Is There Anyone...

"Is there anyone who is thinking of me?" The poignancy of that last line from the news article cut deep into my heart. Her name is Punitha Devi. According to the report (Wall Street Journal, Asia Ed, India news - 23/9/2013), she is in her 20s and has a 2 year old son. Her husband was one of the 4 men convicted and sentenced to death for the horrific New Delhi rape and murder of a 23-year-old physiotherapy student on a bus in December 2012. Uneducated, unwanted by both her own parents and her in-laws, she faces a hopeless future alone with her infant son..."not because she is married to a convicted murderer, but because she is a woman without a husband, in her own words, 'As a widow, my honor will be lost forever.'"The worse thing is knowing she's not the only one in such dire predicament, and it doesn't only happen in India.

I haven't wept over the state of the world for a long time now. After a while, news become...well, just news; this morning's headlines fade out of memory by evening, and with tomorrow come new headlines to be soon forgotten again. In between there are a million and one things to take care of, to indulge in; like they say, hey kid, life goes on. Yes, life does go on. So we continue posting up our umpteenth breakfast, lunch or dinner dish on fb, we hash-tag our lives capturing 'beautiful moments' - sunsets, puppy dogs, coffee, vacations...the list is endless - to share around with strangers we have never met, whilst twitter (which I thought was something only birds do) keeps us updated about who is doing what, with whom, where and when. We have lots to comment on, grumble and complain about this that or the other injustice, deprivation of human rights, freedom etc ...and I don't even want to get started on politics or religion. To show what empathetic souls we are, we click a 'like' button when someone reports a tragedy. Sorry, I don't mean to sound judgmental, condemnatory, or 'holier-than-thou' (I certainly am not) but honestly, I don't 'get it'.

Like I said, it's been a long time since I wept over the state of the world, because I too have grown jaded over the years. We can become 'immune' to suffering, until or unless we get hit ourselves of coz. I remember the very first time I wept over something seemingly unconnected with my life. 10 years ago, a 'baby Christian' then, I went on my first missions trip to Cambodia. Tourists ooh and ahh over the 'magnificent' ruins of Angkor Wat. The ruins I saw were not of broken down walls, but of broken lives. At the ripe old age of 40, I saw life that I never imagined could exist on this earth. I remember a ramshackle hut on stilts which collapsed because too many curious villagers had crowded in, wanting to catch a glimpse of us 'aliens' who had come telling strange tales about a God who loves them. But most of all, I recall the children - naked, pot-bellied, filthy kids running around bare-foot, grubby fingers clutching at the biscuits we distributed. And I could only cry. I have never gone back; Cambodia broke my heart. But I have since gone on to India, where I see the same pictures of suffering humanity every time. And yes, I still cry.

But then when I return home to my nice bed in my nice house; I drive along nice tarred roads, worship in a nice fancy church, sing nice songs, get down to a nice job to earn nice (relatively speaking that is) money, the memory blurs. Now and then, when I flip the newspapers and read about an earthquake in Peru or floods in wherever which killed thousands, or yet another case of trigger-happy mad men who go around shooting people in shopping malls or kindergartens, the memory gets jolted a bit, so I say a little prayer, mostly to console myself that that's about all I can (realistically) do anyway. And I dutifully trot off every Saturday to spend 3 hours of my (very full) life to feed the homeless on the street, listen sympathetically to (more) sob-stories, say some more (little) prayers and consider my 'good job' quota fulfilled for yet another week...

And then I read about Punitha. If not for that last line, I would have passed it over as just another sad reality of someone else's life far removed from mine and filed it away in the 'deleted' folder of my brain. But those words "Is there anyone who is thinking of me?" pierced my heart like flaming arrows. And my tears flowed, because I too am a widow without a husband, I too have children (who grew up without a father), I too have worries about money, I too know what it's like to be lonely, rejected, hurt by the ones I love, I too have been young, disillusioned, I too have been caught in situations out of my control, I too am a woman. Her cry "Is there anyone who is thinking of me?" is actually the cry of all who are human, because we all have at one time or another felt exactly like her, although our name isn't Punitha and our circumstances may not mirror hers.

So I took up her cry and sent it up heavenward, because I know my God hears. He heard me 10 years ago when I was scattering my husband's ashes into the ocean. He still hears me today, so I asked Him simply to send divine angels and human servants to let Punitha know yes, there is Someone who is thinking of her, and He will surely act. I don't know how, I don't know when, but I know whom I know.

Practical realists prefer to provide the answer to the world's ills through such noble things as education, empowerment, emancipation. I was asked... so for all your praying, can you or someone out there get Punitha a job? Surely to assume that the answer to the Punitha's of the world is to provide them jobs is too simplistic in itself. Educating and feeding children and women are fine works, and should be undertaken, but that isn't going to be enough to hold them up when they are staring at the hopelessness of death . Likewise getting rid of guns doesn't make people stop murdering people, because it's got nothing to do with weapons but everything to do with the condition of human hearts.

So, nope. I can't provide Punitha (or anyone else for that matter) a job. But my God can provide her something better, something that will see her through the rest of her life and beyond, job or no job. He can heal her broken heart, He can comfort her more than any husband can. Illiterate and uneducated as she is, He can restore her dignity as a woman, her worth as one created in His image, which is independent of her gender or social status. He can set her free in spite of man's laws, custom and culture that has bound her kind for centuries. He can save her soul for eternity. If He can do all that, there is no problem for Him to provide all other needs as well. And that, in a nutshell, is the beauty and hope of the Gospel of Jesus Christ...who came, "... to proclaim good news to the poor...to bind up the brokenhearted...to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners...to comfort all who mourn... and provide for those who grieve... to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair" - Isaiah 61:1-3

These blessings , no human, humane, or humanitarian program can give to even 1 Punitha, much less to the world. It took Jesus Christ to pay the price of dying on the cross to make them freely available to all of us. People question if God is so good, why doesn't He do 'something' about the world's evil, suffering, pain; after all a good almighty god should wave his magic wand and 'abra-cadabra- away all the bad stuff so we can all live happily ever after. How little we understand of God if we think life should be as simple as that. How blind we are if we fail to appreciate that the highest good is not the provision of jobs, money, training, education, rights, or knowledge (certainly these are good) - all that man can and should provide for the betterment of his kind on earth - but the greatest good that lifts the human soul way up high is the blessed assurance that when Jesus is mine, and I am His, nothing - not poverty, suffering, persecution, oppression, evil or even death - can get me down, ever. That is the most priceless treasure to have and to hold in the human heart; and it's found at the foot of Calvary's cross.

So I cry, not just for Punitha, but for a world that, by and large, doesn't yet know or believe the truth - that there is Someone who is thinking of us all the time, who loves us so much He has already provided the only solution for all circumstances and for all time. Life - and God - is that simple, and that complicated.

"But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" - Matthew 6:33

Washing Feet

20 pairs of feet. I have never seen, much less touched, feet this close-up and

personal. Heck, with the exception of having to trim toe-nails, I have never even so much as spared a 5-second cursory glance at my own feet. The twin appendages which hold up my torso are simply the last parts to be soaped and showered down twice a day. But that day as I moved around the circle of the 20 women who called me 'boss', with basin, jug of water and towel in hand, I saw feet like I never did before. Thin feet. Fleshy feet. Callused feet. Knobbly feet. Smooth feet. Rough feet. Bony feet. Spotty feet. Plus 200 toes of all shapes, sizes and skin-tones. And I washed them all on my knees, re-enacting a scene that took place 2013 years ago, when another "Boss" had initiated a historic feet-washing exercise on His workers during (of all times) dinner.

Every Christian worth his salt knows what happened at the Last Supper of Jesus Christ with His 12 disciples, the nite before He was to be crucified to death. What a 'meal' it turned out to be. Instead of their stomachs feasting on food, it was their dirty, smelly, dusty, feet which were treated to a bath from the Master's own hands. The hands which created all life in the entire universe, hands which painted the rainbow, stilled the storms, blessed prostitutes and healed lepers, hands which multiplied bread and fish, hands which cast out demons and raised the dead...Holy hands holding yucky, human feet...no wonder Peter blanched at the thought and protested when Jesus reached him. No wonder all of them were stunned into bewilderment - what on earth was Jesus doing, half-naked, kneeling before them, in the posture of a slave doing the job of a slave? I have often wondered, what went through their minds and hearts when Jesus explained, " Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you....Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them."(John 13:14-15,17) What went through Jesus' own mind, as He went round that circle, knowing He was going to die the very next day? How could He have washed Judas' feet, knowing this was the one who was going to sell Him out to the enemy?

I have had my feet washed in similar manner only once before in my life in private, by a dear sister who felt called to do it on me. Indeed no one would do this kind of thing unless there is a very strong urging from within one's spirit to do as Jesus did. Christians don't go around grabbing and washing other people's feet just for fun or out of feet fetish. Neither is it for showing off how 'spiritual' one is. Washing another's feet is serious stuff; as serious as an oath-taking, it amounts to a sacred consecration of service before self for the person who performed the act. But it wasn't just one-sided. For the person on the receiving end, it represented a spiritual cleansing as a follower and believer in Jesus Christ as Savior and Redeemer. That was why when Peter protested to Jesus, "You shall never wash my feet,” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with Me." (John 13:8)

When my feet were washed that one time, I remember feeling thoroughly overwhelmed that someone would honor me so much. If I were somehow able to translate and transport that personal experience back into ancient history, I could never for the life of me express my sense of unworthiness at the thought of Jesus, my Lord and my God, washing my feet. It's...beyond comprehension that the Almighty God of the universe would 'downgrade' Himself so much as to kneel at the feet of man to prove and illustrate a life-lesson in true humility. The point is obvious - if He can and did do it, so must we who claim to love God. A wise man said, 'Humility isn't thinking lowly of yourself, it's not thinking of yourself at all.'

I didn't choose to wash my staff's feet, honestly I didn't like the idea at all. As a matter of fact, I had pretended not to hear the call when my heart felt the first tug from God. But as usual, He doesn't let me off that easy. First He sent a sister with a word of confirmation to prompt me. I wised up as I stared at my own towel that I had 'so happened' to bring from home that morning as a prop for our weekly drama session with the kids, which 'so happened' to be that particular Bible episode of Jesus washing His disciples' feet, where again 'so happened' I was to be narrator. When so many 'so happened' happens, I know God is trying to get my attention. At such times I have learnt from experience I better just do whatever He calls me to do, if I want to get what's good for me, even if, especially if I am disinclined to obey.

And so it came to be, by the time I finished washing 20 pairs of feet and sharing God's word as revealed to me thru that dear sister, I was moved to tears as I realized this wasn't just a very graphic object lesson and timely reminder for all of us to walk the talk of loving one another by serving each other. I was so convicted - He whom I call Lord, Savior and Master had set the example - for me first and foremost. Who am I to talk about loving and serving if I am not prepared to do what Jesus did?? It's easy to kneel before God; but to kneel purposefully before a fellow-man is quite another matter. Once I did it however, there was such a freedom in my spirit, a release from the heavy burden of and for the kindergarten that God had given me to head. I had never asked for the responsibility, I had dragged my feet over accepting this 'promotion' ever since day 1. Talk about a reluctant heart. I knew I had neither desire nor patience to do the job. But thanks be to God, 2 years down the line, now I can testify to the truth of His promise, "My grace is sufficient for you" (2 Corinthians 12:9) Without me being aware of it at all, He has grown me into the job, and shown me the way that never fails - the path of love that leads to Calvary's cross - a laying down of self for others I am called to serve - anywhere, everywhere, anytime, every time - even when the going gets tough, even if it means being misunderstood, challenged, disliked, hurt, betrayed, hated and yes, 'crucified' if need be.

I think I must be doing something right. After the event, someone hugged me and whispered into my ear, "Well-done, good and faithful servant". I tried very hard to remember who it was, but I can't. I like to think it was an angel; for how is it that this Bible verse was quoted to me when no human knew what was going on in my mind then?? The words that every follower of Christ surely longs to hear when we face our Maker. What a blessing given me - to hear them now...an encouragement to carry on serving, continue loving, and keep dying to self daily, so that I may hear those precious words again from the mouth of Jesus Himself, when I stand before Him in eternity time. Meanwhile...

I will never look at feet the same way again.

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down His life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters...Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth." - 1 John 3:16,18

DIY isn't for ME

On M'sia day, I discovered something else I am not good at - besides being 'directionally-challenged', I am lousy at DIY projects. Lost whilst wandering around the wide aisles of a hypermart searching for the elusive 'oil and sauces' lane, I spotted a reasonably cheap shelf, which I figured would be just the answer to my daughter's books overflowing the table in her room. (Fact of the matter is I could no longer 'tahan' the mess, tho she was quite happily oblivious to it, as is usual with people her generation, I gather). It was about the right size and even came with doors, which would be most handy in keeping out dust (a plus factor, considering her generation seems to think dust is something that's supposed to settle on stuff anyway). So being the generous (and clever) mom that I am, I lugged 1 DIY set back home and got down to work happily. Hallo, how difficult can fixing a shelf be, right?

I ripped open the package, sorted out all the stuff on the floor, and straight away hit the first problem. I couldn't understand the drawings on the box. I searched around for an explanatory manual; surely these things must come with one (heck, even my rice cooker had one), but there was none. The only instructions were spelt out on the box - in arrows, circles and weird lines here and there. I pride myself on my English language and my legal background. But all these were useless in deciphering the sketchings; it could have been Egyptian hieroglyphics as far as I was concerned. The pieces of wood were all marked with numbers, but they didn't match the ones printed on the box. I scratched my head; I have never been good with numbers stuff. That was the first inkling I had that putting together some planks to form a shelf wasn't such an easy piece of cake after all. But what the heck, it's just a few pieces of wood; surely I could handle that, never say die ....

Some 2 hours of sweat later, I saw the beginnings of a shelf taking shape. I was elated...hey, not bad, I can do it after all. Though I have to confess I had major problems trying to align the planks and the holes where the screws were supposed to fit, but nothing that a few good whacks of the hammer couldn't take care of, although strictly speaking I was supposed to use a screw-driver but what's the diff? Hammer gets the job done much faster and easier, right? Of coz I didn't quite anticipate that that would result in some parts of the chip (cheap is the more accurate term, I would say) board breaking off, and one back piece having a gaping hole. Anyway, that aside, finally, I was all set to slide in the doors - at which point I discovered I had nailed the racks all in the wrong sequence; the top had become the bottom and the middle were all muddled. Not to mention one back had become the front. I looked at the clock. I spent the next hour pulling apart the whole contraption and putting it back together again. By which time, though I got it right way up, all the pieces had been so whacked out of shape and alignment the whole 'thing' shook on its base. And of coz the doors couldn't fit in at all despite all my huffing and puffing and pushing and pulling.

But hey, ever the optimist, to me it looked like a shelf anyway, so it will do. I mentally reminded myself I would have to get some cardboard and sticky tape to cover up the gaping hole. My daughter had snapped a pix of me hard at work and posted it on fb; I hoped I looked a competent carpenter, though I certainly didn't feel like one. As I cleaned up, I swore to myself; this would be the first and last time I try my hand at DIY. There are just some things in life that I am not meant to do ....

Come to think of it, carpentry isn't the only thing I shouldn't attempt. If I can't even fix a simple 4-tiered shelf, how presumptuous of me to think I can fix something as complicated as life without help. I couldn't even get the first thing right - understanding the manufacturer's instructions. Confident and brash as I am, I had proceeded willy-nilly any old how, my own way, to put all the random pieces together, only to discover the puzzle in my hands had gone all awry. What looked like random pieces actually had a pattern to it all, which I had ignored at my own peril.

I venture such is life too. Ever since Adam and Eve, mankind can't be bothered to understand our Maker's instructions to piece together the 'shelf' of our lives. We substitute His original design with our own ideas, meaning and purpose, and pretty much shove Him aside as an irrelevant and unnecessary 'box'. We devise our own construction methods. Just as I opted for a hammer rather than a screw-driver, we prefer quick fix-it shortcuts instead of spending time wrestling over nitty-gritty details like faith, sin, righteousness, or salvation. In the process, our lives end up with 'holes' and brokenness where God meant to build fullness and completion. We think life is just a series of random 'accidents' that bear no significance whatsoever for things will 'just so happen' anyway, blithely ignoring the fact that there are (always) 2 sides to a coin; that perhaps the truth is actually, everything happens for a reason and every piece of life's jigsaw puzzle is meant to fit into 1 big beautiful picture according to the intention of the 'manufacturer'. Like the artist who already has in mind the masterpiece he wants to paint even before the first stroke of the brush lands on the blank canvas.

We throw away the 'doors' that would keep all the dirty stuff out, since doors are really quite dispensable - after all, a shelf can still function as a shelf without doors. So likewise we open our hearts' doors to let anything and everything in, calling it freedom. Heck, we even think we are doing a pretty good job building up our 'shelf-life' becoz well, it looks good, it feels good and that's enuf to pass it off as decent. Just like I attempt to pass off my poor handiwork.

Sure, it looks like an 'ok' shelf, (barring all the holes, chipped off corners and ugly patches of cardboard 'fillers'). But one little shake is enough to put into doubt its eventual functionability. Oh, it will hold up for a while, I am sure, though I am not exactly sure for how long. Besides, it's 'just' a shelf. If it collapses, it's no big deal; I simply go out and buy another shelf.

Not so easy with life though - there's no shop on earth that sells another life. We mess this one up, we suffer the consequences. Oh sure, it can still be 'lived'; it can still be a 'decent' life on earth. But it would never amount to LIFE as our Creator meant it to be, if only we had built according to His originally perfect design and instructions. What's worse is just as surely as my shaky shelf will be consigned to burn on a garbage heap one day soon, a life that's not built according to God's specifications will end up consumed in eternal fire not of this world. That's the unvarnished law of consequences - we reap what we sow.

I could try DIY for my life, under the delusion that I can make it pretty well on my own. But ultimately I am the one who's living a lie, because the truth will show up in the end product - a shelf isn't a shelf just because I managed to put together some planks. A life isn't a life just because we think and we seem to be getting along fine without God.

I freely confess I am lousy at directions and DIY (and I am not talking about shelves). So everyday I thank my "Manufacturer" He has already provided a map and a building plan for the road and project of my life. All I need do is choose to consult, understand, accept and follow it. I could never go wrong with something that simple - unlike fixing shelves. (Now I gotta figure out what to do with 2 "left-over" doors which are of absolutely no use.....)

"I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well." - Psalm 139:14

What Makes You Feel Good?

A newspaper quoted Robin Thicke, famous (or rather infamous) for his top-selling album which featured a video of nude models and his 'performance' with Miley whatshername at the recent MTV VMA show as saying "what's really important (about music and entertainment) is to entertain and make people feel good".... got me thinking. Hmmm, so naked bodies and 'twerking' (for those who are still in 'blur-blur'land, that's the new term coined for the duo's explicit gyrations on stage) is supposed to make people feel good? Honestly, I didn't feel at all good after catching a glimpse of it quite unintentionally as I peeked over my 2 girls' shoulders, wondering why they were giggling at the computer screen. Well, so I am old-fashioned, traditional, conservative for branding it as soft porn, but that's old aunty mentality anyway. In the light of his remark, I wondered what's the meaning of feel good actually?

So I googled the word 'good'; which an online dictionary defined in 2 forms. As an adjective, good means having admirable, pleasing/pleasant, agreeable, superior or positive qualities, morally excellent, virtuous, pious, righteous or satisfactory in quality, quantity or degree, excellent, right, proper, fit or well-behaved. As a noun, good means profit, advantage, worth, excellence, merit, kindness, moral righteousness, virtue. I strongly suspect that's not what Robin or Miley both had in mind about making people 'feel good' with their act. Etymologists tag the term good as derived from the Old English word god (with a long o), the original root meaning "fit, adequate,or belonging together." Interestingly common greetings such as good morning, good day, etc all derive from the word God; indeed good bye is a contraction of the phrase God be with you. Another quick google answer says the word good is used 809 times in the King James Bible - that's a lot of times indeed.

Yet another site defined good as very satisfactory, enjoyable, pleasant, or interesting, which I venture would be the more modern and commonly understood meaning of the word. So if I could simplify it, in today's world, feel good means I like it, whatever 'it' is. Put that way, even our house cats can 'feel good', as when any of us stroke their necks, they close their eyes and lift up their heads, as if asking for more. Lots of things make people feel good in that sense and certainly, different people feel good about different things...An interesting movie, a day out with family, ice cream on a hot day, coffee-evenings with frens, an encouraging word, a cheery smile, a surprise gift, sunrise, sunset, holidays, a promotion, celebrations, that special someone...the list goes on.

Actually I didn't know, but I am not surprised to find out that the word good is related to the word God. How apt. In fact the very first things that God created in the beginning of time He already called good; in the very first book of the Bible, in Genesis 1 itself, the word appears 7 times and the chapter ends with a declaration, "God saw all that He had made, and it was very good" (Genesis 1:31). It could be pure conjecture on my part, but I reckon good has to be tied in with God, since the original root conveys a "belonging together". But I guess these days, feeling good has absolutely no connection to any idea of godliness, being reduced as it is to just an experience of satisfaction brought about by things which please our senses. No wonder then some people can actually feel good about that 'twerking' dance.

How sad that a word once originating from the highest sense of the divine is now so flippantly used of man. Nowadays our feeling good has nothing whatsoever to do with God. Instead it's all about the little Narcissus in us; we concentrate our lives on pleasing (feeling good about)ourselves. (By the way, we all know what happened to Narcissus in Greek mythology - he literally loved himself to death.) But what God had in mind wasn't to make us feel good and it certainly extended way beyond pleasurable sensations. Quite the contrary. The highest good was brought about by an event which surely must be the epitome of bad.

I wonder what the world would be like if Jesus had confined Himself to 'feeling good' and instead of hanging on the cross,He just contented Himself with being a 'good' moral teacher. The world would have easily accepted Him as such; in fact till today, no one would quarrel to acknowledge Jesus Christ as a 'good man.' But that wouldn't have saved us. His teachings may point us to doing good so we can 'feel good'. But He didn't stop at 'feeling good' about the 'good job' He had done in His lifetime on earth. Instead He went on further to do something that, from the human perspective, is anything but 'feel good'. From all eye-witness accounts, He allowed Himself to be crucified on a cross only to arise from death 3 days later. Inexplicably, it is this pivotal event in history that ushered in eternal good - the salvation of mankind. Now that's something to feel good about, because it means no matter what happens, good or bad, no matter even that the world has got nothing to offer me whatsoever, all is well with my soul, for I am at peace, not only with man but most importantly with God; assured that in Christ, I have been set totally free to live an abundant life on earth and in heaven. And that feels real good.

'As Jesus started on His way, a man ran up to Him and fell on his knees before Him. “Good teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”“Why do you call Me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone.' Mark 10:17-18

Getting There

I thought 1 hour should be enough to get me from PJ to Calvary Convention Centre for

the final nite of the Pentecostal rally. Directionally-challenged that I am, still the brash, confident me figured it shouldn't be that difficult to get there. But it turned out to be much more than a simple drive through the "highway". You see, I didn't expect there to be so many highways, worse I hadn't factored in the horrible traffic condition at 7 pm 'out there'. So I ended up snarled in the Puchong crawl and lost my way twice, before I finally saw the signboard and the huge complex looming ahead of me. My kid would have told me off, "See, that's what happens when you don't have GPS." Nope, I don't have any niffy navigational tools at my beck and call, but God does send me 'angels'(after all I did pray for them before I started out) - 2 in fact. From a group of Chinese men who were talking by the roadside, one chap told me not to be so 'kan cheong' and just to U-turn around. When I got lost the second time, an Indian security guard at his post repeated his instructions to take care not to go 'under the bridge'. And voila, despite all the blundering, I still managed to get there just in time to watch the opening act of the team from India.

I guess finding God is often like that too. If only there was a GPS that could pin-point exactly which turn to take, how many meters to the next exit, or where there is a jam on the road leading to Him. Everything would be so pitty-pat and easy-measy, no sweat. We wouldn't have to exhaust our brains trying to figure out doctrine or get into divisive disputes about proof of this, that or the other. We wouldn't need to get all tangled up over tough questions about faith, the meaning of life and such like. No wonder so many people choose to give up on God and just live out their existence on this planet. Life is really simpler (and I am sure many can swear, so much more fun) without God. Besides, who says there is no meaning without God? I know tons of people whose life, according to them, is actually full of meaning, without God. (I should know, since I once was one of them) So, pluhlease, let's get off our 'religious high-horse' and not be so presumptuous about how others perceive their lives.

I have oft wondered why is it some find it so easy to believe yet some find it impossible to believe God. The short and spiritually-correct answer is it takes faith. Actually even the atheist has faith - that there is no God. So what gives? The Bible gives a clue in Hebrews 11:6, that "without faith, it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him".

The key then isn't faith; not everyone gets rewarded; only the man/woman who is "earnestly seeking" after God. How much "seeking after" is one prepared to do?? I went round and round for close to 1 1/2 hours on the road, all because I was determined to get to that rally. At one point, stuck in traffic, twiddling my thumbs and watching the clock in the car, I was very tempted to just give up, turn around and head back home. After all I have been to many rallies, I won't die if I miss this one, and I could still make it for cell-nite. But I didn't, because I had committed to going for this finale, out of a prior inner urging that God had something in store for me. I had skipped the previous 2 nites' rallies, but this one I knew I shouldn't skip.

As with all choices in life, we are the final decision-makers; even down to something as simple as whether to U-turn on a road. Indeed I could have turned around; my life could have gone on as normal; seemingly none the worse. But I am glad I chose to go on instead, despite all the difficulties on the road. Because I would have missed the blessing if I had given up half-way. So it is when we choose not to believe God. No big deal, it seems. But then we would never know how much we miss if only we had chosen otherwise. If we did indeed have sought and found nothing, perhaps the problem isn't with God, but with our own faulty understanding and/or expectation of God that we have created in our own mind.

When I saw the sign ahead, I was so pleased I had made it in time after all. And when I walked into the huge auditorium, to see at first sight an Indian team performing, I really felt I had 'come home'. What a joker God is, knowing my heart for India, He makes sure I 'get it' good. The place which was like a huge indoor stadium was packed. There were apparently folks from 69 nations represented in that 5000 crowd. I found a seat way up right at the back and from that vantage point, it was a such a beautiful sight, looking down at the rows and rows of people, especially when hands were raised in united worship. But it was the Word of God coming from the speaker that stirred my heart, as I am sure it stirred many others. For one so young (only 32), Pastor Daniel Kolenda preached way better than some 'oldies' I have heard in the pulpit. A white man from USA who calls himself an African because he's got Africa in his heart, where he's seen 9 million souls respond to God and countless miracles wherever he preached and prayed - exactly like in the days of Jesus - here is a man who not only talks about God, but has seen with his own eyes, known and experienced the awesome reality of God in his daily life.

What he had to say that nite however wasn't a nice sermon; his message didn't massage egos. And I guess that's why it's good. He spoke the truth; hard-hitting truth - that it's such a tragedy we go around 'pretending' everything is alright in life, when it's not. Instead of getting serious with God, we 'play games' with Him. He was talking about the church, but in reality, if we are brutally honest, everyone does it. Indeed some spend their whole lives running away, hiding from, denying or rejecting God. How sad when we who claim to know God can only pass onto others mere dogma and religion; ensconced in fancy big buildings we call "our church", having a fantastic band that plays the 'right' music, singing stirring songs and listening to sermons that sound (and are indeed) good. Like Pastor said, we can do many good things, but all for nothing. The God who is worthy to called the Almighty should surely be more than that.

Put that way, I guess I would have to conclude we really have "lost it". Jesus didn't die so I can 'play church'. He died to save my life, so that I can pass on this truth to others, so that they can be saved and in turn pass it on to still more. He rose again to give me the benefit of experiencing a new life hid in Him, without which I wouldn't be in any position to testify He is indeed the way, the life and the truth, not just for me, but for the generations to come after me, so that they would have their own experience of God and know for a fact He is who He says He is. When another pastor rose to pray for the next generation, he echoed my heart's cry all along - that my kids and their generations down the line will desire to seek and find the faith to believe and experience the reality of an Abba Father God who loves them and wants nothing more, nothing less than to bring them 'home' to Himself.

I was so convicted that when altar-call was issued, I joined hundreds of others who made their way from all over the hall, packing the front till it 'overflowed' onto the steps. Pastor didn't bother to pray for anyone by then. He didn't need to. God was in the house, and that's what mattered. I was in tears, as I realized my journey that nite wasn't about hearing a great sermon or getting into the 'mood' of a great congregational gathering - it was about getting 'there' - to the feet of Jesus, where I knelt, receiving healing for my burdened heart, fresh hope once again to believe in the goodness, greatness and faithfulness of my God. It wasn't about getting to church; it was about getting 'there' - right into the presence of God Himself.

Actually, it's taken me a long while to travel this journey, all of 40 years of my life in fact, and many times the road had seemed arduous going. But getting there has been worth it, and as the old hymn goes, there's no turning back.

"You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart." - Jeremiah 29:13