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