What Ails Thee, Malaysia?

So what else is new? After all the rah-rah-rah, the dust eventually settles into the same old, same old ruts. 4 years ago, back in 2013, many hopes were riding high on the general election of the nation. There was electricity in the air. I remember that night, we were all gathered in a cell member's house, glued to the TV set as results trickled in. We bit our finger-nails, we prayed; like a yo-yo, we were alternately jumping in glee and then groaning in despair. The next day and the days following that, I venture many were asking "What happened?", no matter which side we supported. There were talks of a tsunami with a record voter turn-out of 80%. Results were dissected, discussed and debated; everybody became an expert in political analysis... those were heady days, when people got all caught up in the "might have been".

Fast forward 4 years down the tunnel of time. Now apparently more than four million Malaysians have not registered as voters, with the majority of them within their 20s - and we wonder why the young are politically passive. Some are supposedly so "fed-up" they will not even bother to cast their vote,  either as a sign of silent protest or just plain giving up on the state of the nation. Opinions are canvassed about this deliberate 'disconnect' with the status quo. We know there's another election coming soon. But all we hear are the same songs being played over the air-waves of every political station.  I gather not many bother to tune in these days. Where once people actually braved the rain to stand at night rallies, nowadays, the crowd has thinned and response is lack lustre.

I am not young, having passed the half-century mark. So I don't presume to know what goes on in the heads of typical young Malaysians of this generation. But I cringe when Malaysians say they are no longer proud to be Malaysians or would rather emigrate to 'greener pastures'. I grieve when Malaysians, young and old,  just live our lives wrapped up comfortably in our own economic, social, religious, political cocoons, where people simply do whatever is right in their own eyes. It's a sad indictment on me, on all Malaysians, that we define truth, justice and righteousness through our individual rose-tinted glasses of perception and don't bother to look through other different colored lenses. I hurt when Malaysians declare their own country a bankrupt failed state or worse, for, don't we realize, we are simply calling ourselves names.

What ails thee, beloved Malaysia? Perhaps we can take a line from Shakespeare's Hamlet, where an officer of the palace guard says after the ghost of the dead king appears, walking over the palace walls, “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark” - just replace Denmark with Malaysia. Sure, we can  name the many 'ghosts' which haunt and stink up this land - corruption, kleptocracy, racism, extremism, poverty, abuse/misuse of power, inequality, injustice, etc. But those are mere symptoms, the outward manifestation of some internal rot somewhere. So where do all these ghosts come from? They don't suddenly appear out of thin air.  We can blame the government, the opposition, the economy, systems, (other) people, even God - it's so convenient. It's always easy to forget there are 3 fingers pointing back at ourselves for every finger we point at another. The Bible puts it succintly, "Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?"  (Matthew 7:3)

Could it be that the problem isn't 'out there', with 'them', but is actually within each Malaysian heart? If we are really honest with ourselves and with each other, isn't it true all of us just want things done our way, whether as individuals or groups of individuals? It's really not about race, religion or politics; those are just 'tools' we use against or for another. At the heart, it boils down to our basic intrinsic human nature to preserve and advance self above others. It's easy to love Malaysia - it's a beautiful land after all. But it's not that easy to love Malaysians, who come in all sorts of 'packages', no matter how loudly we profess it with our mouths. In fact I am not even sure some of us actually want to love all Malaysians in the first place.

Because if we truly loved someone or something, we should always be thinking how to benefit that other, to give him/her/it our best. At least that's how my God tells me love is. In fact His word tells me, 'If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.' (1 John 4:20) . So if we think of all the people in this country who hold something common called a MyKad as one big family, aren't we supposed to love one another, irrespective of differences? Many things I do not condone or agree with my children - their attitudes, way of life (even dressing, sometimes), the things they do or don't do.  But I don't hit them on the head or chain them up. I don't write them off, call them names. I can't force my faith on them, much as I dearly desire them to know and be blessed by the love of a real, true, living God. Because I love them.  Even when family members disagree with one another, it's the bond of love that holds them together, no matter what. But once the love is gone, it's all too easy to disconnect and eventually break up - we "divorce" and that's not just in the physical sense; it goes beyond the seen to affect the unseen.

Is that why Malaysia seems to be breaking up all over? Because we have failed to love one another. Perhaps it's too simplistic or naive of me to expect love can heal Malaysia’s wounds. Still isn't it obvious we have hurt each other, intentionally or unintentionally through careless words, actions and deeds, irrespective of who is right or wrong? Do we not perceive the unresolved resentment and prejudices built up over generations, the deep-seated anger that's camouflaged by smooth talk and nice-sounding platitudes about unity?  Can we start being honest with ourselves and with each other, instead of sitting on our own high horses?

If we love, there wouldn't be any corruption, because we wouldn't want to steal from our beloved. If we love, there wouldn't any injustice because we would ensure the ones we love would get not just a fair, but the best, deal of everything, no matter that they are of a different skin color. If we love, we wouldn't be wasting or misusing our country's resources, be it taxes or land. If we love, we would take care of all our young and there would be no incest or dumped babies. If we love, our women folk would be safe walking alone at night, no matter whether their heads are covered or not. If we love, we would not allow ourselves to be tempted to cheat on our spouses or bosses, no matter how strong our fleshly desires. If we love, we would willingly take care not to offend another, through our words or actions, even if it's not reciprocated. If we love, we wouldn't live in fear of losing our 'rights', because everyone would be consciously protecting the other's rights.

This isn't a 'sugar-coated' love that ignores the reality of life  where people do and seem to get away with a lot of horrible, terrible things. There is no denying evil and suffering in the world of man.  Yet the apostle Peter exhorts those who believe in One greater than any man or power, to "not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing." (1 Peter 3:9)  In fact right to the point, Jesus Christ commanded in Mathew 5:44, " Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you"  All that got Him was a painful death on a cross, but followed by a glorious resurrection from the grave.

And that's why far from being a losing game, that kind of crazy, sacrificial love birthed a community of people who turned the world upside with radical living. It transformed a murderous terrorist into a lover of souls, the rich gave their wealth away, a cheater repaid 4 times what he stole, the adulteress who escaped stoning wasn't punished but told to sin no more, the self-righteous who wanted to stone her bowed their heads in shame, when asked who among them was without sin. Such is the power of a love that redeems not condemns, a love that builds up not tears down, a love that surrenders everything of self, to the point of death, for the sake of the other.

Would it really work? Humanly speaking, it's impossible to love everybody, dumb to love our enemies. Well, we have tried changing things, policies, systems, government. We set up committees and commissions which come up with well-written reports and well-intentioned recommendations. But seriously, am I the only one who get that “same same old” feeling? Perhaps we need to do some serious soul-searching and change ourselves first. We will never know until we do it, would we.  It’s much like you wouldn’t ever experience God unless you choose to believe Him.

But is it worth it? Experiencing God, definitely. But would I love to the point of dying for simply any Malaysian...Malay, Indian, Orang Asal, Chinese? Would you? That depends on how much we truly and really love Malaysia and Malaysians.

"Love never fails.." 1 Corinthians 13:8

(Published 23/10/17 MMO)

His-tory

Life is a book. Many, if not all, of us want to write our own stories. But some prefer others to write for them. My husband put it into his will that I was to write his biography after his passing, because he knew I had a flair for words. To help me along, he left behind a bagful of cassette-tapes and a big box of slides containing a spoken and pictorial record of his 40 odd years of human life. He told me it contained everything about his life, known and un-beknown to me. It's been 15 years since he left earth to enjoy heaven. And I haven't written a single word. I think by now, it's well-nigh impossible to find something called a cassette player. So the tapes and slides are gathering dust in the store-room. When I see my husband in heaven, I owe him an apology, because I didn't carry out his last wishes.

Only once a long time ago did I deign to listen to part of a cassette which recorded the birth-cries of our first baby daughter in the labor room. I put it away when his voice came on; I guess the wound in my heart was still too raw then for me to continue listening. Perhaps, instinctively I was also apprehensive that contained in those records would be some things that would hurt me as a woman and a wife, things I would rather not know and indeed weren't needed for me to know...

For  I recalled the day I thought he was going to die,  as he lay in a hospital bed, out of the blue in the midst of all his pain, he told me he wanted to confess his sins. Back then, I wasn't prepared for this kind of thing. I had just come to the Christian faith myself, and was on an emotional roller-coaster ride, trying to get to terms with God, a dying husband and my own fears. So I told him to confess to Jesus. As it turned out, in spite of all my woeful inadequacy and ignorance, it turned out to be the absolutely right thing to do. Looking back, I can only say God did it; He took over the script and re-wrote not only the story of my life, but the story of my husband's death.

And life goes on, unfolding like the pages of a story book being turned over. If we had a choice, all of us would write happily-ever-after endings to our life story. Certainly if I had my way, I wouldn't
have written widowhood into the pages of my story. But happily-ever-after's only happen in... well, fairy tales. Babies grow up and out of all that Prince Charming/Princess Beautiful stuff.
Actually the world's story is one huge mess these days, despite all the so-called progress of human civilization. We applaud exciting stories about cars that drive themselves and imagine a world where in the words of John Lennon, "there's no heaven..no hell.. nothing to kill or die for...no religion too... all people living life in peace..." But the reality is that's not how life works; Lennon himself was killed by an assassin's bullet. Actually if there was nothing worth dying for, there wouldn't be any heroes to cheer, pointless to dream about ideals like justice or equality.  If there was no heaven no hell, our book would be but a blank page, life would be just one big zero - it would make absolutely no difference how we live today, whether we do good or bad, if death ends it all tomorrow. In fact it would be grossly unfair because there would be no punishment for all the evil that humans get away with on earth.

Written in the fabric of our society are such tragic stories....mass genocide just across our borders, and on the home front, in our own back yard, a horrendous story of how mere teenagers can deliberately commit arson and murder their own kind over a supposed tiff about futsal. Stories of child/women abuse, senseless violence, hate and fears of this, that or the other. What happened? Psychologists write theories about how humans have somehow lost respect for the value of life. Life has become so cheap, we can write pages and pages about the terrible things that humans do to one another, and it's not just in the name of religion, race, power or politics.  Nowadays anything goes. We are free to re-write even freedom, right and wrong in our own individual terms. The Holy Bible has a phrase for this : .."every man did that which was right in his own eyes" because everyone was only interested in writing his story his way.

But then there are those who, as Mother Theresa said, choose to be " a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world.”  I am learning to let go of my instinct to self-create something that I desire, and instead let the Master Creator of the entire universe design a masterpiece out of me. It's not easy, for many times my human eyes can't see and my human mind can't comprehend the beginning and the end of the stories He writes in my book.  And truth is, I'd rather be master of my own destiny, boss of my life. Why should I give it over to anyone else, much less to God "out there"?  For the simple reason I know He loves me, much more than I know how to love myself or others. He has declared in His own Word, that He has loved me with an everlasting love,  He has drawn me with loving kindness (Jeremiah 31:3) But still, can I really trust Him to write a good story for my life?

Well, I figured I will never know unless I let Him. So I did, a step at a time, albeit reluctantly, for it meant doing things His way, His time. Thus began a one-of-a-kind prayer-journey that took me through 9 months of travail, having to put aside my personal schedule, making inconvenient trips outstation, doing things I would never have thought of or would want to do in my own natural logic. It was like carrying a baby in my womb, and I never did take pregnancy well. But as every mother knows, the discomforts of pregnancy are well worth going through for the ultimate birth of new life. And how true it is that He never lets us walk alone... He sent human angels to accompany me throughout this journey. Few, but enough to keep me going month after month, session after session. It didn't matter that there were times when I didn't know how or what to pray anymore; He saw us through all the 3-hour watches over 9 months - 81 hours in total. Even when on rare occasions when no human support was available, my heart knew I was never alone although my physical eyes couldn't see heaven's angels all around.

And so the arduous journey of prayer turned out to be a blessing of renewed and deepened faith in the goodness of a God who empowers whom He calls, of being drawn close to His heart to be convicted by His love for all, even and especially for those who still refuse to acknowledge or believe. In the process coming to understand it's no longer about my desires, but about learning to pray as Jesus prayed the hardest, greatest prayer of all in His darkest moments in Gethsemane before facing the cross, "Father....not My will, but Yours be done" (Luke 22:42) and truly mean it.

There's nothing more fulfilling than knowing you have finished a job well. That's how I felt at the end of the 9 months 'assignment', confident that something beautiful has been birthed by none other than God Himself.  He has written every page of this chapter of my life, and it's so exciting to see prayers answered and still being answered, even  as He began a new chapter that took me on a 4-leg journey that started from PJ through to Kuching, Kota Kinabalu and Ranau, joining His family from different tribes, races and nations. A family born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. A family that honors the Father and each other in the love of Christ. When He called,  I didn't understand why I had to gallivant across the South China Sea and travel to not 1, but 3 towns across 2 states... What kind of story is this?  One that only He can unfold, for as it turned out, it wasn't just about attending another Christian gathering. At every turn of the page, there were characters who popped up, who needed to hear or be reminded of the good news of a God whose love knows no bounds, whose peace is beyond any human understanding, whose power overcomes even death, whose grace abounds to save every sinner.

Yes, it's an old old story, but one which never loses its meaning, when this world makes no sense anymore, and everything will pass away ultimately. It remains forever true - a story of divine love that alone can bring unity to a fractured world because it's birthed out of sacrifice, not self, based on surrender, not domination. The empty cross and empty tomb of Jesus Christ is the ultimate love-story that actually ends in a real happily-ever-after, if we choose to believe in and engage with a living God.
I think my husband was very wise; he knew I could write a better story of his life than himself.  Just so, I am beginning to understand there's an Author who can pen the story of my life much better than myself. And unlike I, who failed to write my husband's story, the almighty God will never fail to write mine, weaving His-tory into my life to make it beautiful.

"Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be" - Psalm 139:16