Another Day, Another Year

I have turned 56. I don't make a big deal about birthdays or even special occasions like Mother's Day. Of course I appreciate the 'treats' - birthday wishes, prayers, flowers, makan, who wouldn't? It's nice to know you are loved and appreciated by many who care. Still the practical me says we don't need special days to tell someone we love them. In fact we shouldn't just tell, but show it everyday, whilst the person is still alive on earth. And I don't mean show as in buy this, that or the other present. I mean show as in honor, respect, be responsible to, and do what is right by that person you say you love. That means much more to me than all the presents in the world which can be bought by money.

Anyway the children  got me flowers and a card. I think they have given up asking me what I want anymore, since they already know my heartfelt desire every birthday is simply for them to love God as they love their mom. The flowers I will soon have to throw away when they wilt. The card I keep together with some old cards they have given me for my past birthdays. Re-reading them made me pensive. I find myself wondering where have all the years flown. Wasn't it just yesterday when I was sitting on the grass with my husband in the evening, watching them on the swings?  I still remember that morning when I had to break the news of their father's passing and I can still hear the shrill "What?" exclamation of shock from my (then) eldest teenager.

And now she's already very much her own woman. Years ago at age 21, she wrote that she needed God to learn how to be an adult, and that my most precious gift to her was the bible study sessions I used to hold with them all after dinner, as it was then she felt most close to God and to me. In another card she said I inspired her spiritually. Barely 10 years down the line, I wonder what happened to the innocence of youth, for since then, she has swung right to the other end of the pendulum, proudly proclaiming to the world she is now a very happy atheist. Likewise her other 2 siblings have literally grown out of church and all that "God" stuff, preferring to be non-committal in matters of personal faith. As I said before , children will keep breaking parents' hearts many times over, not just over spiritual issues but over all sorts of life-decisions they choose to make.  And we will of course continue to love them, as they undoubtedly love us too.

Comes a time when every parent, especially moms, know there ain't a thing that can be done anymore to make her (so grown-up) children understand there are some roads they should never wander onto, for their own sakes. As the Chinese saying goes, if they are not allowed to bang their heads on the wall, they will never know it hurts them. So mothers grit their teeth, and let them go ahead confident in their own independent ways, to bang their heads on the walls they never see coming their way. In Christian terms, I believe it's called letting go, and letting God handle it, or rather them.  Of course it's easier said than done. Which mother, or father for that matter, knowing as only parents know that their very own precious flesh-n-blood  are going to get hurt, won't do all within their power to prevent it from happening. Unfortunately humans are really not powerful at all; they can't work miracles, they can't change the seasons, they can't control their own off-spring. So all Christian moms like me can do is cry, pray and trust that Abba Father God is still faithful, even when His (my) children are faithless.

I get even more pensive with the news that on my birthday, amidst all the election hullabaloo in Sarawak, 6 lives were lost in a tragic helicopter crash in the state.  Which only reminds me how fleeting life really is. One minute we are here on earth, and the next we are not. Yes I know, I shouldn't be morbid, especially on my birthday. But surely it's not morbid to face the truth. Because that's what it really is like, exactly how the bible puts it in James 4:13-14... "Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money. Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. So aptly and bluntly put. The bible never pulls any punches or rather wool over our eyes.

Every morning I wake up still breathing means God has granted me grace to live another day. Every year I celebrate a birthday is an extension of His grace. My life could have been, may still be cut short at any moment. But today I get to see another sun rise, another sun set. Truly I stand only by God's grace, acutely aware that I could so easily be here today and gone tomorrow in the blink of an eye. But it's not with gloom, rather with thanksgiving unto my Maker that I chalk up 56 years of living. For tears may dim the eye, still I choose to believe God's hand is ever working out good in the worst of circumstances, for those who love Him, according to His purposes. Not because I am a die-hard optimist, a positive thinker or just a plain wishy-washy old dreamer, but because I know my God is good. Even when all looks bad. That's the unshakeable truth of who Jesus is; after all if He can step out alive from the tomb of death, what can He not do, for those who dare to choose to believe?

So here's to another day, another year of faith to carry on believing.

"Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him." Psalm 34:8

With My Own Eyes

"Abba Father, I am hungry, thirsty to see You move in our midst. We have been faithful all these years to plough, to sow, to preach, to pray . Won't You please bring in the harvest of souls from this field? Didn't You say You came to seek and save the lost? See, these are the lost whom only You can love, and only You can save. Let Your Word go forth in power every Saturday, with signs, wonders and miracles accompanying so they will see the God we preach about is the real, true and living God."
I have prayed this prayer every day for years. Many times I have gotten weary of repeating it. Many times over many Saturdays, I look over the motley crowd of people we serve at the street alley and I wonder.... when, Lord, when will You answer? Many just walk out the minute they swallow the last mouthful of rice. Some are so smart they only come in just before the food is distributed, so they don't have to listen to  (boring) Jesus songs and (another boring) 'lecture' about how good Jesus is. Of course there are many who sit through the 1/2 hour pre-feeding programme but only God knows what's going in their minds actually; whether they are hearing/understanding the message or just plain in a world of their own, waiting for us to finish fast so the food can be served. Many times, I wonder.....

I have served enough Saturdays on the streets to know many just don't/can't believe there really is a God who loves and cares enough to die for mankind, sinners that we all are. To them  I am just a nice old aunty, who talk to them, pray over them, cry with them, and tell them fantastic tales about a God who can do miracles and take them to heaven when they die.

It's one thing to talk or hear about or even to see miracles at a huge rally, where some preacher calls up the sick and suddenly the lame walk, the blind regain sight, the deaf hear and all sorts of healing takes place. I have witnessed all that from afar. But when out of the blue, God decides to answer my own prayers. when I get to see with my own eyes miracles happening to people I have come to know personally - people in truly obviously desperate conditions - I can only say I am totally humbled and awed. And not just 1, but 5 miracles in a day is what I call a super-duper bonus. I guess God knows how tired I am of praying already; He knows how much I can take, and as always just at the right time, He gives me a 'booster' shot of His faithfulness, showing me He can touch anyone, everyone like...

.... the obese uncle who has been a fixture at the alley, ever since I can remember. He's heard about Jesus countless times, eaten countless plates of chicken curry rice. He always holds out his hand to me and asks for money, when I stop to say hello, He knows full well my standard reply, "Silver, gold or money I do not have. All I have is Jesus, and freely He is yours for the taking." But he's never taken, even though he agrees with everything we tell him about Jesus. Until this Saturday, as I sit with him and ask him if he would like to pray, he quietly says yes. His eyes tell me a miracle has happened in his heart as finally he lays hold of the gift of God.

.....the Christian brother, whose clothes cover a bag with tubes poking into his insides to hold the discharge from a body ridden with cancer, who has to lean hunching over a walker to move, who tries to hide the obvious pain he's feeling, and keeps telling me he's ready to go home to the Lord. How many times I have prayed over and with him, for God to release him from the suffering anyhow somehow . Yet this Saturday, I  see him smiling from ear to ear, walking well and  straight without that metal thing. pain-free ....that's a miracle to shout about. And no, it wasn't I. It was some other preacher who had simply declared over him, "Brother, you are healed, rise up and walk in Jesus' name." Almost the exact same words the apostle Peter used on a man lame from birth 2000 years ago. No, my brother didn't have a medical report to show his cancer is gone. But he did have 1 very obvious thing to show - the vitality of life written all over his face instead of the depressing shadow of death.

....the non-Christian, whom doctors had written off as a 'gone' case, with the cancer already spread into his bones, affecting nerves and tissues, put on morphine to dull the constant pain, hanging onto a crutch, unwilling to go home because he didn't want his family to suffer with him. He tells me how his heart was stirred the first time when he was in such pain, he had dragged  himself to hospital to get medication, and as he was desperately trying to stay steady on his feet, a nurse appears seemingly out of nowhere to help him.... and he sees the cross around her neck. What's even more amazing when he recently collapsed near a church, the pastor along with some others carried him into the sanctuary, prayed  over him, and immediately he felt one of his legs 'gone different'. He pulled up his trousers and showed me the obvious difference; it was soft and normal to touch, unlike the other leg which was hard and lumpy. He recounted softly, "That's when I knew this God that you always talk about is real." He doesn't need his crutch anymore but he continued, "Now I have a bigger problem. They checked my blood and found I have HIV on top of the cancer. But I am not afraid. I choose to believe." The miracle isn't about believing he will get healed from the diseases plaguing him. It's about him experiencing the peace of God that surpasses all human understanding, which is what Jesus promised to those who would come to Him, all weary and laden.

....the prostitute who brought along 7 other down-n-out characters to come and eat a decent meal. 2 years ago, I had connected with her (here ) Since then, she has been more absent than present at the alley, but every time I see her, she would smile her sad smile and assure me she's ok because she now has Jesus. She's still painfully frail and thin, but in spite of her own struggles with alcoholism, drugs, gastric and diabetes, she can declare confidently  "I only depend on Jesus, I know He will take care of me, so I can take care of others." The others for this Saturday include a fellow prostitute who was just released from prison for being 'in possession'  of drugs which were thrown at her feet during a raid. I see a miracle unfolding in her spirit as tears roll down her face and she grips my hands tight when I tell her over and over again just 3 words  that God prompts me to say to her  - Jesus loves you. I guess no one has ever told her they love her.

.... me, whose heart is so prone to wander/wonder. He sends an old uncle to draw a caricature of me and a brother who serves alongside regularly. I never knew he had this talent, I only knew him as somewhat grouchy and sometimes drunk. Yet here he is, friendly and sober, pulling out crayons and pad and telling me that I have a beautiful smile and beautiful eyes, so he is coloring them blue. Honestly  I have seen better drawings but it's the caption he scribbles over me that captures my heart and causes a lump in my throat - Christine Lai, the Queen of Ptg Street! That's my miracle - for all the years I have put in, the blood, sweat and tears poured into these people, when I am apt to think I cannot ever reach them, here is God telling me, I am accepted as one of them, I am counted as their friend. I don't bother to pay uncle, though I am sure he can use the money. But money would only demean his labor of love for me.

There are miracles, and there are miracles. Obvious earth-shattering ones and not so obvious quiet ones that stir the heart to just  know there is a God, no matter how much human minds may deny, reject or disbelieve Him. With my own eyes, I have seen what the God of miracles can do, even in the midst of a rebellious, sinful, unbelieving generation. He goes beyond my (little) faith to prove Himself true, as Lord of the harvest, He is bringing them all in...

"But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness" - Psalm 86:15