"Are you happy now?"

Thanks to my busy schedule on my side of the island, I've had no choice but to stop teaching on the other side.

A particular 11-year-old (well, the only one actually) was very sad about losing her piano teacher, and despite my efforts to find her a suitable replacement, wouldn't give up hoping that I would change my mind. Her dad even asked if he could send her to my side of the island - on which I wasn't too keen because my home piano isn't a very good one to teach on. In the end, impressed by her persistence and encouraged by her enthusiasm, I decided to go the extra mile (literally) just for her. 

When I appeared at her doorstep this afternoon, she leapt up in glee. Later, her mom asked, "So... are you happy now?"

I was so blessed that she said yes. 

Being Mom @ Christmas

It has been an intense 5 days for me.

Let's see...

Having packed up a busy month in my work year, we went away for a family trip during my Christmas break.

Traveling with a toddler can be nice and interesting but also very stressful. I think it's because I am such an anxious perfectionist. It doesn't help when your hubby is a perfectionist too in many other ways. And the toddler... is at the age of mini tantrums, battles of independence, picky eating, repetitive questions, and parental preference. ("Go away, daddy!" is the most heard phrase, I think.)

Toddler fell sick on the first day of our trip. When she's sick, she's fussy... about who wipes her nose (it has to be mummy), the kind of material we use to wipe her nose (it has to be wet wipes), the texture of her food (she spat a lot during meal times), the height of her pillow, her naps, her medicines, etc. Which made traveling even more stressful than usual. I was so worried that our hotel neighbours would complain at the noise emanating from our room, especially when it was time for Sophie to take her medicine. From her cries to our threats and bribes - we must have been audible from miles away.

We met up with my side of the family and spent Christmas with them in KL. Lovely, but I felt bad for having to chase my sister out of our hotel every night so that I could wind down. Recharging was challenging in our tiny (budget) hotel room. (At least, the hotel at Cameron's was better. We just had to pay lots more!) Washing milk bottles took forever in that tiny bathroom sink, there was no refrigerator to cool down my Coke Zero, the one and only ceiling-mounted (rainfall) shower was determined to test my water-resistance whenever I had to clean up my toddler, and the lighting was awkward so that the room was either too dark or bright. Well, I suppose that it could have been worse. I was however very thankful that my dad and sister entertained my active, inquisitive, and talkative toddler so well. She sure looked forward to spending time with them every day.

A Coxsackie epidemic broke out amongst the kids at Sophie's soon-to-be playschool and daycare. I am currently in a dilemma. Should I send Sophie, who's recovering from her flu, to school on the 3rd of January? (Edit: After discussing the situation with her principal, we are postponing her first day to February. Phew!)

I fell sick on our last day in KL. Caught Sophie's flu, I suppose. I return to work today with the dripping faucet of a nose. Of Rudolph.

Etc.

Those 5 days were a microcosm of motherhood for me. Motherhood is full of intense moments that drive me to my knees in desperation. They say that a motherhood is a blessing. I do not disagree, especially having had a miscarriage some years ago. Motherhood is a blessing indeed. But its daily costs are great. One often denies her privacy, her solitude, her dignity, her dreams, her career, her reputation, and even her health for the sake of her children. (Just think sleep.) If one continues to ask "What's in it for me?" she will be more likely than not disappointed. Sometimes, you even regret during fleeting moments of self-pity that you embarked on this journey. Even more so when you realise how inadequate you are to wear this hat. Christmas 2016 reminded me of why motherhood is yet a blessing. Consider Mary's Magnificat in the Advent passage of Luke 1:46-55 (NASB):

46 And Mary said:

“My soul exalts the Lord,
47 And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.
48 “For He has had regard for the humble state of His bondslave;
For behold, from this time on all generations will count me blessed.
49 “For the Mighty One has done great things for me;
And holy is His name.
50 “And His mercy is upon generation after generation
Toward those who fear Him.
51 “He has done mighty deeds with His arm;
He has scattered those who were proud in the thoughts of their heart.
52 “He has brought down rulers from their thrones,
And has exalted those who were humble.
53 “He has filled the hungry with good things;
And sent away the rich empty-handed.
54 “He has given help to Israel His servant,
In remembrance of His mercy,
55 As He spoke to our fathers,
To Abraham and his descendants forever.”

Motherhood is a blessing because "God has..."

Note how many times this particular phrase is repeated throughout Mary's praise for God. She underscored God's mercy in granting her the favour of (virginal) conception. She would deny her self in accepting God's call and face potential humiliation, grief, and pain. But being able to taste God's mercy was a much greater thing. God's mercy was not only for herself, the humble bondslave (v.48) - but also for the future generations who would fear Him (v.50), the humble and hungry (vv.52-53), and Abraham's descendants who had the promise of a Messiah (v.55). Of course, it's difficult for most of us to relate to the favour Mary received because there was only one Jesus Christ. Yet in similar vein, mothers can take comfort in the fact that our God-given mission is a blessing. It is a blessing because God has... shown mercy.

God's mercy is for the mother who conceives (or adopts) and offers the fullness of her gifts in service of Christ as well as the future generation(s) her children belong to.

God's mercy is for the imperfect, inadequate mother who messes up often and badly... whom He yet chose to mother the souls He entrusted to her care.

God's mercy is for the undeserving, unworthy woman - lovingly respecting her need for the meaningful bond that can only be formed with her child and her need to nurture. Yes, scientists debate on whether "maternal instincts" are due to genetic hardwiring or learned gender behaviours; but my daughter's inclination to baby her stuffed animals even while she engages in sporty activities and plays many boyish toys suggests to me that a majority of women are wired (at least emotionally) to be maternal. Please feel free to disagree.

God's mercy is for the struggling mother, the depressed mother, the exasperated mother, the sacrificial mother, the sleep-deprived mother, the single mother, the sickly mother, the I-have-no-time-to-shower mother, etc. Those who trust Him will taste and see that He is good - yesterday, today and forevermore.

God's mercy is for the society her children will enter having been raised in a home that values love, joy, and peace. Being the emotional backbone of the family, the mother empathises in ways the father often can't. Her emotional responsiveness (tears and laughter), availability and dependability enable her children to grow up into adults who likewise empathise, express, manage their own emotions, build relationships, and keep them.

God's mercy is for the generation her children will lead... for the nation(s) they will build, rebuild and disciple. One of the greatest legacies a mother can pass down to her children is the passion of prayer. It is in praying that a child knows God, His gospel, His miracles, and His heartbeat for the nation.

God's mercy is for the harvest field her children will work in (Lk. 10:2), for the earth they will salt, and for the world they will light.

God's mercy is for the community and workforce graced by the presence of mothers. Having been a music teacher for many years now, I must say that motherhood made me a gentler, wiser, more sensitive, and more nurturing teacher somehow.

God's mercy is when "from the mouths of infants and nursing babes You have established strength... to make the enemy and revengeful cease" (Ps. 8:2).


And so, dear mother, take heart and rejoice. For God has shown mercy.

Days of exhaustion

Sometimes I wonder how is it possible for one to minister or give without getting emotionally involved. It seems that I can never walk away from any poor soul having been deeply cut myself in some way or another. And perhaps, this serves to magnify the ugliness of sin and the love of God who yet forgives. My only comfort is that the darkness in my own heart meets light through such penetrating wounds. Time heals. May I know my Redeemer, Jesus Christ, in my servanthood sufferings.

It's a friend this time.

A friend on the verge of giving up on life. A terminal illness has grown too painful to bear.

How can I tell her to hold on when she is in so much pain that I barely know? No, as heartbreaking it is for me, it is not about me. And so, I asked her to let go.

O God, be merciful and come to her rescue. Catch her when she falls.

Writing for Lent 2017 over

Less than a month ago, I was asked to be part of a team project requiring me to write for an annual Lent publication for the English Methodist convention. (And so, Lent 2017 came early for me.) Since I have written a few times in the past few years, I thought... hey, no problem! After I said yes to the delightful assignment, I realised that perhaps, I had overestimated my commitment juggling skills. I had forgotten about my music teacher job... and how much it occupies my days like never before - planning, teaching, reevaluating lesson plans, preparing students for the year-end piano concert, learning myself, and practising the piano. Also, I will be traveling around the time my 8 essays are due. Eeeks.

Thus began 2 weeks of frantic I'd-better-begin-this-early-or-I'll-be-in-big-trouble work. It was my job and Sophie that occupied me during the days and my essays in the nights. Exhausting, but well worth it. How satisfying it was to return to this part of my mission on Earth; I could certainly feel God's pleasure while I wrestled away with the sentences and words. How wonderful it is that I finished well before the deadline too - and even had a week to edit my drafts! God be praised.

I, of course, had the best prayer warriors joining me on my writing adventure - including my daughter! To all who prayed, thank you!

Graduation anniversary

Exactly 8 years ago, I graduated as a doctor.

5 years in medical school is definitely not a waste of time and money as I often bemoan; it's also a sort of unnecessary guilt that some others often reinforce (without meaning to, perhaps). And so I am writing this as a means of self-encouragement mainly.

 
I did get into med school thinking that I'd turn out to be a doctor - particularly, a paediatrician who puts smiles back on children's faces. Think, Patch Adams - maybe minus the clown part. (I'd make a horrible clown!) I dreamed of setting up a children's hospital that looked like a cross between a hotel and a funfair. For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a doctor. Diseases and the workings of the human body fascinated me. I yearned to gain understanding, to empathize, to cure. And so, I worked hard to qualify as a medical student. I made it. To some, an enviable position, perhaps. To me, it was a dream come true, by God's grace. (From where else should my strength come?) Little did I know that the dream would grow wilder with time.

I was, however, the medical student with an illness. By the time I began first med, I had been ill with eating disorders for many years and no doctor could cure me. It was no fault of theirs, I suppose. I was the problem - resistant to treatment in so many ways. Co-morbidities, perverse incentives to remain ill (and an ego-syntonic pursuit of a malignant lifestyle), drug intolerance, distrust toward doctors, and etc. Seeing specialists was becoming too expensive for my family anyway. The only relief for my struggles, destructive as they were, was found in my grand tour of love when I joined a church who held their weekly meetings in a rented cinema hall at the Irish Film Institute. I'm not talking about mushiness, heart shapes, and showy hugs. There was often tears and rebellion (on my side) - and yet, forgiveness and acceptance. From warm picnics to serious Bible discussions, my tour packed in an incredible number of mind-boggling reasons to pursue the healing and freedom I had always rejected. There was always someone who spoke a loving word, someone who offered me a shoulder to cry on, someone who ripped the veil blinding me from the truth, someone who encouraged me to return to making music (because apparently, I was rather good at it, a diamond in the rough), and someone who rebuked me whenever I devalued the life God had given. Surprisingly, these liberating experiences (at the core of which God is) helped me most with my illness. It just goes to show how limited the medical science is in restoring a patient to wholeness. The medical science, excellent as it is in diagnosing and treating physical pain, tends to leave out the spiritual aspect of life - the very core of the human person.

If you are wondering... yes, I did recover from eating disorders. I don't qualify as an eating disordered individual anymore. Not according to the DSM-5 at least.

As for medical school, a turning point came during a down period in my second year.

There was a sudden financial crisis back home and my poor dad couldn't afford to pay for my school fees as well as the high living expenses in Dublin. I wondered if I should give everything up and return home. After all, I didn't think that medicine would miss me that much. It wasn't like I was the top student or something. Thankfully, God intervened. During a Bible study class one Saturday afternoon, our student pastor, Mike, asked: "If money wasn't an issue, where do you see yourself in 5 years or 10 years time?" He told us to pray about it. I didn't think that it was that hard a question until I sat in the dark of my room that night, trying to imagine the future. It frightened me to realise that I wasn't as attached to the idea of me being a doctor as before. I thought, perhaps it could be due to my worries over the financial crisis or the difficulties I faced studying medicine. Perhaps, I had been unconsciously searching for an escape route. I had also grown to love church work; having had many opportunities to be involved, especially in the areas of music and discipleship. I was drawn especially to people who were hurting in their hearts, disillusioned eating disordered individuals who had relapsed for the umpteenth time, and yet, children. These were the things that made (and still makes) me tick.

But why couldn't I have arrived at this point before coming to Dublin? So do I now pack up and go back now? And maybe, enroll at a (hopefully affordable) Bible college? Was the financial crisis supposed to be a signpost that pointed me away from medicine? But I couldn't bear the thought of having to leave.

While my Bible study mates (who were my classmates in med school) told Mike gleefully the next meeting that they saw themselves as full-fledged doctors, I confessed heavy-heartedly that I saw myself as a pastor. To my utmost surprise, Mike said, "Ah, I knew this was coming. I knew it!" However, Mike (and a few other leaders whom I trusted) wisely advised me not to quit medicine immediately. Moving in the new direction too hastily would lead to trouble. I needed time to pray about it, to think about it, to be sure, to be very very sure... and so, why not pray for funds first? Unless God meant to close this door, He would provide my school fees.

He did. More than funds to sustain me through the remaining years in med school, there was a lot of grace and strength to endure the psychological hurdles every medical student faces as well as the challenges of not seeing oneself as a doctor at the end of all the hard work. (Much harder than I thought.) My inclination toward the pastoral ministry continued to grow. I continued to pray and read my Bible... and by the time I graduated from med school, I was ready to pursue a second degree - a theological one - in order to transition to a less green field but only because it grows purple grass, so to speak. Dad's heart softened (he wasn't happy about me not becoming a doctor, initially, and I understand why) and he gave me his blessing to proceed. Subsequently, I studied for another 5 years in the seminary - and God provided again. Dad didn't have to pay a single cent this time.
 
There is nothing wrong (and everything right) with being a Christian physician/practitioner by the way. I know of a good many who have chosen to bring their faith in Christ and their clinical practices together as an integrated whole. My obstetrician is one of them. However, I am me, with my unique set of gifts, passions, abilities, life experiences, and personality... It was my personal conviction to walk down the more unconventional path of making my medical degree (and the myriad of skills I learned from 5 years in medical school) work for me in the so-called peripheral but no less important fields in society... so I chose to do so. An understanding of pain as well as the human body and mind helps me to be a better musician, artist, educator, writer, theologian, pastor, and mother. I would also like to think of myself as playing supporting roles to the medical practitioners whom I was to join - reaching out to people like me who are too distrustful of doctors. What I do now doesn't earn me as much money, but fulfills me all the same, especially when I still get to put smiles back on people's faces, children included.

And Dublin. What would my present and future be like if I hadn't gone there?

Divine appointments

Eve of Christmas eve.

Had coffee with a friend at the mall this afternoon. Apparently, something I said turned out to be a much needed bit of affirmation for her (from God) with regard to a major, life-changing decision she had been praying about the whole of Advent. Phew. What a privilege!

And then I was blessed with the opportunity to bump into the very person that I have wanted to bump into for some weeks now. Yes, I actually prayed that God would let this person appear somehow... so that I could be certain that I had not been an offense to him (and that this person would forgive me if I had offended him with my words and actions during our last encounter). A case of too much introspection on my part? Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, God answered my prayer. While it was a little awkward at first, we ended up chatting about life. Our kids. Our careers. We moved toward the topic of Christianity because I had to divulge my theological training and work. And I got to share why there was no turning back for me after I'd believed in Jesus. (He is not a Christian although he would really like Jesus to speak to him.) While the R&B songs blaring in the background were a terrible distraction - I kept losing my train of thought while I spoke - I thank God that this person did listen and take an interest in what I said. It is also nice to have a new person to pray for.

One of the best afternoons of the year for me.

To be kind is to think

My melancholic nature makes me sympathize deeply and empathize easily with people.

Tell me your sad story and I might cry with you.
Tell me about your "horrible boy friend" and I might encourage you to stop seeing him - even if you were also in the wrong.
Tell me that you want to run away from home - and I might feel so much of your pain that I help you to run away.

Because I wasn't used to letting logic into the picture when the sympathetic emotions were running high, I got conned. I became emotionally attached to the people I was listening to. I was haunted by certain people who rejoiced that I was a kind dumping ground for their negative feelings, their aimless complaints. And I was stuck in years of being truly, madly, deeply "in love" with guy friends who had no other intention but to confide their troubles to me - and were certainly never going to reciprocate my feelings. Sad but honestly true.

Hands up for those of you who can relate to this?

Being a mum is toughening me up. While it used to be hard to not give in whenever my daughter cried/whined in protest to my boundaries, it is getting easier to recognise that her temporary pain and displeasure will do her good in the longer run. While I feel so painfully sorry for her (hearing her cry is like getting my heart stabbed), to be kind is not to immediately remove the boundaries that I had set, but rather to think. What kind of harm am I subjecting her (and myself) to by gratifying her wayward inclinations? What kind of person am I raising her up to be? Will my lax parenting methods cause Sophie to question my love and acceptance for her in the future? After all, a father (and a mother) disciplines the son (or daughter) whom he/she delights in as a child (cf. Hebrews 12:6).

Being a mum also changes the way I listen to people. Not necessarily in a heartless, detached, emotionally-absent way. But I try to think, to seek understanding a little more - and not allow my emotional responses to another's pain dictate my words and actions too much. Because it is better for you and me. So please don't get upset with me if I don't respond the way you want me to respond - even if you had to say, "God told me..." ~ Or if I decide to point you to a more objective perspective. Or if I say no. It doesn't change the fact that I care deeply for you.

Guess I had to learn it the hard way.

Regarding the City Harvest Singapore trial verdict

Took some time off my work to get this off my chest.

After many years of investigation by prosecutors, the news finally reads:

"Six leaders of City Harvest Church have been found guilty of misappropriating S$50 million of church funds and falsifying the church's accounts to cover up their misdeeds."

The well-known founder and senior pastor. One deputy senior pastor. Two investment committee/board members. Two former finance managers.

Documentary evidence demonstrates their guilt. The justice system was put to test, and justice was served. Whether or not the pronounced crimes were justified, dare I say it, in the eyes of God, the courts have ruled. The prosecuted cry persecution. They will appeal. To faithful supporters, they are martyrs. Fervent prayers are being offered. To many others, they are guilty as charged. To the rest, we are unsure of what to think.

I am a former church member.

While I left CHC for personal and geographical reasons - I mourn. In fact, I am greatly affected by the news.

After all, it was in CHC that I learned what it meant to love God and love my neighbour. And not merely build my church. No doubt about that. No satire. I was an attendee while I was in the depths of my eating disorders. I could have killed myself. It was the leaders who led me to love reading my Bible, supervised my after-college mealtimes whenever they could so that I would neither binge nor purge (nor ingest some lethal cocktail of chemicals in my depression), talked me out of my self-harming tendencies, and encouraged me to write for God. I can never forget that. Nothing can change the fact that CHC was family to me within the bigger, universal spiritual family I belong to.

I have nothing against those who contend that they were indeed guilty. To be fair, many have written reasonable analyses of the controversy. If you ask me, I too suppose that the guilty are guilty. Facts are facts. I certainly do not condone the misappropriation of funds even for charity purposes, and that applies, whether you are a televangelist, superstar, or prime minister. Neither do I, the lavish lifestyles that the leaders were said to lead in the name of ministry, prosperity doctrine, and what have you. But I am just... pained, not to mention, shocked and appalled by the triumph of some. Many. Fellow Christians. Their smug, condescending "I always knew that they were the devil's advocate" remarks, and their self-righteous celebration of CHC's downfall. "Christianity in Singapore (and Asia) will take a really bad name thanks to these sheep in wolves' clothing," one expressed. "How can the church members be so brainwashed?" exclaimed another.

(Here, I am suddenly reminded of a friend's all-to-wonderful rendition of Sun's "China Wine" in my face when the controversy flared up a few years back. I laughed along, but I felt sorry for laughing later.)

But really, so what if you were right?

What would you gain if CHC, under its leadership, failed?

Does the CHC saga under our scrutiny disqualify or nullify every past work of God's Spirit in their midst as well as through the church?

Has CHC never done any good?

I guess in mocking our fellow hurting Christians for their "foolishness", we forget the Bible's position in 1 Corinthians 12:26 on how dependent we are on one another within the Body of Christ. When one member suffers, all members suffer with it; when one member is honoured, all the members rejoice with it. How can the other parts of the Body rejoice with a "serve you right" attitude while one part is hurting? (Or maybe self-destructing.) Sure, sin needs to be confronted; those asleep should be aroused; false doctrine should be brought to light; lies should be exposed. But the Bible also says that "if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness..." (Galatians 6:1) Where is the spirit of gentleness in gleeful celebration of another's folly proven? Where is the love? The same verse reminds us that we are not exempt ourselves from temptation and sin (and our secret desires to live lavish, and for some, glamorous lifestyles), so look first to ourselves. Have we never been concerned about our own pockets? Have we never treasured idols?

Furthermore, what are we demonstrating to the watching world regarding the power of the Gospel of Christ? What are we trying to prove to the world by spreading a certain church's shame on social media that is so accessible to the public? I think that tragedies far greater than the guilt of the six (or more) so-called "sheep in wolves' clothing" are our disunity, our fragmentedness, our individualistic approach to Christianity, and our unlovingness towards each other. We give a bad name to Christianity - and not just CHC.

Perhaps then, a more vital question we should be asking ourselves is this: What can we learn from the CHC case with regards to the transparency systems within our own churches, our stewardship of church funds, our preaching, our ministry motives, our leadership and discipleship of our church members, our successes, and our failures?

Theological studies, anybody?

Yes, perhaps CHC's public statement might be unapologetic, defensive, and would appear to most outsiders as outrageously deluded. However, what caught my attention was this: "In spite of these challenges, City Harvest Church has an unshakable calling from God...." I would like to think so. In Christ, there is forgiveness for the repentant - and hope. CHC began well. I hope that they will finish well too.

Keeping CHC in my thoughts and prayers.

Indispensable

So, I've heard...

...that we are not indispensable to the ministries we do. Never indispensable to the growth of God's Kingdom on Earth. They say.

In other words, God doesn't need any one of us in His enterprise of saving the world. However, He mercifully and graciously calls the keen among us to His mission of turning individuals, families, cities, and nations to Christ. He owns our ministries. Not us. There is neither place for self-promotion or self-deprecation.

To a certain extent, I get it. As consuming, challenging, and S.H.A.P.E. compatible ministry might be to us, ministry is not about us. Neither is it our identity, prestige or reasoning yardstick.

(S.H.A.P.E. is the acronym for Spiritual gifts, Heart, Abilities, Personality, and Experience coined by Erik Rees in his book which proposes that one might live the life he/she was meant to live if one knew his/her S.H.A.P.E.)

Yes. But for me, it is also a no. After all, ministry is not merely a production line; it is more often than not about building relationships with the people you minister to. The minister is not merely a Kingdom worker; he or she becomes a friend. The minister is family. He or she fills a place in hearts that nobody else can fill. (Are any parts of a body not indispensable anyway? Even the appendix matters.) And so, certain staff losses hit the church harder. Losing a missionary on a hard-pressed team leaves a big hole to fill. Ministry goes beyond the four walls of the church. A Christian leader who endorses injustice, dishonesty, or wickedness gives Christianity a bad name. The death of a devoted wife and mother devastates her family like nothing else can. I was one of her children.

I struggle to hold this dialectic in tension. On one end of the dialectic, indispensability. On the other end, everybody is not indispensable. And so: Complacency vs. stress and burnout. Indifference vs. guilt and self-condemnation. A purpose-driven life vs. a purposeless life. Been there, done that.

Now, as one who is still sort of in the (church) ministry but not really, I struggle terribly. Of course, you could say that this is the season of mothering a very young child and that should be my "ministry" now. My focus. I certainly don't necessary disagree. But, while part of me feels relieved that I am not really needed in my church as a minister (in the sense that my taking a break doesn't really affect the way things run), another part of me feels like I am expected to bear some ministry fruit, having graduated from the seminary - and honestly, there are needs aplenty. Part of me knows that I lack the capacity to get too involved in church ministries right now, but another part of me thinks that I am not pushing myself hard enough and giving too many excuses. Part of me is mindful that God is gracious and knows my limitations; another part of me feels like I have disappointed Him. I am getting better at saying NO to ministry opportunities (to be fair, I couldn't muster up enough mental and emotional energy to attend music rehearsals and stuff). I even turned down my nomination as a CE committee member last month.

Sometimes, I don't even know what I am doing in church anymore. Besides running around in the creche.

And gosh, what would the people at church think? That is beside the point. It's what God thinks that is important. Who cares what people think, right? Right?

Identity. I need to ascertain my identity in Christ. I am not merely a servant. I may not be the people's minister (in the usual sense of the word). But I will always be a child of God.

This is the journey that I have decided to embark on from this day forth.

Extra Advent writing assignments

One of our team of writers suddenly fell very ill and his assignments were distributed amongst the rest of us.

I suddenly have 3 more Advent articles to write. Well, 2 now, since I just completed one today. An exhilarating work. I will never look at the genealogies of Jesus the same way again. Not sure how well my reflection will sit with readers though...

Work, a preaching service last Saturday, and meet-ups with friends aside... I have been feeling a little down and worn out lately. Heavy-hearted and disappointed by the randomest things and people. Envious of those who have the things that I want so much and yet, do not have. Resentful and vulnerable. Escape beckons. It promises greener pastures - which is why He has to MAKE me lie down in green pastures (Ps 23:2). These green pastures - they do not look green to my eyes for now. I hope that I would see them differently some day. Perhaps, I need a change of perspective. Those eyes of faith - have they grown dim? Open - no, reopen the eyes of my heart, Lord. 

Well, I guess it's human. And it's OK not to be OK. 

But how long, O Lord? Come, Thou long expected Jesus.

A blessed experience

Yups. So I preached in my church (evening service) on Sunday. It was my first time.

God was very gracious and merciful to help me. 

I had a rough week leading up to Sunday and consequently, drove to church on my own, tearful, moody, and a ball of nerves. (Sophie was still having a diarrhoea, so I made the hubs stay at home with her. How I missed them!) My laptop couldn't connect to the projector - and so, the visual person, SH, had to help me change slides throughout my sermon. Thank God for the foresight to print out a copy of my preaching script so that SH could read along and change slides at the appropriate parts! In the middle of my sermon, the LCD projector went on strike. Murphy's Law. Despite all that, Zephaniah 3:9-20 was preached, I didn't feel too scared, the people gave me the most encouraging feedback, and so, I rejoice.

To all who have been praying for me, thank you!

Preaching this Sunday

Am I being too shallow for getting my knickers in a twist over what to wear this Sunday?

I think I need a new preaching wardrobe.

Anyway, please pray for me. Sophie had a bad fall off our bed on Wednesday and is now down with an unrelated diarrhoea and consequently, painful nappy rash. (Every nappy change is a torture for us as well as for her.) I am as distracted as can be. But may God be glorified through all these happenings. May His power be made perfect in my weaknesses.

Thank you, prayer warriors!

Preaching this month

So I finished writing my 7 Advent articles, and I am now back to preparing my sermon for the 14th (Trinity, S3) and 27th (Sg. Petani).

Nervous and thankful for the privilege to be behind those precious pulpits! :D God help me.

On a blogging hiatus and some updates

Oh wow. So I haven't been blogging for a week. On some kind of blogging hiatus, I am... what with Sophie recovering from a cold, my milk supply depleting fast (I have been pumping more frequently but it doesn't seem to help - maybe it's a bit too late), and my work taking up a huge chunk of my awake-and-free hours.

Having written 6 out of 7 articles for the Advent publication which I said I would write for, I decided that I will only blog Advent when it's Advent, in order to avoid confusion to those who go along with the liturgical calendar.

Well, like a dear friend said, Christmas comes early for me this year. Meditating and writing on the meaning of Christmas so early in the year is strange - but I appreciate it, especially while I am being tried in every sense of the word. Christmas is not just about reminiscing the crib in the manger, angels we have heard on high, and jubilant shepherds. Neither is it merely an affair of Christmas trees, giving presents, and singing carols. Rather, it points us toward a coming reality - when the Heavenly Christmas Celebrity returns to vindicate God's sons and daughters of whom He is the firstborn, no longer as the baby in the manger but a victorious warrior, glorious and exalted. In light of that eternal Christmas Day, we brave our storms, rejoice in our exile, and remember to love even when it is the hardest. People say that Christmas should be every day. I know what they mean, but I don't really agree. I honestly don't want every day of the year to be like the 25th of December (or Christmas Day would cease to be special). However, I would like my anticipation of Christmas to not only encompass the festivities and ambience but also something more eternal. I would like to anticipate less passively and more actively in the sense of rejoicing in the turmoils of life. It's really hard - and I am more down than up nowadays - but yeah. God help me.

Anyway, I am wondering if I should start a new blog where I would be able to blog more specifically about Sophie and motherhood. Or if I should continue with what I'm doing here on Woollylifestock. What do you think?

New assignments for May-July

As I am part of a team of writers who are writing devotional articles for an Advent publication this year, my blog will feature my musings/studies on Luke 1 in the coming weeks. This would help me sharpen my perspectives, translate my academic work for a non-academic audience (if needed), and write more succinctly in light and context of a broader readership. As usual, any feedback and every prayer will be appreciated much.

Well then... I've got 7 articles due in mid-July. Wish me luck, folks! 

Future assignments

After a short maternity break from ministry (with my baby is reaching 10 months soon).....

... I am returning to my writing and preaching.

Our pastor spoke to me yesterday (with my hubby grinning in the background) and we explored the possibility of me standing in the pulpit more often in the future. Yikes. The thought of it both excites and terrifies me. I've got to admit that I'm a little bored and restless after having not worked my brains to a mush for so long.

Without a doubt, this does mean that I will have to be more disciplined in Word study, journaling and prayer from now onward. Your prayers are appreciated much. <3

Reblogging this: Old Insecurities (by Adeline Oh Velarde)

Reading the blog post of a missionary and fellow blogger today brought such a flood of emotions that I totally had to reblog it. 

Such encouragement, Adeline. Thanks for sharing your heart; I could truly relate... especially to this part:

"In comparing myself, I was actually belittling the Lord. I pray and ask Him to give me His creativity and ideas every time before I start working because on my own, I don’t have much to offer. So, when I wonder if I am good enough, if I make the cut in comparison to others, I am actually telling the Lord that the creative ideas He has put in me is not as good as those of the people to whom I compare myself. And I am looking for the approval of men/women instead of realizing that the Lord has strengthened me to do this creative work..."

Missions project ends

A picture from the last batch 

I am so relieved that we are completing work on our missions project soon. Thank You, Lord!

Exhausted, I am.

Drawing in this very season of my life has been challenging, due to my state of mind as I wrestle with inner conflicts, mood swings, shifting priorities and stuff. I really don't know what could have kept me going if it weren't for the strength that the Author of our project availed me as I chugged through His Word (I am still in the Gospel of Matthew after 5 months, haha). I wonder if I will ever move on from being so jaded, and I guess I will, but I am thankful that He has enabled me to finish working on the project, in order that there could be a closure to this remnant of the previous season that has complicated my moving on in so many ways. No doubt, it has been a good experience while it lasted and I am comforted that my sacrifices would benefit the beloved little children who read the books that my team worked on - but boy am I glad that I am done, just when I was getting restless!

About half a year has gone by since our little sweetheart was born. In 4 days time, Sophie celebrates 6 months over. I, as her often-clueless, way-to-hard-on-myself mom am excited for a break from the stressful unease of pending assignments so that I can experiment with offering her solid food in the coming month.

Ok, maybe not what you see on the plate...

Back from KL/Subang ~ and under house arrest...

Now, I am officially an SAHM - i.e. Stay At Home Mom.

I'll take this SAHM thingy as my main ministry for God's Kingdom for now (and many, many more years to come) - a primary calling which I received since I was little and revealed to few. I prepared for my SAHM role by um.... studying medicine and theology. :X ~ I must sound like a confused freak.

Never mind.

Anyway, my parents-in-law have left for home - and today saw me running around like a deranged orang utan - round the clock. Washing milk bottles and pump parts, doing the laundry, changing diapers, feeding baby Wong, burping her, cleaning up spills and spit-ups, pacifying the crying baby Wong, trying to get my drawing/illustration work done (unsuccessfully), expressing milk (via pump - and pumping with loads of adrenaline and stress hormones coursing my veins too, since Sophie was wailing while I was pumping and was therefore unable to be with her)... you name it. It felt a little like the Emergency Room rotation back when I was a medical student!

Of all days, Sophie had to be extra fussy today.

I was exhausted (not to mention lonely) - especially since we just returned from our trip yesterday evening. Couldn't have been more relieved when Ben came home from work! However... it was kinda fulfilling, I must say.

Praying that I would be able to get the hang of being SAHM soon.

Sophie's diaries: 11 weeks

For the record, I, Sophie's mom, will be help-less from the next week onwards.

My parents-in-law are leaving after spending nearly 3 months in our humble abode - helping us with their darling grand-daughter, housework and meals (dinner). I am hoping that I will be able to manage without resorting to the baby-sitting offers some have kindly availed us - what with work assignments coming in. You see, I am the stubbornly independent mother. It's a much nicer way to describe my pride.

However, I shall not speak too soon. Who knows? I might be grabbing up one of those offers once we return to our emptied nest after our family getaway to KL... Speaking of which, this will be Sophie's longest car journey yet. She has passed the 3-hours test so far. She gets to graduate to the next level - 4-5 hours in her car-seat next.

Good luck to us!

I am looking forward to seeing my side of the family again.