The Heart of Christmas

I didn't feel like putting up the Christmas tree this year. It can be such a hassle, lugging it out of the store, hanging up  all the stuff and having to dismantle it all down again.  I think probably only the cat appreciates the tree, for it gets such a kick out of it, clawing at and knocking off the baubles everyday. Besides I saw no point in such labor, for the children have long since grown out of Christmas trees. Worse, they have even grown out of God. I am just thankful at the very least, they still pander to their mother's whim to accompany her to church on only 2 occasions a year; Christmas and Easter. So I didn't want to bother about the tree, even when my eldest offered to do it up. I am thinking, what an irony - the self-proclaimed  atheist in the family is the one who puts up the tree and the one who is playing Christmas carols on her phone.  God is funny alright.

I didn't even feel like going Christmas shopping for myself. The children of course have already 'received' their gifts -  they had done their own shopping on their own time with my money, obviously. As for me, personally  I don't really fancy walking for hours looking at rows upon rows of clothes, shoes, bags and all the paraphernalia of a typical woman's wardrobe. I get tired very quickly of trying to decide if this, that or the other is a better buy.  Someone said,  anything in your closet you haven't worn in 3 years should be thrown out.  I am still wearing stuff from 5 years back, so I guess I am not exactly an active consumerist. Thank goodness the economy doesn't depend on people like me.

An old fren I was lunching with had nothing good to say about that, or anything else for that matter. Which going by the results of some poll I read sums up just about how everybody else feels too. The commonest description of the current times,  at least in the Chinese language, was 'bitter.'  Life, apparently, isn't rosy at all; in fact it could get depressing especially for people who are used to tinsel-laden trees, santa claus, reindeers, carols and all that 'Christmassy' jazz. A neighboring country has banned the use of such 'religious symbols'. Heck, even sending Christmas greetings can get you into jail for 5 years of your life.

If you think that's bad, it can get downright nasty. In some countries, a Christian runs the risk of being killed for daring to believe in Jesus Christ as the only Way, the Truth and the Life. Pew Research statistics apparently indicate that Christians faced harassment of one form or another  in no fewer than 151 countries worldwide (there are only 196 countries in the world by the way). Of course Christians aren't the exception in being a persecuted minority. Happily, at the other end of the pendulum, we have another neighboring non-Christian country who deployed nearly 9000 cops to protect churches over the Christmas period. And right in our own backyard, we have a Sultan who big-heartedly calls for his subjects to celebrate other communities' festivals.

 But having said all that, it's sobering to think that I may one day be staring down the barrel of a gun if I insist on proclaiming Jesus as God. Am I prepared? I would like to say yes, not because it's the 'spiritually-correct' thing to say. But because it's the right thing to do, since Jesus has set an example for me and all who call themselves by His name in letting people who misunderstood, disbelieved, hated and rejected Him to kill Him. Not out of suicidal tendencies or weakness or inability to fight back for His rights or His life, but out of love.

A love that can't be snuffed out, ever. Not by persecution, not even by death itself. A love that's totally incomprehensible to human minds. A love that when freely embraced by even one heart can, not only change that 1 person, but shake an entire world over 2000 years and still counting down the line of time. Christmas was when that Love touched mankind in a visible, experience-able relationship beyond the trappings of mere religion. So that all who choose to engage in it can stand unshakeable in the knowledge of a firm faith, hope and love even in the midst of the most terrible and horrible of circumstances, whatever that may be, come today or tomorrow. That's peace beyond human understanding, joy unspeakable whose source is love divine.

Take away the tree, the songs, even the church itself, but I can and will still celebrate. Because all those are not what Christmas is about, they are definitely not what I need as a Christian. For it's not Christmas but Christ, the only reason for Christmas, the One who lives in my heart, whom I celebrate. And that nothing, absolutely nothing, can steal, kill or destroy.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord... Romans 8:38-39 

Published MMO 24/12/15

It's True, All of It

What's there not to like about Star Wars VII? When I booked the tickets, I was muttering that it better be worth the hefty price for our family of 4. Well, it was indeed a delightful 2 1/2 hours romp, right from the word go.  I am not exactly a die-hard fan, but I do remember  the dashing Jedi Luke and the famous line..."May the force be with you." What with all the hype about the latest, of course I had to catch The Force Awakens.

In my mind, Han Solo was still the swash-buckling hero and Princess Leia was still wearing the white flowy gown with 2 tightly wound-up hair-blobs at the sides of her head. Well, that's really space-aeons ago... how they have aged, with white hair, eye-bags, wrinkles and expanded bodies. That's reality check, whether it's happening in a Hollywood movie or in the humdrum routine of time passing us all by. Even now, we are counting down to the end of 2015 already. Where did all my years go? I don't feel any older. But as the saying goes, so much water has passed under the bridge of life, even for the Star Wars team.

Now it's a whole new generation taking over. So there are new heroes and new heroines. All very 'politically correct' if I may add.  You can't go wrong with a strong female lead - even her name "Rey" is so  neutral-sounding - and a black bad-guy-turned-good hero. It helps also that the former is pretty and the latter funny. Throw in a cutesy ball of a robot with its musical squeeks, tons of thick, fast action with awesome looking flying machines and explosive space battles....like I said, what's there not to like!

Even the landscapes were great; the sweep of vistas from yellow sand dunes to green forests and white snow was a feast for the eyes.  I can relate immediately to Rey's poignant comment as she flies over a vast expanse of forest "I didn't think there was so much green in the whole galaxy." How sad we often take things for granted in our world, forgetting that there is actually still a lot of beauty around us. We have become so blase because we see so much (too much) ugliness around us, which really is very much our own doing, if we stop to think what we, as the human race, have done to this earth and to each other.

Just the other day, I noticed dew drops glistening on the grass during my early morning walk. I stopped to examine them... Some were single drops, some 'sat' in rows upon each blade of grass, all perfectly balanced. All so tiny yet perfectly formed solid circles of water. The next morning I wanted to take a snap-shot but there were none though the grass was wet. Maybe because the temperature was different,  maybe I was 3 minutes too late, or too early.  I guess that's life;  so many of us just never pause long enough often enough to notice the miraculous in the ordinary.  It made me wonder anew at the work of a Creator who designed life so beautifully for us to enjoy.  Unfortunately nowadays we don't even think there is a Creator, since we have got something called science. And tragically, we don't even know what we are missing when our 'antennas' are tuned only to 1 (ie our own) 'channel.'

I like how Han Solo puts it, "There are a lot of rumors, stories... I thought it was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo: a magical power in the battle between good and evil, the dark side". He was talking about the Force. And there is the heroine, gawky-eyed, because she too had heard stories of  long ago, of a 'life-power' that surrounds and penetrates living beings and binds the galaxy together.  She had heard exploits of  savior-knights who used the power for good to fight against those who would use it for evil and destruction. But she had never seen them. They must be ...just  myths spun by imaginative story-tellers.

The unseen is always hard to believe, especially for independent, totally capable people like our kick-ass heroine who can hold her own in a man's world of fighter planes and a villain who tries to literally pick her mind apart. Even when she is standing face-to-face with  her legendary real-life hero who states explicity, "The crazy thing is - it's true..all of it..It's all true." Even when she 'hears' a voice leading her to discover Luke's light saber and against all logic, she experiences a trip into the unknown. In spite of being told by an eye-witness, in spite of a personal encounter, she still rejects the call of 'the Force', choosing to run away instead.

That's exactly how many are apt to treat God in this day and age...just the 'spinning' of over-loaded imaginations. After all, who in their 'right' mind would believe a virgin could give birth or a crucified dead and buried Jesus could resurrect and physically ascend into the clouds? 'Logically', how can Jesus' death wipe out the sin of all mankind? No book, no matter how holy, no eye-witness no matter how independent, will convince the human skeptic of the obvious impossibilities of such outrageous claims. Spiritual  things - the stuff termed religion - is dismissed as a crutch for the weak, an opiate for the masses. After all, there really is no need for a mysterious God to create man or woman; it's so much easier and less messy to believe our ancestors 'just happen' to evolve out of ...whatever.  Life is so much less complicated  if we don't have to consider whether there is heaven or hell. It's all up to us, it doesn't matter anyway.

But it does matter. As Rey finds out ultimately when she sees the one she loves hurt and seemingly dead, when she realizes there are bigger things than herself, her desires, her rights or her independence at stake, when 'the force' awakens something inside her, that's when she 'knows' it really is true. The unproven unseen has become reality. Nothing can be the same for her again. Finally she walks away from her old life as a scavenger, free to cross over into a future where she is destined to be more, much more. I suspect there's going to be a new Jedi knight born in the next Star Wars.

Actually it's an ancient story being replayed time and again through the history of human civilization. Light over darkness, good over evil. Heaven and hell. God and the devil. They aren't some magical mumbo-jumbo superstition or intellectual puzzles to be solved. Does it make any difference what we believe about them? Of course it does, truth always matters, whether known or unknown, acknowledged or rejected. Choices always matter, because they lead to consequences, one way or another.  In the words of the classic poem by Robert Frost...

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Even as Jesus Himself said to a doubting Thomas, "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen  and yet have believed.” (John 20:29)

Worth The Risk

The reviews weren't that good, in fact one called it the most boring Bond movie in 30 years. Still I had to catch Spectre, the latest 007 flick, for the sake of catching it. It is Bond, James Bond, even if I found it rather 'forget-able' . Maybe I am getting too old for the antics of everyone's fave spy. Maybe I just don't like Daniel Craig's steely looks. Well, at least they cut down on the philandering episodes; I will never understand nor appreciate why Bond has to bed almost every female that crosses his path. Ok, I know, it's just 'expected' of macho-man. Still the ending of this Bond redeems him somewhat, as the never-say-die spy actually chooses the girl instead of his career; effectively terminating his days as arguably moviedom's most famous secret agent/playboy. The final shot of him walking away from his boss at one end and turning towards his lady-love at the other end with the theme song playing the stirring lyrics.... "is this where I give it all up... for you I have to risk it all... " is obviously so contrived and oh, so soppy.

It struck a chord in me though, as I wondered what most precious thing would I give up in this world? Who would I 'risk it all' for? Some weeks back, an American preacher came to my church with a testimony so moving I attended not just one, but 3 of his 4 sessions with us. Long-haired Pastor Bill Wilson is no ordinary pastor. He runs the world's largest Sunday school in New York, ministering to some 100,000 children in his services. But that's not the clincher. The clincher is he does it in the inner city ghetto of Brooklyn in the roughest of rough neighborhoods ; in fact he and his team live in the ghetto themselves. The church is a warehouse. At 67 years old, he still drives a bus, not a Mercedes - to pick up the children. He goes around the ghetto neighborhood, visiting homes of gangsters, drug addict dads and prostitute moms. He's been mugged, beaten, even shot at. His face still bears the disfiguring scars of a bullet just missing his head.  Best of all - he's white and everyone around him is black.... Talk about giving it all up and risking it all...

This is no fictitious dare-devil James Bond. This is so real it's unreal. But it's easy for me to relate to it , because every Saturday, I experience  a small part of such a world in the streets of KL Chinatown. It's a totally different world from my own. People seem to think I am so sacrificial, so noble, giving up my Saturday afternoons to serve folks whom society has written off.  But really the 3 hours I give away every Saturday is not worthy to be termed a sacrifice. The worst risk I have ever encountered is a purely psychological fear that I might get infected by some virus or other as I sit and talk  to HIV positive people, TB patients  or those with yukky-looking skin sores oozing  pus. I did get threatened by a man with obvious mental problems a couple of times, but he has become my friend ever since I started serving him tea personally.

After it's all over, I drive my car to go home to my nice double-storey house, take a nice cleansing shower and go to sleep in a nice bed. And I can tick off another Saturday on my 'do good' list. But for all the 'good' that I do,  I have never been homeless, never had to sleep on the streets. My pockets may not have much, but they have never been totally empty. I have always had (at least)  3 square meals a day in my stomach. I have a job I love.  So in fact I have not given up anything much at all nor have I risked my life by any measure of reckoning. I was supposed to go to India on missions, but the trip was cancelled because of bad floods there. I couldn't help thinking ...is my life so precious that I can't risk the inconvenience or the dangers of being caught up in a flood?  Man, no need to even talk about far away India, I don't even volunteer for relief work in our own back-yards in Kelantan, Johor or any one of the several states in M'sia already hit by floods.

Of course I can console myself that I shouldn't compare nor should I feel guilty. After all there are many ways to 'do good'. So I can't do much, but the very least I can do is talk about Jesus; that's the best good I can do, given the big mouth that I have. The worst that can happen is I risk being rejected or being thought of as a fanatic, a nut-case or an extremist  every time I proclaim Jesus as the only Way, the Truth and the Life. Although apparently, in some places in the world, talking about Jesus can land me in court or in  jail or even worse get my head chopped off. But then what would my life be worth if I kept quiet about the best thing that's ever happened to me, that can happen to anyone and everyone? If I dare call myself a Christian, I should dare to give it all up, to risk it all, for the very simple reason Christ considered me worthy, not just to risk His life for, but to lay it down completely.

We make much of human love. James Bond can give up a career that's the core of his life for the sake of a woman's love; he was prepared to take the risk because he considered this love worth the sacrifice of all else he held dear.  That so resonates with the romantic in us. Yet how many know that God Himself is the greatest Lover of all, because His love knows no bounds; it doesn't even depend on the beloved's response. Even if I didn't love God, even if I reject Him, He would still love me, He would still want to save me from a sure trip to hell. In fact, the wonder of it is He already did when Jesus sacrificed Himself to be hung on a cross, all for my sake. Now that's love. How can I resist such a love? How can I not respond to such a love? And knowing all that, how can I not do likewise?  I can't save the world, but I can tell 1 man, 1 woman, 1 child that God considers him/her worth loving and dying for. I can pray, trusting that that will make a difference to that 1 life, somehow, someday.

Like the apostles of old who all told the same story and died in the face of persecution , like so many un-named others down the pages of history who did the same, like so many who still continue to believe and do the same, I too must be prepared to give it all up... for Him I have to risk it all.  Otherwise my life and my faith is worth nothing.

"...I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace" - Acts 20:24

Learning to Live All Over Again

I attended a cell member's wake some weeks ago. He had been battling cancer for the past 1 year. Left behind to mourn the loss was his wife, 2 children, family members,  a host of friends, classmates, business associates, and church-mates.  I watched the video footage of his life, flashed up with photos taken from  his childhood through to the last few months, when his head was shaved bald because of the medical treatment he was receiving. I listened as eulogies were delivered of what a fighter he was, a caring, kind, fine man. Loving husband, responsible father. Too young to die at 50 surely.

I knew exactly what the wife had gone through and was going through. 13 years ago, I had gone through the same torturous process of watching a beloved spouse die, helpless to alleviate his pain or suffering. My husband was 41 when he succumbed to the same disease. My kids were much younger than hers then. But I am sure her  grief is no less than mine, or for that matter any other human being's experience of losing his/her  'other half', no matter how or when it happened.

I remember shaking hands with many people, a blur of faces murmuring condolences as they filed past the casket containing the dead body who was once my  husband. I hated the way they had 'made up' his face. It was downright ugly. But I guess corpses don't take well to make-up . I remember holding onto the urn containing his ashes, travelling back all the way to Penang, and the boat-ride out with his childhood beach-boy buddy, because he wanted to be buried at sea. I have to admit I don't really know how my 3 children coped at that time because I was too wrapped up in my own grief. The oldest was about 15, I think, my youngest 8, Besides what's there to say when someone you love dies? We all know life has to go on for those still alive this side of earth.

Fast forward the years... my no. 1 princess just celebrated her 29th birthday, She wrote an article (here) posing a rather poignant question - what is adulthood? As I told her, I think I grew up to be an adult when I finally knew my life has an eternal meaning - something that goes beyond just doing this or that, being here today and gone tomorrow. Only in facing death did I come to terms with the truth that life isn't a puzzle to be figured out and pieced perfectly together. There are many questions I can (and did) ask for which I will never get any satisfactory answers.   Like why did God let my husband (or anyone) die if He can heal all diseases? Where is God when it hurts most? Does He even exist? Some people never quite 'forgive' God for not answering our questions or behaving as we think He should; in the process we bail out, deciding we don't need/want a God who doesn't live up to our expectations.

Yet, insisting on answers to hard questions only shows a rigid mind closed to possibilities that go beyond human boundaries, which no one can prove or disprove in any event. We are so much the poorer for not wanting/daring to take the leap into the unknown or unprovable. If I assume God doesn't exist just because I can't see Him or (seemingly) get no answers to my prayers, or that He isn't good because there is so much evil and suffering in this world, it surely doesn't say much about my faith or my trust in Him.

At  every Christian wake, pastors inevitably talk about the 'blessed assurance' that those who die, believing in Christ, live again as they enter into God's presence in heaven, and believers who carry on surviving have the 'blessed hope' that we will yet meet them again when it's our time to go. It sounds very much like a child's fairy-tale; the cynics and the atheists mock it, the proud and independent see no need for it.  But for me, the hope of being reunited with precious people I have known and loved who have believed God and passed on from this life is such a comfort to my soul. I don't know how   but if Jesus resurrected back from the dead and physically ascended to heaven as witnessed by so many people living in His days, I'd rather believe than not believe that the same will happen to me, trusting that God cannot lie. After all, just because it sounds ridiculous incredulous and downright impossible, who am I to say it didn't or can't happen? I wasn't there.

Every funeral I attend reminds me of the truth that life and death is a journey, and every journey must have a destination. If our ultimate destination is only to be buried in a cold grave, or be burnt to ashes and dumped into an urn or into the sea, our life on earth stands for nothing really. Even an avowed atheist Richard Dawkins acknowledged quite frankly, "The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference." What a tragic conclusion. It's really very sad if we don't know where we are going in life and in death,  because without a destination, there is nothing to look forward to. Evil, good, justice, retribution has no meaning if there are no eternal consequences. Love itself is reduced to nothingness if  I 'just die'. Life should, must mean, more than that.

My children have grown up without a father; I cannot do anything about that, except be their mom, and rest in God's promise that He is Father to the fatherless. As for me, I have learnt to live all over again without a husband. And I live well,  in anticipation of the glorious day when God takes me out of death into a new life and a grand reunion. Meanwhile life on earth becomes that much more meaningful and worthwhile when I know all my living is measured in terms of eternity and my final destination is not death.


Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die;and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” - John 11:25-26

Looking in all the wrong places for all the wrong things

Her name is E. She was late, they were already lining up to distribute the food. Hesitant to come right in, she was hanging around at the open end of the alleyway. I approached her to offer her a seat. She asked if her husband was inside, using a colloquial form of endearment for the term. I told her I wouldn't know which of the many men there was her husband, and suggested she eat first and then go in to find him. She smiled shyly, and sat down. After she had eaten the chicken curry rice, she asked me the same question. Again I said I wouldn't know, and told her to go  in to check.

When she didn't move, I sat down beside her. I was sure whoever she was looking for wasn't her husband.  The women I have met on the streets often 'get hitched' to one man after another; and call them all husbands anyway. I asked E was she happy living like this? She nodded vigorously. "I have freedom and my husband takes care of me," There was a child-like immaturity about her, even though she looked like she was in her early 30s.  A guy passed us by and must have heard us, for he shouted, "Ya, she got 3 husbands la. Which one she looking for now?" We didn't bother with him.

I asked E where she came from, and if she had family. She said Johor and spoke of an aunty she hated because she was 'very bad', for she had ill-treated, abused and tortured her from young, since her parents died when she was 12. She had been living on the streets a 'long' time after she ran away from the home they put her in. She talked about how she could now do whatever she wanted. As I listened to her story, E reminded me of the woman who met Jesus by the well, who had had 5 previous husbands and was then living with guy no. 6 who wasn't her husband.

Silently I prayed... God, I don't know what to say to a person who can't see the need to change. She actually believed she was happy. Come to think of it,  many of us are like E, we can so easily conclude we are happy simply because we are free to do our own thing, our way. live our own lives, without answering to anyone else. Like E, we don't realize we are just going round and round looking in all the wrong places for all the wrong things. Some of us find what we think is safety,satisfaction or security  in a career, some in money, some in a noble cause, some in themselves or other people. E finds nothing objectionable about exchanging sex for a little 'care and companionship' from men.  For that matter, I guess many people would agree with her on that one. After all you certainly don't need love to have sex .... E didn't mind being 'passed around' from man to man, with or without love... And that was when God whispered to me... tell her about My love.

I asked E if she thought herself beautiful. She frowned, not understanding my question, and then giggled when I asked again. So I told her the story of how God created us all beautiful and precious in His sight, to love and be loved in  relationships ordained by Him, to enjoy Him forever.  And then I introduced her to the greatest Lover of all - Jesus Christ. who, unlike all other lovers in our life, will never leave nor forsake us. I talked about how Jesus proved His love by dying on the cross for her, for me, for everyone, even tho we don't know Him. Her eyes widened at the thought. I guess she must be thinking it inconceivable that anyone - especially a stranger - could love her that much. And of coz I had to tell her why Jesus had to die as punishment for our sin. She shrugged nonchalantly when I talked about judgment, heaven and hell. So it is with many of us; who cares about all that unproven stuff. Still when confronted with the choice, she cared enough for herself to prefer heaven to hell.

To her credit, in all her simplistic thinking, E understood only Jesus who came from heaven could get her there. Once she caught on that He really is the most perfect, most fulfilling, most excellent love/lover of all, and was offering her the gift of Himself, she didn't hesitate to receive with an open heart. But uttering a prayer doesn't automatically transform a sinner into a saint overnight.

Will she change her ways?  I don't know. Just as I don't know if the woman at the well who met Jesus turned over a new leaf, because the Bible doesn't tell us. But what it does tell is that when  Jesus exposed all her  'colorful' past even though she tried to hide it , she recognized this was One who knew her through and through and yet didn't condemn her. Instead He had offered her 'living water' that would forever quench her thirst. The woman was looking only to satisfy her physical need;  Jesus was letting  her in on much much more - an experience of the reality of God . Finally this woman doesn't need to search anymore to fill the biggest void in life - her spiritual emptiness, something she wasn't even aware of until she met Jesus. Experiencing that kind of love must surely change a person inside out sooner or later.

So it is with E. It may have taken her  awhile to understand that even if no one on earth loves her, even if all the men in her life use or dump her, there is One who never deserts her, who loves her like no human ever can. Now because she has called upon the name of Jesus, not only will He walk with her all the days of her life, He sets her truly free to be the beautiful person that God had designed her to be, more than she could ever be by and in  her own independence. I know it's true, and it works, because the same promise was given to me when I believed, and is being fulfilled every day of my life, as  I continue to trust the One who calls me His beloved.

"The Lord upholds all who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time. You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing" -  Psalm 145:14-16

Left Behind

I'm not gonna die here. And so the hero starts making sure he doesn't die. The Martian on Mars is no  alien creature. He's human. And like all humans pushed into a corner, survival instincts get him going when the going gets tough. A critic called the movie Robinson Crusoe in space, which is indeed rather apt. The whole story revolves around an astronaut accidentally stranded all alone on the Red Planet, after a fierce storm forces his crew members to leave him behind for dead. He's got to figure out firstly, how to keep himself alive in a hostile environment and secondly, how to communicate to earth that he is indeed alive and needs rescue.

The movie garnered many good reviews. Indeed it's an enjoyable romp, for the hero is alternately portrayed as funny and desperate. To be able to crack jokes in the face of death gets us rooting for him to make it. Still I found his antics and his monologues a bit wearisome after awhile. Maybe it's because  I just don't think it's all that great to plant potatoes with human poo, or burn hydrogen and oxygen to get water. I like my heroes involved in lots of whammy eye-popping, nail-biting, breath-stopping action stuff. My kind of hero is bigger than life....like my God. I guess there wasn't enough of that in this movie for me.

Still it did cause me to wonder at the tenacity of man for self-preservation and our pride in  human achievement. The hero can boast, " I am the greatest botanist on this planet," obviously since there is really no other competitor around. It's meant to be funny, but what's so funny about an empty boast? He claims to 'colonize' Mars by planting crops on its terrain, but what good does that do, when he's seemingly going to die anyway? Take away the attempt at  humor; it becomes meaningless arrogance, a psychological booster to deal with depression. 

And that's the nature of man essentially.  We think we are so smart, we can solve all life's problems through science and self-effort.  Sure, we can and there's nothing wrong with that. After all our brains are wired to be used to think. But after all the thinking and tinkering, hero Martian must still depend on others  to get him  home.

At one point or another in our lives, we are gonna realize there's only so much we can do to not die. We are gonna realize  human ingenuity and science are limited in their own scope. It can answer questions of the head, but never questions of the heart, simply because they are 2 different things. At the climax of the rescue mission, dear hero had absolutely no control over anything anymore. In a last desperado act, he had to puncture his protective suit, trusting that would propel him into the path of his 'savior' - the one who was reaching out to him - his Commander dangling from a rope out of the rescue vessel to catch him. If she missed, he would be off floating forever in infinite space.  So who's the real hero really? 

I guess that's a lot like how we treat God. Back years ago when I was a smart-aleck earning a comfortable amount of dollars,  happily settled with the man I loved, seemingly complete with children, a home, and content with the easy life, I had absolutely no need of God. I was in control of my life, and of course I swore I would have it no other way.  I may not be the greatest whatever on this planet, but I was pretty sure I could handle anything and everything my way. Until death came knocking. It didn't take me, it took the one I loved.  That was the cruncher which broke self-sufficient me - to finally admit, I have no control over my or anyone's life for that matter. If it were not for the grace of an unseen God who loves me in spite of my pride, I would not be where I am now, saved and secured in something much much bigger than myself. As in how it  takes just 1 storm to destroy all the hero's hard labor in his potato space-garden, we never know what will hit us till it comes..

And the final 'it', the ultimate challenge, all mankind must face is always death, which really is a lost battle for us on this side of earth. The hero in the movie recognized that fact, "None of this matters at all if I can't find a way to make contact....." And for his rescue to succeed, he had to accept, obey and trust the instructions of another - the one who cooked up the plan in the first place. It was a crazy plan which involved him having to dump everything except the chair he was sitting in, and  lift off without even a roof over his head, relying solely on a hope that somehow 'they' would be able to catch his drifting vehicle as it hurtled out of Mars space.

Isn't that so like God? He cooks up an incredulous plan that involves Jesus dying for us so that we don't get left behind in death and instead get taken home all the way to heaven to live forever. Home. A place that conjures up all manner of good things. A place to curl up our feet.  A place where we are welcomed and loved. Who wouldn't want to go home? Yet, God's plan sounds too crazy, too easy, too good to be true. For unlike the movie hero, we don't need to scratch our brains, stretch our muscles, apply science or depend on logic. We don't even have to figure out a way of trying to communicate the problem of our existence. The solution was given and proven 2015 years ago when Jesus walked out alive from the tomb of death.

I don't need to worry if God will somehow 'miss' catching me; He will not let death swallow me up. I am very sure I will get home because He has promised it. All that's required of me is to put my life into His hands; believing  I will never be left behind....


Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. - John 14:1-3

The Family

It was only up on stage with a whole bunch of people dancing as if there was no tomorrow that I got the message. As we followed the lead dancer twirling, feet tapping, arms swinging, our bodies trying to keep time and motion, we were all singing or rather shouting 'the family is free', suddenly the word came to me, for me ... MY family is free...my personal family, my work-family, my M'sia-family ... is free. They had called specifically for M'sians to come on stage, to celebrate M'sia day and to pray for our nation. There were 24 countries represented at this Spore gathering. And they all stood with us as the worship team led everyone to sing Negara Ku. I was crying hidden at the back.

 It wasn't the only time I found myself crying over the 3 days I was there. I hadn't known what to expect since this was the first time I was attending such a thing. In fact I had never heard of 'family gatherings' till June 2015 when I was sailing on the high seas on a very special cruise  .  I knew of course there would be lots of worship, but this was at such an exuberant energetic level I can only term it as electrifying, literally. It's totally wild to say the least... at the opening session, there were thousands of hands in the air all over the stadium-turned-sanctuary, hundreds packed at the front altar, all moving in tandem with the team on stage. It wasn't a conference, there was no fixed agenda, no lengthy sermons. It was simply... a family of God gathering to honor God.  Instead of being stuck at home on M'sia Day, fearing a racial riot and worrying over the state of my beloved nation, I spent 3 days in the presence of God together with His family of believers, seeking His face, praying desperate prayers for desperate times such as these that we live in.

The theme was simply returning to the Father. And that was exactly what was done, reconciling the generations, reconciling nations back to one another and to a Father God who loves us all.  To see S'pore pastors up there on stage weeping for the sins of their church and country, repenting of pride and arrogance... to watch the Japanese reps kneeling prostrate as they publicly acknowledged and apologized for their nation's guilt in the 2nd World War .. hearing real-life stories of S'poreans hurt by their occupation..how not to cry? And that was just for starters....by the time each generation was called out...when old men, women, young adults, down to teenagers took their turns at the altar throughout the sessions, hearing testimonies of how parents misjudged their children and how (now grown-up) children turned away from their elders, I was totally convicted of my own sin. I knew there were major heart issues I needed to resolve with my staff at work and my children at home when I returned. But with the tears, there was released reconciliation, hope and love.  As the apostle Paul puts it aptly, "Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death."- 2 Corinthians 7:10 . And the finale was so fitting - bringing the children and babies - the generation of the future - to be blessed.

I heard someone in the toilet mention she couldn't see what all the hype was; it was just dancing and singing, confessing and repenting. I guess some people don't 'get' it. It's like asking what good is praying, or what good is God, for that matter. To the casual observer, it's just one noisy concert, much like any other worldly performance. All that forgiveness talk and 'making-up' hugs were just another 'emo' high, a psychological booster so everyone could feel good at the end of the day. But those who know, know that's not it. At least for me, it went beyond an experiential exercise that tugged merely at  my heart-strings. King David describes it , " as a deer pants for the streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long, “Where is your God? ...Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. Psalm 42:1-3, 7

Worshipping and soaking in God's presence released a travail in my spirit. The Bible likens it to a mother giving birth. And that was exactly what it felt like, as wordless prayers seem to literally burst out of my stomach. Sighs and moans, a pain tugging at the bowels. It wasn't comfortable, it was...gut-wrenching. Deep calling to deep. Spirit connecting to Spirit. Something atheists and non-believers will never understand or even care to understand. Man acknowledges only the seen and denies the unseen, simplistically assuming that the unseen must mean it's not real because it's unproven, according to his terms of proof. Well, things of the spirit can never be seen in the first place,but they are as real to me as the things that I can see...

A point brought home to me when our windscreen was shattered by a stone as we drove past Ayer Keroh on the way back. Thank God the glass held up. Interestingly (not coincidentally, I believe), the whole piece was totally shattered, but there were a few holes positioned strategically on the driver and passenger side, that gave a limited view of the road ahead. Our driver was having difficulty seeing because the broken glass pieces were reflecting and blinding his view. But the holes were just big enough for him to focus on the road immediately ahead, and that was enough to get us home slowly.

 I guess it's kinda like that with spiritual things. God allows us to see just that much in the physical; we cannot see the rest. But we don't really need to, if we can trust that He will get us home safely. That's what God is all about in essence - a Father who just wants to see His children come home, for no other reason than that He loves them.


" And He shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers" - Malachi 4:6

The Aftermath

I received a  message warning all Chinese and Indians to stay away from Bukit Bintang and Petaling Street areas  this coming 16^th Sept,  in case there breaks out a racial riot. Apparently  there are   people huddled in emergency meetings all over Malaysia planning for a ‘blood-bath’ on that day.  There was a reference to  some blog-site calling for a Himpunan Rakyat Bersatu. Accompanying it was a rather provocative picture of a masked  figure in black wielding a sword superimposed on the Malaysian flag with the words Himpunan Maruah Melayu, Tanah TumpahNya DarahKu.  This comes hot on the heels of a Red Shirt rally which last I heard is planned to go ahead on Oct 10. I am bemused;  what is this Malaysian obsession with the colors red and yellow?

In response I questioned   whether  the allegations of a  conspiracy (that, by the way, is  another hot favourite  with Malaysians) are true and if so, whether the police had been made aware of such a dangerous situation.  I had half-a-mind to go make a police report, like some folks  seem ever so eager to do. But I confess I was just too plain lazy, so I did the next best thing in my circumstances – I promptly forwarded the pictures to my journalist-daughter.  Trust  the good old press (especially online media) to  dig up stuff.  Which worked.  So now everyone (at least those connected to social media)  should know there is this huge rally that’s going to descend onto the  streets of KL – again.  Looks like we are keeping our police force  very busy these days, doing their job to maintain peace and order, rally after rally.

Truth is, after all the ra-ra-ra of Bersih 4, I can’t shake off the sadness in my heart.  Many good and true things have been said  about that rally. Many are still extolling its ‘success’, noble aims, unity of spirit, demonstration of people power, the voice of moderation, etc  etc.  All of which may be absolutely correct.  I was one of those tens of or hundreds of thousands who were just sitting around on Jalan Tun Perak that hot Saturday afternoon.  But I didn’t wear yellow, unlike the previous rallies I attended.  I chose not to actually, not because I feared anything (heck, what’s there to fear when I have had to run from riot police, climbed walls and been tear-gassed  before?)  Put it down to a personal conviction that I don’t want to be associated with calls to overthrow a legitimate ruling government, no matter how rotten, obnoxious or downright bad it is.  I have no quarrel, no doubts whatsoever about the rightness of the cause for justice,  free and fair elections, transparent responsible government, etc  etc.  But there are certain lines I will not cross when it comes to the ways that man use  to force change.  The cause may be right, the methods may be all wrong. Just like someone once said the road to hell is paved with all sorts of good intentions.

Amidst all the noise of the mammoth crowd on the road that morning, I was overwhelmed not with joy or pride, but strangely with sadness.  I saw a handful of young Malays sitting by themselves at my first pit-stop near Pasar Seni.  I asked how many were in their group. The youngster replied, 3 buses from Shah Alam. I gave them a thumbs-up. Further down near Menara Maybank I spied another small group of Malays. Like the first group, they looked so out of place and dejected; I joined them.

 I remember the first Bersih rally I attended;  there were so many Malays mingling around, even  in the so-called  “Chinese” areas around Petaling Street – the pak-cik and his entire family – wife and children all – from Kelantan sitting on the curb. Tudung-clad women huddling together, giggling and jabbering away in dialect. The Malays were the noisiest of the lot then, blasting   horns, dancing around in masks.  They were the ones passing this old aunty the salt and the water when the gas hit, they were the ones hauling  me up the steep slope as we ran together,  away from the cannons and the trucks.

No, I don’t subscribe to the rather simplistic view that Bersih 4 is a “Chinese” rally, just because there were  so few Malays.  Causes like no corruption, good governance, eradication of poverty, proper financial management transcend race and politics. But let’s not brush off  the obvious lack of Malay participation as inconsequential or irrelevant.  My Malay brethren are the majority in this nation.  If only 20% are out there, marching beside my Chinese, Indian and Orang Asal brethren, how can I claim inclusiveness? No, it’s not a numbers game, but numbers do make up a full story. The story of a Malaysia for Malaysians will never be complete without the Malays. 

That’s why I was feeling so sad as I  listened to the uncle from Penang telling me how he had got together one car-load of friends to make the over-night trip. They slept on the streets, because they didn’t want to spend on hotel and didn’t want to inconvenience friends. That was when I felt the prick of tears in my eyes.  Whatever the reason so few Malays turned up for  Bersih 4 doesn’t really matter. I miss them and it just hurts me that they – the majority Malaysians -  were ‘not there’  this time. I shook their hands and told them to please go over to Sogo, since the Malay crowd was apparently bigger over that side. I hoped  that would  lift up their spirits a little, being with their kind. Because whether we like it or not, we are communal creatures;  we feel more comfortable and  at ease  surrounded by our own.  It’s not about being racist; it’s simply a fact that should be acknowledged without shame.  Birds of a feather do flock together.   

When the dust has settled, in the aftermath of things, are memories of a ‘great’ rally all that’s left of Bersih 4? Now a counter-rally is being planned. And definitely this one makes no qualms about being opened to a particular race. So we are back to square one - there’s the ugly race card being flashed again – it’s like playing a game of tit-for-tat – let’s see who can boast the biggest crowds, the most colorful parade. And meanwhile messages of fear are being circulated. Fear of this, fear of that. What kind of madness have we descended to, that we live in fear of each other? What will it take for us to recognize and accept one another with all our racial quirks and idiosyncrasies as simply valuable human beings in the eyes of our Creator and of ourselves?

It’s a sad day for Malaysia when we come to such a stage that we  fear the possibility of our fellow citizens murdering us on the open streets of our cities.  I, for one,  refuse  to be burdened with this kind of negativity;  such messages only add fuel to fire.  Let’s not live in fear of, but in love for, one another.   

May God bless Malaysia and Malaysians with the perfect love that drives out all fear.  

 Published MMO 8/9/15

Chasing Turtles and More

Since perfect only exists in heaven, near-perfect is as close a description as I can put to our family get-away in Lombok, Indonesia. The seas surrounding the islands were clear as glass, amazingly hued in  greens, blues and indescribable shades in between. And absolutely nothing can beat the awesome experience of not only chasing but actually touching real life turtles underwater.  Catching glorious sun-rises, sun-sets and moon-shine over singing waves, dancing rainbows over spectacular waterfalls - that's the stuff dream holidays are made of....

But beyond just a soul-satisfying, eye-popping, experience of the beauty of nature at its varied best, this holiday stands out as very special for me, because I heard whispers of love from the Creator of all that is beautiful in this world. The first whisper came on the very first morning as I sat facing the dawn of a new day on Gili Air island. Science tells us it's the earth's rotation that produces sun rises and sun sets every day all over the world . Science can explain in detail how each golden, pink or orange streak is formed by light refraction, reflection or whatever . Yet, no sun rise or sun set is ever the same. God doesn't talk about theories or explain the processes. He simply tells me, " See how beautiful are the works of My hands. So can I make you beautiful through all the sunrise and sunset seasons of your life." As it is written: “What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived” — the things God has prepared for those who love Him (1 Corinthians 2:9) 

 And as if displaying the morning glory wasn't enough for me to ogle at, God hung a perfect moon in the night sky as the day closed on me sitting by the beach, caressed by the cool breeze and serenaded by the splashing waves. The moon-light shimmering a shiny path across the dark waters reminded me that light will always dispel all surrounding darkness. As Jesus declared, "I am the Light of the world, whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life (John 8:12). That's love whisper no.2 for me to hang onto when surrounding darkness threatens to swallow me up.  


But it was whisper no.3 that blew me off my feet and brought tears to my eyes, as I waited to catch the sun-set the next evening, I heard His still small
voice whisper, "You are My beloved", recalling the poetry of Solomon's "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine" (Song of Songs 6:3)

Is it really possible to hear God? How do you 'love' God, who is unseen? Heck, we even have trouble loving the people we see. I suspect my children (and lots of other folks) think I have grown into a religious nut-case. Too much church, too much Bible, or just plain too much God. Whatever, I am not that bothered anyway. I am too busy having the time of my life, falling in love with a God who first loved me so so much, He literally died for me and set me free to choose to love Him. Don't ask me about the logic of it all. Faith transcends logic. It's not a leap in the dark as some allege; it just means trusting the dark is not all there is when you choose to leap. It's not an 'emo' sentimental feeling, although emotion is definitely involved. We are emotional creatures after all.

God isn't my religious crutch; I am not lame, I don't need crutches. But I do need God, because He has made me aware not only of who and what I was and now am, even more who and what I can be, on earth and in heaven. That's what the perfect Lover does; He brings out the best in the beloved.

No other earthly love can compare, for it goes beyond the physical into the deepest realm of my spirit connecting to Him. It's more than a feeling; it's a 'knowing' that stirs my heart to bursting sometimes over the sheer joy of it all. This is freedom at its fullest. This is relationship, not religion. To think this joy unspeakable is made available to all who would just believe God and take Him at His word. How much we miss when we refuse to listen to His whispers. Someone once said, God speaks to all of us all the time, the problem is some of us are just plain hard of hearing.

I didn't go to Lombok to hear God, don't need to do that really. I went for lots of R&R and a fun time. I got all that and more than I expected from a God who is ever gracious to bless me with His best. Yep, my cup runneth over...

The Lord is  my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake...Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever - Psalm 23: 1-3, 6

Fotos click  here

Size isn't Might

The latest super-hero in town wasn't big at all. In fact he's small but mighty small. Throw in the  handsome hunk, funny gags, fast-paced action, good acting, great special effects and Ant-Man is well-worth 2 hours of my life at  a GST-increased price ticket.

Who wouldn't root for an ex-con trying to make good; a guy who just wants to turn over a new leaf so that he can be a father to the daughter whom he adores? You can't go wrong with lines like "Second chances don't come around that often", "I believe everyone deserves a shot at redemption." Heck, the latter is even biblical. After all, that's the very reason Jesus came to earth - to seek and save sinners; not just ex-cons but everyone since mankind can never escape the curse of Adam except by the grace of divine redemption.

The hero was tasked to save the world from the antics of a mad scientist by being shrunk to the size of an ant, with a literal army of ants at his command. And what a visual treat the ants were - they really got me....Ants with unpronounceable scientific names. Ants that could weave a rope in the air, ants that could swim, float, fly and carry sugar cubes. I will never look at an ant the same way again....

And as I watched how Ant-Man tried to adapt to an 'ant-sy' world, so totally alien and removed from his world of man,  and even more how to relate to these strange creatures, I wondered at a parallel   that happened 2000 years ago. Only this event was about a real, living, breathing person, not a fictitious character out of a comic strip. Apostle Paul explains of this person Jesus Christ succintly,

"Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to His own advantage; rather, He made Himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross!" (Philippians 2:6-8)

To this day, I am amazed at the lengths God went to, to save me, to save the world from eternal damnation. He literally 'shrunk' Himself from being Ruler of the universe to zilch, gave up all divine power, taking the form of a mere man. The Creator became part of His creation. Just so He could die to redeem the life of sinners who keep rejecting, disbelieving and opposing Him. That's way more than any imaginary super-hero ever had to contend with. And just like Ant-Man, who did it all out of love for his child, that's exactly why Jesus gave of Himself, so that all of us can be reconciled back to the Father who loves us so. Hmmm, I wonder if Hollywood knew how much Ant-Man (intentionally or unintentionally) parallels the greatest fact of the Bible - a God who loves man so much He came down to earth, not to visit, but to live and die as a mortal, so that all other mortals can have a second chance, to be redeemed into eternal life.

After all, that's what super-heroes are supposed to do all the time - save the world, even if it means sacrificing oneself in the process. Still, comic book heroes never quite die; they always live to fight another day somewhere down the line. But way more than a feel-good super-hero fantasy movie is the real life, death and resurrection Jesus Christ. It's not a prequel or sequel, it's a done deal - there's the bloody cross, and there's the empty tomb. I can walk out after a  movie and forget about something that's the figment of human imagination. But I can't walk out on or forget about a God who gave all of Himself to die my death, just so I could live in His resurrection power. He did it unconditionally,  allowing me to choose whether I would believe and follow Him, or not. That's amazing love. That's unending grace. That's true freedom.


Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the One man the many will be made righteous.... Romans 5:18-19

India 2015

It was hot, hot, hot all the way this time round .  The heat got to us all. We were bathing in sweat at every venture out into the villages and house churches. My last visit to this  state of India was in 2011( read here)  What a difference it was then, compared to now. No more open air huge rallies, now we could only minister in confined quarters of people's homes or schools. Confined is really confined. Their houses are so small. We found ourselves sitting on people's beds most of the time whilst waiting for this or that. The beds were hard wooden ones, with just a sliver of a mattress (if it can be called that), they filled the entire room. Cooking was done either open air style using firewood or on small cement tops using gas stoves. Most of the time, there wasn't even space for a sink - the bathroom was used for everything that needed washing.

Some things remain the same in India - the poverty, the dust, the dirt.  It was a test of endurance, even for me, whose standard of cleanliness is very much less than perfect.   Apparently  the pastor had not expected 3 ladies to be landed onto him.  So he was quite flustered especially since this was his first time taking charge of foreigners. On top of accommodation problems, he was worried about our safety, as we were deep in hostile territory. One of the districts we went to was a known 'cowboy' town, where violence is the norm. And indeed we felt the negatives vibes immediately. I am used to being started at in India. But these stares were different; they were rudely aggressive. Still we had come to minister, so minister we did, and we thank God for His protection all the way.


The congregations were small, but very warm and hospitable to us. From the little the hosts had, they freely shared, even if it was just a cup of tea and a plate of snacks. The pastors' wives were especially kind, taking the trouble to cook the daily main meals for us.

Every missions trip brings about different revelation for me. This one took me back to the basics, the heart of things. Once again I realize how blessed I am. On that first nite when we had to settle for a dark dingy motel-like room with a toilet that even I had trouble adjusting to, I was reminded the price Jesus paid for my soul. He didn't endure a filthy washroom; He endured death for me. So what's a dirty toilet compared to what Jesus did to prove His love for all mankind? Actually nothing could compare to that; no sacrifice can ever match His.



And as I sweated it out  at every session,  I was humbled by the people who turned up. The spaces were so tight, they were packed body to body. We were given chairs, they sat on dust-caked floors. How much more they suffered than us.  So what cause do we have to complain of discomfort?  We 'touch-n-go' home to our comparatively spacious air con mansions, clean bathrooms, piped water and comfy  beds  in M'sia. The poorest of them still live in huts. Even their brick houses are no more than small cubby holes.  Our children get the best of food, health care, education and all things material. Many of theirs run around naked or in tattered clothes, have bad skin eruptions, don't go to school or drop out.  How can anyone not be moved?

I don't have money or resources to help any of them. The only thing I have is hope; hope in a God who is light in the midst of darkness, who promises not to make problems disappear, but to take us through them. Government, politicians, NGOs, can only do so much. But they can never give hope the way a living God can. After all if  Jesus conquered death, nothing in this earthly life can get a believer down. And these people know it. It's evident as they come forward in simple faith  to be prayed over; they jabber away about their problems, although I don't understand a  word, but I do know how to pray from the heart.  One woman simply burst into tears standing in front of me. I offer her my shoulder and the peace of God. They come bringing bottles of water and oil for us to pray over; some tangible thing that connects them to the power of a divine God who heals.  And I am the one who goes away blessed, because they give meaning to the words of Apostle James, "Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him?" (James 2:5)

The atheist mocks such 'useless' stuff because he isn't aware of or doesn't want to admit his need. Only the desperate know how to seek  - and find God.

"And 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" - Hebrews 11:6

Fotos

Beyond Low Yat

It’s all too easy to start a riot in Malaysia these days  - just mix a little R&R (race and religion) into everything and anything.  Oh, and make sure you post it on Fb, Twitter and Watsapp. It’s guaranteed to explode.

 Enough has been said about Low Yat. In addition to being (in)famous as a place for getting good bargains on  gadgets, it can now go  down into Malaysian history as the May 13^th-that-could-have-happened.   Everybody is breathing a sigh of relief that it didn’t.  And so start the inevitable round of analyses, pondering,  posturing and gesturing.  Everybody has an opinion about it.

 So whilst one section of society vehemently denies race has anything to do with it, the other side just as loudly asserts it’s (oh, so obviously) all about race.  Of course it’s nothing to do with race – it’s just a petty crime blown out of all proportion.  Of course it has everything to do with race – just look at the Malays bashing up the Chinese, and the Chinese swindling the Malays. 

In the aftermath of Low Yat 2015, what’s next?  We can complain, commiserate, deplore, defend what happened or didn’t happen.  We can set up Royal Commissions, task forces, investigative committees.  Of course we can pass laws  making it illegal for anyone to be ‘racist’. Or we can just arrest people who talk about race matters on the Internet, better yet just shut down all the social media platforms if there is a way to do it without starting another riot .

 Certainly we should have a go at revamping our education policies.  We can always attend each other’s open houses  come festival time. Oh, and don’t forget we must show the obligatory  multi-racial videos  and giant bill-boards advertising smiling faces to make us  feel slightly better that we are all one big happy Malaysian family.  We can erase the word ‘race’ from all our official forms. How about we make it official policy to  marry outside our own ‘kind’ and create  ‘true Malaysian’ babies (though honestly, for me, that raises a rather disturbing specter of Nazism’s failed attempt at creating the perfect race)

Racist. That’s an ugly word. Race.  Now that’s not an ugly word.  The problem is we tend to mix them up. Like it’s so easy to mix up wombat with pig.  There is a difference , and it’s not just in the spelling. It’s a pity such an innocuous  word  like ‘race’ has now been turned into a dirty offensive word that is capable of literally making people’s blood boil and spill over onto the streets.  Yet put simply, race just means a group of people distinct from other groups because of lineage, genetics, culture, geography, history… whatever.  It’s just an identity we carry as a…. Malay, Chinese, Indian, Orang Asal.  It’s the skin  we are born with.  No amount of legislation, compulsion, activism, moderation, government or  individual self-effort  can change that. 

Racist on the other hand is an attitude. It’s thinking, even if we don’t say it out loud, that we are ‘better’ (read: more holy/less sinful, more right/less wrong, more privileged/less qualified, more hard-working/less lazy, more this /less that)  than the ‘other’ who isn’t the same race ‘like us’  for whatever reason, justified or unjustified.  It’s what we ‘clothe’ ourselves with on top of our  skin. Now that,  like our everyday wardrobe, we can change. 

I wonder can’t there be a  Malaysia where it’s ok to say I am  Malay, Chinese, Indian, or Orang Asal,  where  we don’t need to kid ourselves about creating that elusive ‘Malaysian’ race which  extinguishes  who we are inherently?  Where, despite being of  individual races, we can, one and all, truly feel (not just say) and act like we are not racist?  Where it’s totally  irrelevant which comes first – am I a Malaysian Chinese or a Chinese Malaysian? Why can’t I be both?  Since what’s relevant is that inside my Chinese body flows  the same red liquid called blood that is in that Malay pak-cik, the Indian ‘ama’, and the Orang Asli abang, though we may all be scientifically classified under different code-types.   

Perhaps if we remember our  basic fundamental make-up more often , if we can acknowledge that we are all sinners in one way or another on this planet called earth , then we may all be more inclined to behave  graciously to one another, without the need of political niceties or legislative controls.  Perhaps with the right heart-attitude, we can actually cry and laugh together.  Perhaps there will come a day when we can choose not to  begrudge what we each have or don’t have as a race.

Yes, a lot of things are ‘not fair’ in Malaysia when we look through our own race-colored lenses. Yes, many things could be better said and done . But perhaps we can learn from South Africa where instead of revenge and retribution, the blacks chose to tread the difficult path of confession, forgiveness, and reconciliation with the whites who were their enemies.

Like the Malays say every Hari Raya, Maaf Zahir dan Batin. Like Christians are commanded to  “ Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you”

Perhaps  then  we can truly  love one another as ourselves. As Nelson Mandela said, “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”   

Then and only then will there be no more racists. Will love really solve all our race problems? Well, at least it cuts to the root of it all, which is the human heart.  I know it’s a simplistic solution, but far from simple really.  Because it starts by recognizing the  problem isn’t with the government, politics, social inequities, culture, religion or Internet.  Those are just ‘by the way’ peripheral stuff.  The real problem is us - you and I - not so much that we hate, but rather that we have failed to love.  

Published MMO 17/7/15