a purpose underlying such festivities. That purpose is one of traditioning.

Festivals and like occasions remind us of who we are, where we came from, and how we ended up being where we find ourselves today. It is important for the simple reason that it gives us wisdom in charting out where we will move on from here. This must resonate with the Kierkegaardian adage, "Life must be lived forward, but understood backwards."

At the point of instructing his people on how they should live, the Lord began by saying "I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt", for the subsequent commandments would have made sense only if this memory of the great deliverance was kept alive. It can be likened to the way Chinese parents tell their children, "Always remember your roots."

Perhaps this is why it has now become so difficult for us to decide how we should live and where we should go from here... tradition, for many (especially in relation to the expression of the Christian faith), has become almost a vulgarity.

We have forgotten how to remember.

Posted by SK at 5:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

If you grew up with Enid Blyton's books, you'd be entirely familiar with the Famous Five series. As a child, the Famous Five series was a part of my staple diet. Written way before I was born, the series was eventually filmed. Here's the theme song:

Here's a version from the 1990s:

It's so nice to see things you haven't been in touch with in a long while. It brings a moment of epiphany, and you suddenly remember who you are.

Posted by SK at 12:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

It's nice to take a revisit to the past, to listen afresh to some songs I used to listen to at a younger age.

"Voices That Care" is a 1991 song written by David Foster, Linda Thompson and Peter Cetera and recorded by a supergroup of popular musicians, entertainers and athletes. It was intended to help boost the morale of U.S. troops involved in Operation Desert Storm, as well as supporting the International Red Cross organisation.

Posted by SK at 4:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

This was G.K. Chesterton's contribution:

Dear Sirs,

I am.

Sincerely yours,
G. K. Chesterton

Posted by SK at 3:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

A conversation between me and a friend [with some parts paraphrased].

Friend:   How was 2007 for you?

Me:   Both 2006 and 2007 have been two of the worst years of my life.

Friend:   Hopefully this year will be better.

Me:   I really hope so too... what about you?

Friend:   It was all right. No super ups, no super downs.

Me:   Your life is quite stable in that sense.

Friend:   I guess so. I don't really like that. I want to do something great. Change the world. Change Malaysia. It feels like I've not done anything significant.

Me:   I can't say I've done great things either.

Friend:   I think you've caused ripples in Malaysia, certainly.

Me:   Strangely, I don't see it.

Friend:   At the very least, you're standing up for your beliefs in this very hard world.

Me:   [Friend's name], sometimes I'd like to think / imagine that I've done great things and very effective things to change the world. But it takes very little to convince me that actually I haven't done anything at all, or that I've done more harm than good.

Friend:   Yeah, I know what you mean. And the treatment you get from some people... We all want to do something great, but doing something great in this world will not yield any great fruit because they don't like the idea of change.

Me:   Yeah, you're a psychologist, you should know.

Friend:   The status quo is crap

Me:   Do u really feel very strongly about this?

Friend:   Yeah. I'm idealistic.

Me:   To what extent are u willing to go to change the world?

Friend:   I would like to devote my career to doing it.

Me:   When it becomes a career, you won't be creating change. Because it'll be too risky... the price is too high. It's when you're willing to sacrifice your career that change is created.

Friend:   You know what my idea was? I was thinking that I can write books and change the world.

Me:   Books don't change the world, [friend's name]. They can contribute a little to the answer, but they don't affect change. They just communicate concepts which few people attempt to translate into concrete action. Besides, most of the world is illiterate.

Friend:   Then what should I do? I mean, we're coming up against institutions and systems. It's a difficult battle. Changing the world is a lost cause, if you think about it. Many people are satisfied just having a good career, a good family. I dunno, changing the world is not easy at all.

Me:   I guess people like me don't try to "change the world". For me, it's simply about doing what is right.

Friend:   I thought you wanted to change the world too.

Me:   I'm dissatisfied with the state of the world, but it's not my ambition to change the world. It's my ambition to be the right person and to do the right thing... to change me. But in the process of being someone different, of changing myself, it rocks the status quo of the world.

Friend:   Maybe that's the way to change the world, by changing ourselves first.

Me:   Ghandi said, "Be the change that you seek".

Friend:   Wow, good words!

Posted by SK at 7:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

“Heaven is not empty,
Life is not a simple product of laws
and the randomness of matter,
but within everything
and at the same time
above everything
there is a personal will
there is a Spirit
who in Jesus has revealed himself as Love”.

Benedict XVI, Spe Salvi

WISHING YOU A HOPEFUL 2008

Posted by SK at 9:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

When I tried to understand all this,
it was oppressive to me
till I entered the sanctuary of God...

Psalm 73:16-17
(New International Version)

Posted by SK at 5:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm seldom speechless. Or very emotional.

But today I've been stirred bonkers.

By friends.

Posted by SK at 4:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Surely this statement may invoke some fury, but I really do think that people generally don’t know how to write melodies and poetic lyrics that speak anymore.

I remember how in the very early 1990s, when my schoolmates were consuming the works of Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, Paula Abdul, Guns ‘N Roses, Taylor Dayne, Mariah Carey, and Whitney Houston, among many others, I was into folk. That was rather strange for a kid my age.

I recall how every single day, after returning from school, I would sit down and listen to James Taylor, Paul Simon, and Don McLean sing for hours upon hours.

Don McLean, he’s a prophet, if you know what I mean. I could just listen to him for hours without getting bored. He sang so much about life. His songs made me sad, angry, excited, loved, these and a whole plethora of other emotions… he sang about real stuff. I’ve hardly met a singer-songwriter who’s so connected with life.

There’s this one particular song of Don’s I used to listen to every single day: Crossroads. Over time, listening to it over and over again became like a prayer. Here it is, and it’s making me pray all over again:

Listen to this:

Who ever writes lyrics like that anymore?

Posted by SK at 3:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

It feels rather strange when a well-respected man who once told you in private to never compromise what you believe in now compromises you.

It seems odd when the one who once told you never to cave in when confronted by public opinion now shows himself to be most afraid of what the public might say about him.

How does one now "unrespect" someone in a respectable way?

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Father, forgive him even though he knows exactly what he is doing.

Posted by SK at 10:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

The eagle appears in the standards of many organisations, schools, and nations as a guardian of freedom and truth.

The eagle is also often seen as a bird of God, the only bird that could fly above the clouds and stare directly at the sun.

The eagle represents St John the Evangelist, in honour of the soaring spirit and penetrating vision of his gospel.

Posted by SK at 11:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The lack of adequate tools and utilities frequently becomes a (legitimate) excuse for our inability to perform.

Posted by SK at 2:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

That’s a bed. It consists of an old wooden platform and a really black and badly torn mattress, covered by piece of mat with holes all over it.

If this was your bed, and you were 55 years old, and you were working eleven hours a day, and your legs were frequently swelling and turning black and you didn’t know why, and you were earning RM 270 a month (USD 80), and you were supporting four stick-thin undernourished kids who weren’t even your children, and you had just been evacuated from your squatters by the government, the worries you had on your mind right now would have been entirely different.

If this was your bed, you wouldn’t have been worrying about how you’re now less respected and liked by others, or how you’ve been backstabbed by your colleagues, or how you’ve been betrayed by your friends, or how your reputation has been damaged, or how bleak your future is because you’ve just lost your somewhat lucrative job. If this was your bed, you might not even have known where to start worrying.

I met her tonight, this elderly lady. Her daughter had borne her four children (each one most probably belonging to a different father - the latest one now behind prison bars) and then taken off, leaving the four children behind.

After all the years I’ve spent in the seminary theologising about life and its purpose and meaning, I had nothing much to say to this lady except to ask, “Aunty, what will you and the children be eating tomorrow?” Now we have to bring them some food, find a home for her, and find a home for these children. So much for the glorious abstraction of theology and the intricate science of biblical exegesis.

They’re hardly 2 kilometres from where I live. Within this radius, there are a number of churches and even a theological training institute (the very people whose primary concern are supposed to be the widows and the orphans), but it’s somewhat strange how the plight of these nameless faces remains unnoticed. If you’re living somewhere in my vicinity and want to do something for them, tell me; there is quite a number of families with such a similar plight. If we made it known that our hearts and hands were open, they’d come lining up to receive any help they could get.

When we philosophise our concepts of the Christian faith and try to work it out within the church and seminary walls, it’s called “theology”. When we work these out beyond the church and seminary walls, it’s called “charity”. When both are so integrated that they are expressed as a way of life, it’s called spirituality.

Tonight, I'll go to sleep with the words of the aunty echoing in my mind: "I've been suffering since I was 12 years old". You see, I've always thought that I was a sufferer. But today, I met aunty. And her story has taught me a new bedtime prayer:

Forgive me, Lord; during my moments with you, I've said too much. Those were all words. Just words.

Posted by SK at 1:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I couldn't be less bothered about what colour you are, what positions you hold, what titles accompany your name, or how much money you have.

Because fundamentally, when your finger is cut, the blood that flows out is the same colour as mine.

You are only human. You are no more or less human than I am. Can you understand that? I do not fight for human rights; I only fight for the right to be human and to be treated human.

Posted by SK at 3:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

A friend of mine commented some time ago that the politics in the organisation with which he works is ugly. And then he went on to say that he has noticed that the politics in Christian organisations seems to be even worse.

Another person whom I knew mentioned something of that sort: “You may be surprised that the politics here (referring to the Christian organisation she was working with) is worse than the politics in other places.” “This is where you can find all the ‘satans’”, she said.

After having gone through cycles of political rivalries in various Christian organisations, I thoroughly agree with the above observations. And I wonder why such organisations, which are supposed to reflect the peace, mercy, and justice intrinsic to the being of God’s eschatological community, are the very organisations that probably reflect the most distasteful virtues any Christian could reflect.

Why the priority of organisational reputation above truth and justice? Why conspiracies and not open discussions? Why secrecy of agenda and not honesty in motivations? Why backstabbing and not graciously direct confrontations?

And to the victim of political scapegoating, they say: “We suggest you just accept what has happened to you, move on quietly, go do something else, and start your life from base. We say this to you pastorally”. No tone of regret, no sign of remorse. After all, for them, it is nothing personal.

I think this is what many Christian organisations and denominations have become because nobody is holding them accountable for their motivations and actions. The notion that they are subject to divine laws higher than the laws of the land has brought about a kind of lawlessness for which they cannot be held accountable. So each man for himself, and each organisation for its own reputational interest.

What about justice? It’s a concept. We can still preach about it…

Posted by SK at 1:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

“What Lord, after this phase of physical and intellectual growth and raging hormones? What? An intolerable stability in life? A calm of stagnation?

I’ve noticed that for most grown-ups, life is a mundane necessity. They thrive on 'little happinesses' that keep them going daily; 'little happinesses' that are tangible, to keep them sane and aware that their existence is somehow tolerable, somewhat.

Far be it from me! May my life be an adventure of ever-increasing growth into you. Start me on an adventure that will propel me into ever-increasing divinisation, that I may be one with you, in you, and through you. That I may be unceasingly Christified and be like you.

Whatever the cost, whatever the cause. Now.”

This was a prayer I whispered with such utter indignation some years ago. Foolishly so. And now, here I stand in the middle of an adventure, realising that adventures aren’t always what Enid Blyton made them to be.

In the midst of the wildness of this adventure, I doubt I can bring myself to say that prayer. I perhaps over-estimated my capacity to enjoy an adventure. The older me today realises that adventures can be excruciating, horrifying, suffocating, and unsettling; anything but thrilling.

But inasfar as these adventures have been divinising and Christifying, yes, certainly so.

Yet my prayer today, as one going through an adventure, is “Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.”

Posted by SK at 1:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

This announcement comes a little late, I'm afraid. It's because I've been having a fever and a throat infection. Anyway:

I got married.

My wife's name is Emmy Jong.

My wedding service took place last Saturday on 3 November 2007. It was solemnised by a great friend of mine, Revd Sivin Kit, a minister of the Lutheran Church in Malaysia and Singapore. And the preacher was Revd Dr Simon Chan (Ernest Lau Professor of Systematic Theology at Trinity Theological College Singapore), someone whom I've known as my spiritual father for some years now.

The wedding service was more than a service for me. It was very symbolic of how God has been faithful towards me all these years despite the painful seasons I've had to plough my way through.

The way my family members and friends stood with Emmy and me, supporting us through the entire ordeal of ensuring that the service worked out fine, was a sheer sacramental statement of God's guiding hand and assuring presence in my life.

To the friends from the north and the south who travelled all the way to witness the occasion, I offer you my heartfelt gratitude. To the friends who toiled for days to help us with the preparations... honestly, I don't know what to say to you... thank you for loving me.

My wedding: the occasion when I witnessed how my family and friends carried me when I couldn't walk on my own.

Posted by SK at 4:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

Some things, once done, cannot be undone.

Somebody told a lie, and somebody believed it. Now look what it has done.

Lies, once told, cannot be untold. The liar might regret that he has told a lie, because at the point of lying, he never expected that he'd be reaping any sort of consequences from the lie. He told the lie simply to get back at someone.

The only people who can be sure he's lying are the truly discerning ones. They'll know that the liar's lie sounds not too unbelievable, but too believable, to be true.

But now the liar regrets having told a lie, because he's suffering for it. Yet he's come so far and cannot untell his lie. His pants are on fire.

Posted by SK at 1:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

While driving yesterday, I caught sight of a rainbow before me. It was quite a distance away, and rather faint. Nevertheless, it was a rainbow.

There's a Christian cliché that says the rainbow is a sign of a promise, because that's what God gave to Noah in symbolic token of a promise. So in good popular Christian fashion, without wanting to think too much about being true to any exegetical crap, I took the rainbow as a sign of a promise. (Yeah, once in the way, I do allow myself to be a sucker for such things.)

It's only really because despite the disillusionment I'm facing at the moment, and despite my having lost faith in many things/people, I believe in the Almighty God, the heavenly Father from whose eyes nothing can escape. And I believe that all of nature points to something of him, in both a personal and a general way.

The rainbow was given to all its spectators. And to me. It is the sign of a promise. Not a promise that all will be well in life, but rather, that all will be well with my soul. Through persecution, insults, and false accusations... all will be well with my soul.

There are many things in life one cannot try too hard to make sense of. The more one tries to find sense in the non-sensical realities of life, the more one gets bewildered and baffled. At a point of helplessness, one must truly, truly look at the rainbow painted before him - that he may know that all will be well with his soul.

Posted by SK at 5:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Have you ever realised that you've just wronged somebody, and then gone back to the person to offer a sincere apology? Have you ever gone back to a person to offer a sincere apology, only to receive an earful of lectures from the person you're saying sorry to just before he says, "Anyway, apology accepted"?

There are different ways of accepting an apology and forgiving someone. One really good way is to get back at the person who's apologising before forgiving him. Because he wronged you or made you feel put down, so since he is now putting himself at a disadvantage by coming to you in humility, you take the opportunity to give him a piece of your mind. Yeah, give him a taste of his own medicine, THEN say, "Anyway, apology accepted" or "I forgive you".

But in so doing, you've robbed yourself of the true virtue of forgiving. Because you didn't really forgive. You just got back at the person and feel satisfied that you've done so. And because your grievance has been redressed, you're able to say "Anyway, apology accepted". With such an attitude, even the mentioning of those words itself is nothing short of putting the "apologiser" down.

To forgive is difficult. Because true forgiveness takes place only when the forgiver puts himself at the same level as the person he's forgiving. True forgiveness means dignifying the one who has wronged you and intentionally or unintentionally robbed you of your dignity; otherwise you're no better than he is.

Jesus truly forgave the ones who crucified him, because he whispered his forgiveness upon his persecutors without them even realising they had been forgiven by him. Besides, they weren't even sorry. But he forgave them.

It's difficult to forgive. Because it's a very humble thing to do. Those who think the position to forgive is a lofty one don't understand the true spirit of forgiveness. We often forget that forgiving is a privilege, only because we've been forgiven ourselves. That's why our words "I forgive you" sometimes make people walk away feeling more condemned than liberated, more objectified than dignified.

True forgiveness, human to human, can only be offered from one who has himself received forgiveness to another who now needs to receive it.

Posted by SK at 12:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

One thing that never fails to emerge before my eyes each time I face a crisis point in my life is self-righteousness. People who seemed very pious, all-religious, overwhelmingly biblical beyond that which I can ever be, turning into self-righteous bitching pharisaical... Christians.

If you want to know what's at the heart of seemingly religious Christians, place before them a sinner or an accused, and then watch how they react. Their reactions will reveal the true state of their spirituality from the deepest recesses of their hearts; whether they pick up a stone, or whether they embrace the sinner/accused.

To the self-righteous...

Posted by SK at 12:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The motivations of the heart mean everything.

One can perform an absolutely righteous act, but with a self-congratulatory and self-righteous spirit, and yet remain condemned as having fallen short of the standard.

Another can have made mistakes, and yet know he has tried his best to do that which was right, and who says "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, the sinner", and find himself absolved, cherished, accepted, acknowledged.

In trying times, it's more than just about survival or doing something just because we have to. It's equally about the motivations of the heart.

Many have sought justice as an excuse for vengeance. Let that not be me, Lord.

May I seek justice that represents who you are, and not justice that represents the vengeful human spirit. That my hands may be clean and my heart may be pure.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, the sinner.

Posted by SK at 3:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It is often said that we cannot impose our convictions on other people. In respect for human dignity, we must permit each human person to make for himself the choices he desires for his life. How true.

But the problem does not just end here. The very notion of “conviction” itself poses a yet deeper problem, for each individual defines “conviction” differently.

For some, conviction is a rational acceptance of what makes sense, of what is right or wrong, of what is desirable. For others, conviction is about how certain decisions make them feel about themselves, their lives and about the world.

So yes, one’s convictions should not be imposed on others. But what is a "conviction"? And what's in it?

Posted by SK at 11:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

The tsunami. One of the catastrophes in human history that will never be forgotten, for it has left thousands upon thousands dead. Without warning.

It is a terror of nature.

It comes unannounced and renders its fiercest and mightiest blow. It sweeps everything out of place, even the heaviest objects fastened to the sturdiest grounds. It knows not what mercy is. It just blows, sweeps… everything.

The tsunami isn’t itself a cause. It is itself an effect created by the rapidly displaced ocean bed. The anger of the rapid displacement translates into a whirlpool of liquidated wrath. And it goes on a murder spree, thrusting the breath out of everything within its range that is alive.

What was once water, a much needed component of life, has now become a personification of terror, driving fear deep into the heart of every human soul for the rest of human history.

Some people are like tsunamis, displaced very much earlier in their lives, now causing that roaring stir of a mass of killer liquid. Every life they get close to, they kill. The soul within them is one of anger, hatred, and emotional violence.

They can’t help themselves, for they’re not a cause - they’re an effect.

And they can’t stop themselves either, for they’re not a cause - they’re an effect.

Like a tsunami, they emerge, wreaking disorder and chaos. And then they dissipate and disappear, leaving behind a screaming calmness as if they were never there. And its survivors are left trying to make sense of the new chaos they find themselves in.

Posted by SK at 6:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I was sauntering gracefully in the beauty of the sunshine, where shadows would follow me as I walked and linger with me as I stood still.

Those were peaceful and easy moments, for there was a centred feeling like never before within the depth of my soul. Certainly there were minute whispers of unease that threatened to dispose the beauty of the moment, but they never succeeded.

Some storms befall with little or no signs of warning. All this time, even when the breeze began to throw its blows in my face a little harder, I knew not that a storm was brewing, for I was simply enjoying the beauty of the moment. Just being there in the present.

The storm came unannounced. I was taken unprepared. So now I'm trudging step by step, in hope of shelter, in search of refuge. In search of a source of protection which can hide me from the tossing violence of the storm.

Storms... they eventually cease. They must; for such is the way of nature.

Posted by SK at 11:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

There are moments when a surge of thoughts pervade my mind, and there is so much to articulate. Yet there are some emotions to which no vocabulary can adequately do justice.

These are emotions so common to humankind, and yet the finer nuances of these emotions that are unique to the individual person cannot be simplistically captured through words. Thus, once again, the power of language breaks down.

Consequently, all that the heart affords is an inner groan. A groan propelled by a deep longing for answers to age-old questions. Existential questions. Questions that few God-fearing Christians dare to ask for fear of being dismissed as "unfaithful". No, we do not advance such queries in the midst of other "believers". These are the rules of the game.

But tell me if this is perhaps true, that even as a pilgrim on the journey of faith, I am essentially wandering and groping amidst the storms of life to seek a simple answer to the profound concern of the human soul: Who Am I?

Posted by SK at 5:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

This is you, one birthday ago.

What has changed in the past year? Some things. A couple more strands of white hair, maybe. Two growing kids who're bigger now than they've ever been. A vocation that keeps you busier than you ever can be.

But some things never change. You'll always been the person who sat by my side as I stared death in the face. You'll always be the one who gave me strength to choose life when I could have chosen otherwise.

Some things will keep changing, but some things never will. My life story can never be told without yours... this can never change.

Happy birthday, jie.

Posted by SK at 7:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

...mankind is weak and frail when pain confronts them. It doesn't matter whether our little finger is cut, or we have to endure the agony of an aggressive cancer, we will always dislike pain.

Pain therefore reminds us that our lives are frail and much of it is beyond our control.

From an essay written by a student of mine

Posted by SK at 1:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery,
when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and
that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the
road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"
"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered. "Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked. "Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

"Can my friend," the traveller asked while gesturing toward his dog, "come in too?" "I'm sorry sir, but we don't accept pets." The man thought for a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any water?" "Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in." "How about my friend here?" the traveller gestured to the dog. “There should be a bowl by the pump." They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveller filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, and then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree. "What do you call this place?" the traveller asked. "This is Heaven," he answered. "Well, that's confusing," the traveller said. “The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That’s Hell disguised as Heaven." "Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?" "No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.

Posted by SK at 9:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

She was affectionately known by her church congregation as Pastor Sun. She was the Deputy Senior Pastor and was in charge of the worship ministry in the church, whilst her husband (Kong Hee) is still the Senior Pastor today.

After sometime, she went into the secular entertainment industry to be a positive influence in the world beyond the church.

This is her now, being that "positive influence" she wanted to be:

In trying very hard to not judge, the question keeps emerging still: who has evangelised who?

Posted by SK at 5:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

I've always wondered how it'd feel like when I arrived at the tail end of my doctoral writing.

After five years, I'm now working on my final 5,000 words to make up 100,000. Final chapter.

So this is how it feels like. Hmm...

Posted by SK at 3:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (0)

In the past two months, I've spent no less than 70 hours on the road. It's been painful at times. It's not so much the speaking with people, meeting new faces, and being in different places that kill the energies of my soul; it's the traveling, the driving.

I sometimes wonder if I'm really busy because there's in fact much to be done, or if I'm just trying to appear busy because there's a hidden insecurity within me so I need to look like I have a real job. I hope it's not the latter.

Just a moment ago, a friend of mine commented about our mutual busyness: "...people listen, learn - you collapse, but it's fine because you've uplifted someone".

Thank you, Alwyn, for uplifting me.

Posted by SK at 3:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

This series of a documentary broadcasted on the Canadian Broadcast Channel (CBC), exposing the ministry of Benny Hinn, is very sobering. It's amusing but not funny. In fact, it's very sad.

PART ONE (below)

PART TWO (below)

PART THREE (below)

PART FOUR (below)

Posted by SK at 11:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Sure, we live in a world that needs grace, a world that needs to understand and experience forgiveness.

But sometimes we forgive ourselves too easily. We allow ourselves to lax into a state of indiscipline in our spirituality and an inconsideration for the wellbeing of our neighbour, simply because we don’t feel like we are in the right form on a particular day or during a particular season.

And then we very conveniently dispense forgiveness to ourselves, thinking that it is all right to be like that every now and then, and that God understands. We think that after all, we’ve already grown so much and done so much of this and that for God and for others, what’s wrong with failing sometimes.

The reality of falling once in a while is true and understandable. We are human after all. But the attitude with which we treat ourselves after having fallen is undesirable if we do not resolve to learn from each failure, to be better and to be more consistently loving.

Cheap grace is demeaning to the cause of the Kingdom. It’s not so much an issue of perfection as it is an issue of the habit of the heart.

Lord, have mercy on me. On us.

Posted by SK at 12:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Have you ever sat in a group before and shared on some matters you deemed crucial? And then strangely, you found that there was a clown in the group who trivialised just about everything you said, no matter how serious a tone you used in the transmission of your message?

The clown cracked jokes that you found unfunny and kept diverting the conversation towards other directions. At times, in the midst of your conversation with the group, the clown started initiating sub-conversations with other people in the group, as if the very thing you wanted to share about was of little or no consequence to himself and the people he was distracting.

And no matter how hard you tried to emphasise the seriousness of what you were saying, the clown kept on doing it anyway. Have you?

The soul of a clown that tends to trivialise just about everything he hears is precisely what the devil intends for all Christians to cultivate. Listen to anything mentioned about your faith and life, and make a joke out of it because you don’t see the implications of the words being spoken. Miss the point entirely and keep laughing away.

For the sake of those who take with utter seriousness the importance of the crucial matters, clowns must be expelled, lest they lead people to mock their own lives away. And there is nothing funny about that.

There is nothing wrong with humour or being funny, surely. But there is nothing funny about laughing one’s way out of life into death.

Every one of us needs to keep a check on ourselves when we find ourselves in the midst of such soul conversations taking place - we might just catch ourselves being the clown.

Posted by SK at 8:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

I did the unthinkable today. It’s literally been years since I stepped into a church with a prepared sermon in hand (together with really cool PowerPoint slides at that!), and then ended up preaching an entirely different sermon all together.

At the point of my arrival, the pastor was doing some teaching in the worship hall. So I thought before the service began, that it’d be good to quickly bring my thumbdrive to the audio visual guy so he could transfer my PowerPoint file over into the computer to be flashed later on during my sermon. Just then, I felt a firm tug in my heart that held back my intention. And the word salvation was literally haunting my mind.

By golly, was this what I thought it was? That the Holy Spirit was telling me that he wanted me to speak on salvation, and not on the topic I’d been asked to prepare? Hey, it’s been more than a decade since I was part of the Pentecostal tradition! Was there a part of me that was still “pentecostalised”?!

It did somewhat help that this church was a Pentecostal/Charismatic church. But still, I thought I’d not be so presumptuous as to think that the church would be okay with something like that. After all, who wants an invited speaker to come spew an incoherent sermon he didn’t have time to prepare, right? So just as I took over the microphone, I asked the pastor for permission to switch my sermon. He answered, “Coming from someone with your background, I’d say it must be the Holy Spirit. Shoot…”

So what ensued was an hour-long sermon on Salvation. I even managed to get my sermon organised into three points: i) You are saved, ii) You are being saved, and iii) You will be saved.

You know, I'm recently beginning to discover more and more about the Pentecostal/Charismatic tradition that is consistent with the Great Tradition of the church. It's just amazing. Sometimes, at the point of a new discovery (new to me, I mean), I have to pause for a moment to just hear my heart pounding.

This journey is amazing.

Posted by SK at 11:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

Listening is such a lost art, even in the Christian tradition. We have very devoutly spiritual Christians who happen to be brilliant theological minds, but who function like heresy hunters. At the slightest hint of some doctrines or belief that takes a marginal variance from their own, they don’t think twice about pointing it out. Not only do they point it out; they in fact point it out as if their view was superior and absolute in its validity.

Why can’t we meet someone who has a different theological position on some issues, and think to ourselves that perhaps this person has seen a perspective we’ve been missing? Or perhaps that this person actually does know more than us on something of that issue, and that we actually need to learn? What makes us often conclude so conveniently that our views are the absolute ones?

Are we afraid if we actually listened, that perhaps we might be obligated to yield our positions? Are we afraid to leave our views open to scrutiny for fear that our views might actually be proven wrong? Since when were we appointed to be guardians of doctrinal truths (well, truth in our view, at least) without the appointment of an ecumenical council?

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t share our views or state our position. I do that a lot; and I believe I’m doing just that right now. One stark example I can cite is a recent meeting I sat in last month consisting of various representatives from different Christian traditions, during which it was mentioned that “the Christian message is love”. I responded, hopefully gently, that in my tradition, the Christian message is not love. The Christian message is Jesus, who taught us to love. But Jesus and love cannot be mistaken to be the same entity. Our understanding of love is contingent upon who Jesus is, and our love cannot stand apart from him. God is love, but love is not God. The point is, part of the listening process also involves the sharing of our own positions and convictions, and that’s okay as long as it’s done with utmost respect.

I think we need to learn to listen to one another. I’ve grown up in a strictly Reformed tradition wherein black and white were thoroughly delineated (I’m not saying all Reformed people are like that – it’s just the background I grew up in). Over the years, I found myself opening up to a plethora of other voices, meeting people who might have had something to say from different perspectives, and discovering many areas of grey apart from the black and white through which I was taught to define my faith. As a result, my position on a number of issues has shifted; probably not changed all together, but nevertheless significantly shifted.

Of course, this puts me in great peril, because some people think I’m no longer “evangelical” (sigh, whatever that means anymore, really). Some say I’m liberal, and fortunately, yet others still say I’m evangelical (like on the occasion when I said that the Christian message is Jesus, someone stood up and commented that it seems I’m evangelical). And there have even been some who have called me a fundamentalist, actually! This just goes to show that different people develop different perceptions of one same object (in this case, me); and this further compounds the need to listen and to try to understand why and how these perceptions develop.

Yes, listening does that to a person. It ensures that our senses are not dulled to a world containing wisdom in various expressions. It ensures that we don’t become protectionistically elitist in our self-understanding. Many things in life are, after all, not as clearly cut and dry as we’d like them to be.

It’s very unlikely that I’m ever going to move away from my personal conviction that Jesus is the way, the truth and the life, and that no one goes to the Father except through him. It’s very unlikely that I’m ever going to shift from my understanding that Jesus is uniquely very man and very God. I’m always willing to strongly defend these beliefs (although not at the risk of misrepresenting the very God whose truth I seek to defend, which unfortunately happens a lot among some people I know).

But should that stop me from listening to what anyone else has to say, or put me in a defensive mode about what I believe in, or insulate my faith from public examination, I think it shows an insecurity in my own positions. I know this makes some of my brethren worried about me. To these who are concerned, please keep praying for me.

Thank you for listening.

Posted by SK at 9:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

You should come visit my lectures on Christian Theology in the seminary if you ever have the time to do so. Not because the lecturer is good. But because the students will give you one helluva time when it's their turn to do so.

Each student is given a practical issue to work on; it's related to the ministerial life. An example of the questions is, "A young couple from your church has just informed you that they have decided to leave your church and start attending the one down the street. When asked why, their answer is that the other church's activities seem to better cater for their needs and match their expectations. Respond."

Another one: "Why might the study of ecclesiology be important for your ministerial life? How may ecclesiology inform your decisions on certain issues? Give concrete examples."

And so each of these students tackles such a question through a presentation before his/her fellow students. Whilst having to apply their ecclesiological wisdom in as apt a way as possible, they're encouraged to present their case in the most creative ways possible. And many of them never fail to blow my mind - they have drawings, video recordings, interactive games, even fabricated "ancient scrolls"!

What strikes me is that the weightage given for these presentations is not high. Besides, they know that I'm very generous with my marks on such presentations anyway, whether or not they do that well. And yet, they still decide to give me and the rest of their fellow learners a blast of a time with fascinating, captivating, creative, amazing presentations anyway. Just so we all can enjoy the learning process.

It's amazing how people rise up to the occasion when you help them to see that they should strive to be their best all the time, not because of what they can get in return, but simply because they can. Really, I've never seen presentations like these before. In fact, I've never delivered presentations like these before! These presentations render all the other presentations I've ever delivered as a university student juvenile.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm learning.

Posted by SK at 12:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

3. Ensure that the life of your organic community is regulated. If you’ve been thinking that an organic community is about the cultivation of lovey-dovey mushed up and emotionally hyped sentimentalities, you couldn’t be more mistaken. An organic community isn’t about a group of people with similar interests and who speak a similar lingo cliquing together to live happily ever after. That’s called a club.

An organic community is a family of people who may be diverse in their cultures, worldviews and interests, but who have an express willingness to live in unwavering commitment in the ways of the Kingdom of God. They may have habits that get on one another’s nerves and cultural differences that confound one another, which makes it very difficult for them to live with one another, but they are nevertheless deeply committed to share life with one another to embody the reality of the Kingdom in the present.

This means that the people within this organic community are willing to embrace a set of values that are shared by all within the said community. These are also the very values that regulate the life they share together and how they relate with one another. Now, if all within the community are of almost a similar maturity (or lack thereof) in their faith journey, that’s a rather difficult feat to achieve. Thus, every community needs a person within it who is relatively advanced in his/her faith journey to steer and guide the community in terms of the community’s rule of life.

I suspect many people think that if they could find organic communities consisting of people who live in commitment to one another and to God, their spiritual vitality would be all fired up and they’d once again return to the “first love” experience. It’s a fallacy. An organic community that truly strives to live out the way of the Kingdom actually suffers. If you find that hard to believe, follow these suggestions I’ve given and go try them out and see for yourself if life in an organic community is all that pleasant as you’ve made it out to be. My experience tells me that proximity and intimacy in relationship spells trouble.

In the final analysis, you know what - it really is much easier to just be an institutional Christian. Inasmuch as you find it painful, it’s much less daunting a process than learning to live within an organic community which is committed to the way of Christ. The institutional way is the way that most Christians have chosen for themselves, because it is the way that enables them to live the religious life whilst still having every bit of freedom to live in almost exactly the way they most desire. If you think life in the institution is overly controlled and inhibited, try life in an organic community; you’ll most likely be horrified. It’s easier to survive the superficialities of the institutional church than the intimacy of the organic dimension of church.

We’re often complaining that life in the church institution is too superficial. But when confronted with the realities of the organic life of the church, can we actually take it? Is it something we actually want? If we've not been able to survive the demands of the institutional church on us, it's almost certain that we won't survive the demands of an organic community.

I could certainly share more on what an organic community within the institutional church looks like in concrete terms. But that's not really the point of this series. The purpose of this brief series has been merely to stir us to consider the realities of the church at the present moment, and to re-examine if our responses towards these realities have been legitimate from a theological perspective of the church.

One thing is for sure, whatever it is, and I've emphasised this multiple times in this writing - there is no such thing as a "churchless Christianity". It is theologically unjustifiable and untenable as a form of Christian spirituality, because it defies the most fundamental nature of God as a eternal and Trinitarian community. In other words, Christianity apart from the community that Jesus has instituted and which the Holy Spirit constitutes is no Christianity at all, maybe except to the one practising it and propagating hard to justify it.

I wish you all the best on your endeavour to survive church. A churchless Christianity? NO.

Posted by SK at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

2. Find an organic life within the church institution(s).
The problem is real - for many of our church institutions, there is hardly an organic life within. The people go through the religious notions and prescribed rituals, and then dive right back into their own private lives as if their faith and life were two separate issues all together. But remember, the church is the church. Nothing can take away the role relegated to the church of being the necessary means to bring you towards the eventual and full partaking of Christ’s nature. This means that you’re obligated to continue partaking in the life of the church institution. But it also means that you have to somehow find an organic life within the said institution.

One main difficulty the Protestant Christian has to grapple with is which church institution I’m referring to here. Because in reality, we’re talking about many fragmented institutions which often disagree with one another, not one universal institution. Unfortunately, this is part of the irony which has emerged from 600 years of protesting against… erm, I understand what we were protesting about, but what are we protesting about now?

So here’s the thing: If you were a Roman Catholic or an Orthodox Christian, the organic community in which you participated would also belong to the one institution, because the entire Roman Catholic Church is one, and the Orthodox Church also sees itself as one based on a universal theological agreement on the Tradition of the church. But as a Protestant Christian, it would be difficult to have any one particular institution contain the organic body for the simple reason that we are legion (in authority structures and in theological positions)! Imagine, what if your organic community – people who journeyed with you in spiritual intimacy – consisted of a Presbyterian, a Methodist, a Lutheran, and a Pentecostal? Which institution would you expect to contain this organic community? To have one institution contain it would mean the exclusion of the other three.

So for the Protestant Christian, I’d suggest that you find spiritual friends who can journey with you in a deep intimacy in the environment of an organic community, but not seek an organic community solely found within one institution. The people in your organic community may come from various institutions, and that’s okay. But as they commit themselves to a life within your organic community, they must also be deeply committed to a participation in the life of their respective institutions. As soon as the organic community begins to think that it can exist apart from the institution(s), it has theologically invalidated itself within the scheme of the Kingdom. If you stand outside the institution, you stand outside the body of Christ. There is no Christianity outside the church in its institutional form, for she is the body of Christ enfleshed, which contains both the visible structure and the invisible organic dimension. If this fact seems over-emphasised, it is only because it cannot be emphasised enough.

Posted by SK at 1:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

So, here I stand, having survived years of churchlife within the Protestant tradition and having suffered multiple ulcers every time I “go to church”. But how did I survive church, find resuscitation for my faith, and keep on being a part of the institutional church? This is what I hope to share here, together with some theological points of concern which must be taken into account in such decisions we make along our journey.

1. Remain fiercely loyal to the institutional church.
Now, no matter how horrible the church institution looks like, remember that she is nevertheless the church belonging to and constituting a part of the Christ. He died for her, and he will return for her. Yes, not all who are within the institution are truly a part of that body, because many of these may not have appropriated their faith despite having received the means to do so. But yet, everyone who is a part of the body must always be found within the institution. Don’t go thinking that one can be Christian outside the church institution; it’s like saying “I can call myself ‘Sherman Kuek’ without identifying myself as a part of the ‘Kuek’ family”. It’s ridiculous.

Why is it so important that one who is truly a part of the body of Christ must be found within the church institution? Because the Christian church in ages past and present has been given the authority to i) dispense the sacraments which are necessary for the impartation of God’s grace to propel us further towards increasingly partaking in the nature of Christ (without this, there is no “salvation” to talk about), and ii) distinguish the right beliefs from the wrong, and to distinguish orthodoxy from heterodoxy (a nicer word for “heresy”). These are things that cannot be replaced by an “organic church”, if there is even such a thing.

One may ask, “Where is all this mentioned in the bible?” The bible is a historical piece of document containing information about the life of God’s people up to the first-century church - that’s where it stops. But inasmuch as the bible is a documentation about the people of God, the people of God herself – the church – is dynamic and growing in her wisdom. In other words, the bible belongs to the church, the church does not belong to the bible. Hence, there are subsequent developments in the church’s self-understanding throughout the centuries that are not contained in the bible, but which do not contradict the bible. Rather, these developments are a further extension of the church’s self-understanding from biblical times. In fact, it was the institutional church that prescribed the bible as its authority. So asking “where is all this mentioned in the bible” is in fact an attestation that you subscribe to the authority of the institutional church.

Another reason that one who is truly a part of the body of Christ must be found within the church institution is this: the organic dimension of the church is organic, for goodness’ sakes. It is unshaped and dynamic and, like water, difficult to define unless there is a container which contains it. And the church institution is precisely that visible container which contains the organic dimension of the church. So we cannot go speaking of the two as if they are separate entities - this form of dualism is a heresy. To have an organic dimension of the church outside of the church institution (if that’s even possible) is only as good as having spilt water on the ground that cannot be recollected – it eventually dries up!

So the very first thing to note, in our journey of recovering a Christianity which is true to our faith, is that no authentic Christianity can exist apart from the church institution. One cannot claim to be a Christian outside of the church institution any more than a scientist can claim to be a scientist who remains unrecognised by the scientific community or a self-professed journalist whose news reports no press wants to publish. You may say, “Well, as long as God accepts me, that’s fine by me”, but you can never know for sure, can you? Because God speaks through his Body, the church. The fact that this church has lost its organic dimension and mostly retained only its institutional dimension is besides the point.

No doubt, the church might have screwed up and hurt you, disappointed you, abused you, flogged you, or abandoned you. Nothing warrants your finding a “churchless Christianity”, for there is no Christianity apart from the Body of Jesus Christ enfleshed. So for now, I leave you with the advice of my spiritual father:

As long as a church confesses the catholic faith even though catholicity is blurred at the margins, I cannot abandon the church into which I was baptised.

Of course, this does not mitigate the pain you face and the problem you might have identified pertaining to life in the institutional church. But it suffices to say for now that the prerogative is not yours (or anybody's) to think you can find a Christianity apart from the church.

More to come...

Posted by SK at 8:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

There’s a lot of talk among middle-class young adults from the urban contexts regarding their disillusionment with church. Some are disillusioned because they’ve been hurt by the church. Others are disillusioned because the church isn’t providing what they need. Yet others are disappointed because they find that the church isn’t focusing on things that matter, e.g. environmental concerns and socio-political concerns.

Their responses are varied. Some continue being a part of the church institution whilst finding alternative sources of spiritual and emotional support from beyond the institution (or platforms beyond the institution that stand for the causes relevant to their concern). Others, upon having found such alternatives, stop going to church. Yet others dump the idea of having a commitment to the church institution all together and stop wanting to be involved in any visible form of churchlife, thinking that there’s a form of Christianity that still renders one Christian despite his/her absence from the institution. And together with these responses of course comes a plethora of different justifications. It’s a trend that’s picking up significantly especially in the West; and our urban young in Asia who’re disillusioned with church are happily influenced by this trend, consuming and even propagating videos and books on a “churchless Christianity”.

I feel a need to respond to my observation of this phenomenon. But first off, I want to acknowledge that if you’re a Roman Catholic Christian or an Eastern Orthodox Christian, the seeming conceptual detachment of the church institution from the church as an organic body must sound entirely awkward at best, and heretic at worst, for you. And you are right. It’s a Protestant “heresy” that undermines the importance of the very institution to which Christ has bequeathed the authority for the dispensation of the sacraments necessary for our journey of salvation, the very institution which also should contain the organic life of the church. It is therefore common for a Protestant Christian to think that the true Christian life can be lived beyond the church institution. And of course, by virtue of our being Protestant (a confederation of churches which sometimes disagree with one another rather than a single entity with a universal authoritative mind), the problem of “institution” also begs the question: which institution? So as a Roman Catholic or an Eastern Orthodox Christian, if you find us largely messed up in our understanding of church and our identities as people rooted in a historical faith (or not), by golly, you’re right.

Now, having said all that, I’ve never been anything other than Protestant. To be exact, I’ve belonged to the “evangelical” faith all throughout my faith journey (now, I didn’t overtly say that I’m evangelical, did I? I just said I belong to that tradition… mark the difference, pretty please, because I’m increasingly discovering within my own tradition lots of teachings and practices that would’ve been seriously condemned as heresy in the Patristic era).

Posted by SK at 12:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

There are very few Christian materials on marriage today that can be deemed trustworthy. Little advice is based on adequate theological reflection in accordance with what the church believes about the nature of God and his Kingdom, whilst more are written and published by authors who apply psychological theories derived from a narcissistic and individualistic world, and who thereafter give these theories a religious face and call them “Christian”. That’s what we, the Christians, are feeding on.

These things we read have come to fuel our understanding of marriage and family. As a result of that, many Christian communities congratulate themselves on their focus on marriage and family through their worship services, their weekend conferences on “rekindling the fire of marriage” and the like, and through their other church activities. Meanwhile, many of the young adults who are yet single, just keep longing to eventually find that spouse who will share that experience of a “fired up” marriage with them so as not to feel left out. That’s what our Christianised notions of secular romanticism has done to our church, besides various other factors affecting our views on marriage and family.

I recently discovered a theologically refreshing and mind-blowing writing on marriage and family (ironically, in a book that isn’t new to me). Unlike other books specially focused on marriage, this book writes about marriage and family within the context of the sacraments of the church, because the author comes from a tradition in which marriage is a sacrament (and for good reason too). The book is For the Life of the World written by Alexander Schmemann, and published in 2004 by St Vladimir’s Seminary Press in New York. Here are some excerpts which jump out at me in polemic response to the “popular” rendition of Christian marriage and family:

…How is marriage related to the Kingdom which is to come? How is it related to the cross, the death and the resurrection of Christ? What, in other words, makes it a sacrament?

Even to raise these questions seems impossible within the whole “modern” approach to marriage, and this includes, often enough, the “Christian” approach. In the numberless “manuals of marital happiness”, in the alarming trend to make the minister a specialist in clinical sexology, in all cozy definitions of a Christian family which approve a moderate use of sex (which can be an “enriching experience”) and emphasize responsibility, savings, and Sunday School – in all this there is, indeed, no room for sacrament. We do not even remember today that marriage is, as everything else in “this world”, a fallen and distorted marriage, and that it needs not to be blessed and “solemnized” – after a rehearsal and with the help of the photographer - but restored. This restoration, furthermore is in Christ… this restoration infinitely transcends the idea of the “Christian family,” and gives marriage cosmic and universal dimensions.

As long as we visualise marriage as the concern of those alone who are being married, as something that happens to them and not to the whole Church, and, therefore, to the world itself, we shall never understand the truly sacramental meaning of marriage… family in itself, can be a demonic distortion of love…

A marriage which does not constantly crucify its own selfishness and self-sufficiency, which does not “die to itself” that it may point beyond itself, is not a Christian marriage. The real sin of marriage today is not adultery or lack of “adjustment” or “mental cruelty”. It is the idolization of the family itself, the refusal to understand marriage as directed toward the Kingdom of God… In a Christian marriage, in fact, three are married; and the united loyalty of the two toward the third, who is God, keeps the two in an active unity with each other as well as with God.

Posted by SK at 4:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Editor's Note: The following post has been blatantly ripped from Dan's blog. It's something I've always felt but never really bothered to say. So since he's said it so eloquently, here it is...

Sunday afternoon. It was the moment that many had been eagerly anticipating since the start of the service – the benediction. Like a swarm of buzzing bees, the youths rushed to the nearby chicken rice stall to gratify their grumbling stomachs. After managing to find seats around an empty table – the table was not exactly empty as it was filled with used glasses and plates which were left by previous customers – David and Samuel took out their handphones to exchange the latest mp3 files with one another using Bluetooth technology. Sitting opposite them were two veteran private investigators, Sharon and Hazel, who started examining the validity of the latest gossips circulating in school the moment they sat down. Next to Hazel was the young and quiet Brenda, whose presence could be easily overlooked if one was not observant enough. There she was, at her usual self, waiting quietly for the food to be served.

Just as the food arrived on the table, the observant Sharon immediately stretched out her right fist, with her thumb facing forward. Brenda, who knew the tradition well, yet was not brave enough to take the first move, followed the same action. Hazel, David and Samuel then stretched out their thumbs as well, almost doing it at the same time. In the end, the group decided that Samuel was the loser, therefore was forfeited to say grace for the food. “Why me again?!” protested Samuel. “Who asked you to be so slow! Next time faster a bit lah!” Sharon replied with a cheeky smile. Reluctantly, Samuel started praying for the food while the rest picked up their forks and spoons to prepare for the battle…

I do not know who started this game and I do not know how widespread this game has become. But if table grace has been relegated to a form of punishment of a game, it simply means that the “players” are not genuinely interested or sincere to participate in the table grace. Nevertheless, the game itself is not to be blamed, it simply reflects the apathetic attitude of people towards table grace. Even without the game, it is quite common that someone has to be appointed to say grace for the food. How often do we see someone volunteering to pray for the food (if so, it is often done out of frustration due to the lack of response from the rest)?

Other than that, when someone prays a lengthier-than-usual prayer before the meal, the rest naturally become restless and impatient, grumbling in their hearts about the inconsideration and insensitivity of the person. On the contrary, if a person prays an extremely short prayer, in spite of the minority raising their eyebrows over the sincerity of the prayer, most would be more than happy that the prayer is over and eating can begin. Yet, if table grace is such a torturous act that is disliked by many, then why are we still embracing it? Has table grace become a fossilised tradition that has to be conducted simply as a licence to eat, regardless of the sincerity of the people involved?

If that is true, then we have lost the beauty of table grace. Table grace is a ritual where the participants of the ritual partake the food with a heart of genuine thanksgiving, remembering and giving thanks to the One who provides the food. Nevertheless, ultimately what matters most is not that one is able to conduct table grace faithfully at each meal. Rather, it is for one to remain constantly in a posture of thanksgiving towards the One who provides not only food, but everything.

Posted by SK at 11:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

For the 12-year old playmate of my 5-year old nephew, who has just passed away from a terminal illness through which he has suffered much.

And for my 5-year old nephew who has lost his 12-year old friend. It is right that you should grieve and cry, dear one. Just don't forget, the day will come when your friend will rise again in glory, for he belongs to the One who has trampled down death by death. You just wait and see.

Posted by SK at 11:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I don't usually say much about my workload in my posts, primarily because I have a schedule page that's frequently updated. Funnily, since I don't have a sort of permanent office to sit in and I don't work based on prescribed office hours, many people think I don't work. Some secretly wonder but don't dare to ask. The bolder ones never fail to ask.

So here's the official press statement: I work more than 8 hours a day, honest to God. It's just that most of the time, I work from home (room-office, office-room, what's the difference). Sometimes I work so hard I forget I'm at home.

The middle of the year (May, June, and July) is usually the season which drains me out tremendously. It's when my gravest weaknesses usually threaten to show up most furiously, and my stress level shoots beyond an alarming limit. So if my blog posts don't seem quite frequent enough and I don't seem to be saying quite enough things, please just take a moment to pray for me.

One major "shift" in my recent ministerial direction is that of the scope of my work. It seems very much like there's an invisible "force" shifting me towards a concern for Christian unity among the various streams of the Christian faith. I've always held this concern very close to my heart, but never realised that I'd one day be a part of a generation that participates in this concern so radically and forcefully. I don't know how far this endeavour will take me, but for now, it's just beginning.

I'm listing here a portion of my schedule for the next couple of months so you'll know what I'm up to (I know not everyone frequently visits my schedule page).

MAY 2007
Preparation for Lectures in Asian Theologies
Seminari Theoloji Malaysia, Seremban

Preparation for the Fourth Seminar of the Asian Movement for Christian Unity (AMCU IV)
Christian Conference of Asia, Kuala Lumpur - Malaysia

04 (Friday)
Inaugural Meeting, Revolution of Hope (R.O.H)
Seremban, Malaysia

06 (Sunday)
Preaching at Sunday Worship Service
Taman Ujong Methodist Church, Seremban - Malaysia

10 (Thursday)
Speaking at Holy Communion Service
Seminari Theoloji Malaysia, Seremban

18 (Friday)
Academic Research & Personal Consultation
Singapore

22 - 26 (Tuesday - Saturday)
Speaking at Camp Cameron
Fellowship of Evangelical Students
Cameron Highlands - Malaysia

30 - [02 Jun] (Wednesday - Saturday)
Lectures in Christian Theology I
Theological Education by Extension
Seminari Theoloji Malaysia, Seremban

JUNE 2007
Writing of article for publication
Asian Beacon (Christian Magazine), August 2007 issue

Preparation for Lectures in Ecclesiology & Eschatology
Seminari Theoloji Malaysia, Seremban

(30 May) - 02 (Wednesday - Saturday)
Lectures in Christian Theology I
Theological Education by Extension
Seminari Theoloji Malaysia, Seremban

07 - 10 (Thursday - Sunday)
TUMC Church Camp
Port Dickson - Malaysia

11 - 14 (Monday - Thursday)
Fourth Seminar of the Asian Movement for Christian Unity (AMCU IV)
Christian Conference of Asia, Kuala Lumpur - Malaysia

20 (Wednesday)
Commencement of Lectures in Asian Theologies
Seminari Theoloji Malaysia, Seremban

22 (Friday)
Commencement of Lectures in Ecclesiology & Eschatology
Seminari Theoloji Malaysia, Seremban

24 (Sunday)
Preaching at Sunday Worship Service
Grace Presbyterian Church Batu Pahat, Johor - Malaysia

30 (Saturday)
Academic Research & Personal Consultation
Singapore

And after that, in July, five consecutive Sundays of speaking in different congregations.

Posted by SK at 7:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Throughout my experience of having been in a seminary environment for almost eight years thus far, I have come to observe three kinds of seminary students.

Firstly, there are the wondering students. These are the students who don't know what they're doing here. Initially they "knew" they wanted to become pastors; allegedly they had a "calling" (whatever that means anymore). So their denominational leaders instructed for them to be enrolled at the seminary for a bachelors or a masters degree, because that's required for ordination purposes. But the process of being in the seminary frustrates them, and in fact, they're not even sure they're cut out to be Christian ministers in the first place. They've hardly unlearned or learned anything after these two or three years, and it's unlikely that they've experienced anything that's deeply life-transforming either. They're just... here; and waiting to go.

Secondly, there are the good students. These are those who study hard, do their required readings, perform all their allocated duties, are never late for meetings, are present at every single chapel service, adhere to all instructions, submit all their assignments on time to meet their due dates, and are seen at every lecture. And who never question any rule or policy. They simply abide, because they tell themselves it's just for three or four years, and then they'll be moving on anyway; so what's the use of rocking the boat. Leave things as they are, abide by the rules, and move on peacefully. Don't get into the system's bad books because they're the ones who'll have everything to lose in the end. These are the students who're well-loved by the authorities, because they never create trouble.

Then thirdly, there are the maverick students who consider critically just about every rule imposed upon them. Of course, they find some rules reasonable for the greater good of the seminary population, but there are others which are uncalled-for, obsolete, or just purely legalistic. They speak up against some of these rules which seem to promote injustice. But these students are never liked. Unfortunately, they're blacklisted and eventually never make it as "respectable" people in the ministry because they're too vocal. They're seen as a threat to the system and to the authorities. These students are few, but they're sharp thorns in the flesh of those in charge. At best, people say, "They're too intelligent, they don't belong here"; at worst, people say, "They lack submission, they can't possibly have a calling".

This observation makes me ask some questions about the future of the church:

Which of these students form the vast majority of the seminary population? Why?

Which of these students are least liked by the system? Why?

Which of these students are good for the future of the people of God? Why?

Which of these students are those who eventually become denominational leaders? Why?

It'd take quite a miracle for us to witness the emergence of one more Augustine, one more Chrysostom, one more Athanasius, one more Aquinas, one more Luther, one more Calvin, one more Cranmer, one more Wesley, one more Bonhoeffer... one more voice which speaks of the compelling realities that the church needs most to hear.

Everything we admire about these people who've reformed the church, we don't want to be. So most of us in the ministry will just be busy keeping ourselves out of trouble.

Posted by SK at 2:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

Link: Massachusetts floats $1 bln stem cell research plan

So it's not okay to support uranium enrichment work for fear of the loss of human lives through violence, but it's okay to rake in billions of dollars for stem cell research. One is more moral and less violent than the other?

One would've thought you were striving for the betterment of humankind through a commitment to sound ethics. You're just a bunch of hypocrites playing God. It would've been easier to have some decent respect for you if you had the guts to come out and say "it's all about the money and the power".

Go ahead, keep wallowing in your self-righteousness... we here have little regard for you. You're the greatest villains.

Posted by SK at 1:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It seems like most of my thoughts in the past couple of days have dwelt much on the issue of church and a host of other ecclesial considerations. But I’ve been talking mostly about the church universal – or at the most specific points, the Protestant Church in general. So in this post, I want to talk about my own local church community. I don’t think I’ve said much about my own local church community before in this blog.

Over a year ago, I relocated to this town for vocational reasons. And of course, I had to settle down in a new local church community here. I’m not all the time at my local church services because of the physical mobility required by the nature of my work, but I’m there whenever I’m around in town. After having experienced the way life is in this local church community for over a year, there are things I can affirm about her with a reasonable sense of confidence.

So what’s my local church community like?

We don’t have the most vibrant worship ministry in town. We usually sing older songs and are mostly accompanied by an old piano and a guitar. Nothing impressive. But when the people sing, they sing (provided they know the song, of course). When I see the elderly ladies and some men lifting their hands in all kinds of postures as they sing, I think it must touch the heart of God, because they need no voluminously embellished accompaniment to charge them up just so they can sing sincerely.

We don’t have the best preachers in town (absolutely, since I’m one of the preachers!) Our preachers have nothing new to say, really. And they don’t have the most convincing power of rhetorics compared to many other preachers I’ve seen before. But I’ve yet to hear a slipshod delivery of a sermon from our preachers before. Every single sermon I’ve heard so far has been the result of serious study and the weaving of intricately written points to be delivered to the listeners. The sermons have never been bad. But more than that, the efforts under-girding those sermons have spoken even louder than their sermons themselves.

We don’t have hundreds upon hundreds of people queuing up each week to participate in the services. We’re a very small community. In fact, most often, when the service starts, most of the seats are still vacant and people eventually start trickling in (okay, that is a bad habit). But it’s deeply heart-warming when I see how people seem to just surround someone when he/she faces a crisis or has an urgent need for assistance. It’s also strangely unfamiliar to see how the small community actually takes the trouble to get to know visitors in their midst on a more personal level. It just puts a smile on the face (and maybe some hidden drops of happy tears) to see that people care.

We don’t have leaders full of charisma. Most our leaders are actually seen smiling more than they’re talking, which is a strange sight in a church. Most church leaders I know can’t wait to be heard, whilst mine are happy being silent unnoticed workers. But I’ve honestly never seen leaders who’re so open to embracing groups of people in the larger community beyond the local church that may be in need. It strikes a Kingdomic chord within the heart when we see how they’re concerned for the welfare of people like foreign labourers and refugees in the society. It’s not that they’re not worried that our church budget can’t carry us that far, but rather, that they try their utter best to work something out despite the church budget not being able to carry us that far – yes, even at their own financial expense, silently. I’ve seen them doing things “unbecoming” of church leaders – like driving vans to fetch people and carrying heavy chairs and tables for the benefit of others. I’ve seen them reaching out to listen earnestly to voices of dissent which might have previously hurt them deeply with cutting words. And in all this, I’ve never heard them making a claim of perfection regarding themselves. There’s utterly not a single speck of self-righteousness about them. (*pause to salute*)

Yeah, this is my local church community. There’s nothing very spectacular about this church, because they’re mostly just doing their best to be followers of Jesus in the best way they know how, and they don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s the kind of community I’m happy being in (short of saying it’s the best church I’ve ever seen).

I don't come from a rich church with a captivating preacher standing behind a transparent pulpit under glittering stage lightings in a multi-million auditorium speaking to a crowd of thousands that has just sung a series of songs from the international Christian charts accompanied by a spectacular band of musicians which puts the Eagles to shame. And I'm proud I belong here.

Posted by SK at 12:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

A political by-election is going on in Malaysia at the moment, in a little town called Ijok. Of this particular by-election, I have nothing much to say other than that seeing campaigning politicians delivering wheel chairs to the disabled and handing out cash assistance to the needy are a common political exercise here.

On a more general note, it somewhat captures my attention – in political elections – that the campaigning parties consisting of ruling governments usually possess the publicity capacity. They never fail to get their messages across through the various media at their disposal: the newspapers, the television, the radio, and the internet, among other possible avenues of publicity.

On the other hand, the publicity messages and endeavours of the competing parties and candidates are usually all too easily thwarted. They never get to really say things they want to say, and mistakes they make in speech and action are speedily amplified, and their credibility eroded thereby. They’re projected as the pathetically miserable people who’re fighting a losing battle and who can’t deliver (usually, they’re not allowed the opportune privilege to deliver anyway).

Now… before we become too quick to pass the political arena off as a corrupt and dishonest engagement, let’s consider the possibility that perhaps all of life is a political arena. And perhaps, the politics of a nation are just a heightened hyperbolic representation of what happens in the everyday life of its people.

Think about it: isn’t it true that our social engagements are all about power and dominance? The powerful have access to various forms of communication, for they have the social influence and the wealth to sustain the cost of employing these avenues. Their voices are heard. The weak, they have a voice, but too soft and insignificant because it cannot be projected; and no corporate company deems it of any benefit to project these voices except maybe for self-promoting, emotion-appealing, and tax-exempting purposes. So they never truly get to say what they want to say except when their valuable voices are exploitable by the powerful.

This is the way it is with life, isn’t it?

So I wouldn’t so much blame the political entities for playing their political games in such a manner; they’re just playing the game according to societal rules, letting out a bait they know we’d bite.

So go, vote your integrity’s worth.

Posted by SK at 1:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by SK at 12:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I was in Singapore yesterday and cruising on the expressway. Right in front of me was a black Mercedes station wagon. The scene looked pretty ordinary. But I think the car was in front of me for far too long, which gave me too much time to notice something ugly…

Each passenger in that car, two adults and two little children, had a proper place to sit in. But the Indonesian domestic helper was put to sit in the trunk of the car! There she was, stashed up together with the luggage and the baby pram in the trunk. I wonder why our society doesn’t so much as see such treatment of foreign domestic helpers as tantamount to a modern version of slavery.

Is there no inherent value in a human person which renders him/her respectable and worthy to be dignified regardless of the nature of his/her work? What is it about domestic helpers that makes people think they’re several classes below other people and deserving of a less human treatment?

That domestic helper in the car trunk… wasn’t she someone’s daughter? In all possibility, she had to leave her family to come to Singapore (and suffer such treatment) to earn a living so she could send her family money each month for their subsistence. How might her employers have felt if their own daughters were to be treated like that by their employers in the future?

There’s nothing wrong with having domestic helpers. It’s a vocation which is extremely dignified and can be embarked upon with much dignity. It’s we who make it look like a job fit for lesser humans. It's we who trade them like commodities.

I’ve visited countless families who have domestic helpers. Until today, I’ve met only two families who invite their domestic helpers to eat with them at their meal tables. The fact that the domestic helpers declined the invitation is immaterial; they’ve been respected and treated as equals anyway. The other families I’ve seen just leave the scraps for their domestic helpers to finish up after the meal. And all this is done right in front of their growing children – through these young eyes, these parents will eventually reap the values they sow.

Posted by SK at 6:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

"The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off." - Mal Pancoast -

Posted by SK at 8:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

An entry from my friend:

I am a quiet person, not that I am quiet, rather I would prefer my surrounding to be quiet, especially after a long trying day at work.

And yesterday was such a day. I had a stress filled day at work followed by an equally stressful drive home in torrential rain feeling tired, smelly and hungry.

We settled down to have dinner and my daughter started playing the piano, banging mercilessly on the keys, making any conversation over the dinner table virtually impossible. I endured it for a while, hoping that she would be done with her routine before I finished dinner so I can have some time to chat with my wife, but she went on and on and on.

Finally I asked my wife (or rather shouted above the din) “Hadn’t she practised this afternoon on her piano?”

To which she replied “She isn’t practising, she is PLAYING FOR YOU!!”

And suddenly, as if by magic, noise became music, and the merciless thumping of amateur fingers on Ebony and Ivory became a labour of love and my tiredness left me. :-)

At the end of my dinner, and her repertoire, my girl turned to me and asked “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

Yes I did, very much indeed.

Thank you Darlene.

Simplicities long gone. May our hearts grow into an appreciation of life so deep we do not let the complications of life's music cloud out the intricacies of life's simple tunes.

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Posted by SK at 7:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

A restless peace...

A jarring silence...

A disturbing calm...

An abrupt pause...

A gripping stillness...

A confusing clarity...

A resigned surrender...

A blissful melancholy...

An anxious anticipation...

A nagging uncertainty...

A hesitant contemplation...

A fragmented past...

A dissonant present...

A dislocated future...

A wandering introspection...

A crystalised confusion...

A distraught clarity...

A painful healing...

A distant hope...

An infinite grace.

Posted by SK at 8:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

We stand before the cross to gaze at what has been watered by the generous shedding of blood so murderous it has become a tree of life for we who were once dead.

And we keep standing and gazing, for what is there left to say...

Posted by SK at 11:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Lord, there is something I must discuss with you. It’s about the issue of allegiance.

If I have to choose what to render to you and what not to, you don’t blame me, do you?

I mean, it’s really a hard world to live in. I have to cope with demands from many parties.

You’re not the only one I have to live for you know. I have to grapple with demands from my employers, my family, my church leaders… and then there’s you…

It’s hard trying to ensure that everybody’s happy with me. You understand, right?

I know you say that all of me belongs to you. But surely you must know that this is purely religious talk which can’t possibly apply in the real world.

If I lived as if all of me belonged to you, my life would be finished.

What will happen to my career which necessitates some measure of compromise on my personal religion? And if my career goes down, what happens to my family?

I have children to school and feed, and I have a wife who needs to be proud of me. You understand, right?

I don’t think anyone would blame me if I thought for myself. I don’t think anyone would dare blame me. And you shouldn’t too, since I’m just being like everyone else.

Posted by SK at 4:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

The grieving world continues to delude itself as the many people contained within it furiously construct new realities - countless new worlds - that they may find elusive happiness in those synthetic climates of emotional security.

Deep within, some of them grieve those things they’ve lost whilst others grieve the absence of those things they never had. Each, in his own unique way, expresses those needful things in his life. Strangely, even if many of these "needful things" are projected to take on the form of things, almost inevitably, it's a person who was once lost and caused grief.

Some say that grief is but a gradual process which eventually brings one towards wholeness, that grief eventually ceases. I beg to differ. I think the scars of our painful pasts invoke a grief which lasts throughout our lifetimes. At some point, the grief no longer paralyses us, but yet, we express that loss through certain mechanisms which generate a sense of hope just so we feel that we can perhaps cope with the grief throughout this life.

Some have grieved for so long they can’t imagine a life without it. I've lived almost all my life with people who were and are still grieving. They spend their entire lives trying to compensate that which they’ve lost. Some others even over-compensate just so they feel justified. Perhaps only then can they be somewhat convinced that this world into which they were born is a world regulated by justice. They need to know it, just so they can survive in it.

Grief produces a kind of energy, an energy which renders a certain power to the griever. This energy can either damage or develop others. Our scars can be a source from whence temporal healing is found, or they can be the ugly source from which flows the further debilitation of human life. The art of nurturing grief must be mastered creatively, craftily and delicately, lest it masters you.

Editor's Note: This is a related article worth reading and pondering over.

Posted by SK at 12:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It’s easier to be nice than to love people.

It’s easier to do kind favours that cause people to like us than to love enough to refuse helping someone fulfil his perceived need. Likeability works to our advantage.

It’s easier to remain silent without pointing out someone else’s faults than to love enough to speak with honesty and directness into a person’s life. Diplomacy works to our advantage.

It’s easier to just accept others and remain blind to areas of their lives that need improvement than to love enough to take responsibility for their personal growth. Superficiality works to our advantage.

Niceness, diplomacy, friendliness, and helpfulness can be the most deceitful ways of being selfish. Loving is never that easy, because truly and deeply loving others can sometimes be the most hideously offensive thing to do.

The two often look alike, but one seeks the wellbeing of the self whilst the other seeks the wellbeing of the neighbour. Are you loving or just being nice?

Posted by SK at 3:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

If you are a church leader, there’s something I need to tell you. You know how the church institution is almost always run by committees and boards, sub-committees and sub-boards which make decisions on behalf of the people?

I need you to know that although all the ten people on your committee may be godly and extremely beautiful as individuals, as soon as you make decisions and disseminate the results of your committee discussions, these decisions are cold and impersonal, and often heartless.

If we believe that the fundamental basis of the church’s existence is the Trinitarian community that we call “God” (and not some impersonal parliament or board or committee), the fundamental mechanism for decision-making in any Christian community must be based on relationships. Not committees and boards.

When you make decisions and issue them as “the decision of the committee” so that no single individual in the leadership will have to hold personal accountability for the said decision, people who feel they’ve been victimised can’t even begin to point out who the victimisers are. Because it’d be, simply, “the decision of the committee, not my own decision”. There’s nothing kingdomic about such self-protectionism.

I’ll tell you why committees don’t sit well with my idea of church. The Kingdom of God is not about control and authority, that’s why. It’s about the laying down of control and authority that we may live in love and equality for the love of God and our neighbour. It’s about standing on the side of the helpless and the powerless, whereas the committee is about power.

Please, please don’t say that we’re obligated to love the church whether or not it functions in a better way than this. Because that depends almost entirely on who or what you think “church” is. The committee is not the church; the committee is simply a mechanism for control and authority. The people who’ve been victimised or marginalised - they’re as much the church as you are.

Please, for God’s sake, stop functioning as committees, and start functioning as humans. People to people.

Posted by SK at 6:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

We visited her grave this morning.

It has been fourteen years since she departed. And yet, they still found themselves sobbing in the presence of her absence. There was a profound sense of fragility - an awkward stillness - in the moment. I never knew her, but I felt the loss.

The dead have left the ones they love, whilst the living keep loving the ones who’ve left.

Posted by SK at 4:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Tonight, I've just been reminded of how you've amazingly chosen to love me despite knowing the many things you'll have to surrender for the cause of the Kingdom.

Even when you know I'm unable to be the perfect presence which fulfills your personal dreams and ambitions, you readily offer yourself to this cause... without even being sure it won't break you. Sometimes I fear for you, because it has broken me more than once.

And yet, this is the path you've chosen for yourself, embracing all the perils it promises to bring. If you didn't truly love God, you wouldn't really have kept treading this path... it wouldn't have been worth your while.

Surely, you're the one.

Posted by SK at 1:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

One of the realities I've noticed in the past years of living in a community which is intent on living out the life of the Kingdom is that people who don't consider themselves part of the community tend to form all sorts of perceptions about us. These perceptions range from those which look at us with great admiration as if we're exalted heroes of the faith to those which perceive us to be the disdainful freaks we admittedly sometimes make ourselves to look like.

Either way, there'll inevitably be a time when living within intimate Trinitarian communities (like the early church did) begins to invoke a social cost. Those who previously exalted you get disappointed at just how human you can be after all, and those who previously looked at you with disdain simply persist in this rhythm of perception.

What should one do? Go around explaining to everyone what it means to live the Kingdom life, what it means to stand on the side of the marginalised (or even what the term "marginalised" actually means), and what it has cost us who have chosen to embrace this life? And then they'll just be convinced and let us work out our convictions in peace? And if we're lucky, we'll get their blessings too? One can only wish it were that simple.

Some realities about the Kingdom life can only be understood when they're lived out. They can't be adequately explained when people demand an explanation or justification for what we're doing or who we're trying to be. Conviction grows when we've tasted these realities and we know them to be true even if we have no adequate words to use in attempting to describe them.

So we keep living out the dream anyway - because we know of no higher way.

Posted by SK at 4:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Yesterday morning, I witnessed what must've been the most meaningful eucharist I've ever experienced before in my life. The irony of it is, I experienced this in an independent charismatic church using a series of liturgical prayers commonly heard being recited in the mainline churches. But it was all done with so much liveliness and meaning as the people lifted their hands, wholeheartedly saying:

Holy, holy, holy Lord,
God of power and might,
heaven and earth are full of your glory.
Hosanna in the highest!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest!

Guess what - there wasn't a single ordained leader presiding over this occasion. It was led by a group of largely lay leaders who loved the Lord and loved the people. And the result? A powerfully sacramental eucharist duringwhich many people teared and some people wept. Around the table, I even saw some people approaching their estranged friends in a spirit reconciliation just so that they could eat together at Christ's table of friendship.

So here's what gets me thinking now - many of our church institutions accord the eucharistic dispensation only to ordained ministers who're tasked with the responsibility of discharging the sacrament through mechanical recitations of the liturgies. I understand the fear of abuse if the dispensation were to be given to the lay people. But does the relegation of this role to the confined authority of an ordained minister necessarily prevent abuse and preserve the significance of the sacrament?

Who is the host of the table - the ordained minister?

There are the traditions, and there are the traditions.

Posted by SK at 1:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

We are created in the imago Dei (“image of God”). For centuries, it has been a point of debate concerning what the imago Dei really means. One speculation after another emerged from the time of the Patristics (who distinguished between the “image” and the “likeness” and posited that the image was retained at the fall but the likeness was lost) right up to the time of the Protestant Reformers (who held that both the “image” and the “likeness” are synonymous and that this image had been distorted at the fall).

Understanding this from a Trinitarian perspective – which is essentially the foundation of our Christian faith anyway – one would realise that the “image” concerns God’s Trinitarian nature. If God has existed in all eternity as Father, Son and Holy Spirit – COMMUNITY – then the impartation of his “image” must mean the communication of his Trinitarian communal nature. We are made in the image of God such that we possess the capacity and the desire to live in community.

The Fall, which is traditionally understood as a “rebellion” against God, might be more accurately seen as the severance of humanity’s life in community with God and with one another, as well as with all creation. Consequently, sin may be appropriately seen as an inability to live in community; perhaps even an aversion towards life in community. Perhaps it is true then that sin always takes place in a social setting. After all, the failure to love God and one’s neighbour involves an “otherly” dimension.

The human race has forgotten that it was created for life in community. The remnant of the distorted image which John Calvin talks about is observable in our inclination towards having a “social life” or sorts. So in that sense, we are still the “social animals” Aristotle spoke about. But the brokenness of the image is distinctly vivid in the way we draw boundaries between ourselves and other people for the sake of our own emotional, physical, and mental survival. It is also made apparent in the way we feel a sense of intrusion when others invade our private space.

We have forgotten that we were created by community for community. And we have forgotten how to live in community. The norm for communal living has shifted from intimate Trinitarian communities to one of superficial non-threatening relationships. Even for Christians.

Posted by SK at 11:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

A reflection on conversations with my spiritual guides on 29 January 2007

Money.

Wealth is the main considerable challenge in our efforts to live out the life of the Kingdom. The human inclination towards possessiveness of our wealth and the fear of insufficiency are the things that provoke our deepest insecurities when we think we may be sacrificing a greater proportion than others are sacrificing in our community.

The Kingdom life can never take place in an absence of community, because the nature of God can be truly represented only within the dimension of community life. Any individualistic claims for a solely personal faith in God is at best a convincing counterfeit of authentic Christianity.

And yet, living in community challenges our deepest values which would have otherwise remained unconfronted if we had settled for a non-kingdomic life. It is relatively easy for a Christian to live a religious life which is centred around the church institution; how Christian we truly are in the deepest core of our being is tested only when we subject ourselves to community life beyond the church institution.

When we find ourselves giving to others who seem to have very little to offer in return, and such giving has to be sustained in the long run, that's when our true selves are revealed. It's easy to say "I trust in God" or "God is my Provider" when everything I have belongs to me. But when everything I have becomes vulnerably subject to the needs of the community, faith in God's providence is truly tested.

"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven". Because in heaven, no one claims anything to be his own possession - everything is shared in harmony and everyone lives for the happiness of the other. I'm not sure a rich man would even want to find himself there.

God or mammon - we can only serve one and hate the other.

Wealth and the Kingdom - to possess one, you must disown the other.

Posted by SK at 6:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Whom do you eat with? The table is a symbol of fellowship. It is where people sit and talk with one another, telling one another stories about their lives and how they’ve come thus far in their journey.

Whom a person chooses to hang out with at the table significantly speaks of his self-understanding in terms of his social identity and status. If you’re a middle-class professional, it’s almost inevitable that you’d be seen eating with others like yourself. This is the social system under which we exist – you’re planted in a social order wherein you find others like yourself. You work with them, do church with them, and go to places they frequent. So you eat with them.

At one level, we may say that the gospel necessitates us to sit with others like ourselves because we have to “reach out” to them, since we can speak their language. We often call this “marketplace ministry”, and I don’t desire to dispute the legitimacy of such efforts.

But at another level, the gospel of the Kingdom calls for something more radical. We’re called to be found at the table with people whom others never care to sit with, to eat from plates that others couldn’t bear to share from. We’re called to go and eat with those who have less than us; not just by sharing our middle-class food with them, but by also partaking in their lives by sharing in their lower class food.

The difficult part about this is probably not so much the doing it itself – the difficulty is found in making it a preference. To sit and dine with the marginalised just because it’s a Christian duty just doesn’t quite match the ethos of the Kingdom. The call of the Kingdom is for us to love the marginalised so much that we find our own middle-class social consciousness distasteful, and eventually find our authentic existence by sharing the table with the marginalised. And to prefer being there.

Posted by SK at 12:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

This is a further reflection from Alwyn's post on how Christians often advance cliches like "Trust God" and hope you buy into what they're saying. I agree with Alwyn.

I think the easiest way to shake someone off (who's facing a complication in life) and still remain untainted in one's conscience is by spewing something spiritual like "Trust God" and "I'll pray for you". And then, to deceive yourself into thinking that you've somehow been part of the solution to this person's problem. It's false spirituality and has nothing to do with fulfilling the rule to love God and your neighbour.

When is saying "Trust God" or "I'll pray for you" appropriate? It's appropriate when:

1. You've actually wasted your time sitting down and listening to your friend's problem and trying to understand his situation. This is so that you have actually taken the time to care to know the magnitude of the problem without presumptuously thinking you have anything valuable to offer in terms of solutions.

2. You've actually found it within the recesses of your heart and mind to care for the wellbeing of this person. In other words, when you can tell yourself that you love this person or have made a choice to do so. And so, listening to this person isn't just something you do as a Christian duty. Because it isn't a Christian duty to listen. It's a Christian duty to love. And if you listen, listen because you love.

3. You're actually determined to be a proactive companion to this person in his journey towards seeking solutions. By this, it doesn't mean you must be the solution itself. You just have to be a companion to this person as he journeys towards seeking solutions. And together with that, be willing to stake your own resources to contribute towards the solution - yes, I'm talking about time, money, effort, and anything else.

If not, don't flippantly say "Trust God" or "I'll pray for you", please... it's downright pretentious. It's religious, but pretentious.

Posted by SK at 2:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

“Don’t let them get too close to you, otherwise they’ll step all over you. Always maintain a safe distance.”

Have you heard this well-meaning advice before? I’ve heard it in many contexts and given by many different types of leaders – organisational bosses, school teachers, church leaders, seminary lecturers, etc. It doesn’t shock, but it does make one wonder.

Especially in the context of the Christian faith. When Christian leaders maintain that a distance must be kept just so those under them will not take advantage of them, one needs to reflectively examine such an understanding.

For one thing, these leaders get it right that leading is a very dangerous responsibility to undertake. It is dangerous because it exposes one to the propensity of other people exploiting the leader if he is kind, gentle, and compassionate. But is the deliberate act of maintaining a safe distance the right response to this reality?

A very strong dimension of leading is found in who we are, because who we are is inevitably expressed through what we model in our lives. When a leader is cold and spatially hostile in his relationships with others, it speaks of an underlying refusal to engage in relationships which may threaten one’s sense of comfort and safety. When a leader engages with other lives with no holds barred, it speaks of the length he’s willing to go through to get connected with other lives around him.

Hurt though he may be by some people who will take advantage of kind and compassionate leaders, his struggle to rise above his injuries is the very dimension of his journey as a leader which will inspire others to be leaders of kindness, compassion and grace like himself. Judged though he may be when his flaws are noticed all too easily, his struggle to better himself challenges others to follow after his perseverance and long-suffering. Christian leaders who can’t model this virtue are perhaps better off leading in the cold hostile world where only efficiency, productivity and targets matter. They will always be seen as bosses to their subordinates, but never as superiors.

A leader can maintain a distance from those he leads. But a Christian leader, in humility and in following the way of his Master, cannot lead others without the vulnerabilities that accompany the appointment to model the life of Christ.

Posted by SK at 5:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I know there isn't supposed to be another entry after my previous one, as my blog is supposed to have been wrapped up for the year. Well, I lied. There's a fresh issue to talk about, that's why.

In the past couple of days, something happened which I'm not at liberty to talk about in detail (naturally, because everybody knows who this blog belongs to). But what happened has had a grave impact on me because I felt a great sense of injustice at being treated with a rather big measure of unkindness and disregard. What began as an unintentional disregard gradually became intentional unkindness just to "save one's face".

This hurts because I'm a normal human being with an ego the size of a planet and the fragility of a bubble. When people kick you around at their whims, that's not being treated with the dignity of a human being; it's being treated like a flower pot. When people treat you with less dignity than any human being deserves, in the name of institutional policy, that's inhumane.

Inasmuch as such things shouldn't matter because people aren't perfect and people do hurt us unintentionally, it matters and it hurts. Inasmuch as I shouldn't feel unjustified, I feel unjustified. It's like being told in the face, "You . don't . matter". I feel like a non-entity, like my personhood is compromised. I feel bullied.

But nobody is going to address such injustice, because the people who treat others this way usually sit in positions of power. They're almost untouchable. Nobody can confront them when they're rude or unkind or inconsiderate. Besides, for them, everything is seen dispassionately - "It's nothing personal, it's just an issue of practicality". It means nothing that someone got hurt in the process; it's the practical considerations that matter. Sigh.

So what did I do? I spent an hour scrubbing my toilet. Just to have time to think this issue through. In the face of injustice (whether it's real or perceived), I think it's always good to do things that bring us back to the fundamentals of life. Somehow, as I laboured manually, I came to a deeper realisation of what the Kingdom is about...

It's easy to be humble when you're treated with much respect and dignity. But when you're treated like a toilet-scrubber, scrubbing the toilet becomes a difficult chore because nobody's going to honour you for it.

In the same way, it's easy for me to pretend to be a flower pot when everyone else is treating me like a great man. But when I'm really being treated like a flower pot, behaving like a flower pot isn't so easy anymore. Because then, it makes me a valueless object of humiliation.

People who treat others like flower pots lack humility, and many of them would refuse to acknowledge wrongs they've done to their neighbour. I can choose to follow their footsteps, or I can choose to follow the way of Christ, who would turn his other cheek. It hurts so bad. But I think I want to follow Christ. So I'll just have to be a flower pot for the Kingdom.

Posted by SK at 11:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

A lot has taken place this year, and I'm just about ready to call it a year - as soon as I finish this entry, actually. The reason is, I'm leaving for Myanmar within the next several days, where I'll be almost entirely cut off from communication with the rest of the world. Yes, no internet access, basically. I'll be back only in January.

So whilst the year hasn't quite come to an end yet, my time on this blog is up for the year. This is my last post for 2006, and the first entry for 2007 will be posted up after 02 January. I don't mean for this to be a long post.

In brief, the following are some highlights for me this year:

• Began lecturing Christian Theology in Seminari Theoloji Malaysia
  
• Survived the year-long torment by an unjust and abusive leadership of a Christian organisation
  
• Established many new relationships; probably more than I've ever done in the past three years put together
  
• Became a new member of a faith community in Seremban
  
• Met my wife-to-be for the first time (March), duringwhich I didn't know she was my wife-to-be
  
• Visited the Philippines (May), and will be visiting Myanmar (this month)
  
• Turned down, perhaps regretfully, requests to visit Brazil (February) and India (October)
  
• Bought a new car (July)
  

If all goes well, my focus for the next year will be as follows:

• To complete my doctoral thesis
  
• To persist in my vocation as a minister of the organic missional church and a seminary lecturer
  
• To have my engagement at the beginning of the year and wedding at the end of the year
  
• To cultivate a married life that is kingdomic and missional
  
• To cultivate my faith and life within an organic missional community
  

In living out my life, I embrace the Kierkegaardian adage that "life is to be understood backward and lived forward". We're essentially living out a story in our lives. For me, it's a story of brokenness that was met with the restorative and creative power of the living God. For all it's worth, I do consider myself crucified with Christ, and yet I live; it is not I but Christ who lives within me.

And so, for how I've lived my life this year and how I hope to live my life next year, I offer this one simple life to the glory of his majesty, who taught me to pray:

Our Father who art in heaven,
Hallowed by your name,
Your kingdom come, your will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins
as we forgive those who sin against us.
Leads us not into temptation
but deliver us from the evil one

For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours
now and forever. Amen.

Until next year, my friends... the peace of the Lord be with you.

Posted by SK at 9:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

In the past week, I've been spending some time on the mountain, going into the aboriginal villages with a brother who works among them. Just to learn more about their lives and to observe how their indigenous pastors are functioning in their communities. Such trips always have a strange effect on me; it's usually not so much about the impact I create in those places, but rather, the impact they create on me.

I can't stop thinking about the 3 year-old blind boy who shouted with so much glee when we sang "God is So Good" because he knew that song in his language. And when we asked him if he thought God was good, he answered so affirmatively, "Tuhan baik!" I have my eyesight, and yet I've often failed to be so affirmative about God's goodness. I have much to learn about simplicity. In many ways, I trust God; but that little boy entrusts himself to God in such a real way that challenges me at the very core of my understanding of life and faith. God help me.

Increasingly, I'm also beginning to see that the seminary model we're providing doesn't cater very well for the formation of their indigenous pastors. Beyond learning theology as an intellectual exercise, they need to learn how to construct toilets, dig graves, make coffins, medicate the sick, and such - and they don't seem to be able to learn these things from the seminary. Also, much of our philosophical articulations of theology are very alien to them, as they come from cultures that thrive on oral tradition and storytelling. I hope, in the near future, to be able to work together with my friend there in his effort to establish a small training school for their indigenous pastors.

I'm still thinking through some pertinent issues regarding this possibility. There seems to be a growing conviction in me that something like this should be run by an indigenous person, not someone like me. So I'm thinking of how I can best take on a facilitating role to raise someone up from within that tribe, who has been through sufficient theological education, to run a school like that. We need to let the gospel take root within its cultural context. This is probably something urban Christians need to take seriously in our mission endeavours, lest we approach other societies with unnecessary cultural impositions.

And all these thoughts have been brewing within me just because I met a new friend, a 3-year old boy who's blind, and who taught me that God is good. I want to do something for his people because he has done so much for me.

Posted by SK at 12:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

What do you do when you feel like you're holding a vision alone, when people who matter seem only to oblige occasionally (and that's only when they remember)? What do you do when you seem to observe that the sense of self-priority and personal comfort incapacitate the missional sensibilities of a people?

To press on or to take the easier route out... the right choice is obvious, but emotional survival is bleak.

My goodness, so this is what I've been doing to you all these years, Lord? Give me the strength, that I may be as foolish as you.

Posted by SK at 3:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

She died of a congenital renal failure in May last year at the age of two. It was a devastating moment. But for what it was worth, she had a beautiful life with us.

Last night, I had a very strange dream. I dreamed of her. I saw her jumping very playfully and actively in a strange place. She was apparently very happy.

Then she turned to me whilst playing, and she spoke to me! She said joyfully, "I'm very happy here!"

Do dogs go to heaven?

I miss her.

Posted by SK at 1:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

I was having a brief conversation with Sunflower just last week. About the church. And all its religious drudgeries. And she asked me what keeps me going on despite the grave disillusionment I've faced as a result of structural oppression, power abuse, and mechanical religiosity.

What keeps me going is the reality that God doesn't seem to have given up on his church; and if that is so, then neither should I. For if I give up on something that God refuses to let go of, that would make me guilty of abandoning the dream of the Kingdom. As long as God sees hope in this Body that has now evolved into a mechanical and institutional religious entity, I can't simply rely on the assessments of my own myopic sensibilities.

And I'm constantly reminded that this church, this organic body that has now been turned into an institutional entity - which is largely powerless to lift the helpless, which sustains the life of the middle-class urbans, which gives little space to the downtrodden, which professes a religious belief but largely ignores its practical implications on its every day life, which administers the instituted sacraments but neglects the sacramental life, which proclaims the word but ignores its radical capacity for fear of inconvenience - is also MY church.

For all that it is, I am a part of it. I know God is dealing with his church, because he's dealing with me. And I'm helpless to affect structural and organisational change, save for my own capacity to be the change I desire to see in this Body. I feel pain because I'm a part of it, and I cannot be numb. Because numbness drives me into the mechanical religious life, which would render my service effective towards institutions rather than people and my devotion towards organised religion rather than God.

Pain keeps me knowing that I'm still embracing the dream of the Kingdom.

Posted by SK at 1:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I was having a long chat last night with a younger brother of mine who’s in training for the full-time ministry. The basic essence of the discussion rested upon the reality that few people today understand the most fundamental functions of a minister, which are to conduct the sacraments (together with living the incarnational / sacramental life) and to preach the authentic gospel of Christ. Even senior pastors; they’re most often taken in by church growth models and programmes focused on acquisition and retention.

The model of ministry has evolved uncritically. A pastor is now gauged by how effective he is in managing a church which propels around programmes and systems. The pastor is consciously seen as coordinator, manager, and organiser; everything but the sacramental presence of Christ among his people.

Accordingly, my advice to this brother (as it is for all my students in the seminary) was that full time ministerial work is worth it only if one has the guts to stake one’s income, future, reputation, career and security upon one’s convictions. As we enter the said vocation, the immediate expectations of our “employers” would be to run programmes, attend meetings, write reports, and perhaps, occasionally preach good sermons. If we have no inkling of our mission in this vocation and rely on a job description prescribed by others, we’ll find ourselves simply doing what others do in the corporate sector, but receiving half or a third of the income they get. Being in this vocation is worth it only if we have the guts to say “no” and to abide by a divinely prescribed role for the minister… and to risk losing it all.

As a very young minister in training in my early twenties, I was abruptly thrown off when I was given this piece of advice by an elder whom I’d looked up to prior to that occasion: “You have potential, you can become somebody. All you need to do is learn to play the game well.” As a very young hot-blooded minister, I answered in utter defiance, “If I wanted to, I could play a better game than you do, but I’m not interested in your games.”

Unfortunately, after some eight years of being in ministry full time, I’ve realised that this elder was right. And perhaps he was simply observing a reality which I myself now observe to be true. Just like any other corporate institution, the minister finds himself having potential to rise to high positions when he establishes “relations” and plays by the rules of the game. Some (not all!) of those who do it best eventually rise to become denominational leaders.

To be true ministers of the gospel, the only way to go is to be at peace with the idea of being a nobody for the rest of our lives. We shouldn't resort to playing games in the name of "calling". If we want to kiss ass and climb the ladder, might as well go do it in the corporate sector and be paid two or three times the amount.

Posted by SK at 10:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

As far as I can remember, there has never been one instance in my life as a minister when I didn't struggle with the church as an institution. I've never had an issue with the church as the Body of Christ, an organic entity. But the church as an institution is another issue all together.

People say that the church institution, after all, consists of people. The problem is, it consists of people who often lose their sense of balance in setting the interests of institutional policies against the wellbeing of their fellow neighbours. Policies and regulations are maintained for decades and centuries with no re-examination of their ability to serve the wellbeing of other fellow humans. At its worst, instead of the institution serving people, people are made to serve the institution... and this is where I unequivocally move away from institutional goals in my efforts to keep placing people's wellbeing above my possible institutional ambitions. Of course, it may often make one look waywardly anti-establishment.

While some argue that institutionalisation is necessary in order for the church to function in an orderly manner, we cannot ignore the reality of structural evil. We also cannot ignore the reality that people are often made to serve institutions at the expense of other people's wellbeing. And most church institutions have little or no self-critical mechanisms to put this right. Or rather, it's too much of an inconvenience to try to set things right. People say it's unfair to criticise institutions, since God still works through institutions. But perhaps it's more a case of God working despite institutions rather than working through institutions.

Institutionalisation represents the human need for control and regulation. It represents the human inclination to want to feel in charge. At which point of institutionalisation do we no longer deliberately acknowledge the lordship of the God we claim to serve? The boundaries are too subtle.

Sometimes, out of impatience, we deliberately create discord within the institution just so we can help God do his work more efficiently. It just doesn't work that way. God needs no help. But when God begins moving despite the institution, move along. So if you are one of those who have become disillusioned with the injustice of institutional churchlife, don't be angry at the way things are. God allows it to happen anyway because it's no threat of hindrance to his eternal purpose. He's the Head of the organic entity and no institution can thwart his purposeful plans for the wellbeing of all creation.

Remember, the Lord died for his church - the people - not for an institution. Mother Theresa said this about caring for your neighbours: "Do not wait for leaders; do it alone, person to person". Because God works despite the institution.

Posted by SK at 10:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

The story of the good samaritan rang true to me today. I received help from someone who was different from me. He's a Muslim - yes, someone from the people we often associate with the terrorists. Well, he chipped in a very big favour to help save me from some "Christian terrorists" who're after my life. What an irony.

Jesus truly knew the deceitful inclinations of the human heart when he told this story. Some people take pride in how religious they are, how upright they are in observing the laws of God. And yet when the occasion calls for an exhibition of the abounding grace of God, they fail miserably to present the heart of God as it truly is.

And then, there are others whom we think are the "unsaved". We challenge their values and worldviews, thinking that ours reign supreme. And then at a moment like this, it is they who step out of their seats to rescue an injured man when his own people - in all their pharisaical righteousness - wouldn't even bother to assist in restoring him from his injury.

What an ironic world. If we think our theology has captured the reality of God in all its glory and that it's within our jurisdiction to relegate people to higher and lesser categories of worth because of the differences in our beliefs, maybe our theology is worthless. The good samaritan has found favour in the eyes of a God who knows the innermost motivations of the human heart.

It's about being truly human.

Posted by SK at 9:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

You're doing something to me that no philosophy, no theory, no field of thought in all its splendour of abstraction has been able to do to me... you're making me feel. All throughout this life and faith journey, all these years, I've been fixated on how God must think and how we must think like him. Now you're driving me to experience how God must feel. You're driving me to a measure of vulnerability deeper than I could ever imagine I would experience.

I tread this path with deep fear and caution - not because of you - but because of what I might discover as you bring out the hidden sides of me. I can only hope and pray that these hidden sides reveal themselves to be as beautiful as the visible sides you have come to love.

I often wonder if perhaps God has given you to me not because I'm to be your pillar of strength, but rather, because you're chosen to be the bringer of strength into my life. But it's all rather illusive, you see, because you approach me with so much vulnerability and weakness. You seem so delicate that I fear I'll break you. But the miracle is that in seeking strength from me, I find myself being strengthened just enough to cover you.

With you, I feel both strong and weak at the same time. Perhaps this is reflective of just how our faith journey should be - approaching God and finding strength in weakness. Could it be that you and I are a symbiotic reflection of divine friendship?

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Posted by SK at 12:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

It's not difficult to believe cerebrally in the sovereignty of God when it costs nothing to profess that belief. It's when we are required to act upon that sovereignty - sometimes through what may seem like a passive absence of self-defence - that our deepest belief of that virtue we claim to profess is most tested.

It is when we're most confronted by our total inability to sustain ourselves and a trust in God himself becomes almost our sole means of subsistence that we can truly say, "My God, my sovereign Lord". Further to that, there's no telling how God delivers the one who trusts in him. Sometimes I tend to suspect that death can be a form of deliverance (with the exclusion of self-infliction, of course).

To believe in the sovereignty of God is most difficult if we do not believe in our total inability. Even when we are able, it's because the sovereignty of God enables us. Without a God so sovereign, his love means nothing. For a God whose love is worth depending on must be a God who possesses the capacity to also love sovereignly and express his love sovereignly.

Lord, I want to believe.

Posted by SK at 4:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Allow an aging man the privilege of some soulful chatter. I’ve turned 30 this year and I’ve yet to begin speaking much about myself on this blog. Primarily, it’s because I’ve deliberately positioned it as a platform for more reflective and theologically contributive thoughts. But today, I break my own rule in very minute measure. Just for a bit.

People measure their milestones according to significant events in their lives; I think it’s quite a common phenomenon. Of course, on a lengthier scope, I measure my milestones in accordance with my age. But on a shorter scale, I typically measure my milestones according to my educational journey. This is partially because I’ve been a formal student since the age of four, and have never for a moment stopped my formal education since. Effectively, I’ve been a student for 26 years of my life.

The last milestone I charted began in July 2002 when I began my journey as a doctoral student in Contextual Theology. Tonight, the thought that I have completed 85 percent of my thesis suddenly struck me as something terribly significant. 85 of a hundred thousand words written, and it has taken over four years so far. And I now stand at the verge of completion, with only 15 thousand words left to complete a series of arguments to support my thesis.

And much has taken place within these over four years. I’ve been places – Indonesia, Europe, the Philippines, Africa. I’ve met people - some of whom look like they’re here to stay in my life and others who have left with no evidence of their presence whatsoever. I’ve made humiliating mistakes - too ashamed to name them so publicly.

Things have changed. I have changed. I began my journey as a newly graduated seminarian, young but having experienced enough to suffer from disillusionment at the idea of churchmanship. Now I’m a seminary teacher, still rather young and still extremely disillusioned with the idea of churchmanship - but wise enough to know that I mustn’t give up embracing a hope which God himself isn’t willing to give up.

I started out with big dreams. And now, after rather many failures that have defined the past four years of my life, I’m a bigger dreamer than ever - because I gave up my own tiny dreams for something bigger. If anything, I’ve learned to look beyond myself. I’ve learned to understand that my worth as a human person is best demonstrated when I see that there’s a world beyond myself and learn to live for others.

In the past four years, many of you - my friends - have popped this question before - what about marriage? And I believe I’ve always told you, “I’m not searching for someone, so I’m not even thinking about marriage. At least not now.” It still remains partially true. The only part that has changed is that while I wasn’t searching for someone, I recently stumbled across someone. I swear it wasn’t my fault; I just never expected that depth and simplicity - two seemingly conflicting virtues - could be so beautifully integrated and embodied within one human life. But don’t go trying to speculate too much, okay? The right doses of information will be released at the right time. There’s still a long process to go through before specific names are being mentioned. But yes, there’s someone in the picture, and I do suppose that the responsible thing to do for me would be to actually start thinking of marriage. (*Three deep breaths*)

Just some thoughts lingering early in the morning to clear my cache so I can go to bed empty-headed. So what else lies ahead? Who knows? My present mission is to impart the little knowledge I have to those who seek guidance under my ministerial care. My immediate goal is to complete my doctoral thesis, to submit it, and hope to pass. And then, to move on being the simple man that I am in God’s grand scheme of life.

The winding path is bound to lead somewhere.

Tonight, I'm reminded that I'm human. Don't see me as anything less, but don't see me as anything more.

Posted by SK at 4:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

I spent half the day screwing and unscrewing the nuts and bolts of two car batteries today. One car battery was dead, and I was busy transferring the battery from this bigger car into the smaller car so that I could acquire a bigger battery for the former. So being the lame mechanic wannabe that I am, it took me half a day to get it all done and to get both the cars running.

But in the midst of all the twisting and turning, I realised one thing.

A screw musn't be screwed too tightly, otherwise it will damage the orbits of the thread, and in time to come, it'll no longer be usable. And of course, a screw musn't be screwed too loosely either, otherwise it will not sufficiently grip that which it's supposed to hold. The tension must be just right so it can hold that which it should hold, and it won't attempt to grip so tightly that it loses its own ability to hold.

And it dawned on me: isn't that just the way theology is supposed to be? Guess I make a better theologian wannabe than a mechanic wannabe.

Posted by SK at 11:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

The night was warm and there was no breeze. The entire surrounding was embraced by a strange stillness. But amidst this stillness, there was a rage in my heart as I dug the ground furiously with the spade in my hand. I kept digging with uncontrollable tears as I sank deeper and deeper with the descending level of the earth.

I was burying someone on that still night. Someone I loved very much. And it hurt me so that this person was now gone. Strangely, I had no idea who this person was that I was burying. But I was burying him/her. Alone. Wrapped in white linen, this very small person lay still by the grave that I was digging. I was breathless, whilst this body there had no breath. I was the only sign of life.

As the grave was prepared for the body to lay within it, I stopped my digging. I paused a brief moment to settle my lack of breath. And then I looked at the body wrapped in white linen. And I sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed. And then I lifted the body up with both my arms, hugged it tightly, and gently placed it at the bed of the ground. And I covered the grave with the earth that I had dug out of it.

And then I woke up. Dazed. Mystified. Grieved. I have no idea what that was about. The picture is clear in my mind, but you can't snap a picture of what you see in a dream.

Posted by SK at 12:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

Do you often meet people who seem to be interested in nothing more than small talk? They seem genuinely interested to be in touch with you, but the relationship often revolves around small talk. And even when you try to steer the conversation into something “deeper” by trying to talk about matters that matter, your efforts are flippantly ignored or pushed aside, and the small talk continues.

I sometimes meet people who seem addicted to small talk. I have nothing against small talk, especially when it’s just a matter of chilling and “wasting time” with one another, just by way of bringing the ministry of presence to one another. But I’m talking about people who seem to have a different idea of a “safe relationship”. On the one hand, they so desire to hang out with you and to be in connection with you; but on the other hand, there is something in them that they desire to protect by going only as deep as small talk. And whenever you try to fuel the conversation with something deeper, a subtle but unmistakable refusal to follow suit is immediately observable.

They dictate the direction of your conversations. They specify what should be spoken about and what shouldn’t. To them, you’re just an “object” of conversation, like a live talking machine that exists to entertain them by way of conversation whenever they need to be amused about nothing. To them, you're immaterial. Their whole lives are like a coffee table, and their conversations a way of escape from the deep realities that haunt them most.

It seems that some such people desire contact in friendship, but are jealously protective of areas of their lives that they don’t desire to open up for examination by others. But strangely, it’s precisely such people who’re often critical of other people when they do their small talk with you. They’ll comment critically about almost anyone, including you. They’re open to talk about anything, including things about themselves that they find amusing. Just don’t say something serious about them, because it threatens their sense of safety in the conversation.

Whilst having no particular aversion towards the idea of small talk itself, I do take particular offence towards conversations that rest almost solely on small talk alone. It is a waste of eternity when it’s done with no present eternal motivations.

Having said that, I do enjoy small talk with friends who can talk about both the small and the deep issues in their life journey. But I don't enjoy it with people who insist that our conversations rest only on small talk and who seem to hold "small talk" as a requisite for our friendship. They're going nowhere slowly, and they want your company.

Posted by SK at 6:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

I've just returned from a weekend on another mountain, and a exactly week (from now) before I hit the road again to head down south. The last time I ascended this mountain, I was 10 a year-old boy. This weekend, I went up and stayed in exactly the same inn that I lodged in 20 years ago. Such trips provoke intense memories from the past, and hence, propel me into extremely deep nostalgic reflections.

But beyond mental and emotional recollections, there was a sustained reflection on the life of ministry. Ever since I emerged with a more comprehensively thought through understanding of ministry, I've consistently maintained that ministry is not an activity. Instead, it is a natural expression resulting from a missional friendship that takes place within a community of believers.

Ministry isn't something we do as good Christians. As good Christians, we become friends. Yes, that's simply it, no matter how unbelievably simplistic it may sound. But then, the spiritually intimate exchanges that take place within such spiritually guided friendships are bound to result in an overflow. That which naturally overflows from such relationships without having to be humanly engineered is what I call "ministry".

When we begin to