Call of Destiny

I am not much of a movie fan, but Disney cartoons have always been my favourite. I remember when I was a child,  my father would bring me to the cheap afternoon matinee (ie 3rd class seat right in front) in town - and my eyes would literally pop out watching the antics of Bambi, Snow White and Cinderella. Today's cartoons are so much more sophisticated, thanks to digital technology and wat-have-yous. Definitely more to ooh and ahh over. 6 years ago, I thoroughly enjoyed Frozen, and of course every time some kid in the kindergarten where I used to work belted out Let It Go, I would be joining in with gusto.

So of course I had to watch the sequel 6 years down the line. Well, Frozen 2 lived up to its commendable reviews. The animation was excellent, as expected of Disney. Although the story-line was kind-of cliché, playing out a politically - correct stage of aboriginal and environmental issues , still there was a good depth of provoking themes , following the adventures of the 2 beautiful protagonists Elsa and Anna and the side-kicks, Olaf the snow - man, Sven the reindeer and the male lead Kristoff.

I particularly enjoyed the scenes of Elsa battling with the elements, especially the water-horse. And who can resist Bruni, the cute salamander, such an unlikely personification of fire. What started Elsa off was just a call that wouldn't go away. It tugged at her heart, resounded in her ears, so much that she gave up her throne to pursue the truth of what happened in the past and why she was born with such powers. Ultimately it was a journey to discover and enter into her future. And that is what I call destiny, the one thing which gives purpose to every human life on earth.

We are all born with a destiny, irrespective of whether we believe it or not. After all, if it's the truth, it's true. In one scene,  Anna asks her sister, " When will you see yourself as I see you?" . Such a loaded question - man might as well ask, when will we see ourselves as God sees us? David,  the shepherd boy who grew up into his destiny to kill a giant and become  king had this to say about his Creator God , "I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well.... Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me, When as yet there were none of them. (Psalm 139:14,16) .

All of us have questions about life, death, meaning and purpose. Some subscribe to the "eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die" anyway philosophy. Personally, I think life would be pretty boring if that's all there is to it. Some would claim we are masters of our own destiny. That's an individual stand we are free to take. But there comes a time in everyone's life when if we are attentive, we will hear the call, like Elsa did. At that time, it will be up to us how we respond, whether to ignore, pend, reject or obey the call.

My call came 20 years ago, at the worst possible crisis of my life; facing loss of employment, a dying husband, and 3 young kids. Literally my world had collapsed. I didn't recognize it as a call then; I was just desperate. But it was indeed a call. And once I said yes, I entered into my destiny; something I only realized as it keeps unfolding season after season, year after year. Like a rose, opening up petal by petal, amidst and in spite of thorns growing alongside.

Queen Elsa was so stirred, she had to walk away, give up what was normal and settled in her life then. In  the end, it was worth it; finally she knew where she belonged, why she was born "like that".

That's destiny fulfilled, perfected - we become completed. And it's not just about individuals. If we would believe God, there's an even bigger picture He's painted - the destiny of nations. After all, if there's such wonderful method and order in the entire universe, nations are like pieces of a jig-saw puzzle He's put together beautifully. The only problem is many times the picture goes out-of-whack, because we want to do what we want to do, not what He wants done.

Even a loud-mouth snowman got me thinking about life, when Olaf in his 'growing up' phase said, "... when you're older, absolutely everything makes sense." Actually that's not true. In fact, sometimes it's quite the opposite - when we get older, nothing makes sense. Wisdom is supposed to come with age. But unfortunately that's not a mathematical given. Like we would expect after more than 60 years of so-called independence from colonial 'masters' , Malaysians would have matured and moved on beyond divisions of race and religion. Yet, it seems many - leaders, no less, whether it's of communities, organization, or government - are still operating in 'pet silos'. of our own making. I thought as we grow older as a nation, we really should all know better, right? (shrug)... now why it isn't so doesn't make sense to me.

For all its (erroneous) presumption about age and wisdom though, Olaf does get one thing right with this remark - "I just thought of one thing that's permanent -love". That's so on target. Governments of the earth come and go, policies, rules and regulations change according to the whims and fancies of man. But there's something about love that releases power for good. At least that's what the Bible teaches me - love never fails (1 Corinthians 13:8) because true love puts others before self, even at great cost. Just so, Jesus came to love and die for others to live in peace, reconciled with God and with each other. And that message of love has never changed through ages, irrespective of whether people chose to accept or reject, to believe or rubbish it.

Perhaps if we cultivated a little bit more love in our relationship-roles, be it as parents,  children youths, seniors, neighbors, bosses, workers, leaders, followers, citizens, even pendatang (whatever race or religion), then this world we live in called Malaysia would be a better place for all. Then we can be free of hate, mistrust, fear, suspicion and the need to be 'one-up' to prove ourselves better, more "right", more holy or more entitled than other human beings. Now, surely, that would be a good foundation to start building a beautiful Malaysia on.

I like how the clumsy hero Kristoff loves Anna. In the thick of battle, he simply says "I'm here, what do you need?' and later adds , what to me, is the power-line "My love is not fragile". For those words, Kristoff has been immortalized as Disney's best feminist prince ever, a symbol of healthy not toxic masculinity. But for me, it goes beyond gender. Imagine a Malaysia where instead of jostling for "our" rights, instead of complaining everyday how useless, bad, lousy everything and everyb
ody else is, because "our" needs are not fulfilled, we spare a moment to say to another , "I'm here, what do you need?", or how can I help you? I am reminded how Jesus went about serving people. He didn't just fast and pray, He walked miles, fed the hungry, healed the sick, brought the dead back to life.  He taught His followers, " love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which spitefully use you, and persecute you". (Luke 6:27-28) . He lived what He preached - willingly He went all the way to die on the cross, to save a lost world. Truly His love is not fragile. What if we were to love like that? Stupid, some would say. Well, there are others who choose to believe that kind of love is the only power that can break the chains of oppression, evil and death itself.

Of course, all fairy-tales must end with happily-ever-after. So it is with Frozen 2. There's a new beginning for all . Evil is subdued, good triumphs. Light overcomes darkness.  The captives are set free.  The oppressed are delivered.  Relationships are healed.  The love-birds get married. The kingdom gets a new sovereign. The dead get resurrected, even only a snowman. So all is well. Personally, I think it shouldn't just happen in fairy-tales. It should be for real, in the real world. Because that's how it was meant to be.

"For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope" ... Jeremiah 29:11

The Hidden Hand

We almost missed the plane. And it was my fault. My 'old aunty' brain had miscalculated the time we would need to check into the airport; I only looked at boarding time and quite forgot to add the travel, immigration and luggage clearance preliminaries. So we had to rush through the looong walkway in KLIA2 that leads to the gate; we were practically the last to check in, barely 10 minutes before scheduled take-off. All hot and bothered as we buckled down, then they announced departure would be delayed - and there was something wrong with the air-con. For a good extra half-hour, we all sweated it out in the plane. Thankfully the air-con came back on after take-off.

Talking about heat, Danang was 'stewing' in 40 degrees summer. Apparently the hot season had come unexpectedly early this year. But we saw many tourists - most notably Koreans and Chinese -
walking about in the mid-day heat, equipped with hats and hand-fans. We checked into the hotel and hunted for a lunch place, settling for a coffee-shop down the road, which served local noodles. 2 of the young ones opted to cool down in their rooms. So it was the older generation who braved the heat to check out the local tourist market in Danang, which was near the riverside. Huge place with tons of stuff at very affordable prices, compared to RM.

Followed by a stroll to a cathedral located nearby. To our amusement, there were some young Korean girls - all dressed up/made up alike - just like a typical K-pop group - doing their thing, posing right in front of the cathedral doors, so engrossed they 'hoarded' the spot for quite awhile, till another tourist got impatient and marched up the steps to take his photo-shot. Walking back to the hotel, we stopped at a road junction, and joined the locals in what must be their favorite past-time - sitting down on low stools , sipping Viet coffee and watching the world go by.

Night time was slightly cooler. After another local dinner, we headed where everyone was heading - to the riverside to watch the weekly attraction - the dragon bridge breathing fire. There were lights everywhere, on both sides of the river, on the boats cruising up and down, on the bridges. It was very pretty indeed. But the fire-breathing dragon was an anti-climax after all the waiting.... just a few puffs of 'flames' shooting out from the mouth, and it was over in barely 5 minutes. 

We spent the next morning visiting the famous pagoda complex in My Son, which is one of the "must-do's" in Danang.  Actually what impressed me wasn't the big statues of man-made gods, but the garden landscaping in the grounds. Trees so carefully and beautifully sculptured into living works of art. The place was crawling with tourists. We still had time to do some shopping in the market and eat before taking a private van onward to Hoi An, where we would stay out the rest of our 4 day vacation. 

Our Airbnb host was a young Viet couple, who rendered excellent service , going out of their way to take us to local eateries , and even negotiating for a big discount with the tailor who had messed up my eldest princess' order of custom-made pants. Hoi An is a UNESCO heritage site, and indeed the Old Town, with hundreds of  lanterns lighting up the streets at night, is an awesome sight.
Apart from walking, we took to bicycles, which are the most practical and cheapest means of transport around.  The only problem was adjusting to the right-hand-drive system on the road. The traffic is chaotic and a bit scary to the foreigner, but after awhile, I  learnt to put out my hands and cycle out in the middle of cars and motorcycles and just hope for the best . Actually it turned out all ok, Vietnamese drivers are really much more polite and gracious than M'sians - they have no problems giving way to 'lesser' vehicles on the road. 

We joined a  bicycle tour of an old village, crossing the river by boat, and stopping over to see how the locals hand-made wooden boats, weaved mats and prepared rice noodles.  Our guides were
university students , who took on these tours as opportunities to practice their English on tourists. It was an interesting activity; if not for the rain. Yes, after all the hot sun,  it did rain in Hoi An, on/off, it wasn't really that heavy. And as one lady in our group remarked, "It's just water." So we didn't let the weather deter us; in fact on the last day we cycled 10 km to/from the beach - in the rain.  

The highlight was out at sea, when we decided to change plans, following our host encouraging us to  try diving instead of just snorkeling around the islands.  Only my brother knew how to dive, the rest of us had never so much as put on a wet-suit. The price was double, but well worth it, since everything was provided - from tanks, masks, fins, and dive-suits down to an individual instructor - a professional  dive-Master-  who would be with us all the way.   We only had to learn 4 basic hand signals and simple breathing techniques. No need to bother about which button to press, where to go, how to release pressure.... we just had to trust the instructor to do everything right and obey. 

Mine was a young man. Throughout the 2 dives he led me , I think he was hovering above me, or beside me. I couldn't tell, because I didn't see him much, except when he came near to signal me, asking if I was ok, or pointing out some pretty thing under-water.  At times, I would sense him 'pushing' me down deeper to see more; I would panic just a little, but remembering he was the expert who knew what he was doing, I would just breathe harder and allow myself to be led. And truly, it is a wondrous world under the waters. My eyes took in the colorful living corals, waving "hallo"- tentacles at me. I was so close, if I wanted, I could just reach out my hands and touch them .  A big fish hidden under a rock  opened and closed its mouth as if singing a silent song for me. There were slugs and long slithery things on the sea-bed. I didn't have to worry about how much air there was in the tank I carried on my back, I could just relax and enjoy the beauty of a world totally alien to mine.  All because there was a hidden hand, guarding me, guiding me. 

Now looking back  in the comfortable familiarity of my own home at last (home is always so much sweeter after an absence) , I am so thankful that there is a very big Hand over me all the time actually. A hidden Hand which  I can't see but no matter; He is there. I don't need to know much really, just the basics - that God loves me, and wants to show me the best of life,  wonders that I have never known before. He has already taught me through some 20 years of a faith-journey that  He can be trusted to take care of the circumstances of my life and no doubt my death.  There will be times when things may seem dangerous, stuff I don't quite understand, situations I don't like. But it's  ok, if I choose to believe His ways are good, always good, and just follow His leading. It will all turn out worthwhile; this beautiful adventure  called abundant life which He meant for all humankind to be blessed with.

 O LORD God of hosts, who is mighty as You are, O LORD,
with Your faithfulness all around You?...

The heavens are Yours; the earth also is Yours;
the world and all that is in it, You have founded them....

You have a mighty arm;
strong is Your hand, high Your right hand.....
 -  Psalm 89:8,11 

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Our Father

So it's another Father's day come and gone. Another round of newspaper articles and pastors' sermons highlighting the male heroes of today's families; rightly so should they be remembered and honored, like mothers.  All of us come from an earthly father and a mother, whether they are still alive or not, irrespective of what we may feel or think about them.

Many are blessed to grow up in "happy" families - we read glowing reports of wonderful dads (and moms of coz) , displaying family photos of smiling faces, blue skies and everything nice. Those are indeed great stories. But me, I don't have particularly fond memories of my early childhood, and I am sure I am not unique in that. In fact there are probably many other  stories which are not so great. I hasten to add I don't begrudge other people's blessing, and I am sure even those "picture-perfect" families have gone through seasons of rain and storms. But honestly, sometimes it's a bit hard to relate to all the celebration of this or that category of people, when our personal experiences  have been less than happy or normal. Be that as it may, I am ever grateful my adopted parents have loved me and taken care of me the best way they knew how. Otherwise I wouldn't even be able to write this in the first place.

It's especially on Father's day that I miss my husband, the father of my children. Recently out on church missions in an Orang Asli village,  I was sharing with some of the women  how I used to find it difficult sleeping without my husband by my side. One of them looked me in the eye and said "Cari lain la". (Find someone else la). To her, that was the obvious  solution to a simple problem. But I had never thought of it that way; I think one husband is quite enough to handle in a life-time. It's been 15 years since he passed on to what I am assured (in the Bible and by our then 8 year old daughter's dream) is a far  better place where there's no pain, no suffering, no disease, no tears, only joy and peace.  Our lives have moved on in the absence of a much beloved spouse/father in the house. When my time comes to depart this earth,  my children will no doubt also carry on with their own lives. But I hope at the very least, the  memories of their father and mother will be more good than bad.

Actually I find we humans tend to remember the bad more than the good. Don't have to look far, just read the daily news reports. Bad news appear to sell better than good anytime. Everybody prefers to read about a certain sex video instead of 'boring' stuff like the reduction of household debt to GDP ratio.  So it is with our memory-banks. I only vaguely remember the rare treats my father gave me when I was a child, but up to now, even after so many years down the line,  I cannot forget how I climbed over the neighbor's wall, trying to escape my mom's "rotan", though I forget  what naughty deed I was guilty of (ok, there were many, I admit) . And I still recall how heavy was my father's hand on my cheek when he got fed-up with my (forever) bad maths results .  These days someone would have screamed child abuse. But those days were different; I suspect parents then had no qualms about not sparing the rod in raising their young children.
I never knew there were things like birthday parties, until I was well into my teens. I never got any hugs from my parents; the first (and only) time I tried to hug my father, it was so awkward - for both of us. My parents never celebrated anniversaries. As it is, I remember the beatings more than the loving. So I am not particularly  surprised when my now very grown-up children tell me they remember vividly their punishment for doing wrong when they were young; whether it was I, their father, or elder sibling who "administered" it  (the difference being there wasn't any 'rotan' in our home).

If that's the case with our own family members, I guess it's also not surprising that's how people react to  God as well - many regard Him as just a distant,  angry father, always out to 'catch' us in 'sin' (which usually translates as rules and regulations restricting our freedom and spoiling our fun to live as we like) and punish us with hell-fire. 2 of my very grown-up children objected  strongly when I told them what the Bible said about who goes to hell. We were talking about homosexuality over dinner (that's how a mere sex video can generate so much discourse, when normally our dinners are pretty quiet affairs) .

I am afraid I didn't explain it very well though, and may have ended up giving them the impression God is some big guy up there who's just waiting to zap people who don't agree with Him into this place called hell to burn forever more. I neglected to clarify actually it's not about morals or sex (the 2 things that seem to occupy idle human minds a lot.) It's about human pride which causes us to think we know what's best for us, and therefore are entitled as of right to do what we want, how we want, as we want, instead of doing what God wants. That was what tripped up Adam and Eve in the garden, and it's still tripping up all humankind everywhere  - this  thing God calls sin.

So no, it's not about how moral, smart, rich, good (or otherwise) we happen to be. It's about who we are basically; according to His perfect standards, all - and that means all - have sinned and fall short of His glory. I should have told my children the truth is God doesn't send anybody to hell.  Actually we send ourselves to hell, by the choices we make in life. (Worse some make life on earth itself a hell for themselves and for others).  If we would stop to think about it, God has given to man the highest freedom of all - the ability and the choice to reject Him, to not believe or follow Him. The only snag is with that freedom comes great and eternal consequences - what we decide to do with God is literally the difference between heaven and hell.

No one can accuse God of being unclear about this; we can't say we were not warned. Some would think, duh, that's like no choice really, it's manipulation using fear . Well, no one is exactly forcing it down our throats. It's a very mature democratic system - if we  want to live our way, then be prepared to face what's further up at the end of the road of this earthly life.

That's absolute justice, very fair. And if you happen to believe the road just ends nowhere into nothingness, well, that's a chance you are at liberty to take too. After all, if we keep on pumping all sorts of sugary stuff into our bodies just because we are absolutely free to indulge our sweet cravings, it shouldn't be a surprise if we end up a diseased diabetic. We may not, but that's not a chance I would want to take. And surely then we can't in all honesty blame anyone but ourselves for disregarding what the expert doctor already forewarned.

Sad to say, it's easier to blame God for hell ; I guess then we don't need to own up that it's our own fault. In truth, my God isn't about hell. The one prayer every Christian would have memorized by heart begins... "Our Father, who art in heaven...".  Earthly fathers (and mothers, spouses, sisters, brothers, bosses, best friends, leaders, anybody and everybody) may fail us all too often, but not this Father...

For His word says plainly He 'takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live.." (Ezekiel 33:11), in fact He is "not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance" (2 Peter 3:9) .  My God is not the god of death, but the God of life; Jesus came that all may "have life, and have it abundantly" (John 10:10) . And  He wasn't talking about just heaven, but life on earth, right here, right now. The closed tomb of death and hell's doors couldn't hold Him back - He simply walked out alive and kicking after 3 days. Wherever He went, the sick  got healed, demons fled, the dead got resurrected, mourning turned into joy, people heard good news preached.  Now that's abundant glorious life indeed.

When Father's Day rolls around, we rack our brains for what present to give the human fathers we love . Yet it is Our Father in heaven who first loved us so much who has already prepared the best gift for us instead - His total,  unconditional, liberating Love, so we can experience Life in all its fullness. And we don't have to wait for Father's Day or any special day to receive it. We just need empty hands and open hearts.


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

The End is the Beginning

Okay, it's one looong movie , the ticket price was expensive,  throw in the mandatory pop-corn (what's a movie without popcorn ...), dinner thereafter plus the parking... so Avengers Endgame was not exactly a cheap family outing for 4. But was it worth it?
We-ll, that's personal. Honestly, I preferred last season's Infinity War; notwithstanding its horrible (to me) ending when people and heroes alike simply disintegrated into ashes. I don't particularly like sad endings where the bad guy seems to win; though of course even at that time, I expected a resurrection with the next (ie now) season. And in that sense Endgame must and did play out the hope of  restoration and ultimate triumph of good over evil , even though it comes at heavy cost.

But that's not surprising, because that premise has always been ingrained into  man's pysche, whether or not we believe it to be true. As Alexander Pope stated in his Essay on Man, " Hope springs eternal in the human breast. Man never is , but always to be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come." So it is  with a Hollywood movie where even super-heroes lost much - friends, family, a part of themselves. At the point where everything seems so bleak, one very disappointed, disillusioned and weary hero  says, "Don't give me hope",  but the one holding out answers, " I am sorry I couldn't give it (hope) to you sooner."

Without hope, nothing is actually worth living for. If the end of man's life is really the end, to what purpose even a life that is well-lived, if I am  just going to finish literally in ashes 6 feet underground. I remember the finale in Infinity War when bodies just melted away, my first thought was the words from the Bible  "... you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes." (James 4:14). Sure we can say our legacy lives on in the lives of our children, our property, our ...whatever/whoever that survives on earth. But that's not my life anymore, so that's really not much comfort, and certainly no hope at all personally for me.

Thankfully, the Bible also talks about something else that's so much more encouraging. Apostle Paul thanked God for  a faith and love that spring from the hope that's stored up in heaven for believers, that is the true message of the gospel (Colossians 1:5).  And ultimately that's what makes for a good ending. There's a touching scene in Endgame, where a hero mourns the passing of one of their kind,  "We can't bring ... back". That's the awful reality of death which strikes every one of us eventually. No  matter how healthy our diet, no matter how much we exercise, no matter how fit, smart, rich we are, no matter  young or old, whatever the species ....death claims every living thing on this earth eventually. And no human or AI has ever brought the dead back to life.

Within days  after watching Endgame, in the space of 24 hours, at night I attended the funeral wake of the 89 year old mom of a brother in Christ, and the very next evening, with my own hands, I buried  Pi  the 1-month old kitten, who was with us for only 2 weeks.  An old friend of mine said we should all  be taught to be prepared to accept death, so that we can be at peace with it.

I understand where she is coming from; death is indeed a traumatic experience for those caught in its snare. Just as in Endgame, a hero said, " I keep telling everybody they should move on and grow. Some do, but not us." Survivors know we need to move on beyond the grief of losing a loved one. I have lived 17 years without a dearly beloved husband, but I still don't know how to help my friends who are widows to "move on".  One sees no meaning in her life anymore, the other says she's so lonely. All I can do is  remind them to hang onto the promises of a God who is faithful to turn every bad situation around somehow - yes, even death. So no, I don't want to accept death, although I am fully prepared to face it - because death isn't meant to be man's original destiny, eternal life is. Death steals, kills and destroys. Death isn't meant to be accepted as fait accompli; even though it can't be undone, it can be conquered and overcome. Just like evil.

For sure it's a battle, just like the climatic finale in Endgame. As the super-hero  declares, "This is a fight of our lives." They all go into it...to do whatever it takes. It does take a lot - after all,  there are always casualties in every battle, and some are fatal. And I guess that's my 'peeve' with Endgame's ending. I want a happily-ever-after scenario, where all the super team gets  resurrected,  united together once more after dealing with the bad guys  and saving the universe again. I didn't want my favourite super-heroes to die or fade away into oblivion.

It may be just a movie - at its most basic, it's simply a super-hyped-up drama over some colorful stones. But interwoven into a fantasy tale are some very real life issues of loss, sacrifice, love, which speaks to every human heart.  I think deep inside, we all want to live forever, whether or not we admit it. That's why we all grieve when death happens, whether it's a purely personal thing or in something as public as madmen killing people in churches, mosques, schools, shopping malls or wherever.  Thewisest king Solomon recognized, " He (God)  has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity into man’s heart, yet no one can fathom what God has done from the beginning to the end." (Ecclesiastes 3:11) 

Life is meant to be beautiful here and now; in truth it is meant to be beautiful forever. What man (and super-heroes) cannot do, God accomplished. He defeated death for us, through One man who willingly paid the price - His life for ours. Jesus said it all, “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) .  That's the hope reserved for those who choose to believe, by and in faith.

Yet I have to confess 17 years ago, if not for my (then) 8 years old daughter, I would not - I could not - have believed.   In my anger at having the love of my life snatched away by death, I dared God to prove Himself - to  give me a dream and show me where my husband had gone. I never did dream, and He never did show me, even to this day. Instead the very next day after my husband's funeral, my little girl who didn't know anything came to tell me she had dreamt of her very happy daddy in a very beautiful place. Now that's peace.

Unlike super-heroes which are just a figment of man's clever imagination , death is real. But so is God , and so is everlasting life - Jesus came and proved it by rising from the dead. The end is not the end, it's but the beginning of something else so much better than what we can ever imagine - what a glorious hope to know and possess. It beats any Endgame .


 "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End" (Revelation 22:13) 

Pi is his name

I buried my kitten on the eve of my birthday. He died exactly 2 weeks after I accepted him from my    street-son who had plucked him up from a road divider. It took us a week to agree on a name for the kitten. We called him Pi, because it went along nicely with the name of our other cat, Maffin. (as in Muffin and Pie)

The vet said 1 month old Pi was  under-developed for his age; indeed he was all bones, so small he fitted into the palm of my hand. But he seemed to thrive - he was eating, mewing, exploring, pooping all over the place.  I had bathed him and left him to sleep.  After some 4 hours, by which time it was late evening, I thought it very strange he hadn't woken up. He looked funny when I checked on him, he had wetted himself under his towel and his limbs were cold to my touch. By the time we rushed him to the 24hr animal hospital that night, he was very weak. The doctor's diagnosis was fading kitten syndrome. He was put on emergency drip and into critical (equivalent of human ICU) care.

I had never heard of fading kitten syndrome. Apparently it's a common condition in young kittens who don't get any/enough of mother cat's milk - it affects their immune system and because they are so young, they become very susceptible to bacteria, infections and all those nasty stuff.   From the start the doctor had warned Pi's prognosis was poor and bound to fluctuate. She could only say it would be 'touch-n-go' , as all they could do was try to boost up his immunity and manage his dehydration from diarrhea. The rest was really up to Pi to fight it out.

It's only a kitten. But I found myself crying in the car as we drove back. I remembered the serious charge given to me when I took the box containing this "little thing"  from the hands of my son two weeks ago - I was to take care of him, give him a good home. And I struggled to accept the worst that could happen and why God would give me something beautiful only to take it away after such a short while.  It's not only a kitten, it's a life. It may not be worth much or anything to anyone else, - not even to its mother - but it's still a life and it was entrusted to me.  In the midst of tears, the words of Job, the long-suffering hero of the Old Testament, who lost everything - cattle, sheep, donkeys, camels, servants, 7 sons and 3 daughters - came to me, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD " (Job 1:21) 

Job, a man the Bible called "blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil"
reacted to the most catastrophic of losses - which God allowed to happen - with the most profound insight. It wasn't that he was weird or unfeeling - in fact he grieved so much he tore his robe, shaved his head, fell to the ground. But in the suffering and the pain, he recognized one thing - in the midst of WHAT can happen, there is a WHO in charge. In short, he knows - and most importantly he accepts - life isn't in our hands. Not our own, not others, not even a little kitten's. So choking back my tears, as my daughter drove, I prayed surrendering Pi into his Creator's hands, because Pi is not mine, even my children are really not mine. All I have on this earth is given unto me to hold, to love, to care for and ultimately to let go of, not as/when I want it to happen, but in accordance to a divine time-table of which I know nothing of, but must trust that the One who is Maker of heaven and earth - from whom, through whom and to whom are all things - knows what He is doing, even when I disagree. So if Pi lives, he lives. If he dies, he dies. And it struck me, if I can cry over a little kitten's life, how much more God Himself must grieve over the state of all humans - we, the crown of His creation, who instead of enjoying life as He meant it to be, just mess around trying and thinking we can manage life on our own.

I was planning to take Pi home after 2 nights in hospital, as the last time I saw him, although still weak, he had moved and mewed a little. His glucose level however was yo-yo-ing from low to normal back to low. Anyhow we were all prepared to rotate taking care of him at home. The next morning, I saw 5 missed calls from the hospital when I switched on my phone; my heart already knew Pi had died.

It being a Sunday, I went to church. In the midst of grief, like Job, I blessed the name of the Lord, my God... For those 2 weeks of having Pi waddling around the house (he's so needy he 'chases' human legs when any of us are around him) , little Pi eating from and sleeping in my hand.  I return his stiff body into the ground, from dust to dust, ashes to ashes. And I thank my God, because today I am still alive, my children are still alive, my friends are still alive, because He is gracious to let us all live another day, and another and another.  That despite some who refuse to accept His sovereignty, in spite of how we rail at Him for daring to take away ''our'' ...cat, dog, family, friend, partner, health, wealth... whatever/whoever.

I used to be like that, not understanding why/how could a good God (seemingly) do nothing about all the death, suffering, evil, bad, unfair, things going on in this world, if He is so so great? He didn't miraculously cure my husband of cancer, I was made a widow at age 40, my children grew up without an earthly father. There's nothing good about any of that. I still remember the anger I felt at losing my husband, despite all the prayers prayed, all the tears cried in private. Anger at a God who would take away the love of my life, the father of my children. And I remember how gentle He was in answering my "Why? How could You?"  The great Almighty God  could have roasted me with a lightning-bolt for daring to question Him. He could have rejected me altogether. But He didn't.  Instead He answered my questions with a question; He simply said, " My child, I have given your husband the best gift, what more do you want?" Such love - He called me His 'child.' It took me awhile to figure out what He meant, but I 'got' it, finally.  Truly He has given His best, by Jesus laying down His own life to cancel out death's claim on us all, sinners without exception.

So it is, 17 years down the line, and until I breathe my last on this earth, like Job and countless others who have believed, accepted and therefore received the best from a good God, I will bless the Lord. In the meantime, I think I will lay off accepting any more stray kittens.


"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

No Name

How could I say no.... The feeding was over. Another Saturday's work was done. Many of the homeless street crowd who came for the free food had already left. There sat my 'son', staring into the
box which contained the little kitten he had rescued from a road divider.  He had picked it up, washed the dirt off its skinny body, turned a cardboard box into a home by lining it with cloth and paper, even managed to buy a small packet of wet kitty food for it.

He - with his own deformed hands, fresh out of a job, lost his IC and his OKU card - wanted to take care of an animal. What an irony. When I asked him how he was going to manage, he shrugged and said, maybe someone want. Such is hope. My 'son' adopted me many years ago. He was just another 'society reject', a young man with no future, because no one wanted to give him a chance to work. One look at his clawed hands and they would write him off, although those hands were actually very strong and very capable of hard work. So I had simply told him the greatest love-story in the world then, the truth being that even if everyone in the world looked down upon him, even if his own family rejected him, Jesus loves him  and  always will . I had taken those deformed hands in mine, and blessed them. He had decided then to believe  and surprised me by asking if he could be my son, as he wanted to call me his 'Ma.' By the way, he's not a Chinese. I was very touched. How could I say no....

That was years ago. He had disappeared for awhile, as is the norm with these people. But once in a while he would show up, and always he would give me a big hug , call me  'Ma', and tell me he's fine, just busy working. And I would thank God, hug him and pray blessings over him again. Now today, as I look at my 'son', I knew again I couldn't say no. I looked at the mewing kitten in the box.  Actually it was quite a beauty  - white with 3 black spots on its back, and distinctive black ears. But I really didn't need or want another cat in the house.  Maffin, the existing one only knew how to eat and sleep, sleep and eat; it didn't even do what cats are supposed to do - catch rats. But my children didn't mind, in fact they wanted  another cat.  I had said no many times, yet here I was, going back on my own word.

I told my 'street-son' I would take kitty. To my surprise, he started talking to it. And there were tears in his eyes as he said - to a cat - "There, you be good, Ma will take care of you. She give you good home. " Now I had tears in my eyes.  I asked him, what name he wanted for it. He said softly, "God give name." It's been a week now since the cat with no name came to stay. For a small bundle, it's very noisy. And fussy about food. Not to mention it's not litter-trained, so it keeps wallowing in and walking around with poo on its paws .... Now that  I find myself scrubbing smelly poo and urine off the floors, I am regretting saying yes. Maffin the reigning king-cat is sulking and quite upset at the 'intruder'; he's so scared he just avoids the cat with no name and refuses to go anywhere near it. He even prefers to be out in the rain, which is something very unusual for Maffin, because he's an absolute coward when the sky thunders. Well, he will just have to adjust to life with another cat in the house now....Coz my eldest princess just took the cat with no name  to the vet to get it checked out and dewormed. So I figure we are stuck with no-name cat, dirty poo and all.  After all I had been 'charged' to take good care of it; I am supposed to give it a good home.

I imagine that's how it is with Father God in heaven. It struck me how prominently animals feature in the Bible. No cats though, but plenty about lambs, goats, cows, horses, lions, snakes, even birds. As Jesus tells the story, we are His sheep. Apparently sheep are the dumbest of animals. They need a shepherd to lead them to green pastures and clear waters. Otherwise they are apt to do stupid things like wander off from the flock  or fall off a cliff maybe.  I dunno how the cat with no name got lost from its mother and ended up on a road divider,  just a step away from being crushed under moving wheels. But a hero - one human being with clawed hands - plucked it up and out of harm's way. One human being with a soft heart. That made the difference between life and death for this cat with no name.

I can't help comparing and remembering that's what made the difference in my life too. Just like the cat with no name, I didn't even realize I was stuck on the divider between heaven and hell, life and death.  Until a Hero came along and plucked me out of the depths, cleaned me up from all my own dirty poo, and brought me into the everlasting presence of a good good Father. Not a super-hero created out of some comic book, but One who came in the flesh, breathed, died and rose from the grave. How much more super can it get?

This is the God who knows how many hairs are on my head,  I am so precious to Him that He sacrificed the life of His Son for me. Like the good shepherd who cares for his sheep, this One knows and calls me by name.  I don't think anyone can ever grasp or understand the wonder of such knowledge ....  I can't, I can only exclaim with Apostle John, "See what great love the Father has lavished on us....us.... that's me, little me, once lost, now found, once destined for death, now blessed with eternal life. How can I say No to such Love? Why would I - or anyone for that matter - want to say No to such Love?

I have to give the cat with no name a daily bath because it messes itself up with so much dirt. I am sure it's rather traumatic for the creature; I guess that's why instinctively it just lies quietly in my palm as I rub it dry with a towel, and most times it just falls asleep thereafter, right in my hand.   If only  humans could learn to be like that....  after all the endless running around in a messy world, if only we could  just receive the touch of God, let Him clear up the mess His way and hold us in His mighty hand , right close to His very heart; the heart that loves like no other can....for there we shall find rest.

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from Him. Truly He is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken." - Psalm 62:5-6 

Kyoto 2019

It was expensive, undoubtedly. We were going during peak season, when tourists come in multitudes to gawk at Japan's famed cherry blossoms. But I knew I had to join the gathering which would see some 5000 international participants from about 30 nations coming in one accord to bless Japan.  It was one big family of Christians cutting across denominations and churches just being together to worship, pray for and love one another; which is as it should be, biblically.

But beyond just the spiritual blessings I received in being part of the global family of God, I was much blessed to have some time to be just another tourist in Kyoto.  

We arrived late at night after a 7 hour flight into Kansai Airport, which is built on an island by itself.
Because of the hour, we checked into a nearby hotel just for the night, intending to take the early bus out to Kyoto in the morning. Much to my pleasant surprise,  it turned out to be a very nice place, well worth the RM300 charge per pax. At such a late hour, the reception was manned by 4 people. The man who attended to us
couldn't find my reservation under my passport name, but he patiently ran through his computer, and finally located it under my Christian name. It was my fault for neglecting to mention the fact, but he was ever so nice about it.

The room itself turned out to be much more spacious than I expected. The beds were big and comfortable, with extra pillows. It's the first time I come across a hotel that provides pyjamas, a pair
so neatly laid out in the drawer. It's also the first time I used an electronically-controlled toilet. Call me uncultured, uncivilised, ignorant, whatever, but I think Japanese toilets are such a wonderful piece of technology. The seat is nicely warmed, the cover opens and closes automatically. It flushes itself and the bidet works accurately at the touch of a button. Some of these hi-tech toilets even come with music to boot. Talk about sitting on a throne.

I had my first experience  of Japanese punctuality the next morning when we missed the airport shuttle bus by just 5 minutes. Public transport is very efficient, although sorting out train, bus, and subway lines can be tricky. But it gets easier once you get the hang of it. Tickets are purchased through vending machines, with English options.  Order and orderliness - that's the way things run in this nation. Queues are second nature to every Japanese, and yes, they do know how to line up in toilets - in a line, not simply cutting in to stand at the cubicles, as some Malaysians are wont to do.

The other glaring thing that stands out is how clean everything is. From public toilets to  rivers to roads. Recycle is standard operating procedure everywhere,  outside supermarkets, on the road - and
even in the Kyoto hotel we stayed at, we were expected to separate our room trash into separate bags. They even separate the plastic caps from the bottles.  

Everything is so “miniature” - from bonsai trees to restaurants that seat only single rows. We had occasion to dine at a famous ramen
place. There was no waiter to serve you. Instead you punch your order into a machine, pay and wait in line to get a seat in an individual cubicle. Your food is handed out from behind a bamboo screen. The set-up  really doesn't encourage socializing - you eat by yourself and get out directly after - but the ramen is indeed very good. 

Talking about food, there’s so much variety and everything is so delightfully fresh, albeit expensive.  My first meal was a late nite instant mee snack from the 24 hr convenience store at our first hotel. But even on my limited budget of RM100 for 3 daily meals, the food looked good and tasted great. Their bread is excellent - soft and warm. Ramen comes with so many toppings. I even tried my hand at frying and flipping my own Japanese pizza/omelette - okonomiyaki - on a common hot-pan. We visited the huge Nishiki market, which featured all sorts of food stuff. It was an eye-popping, mouth-watering, stomach-filling gastronomical experience, moving and eating from one end to the other. 

We had come slightly before the start of the cherry blossom season. Even then, there were plenty of sakura's to ooh and ahh over in many places. 5 minutes walk from our hotel, there was an old railway track, which was literally lined with cherry blossom trees. So early each morning, I got to feast my eyes on the beautiful blooms which came in so many shades of pink, white, even orange and browns. I even managed to catch a wedding photo-shoot there, and indeed it's such a romantic spot. 

But it wasn't only the cherry blossoms that captivated - everywhere there were flowers blooming in profusion along road-sides, in front of houses, hotels, restaurants, shops. The colors were so vivid they looked unreal. They were such a delight to my eyes;   I couldn't stop photographing flowers, flowers and more flowers. As it is, I can just imagine how awesomely beautiful it would be at the height of the cherry blossom season, when every flower is in full bloom.

On average the daily temperature was reported to be below 15 degrees, with some days as low as 9. I personally don't like cold, so I came prepared, with my thick shawl, gloves and lined down-jacket borrowed from my daughter. Still, I found the wind bitingly cold, especially at night, after our sessions ended and we had to
walk back to our hotel. My nose and my ears suffered the most. The last 2 days' rain made it worse. At this rate, I don't think I can survive winter in Japan. 

With just about 2  days free time, I gave the famous temples of Kyoto a miss. There are so many around, even in small neighborhoods. Not that I am into temples anyway; I prefer the nature stuff. So it was we made our furthest trip to the bamboo forest up north of Kyoto. It's indeed a sight to behold the giant trees, even though the place was literally crawling with tourists. So many that there were queues waiting in line to cross the traffic lights. And that's the other thing about Japanese - you don't simply walk across the road as you like - you wait for the pedestrian light to turn green. And yes, you can rest assured all vehicles will stop to give you right of way. Unlike in some places you-know-where vehicles and people act as if there are no traffic rules. 

Talking about traffic, there are so many cyclists riding on the pavements. And they are so polite they don't ring their bells; they just whizz past pedestrians. I venture  in such weather where you don't sweat, it must be rather pleasant to cycle around.  The bikes come with
baskets attached to hold things, babies and even dogs. That's the other interesting 'traffic' that's hard to miss - cute, frisky,  little, big and definitely happy dogs being walked about by their owners.  At Nishiki market they even have a dog cafe - where you pay money to play with man's best friends.

The one thing we didn't get to see were the geishas, although we did go to the particular district. Maybe because we went at the wrong time, in the day, whilst these ladies are known only to come out at night. But there were certainly no lack of kimono-clad women around, even though many were really non-Japanese, trying on rented gowns for the day, just for the fun of it.

My last few hours in Kyoto were spent walking around the huge grounds of the ancient 400 years old Nijo castle. This was the place which saw the ending of the feudal Shogunate and the birth of modern Japan under the Meiji  emperors. Significantly a day after my return to Malaysia the newspapers announced the end of the current Heisei and beginning of the new Reiwa era for Japan under a new Emperor who will ascend the throne on May 1. Truly God's timing is perfect.

I now understand why my second daughter who has visited Japan before likes it so much. Outside of the event sessions, I  only spent 2 short days, visiting limited places in Kyoto. Actually if not for the event, I would not have come to (expensive) Japan on my own. So the lesson is I am the one who is blessed - spiritually and non-spiritually in all ways -  when I just follow God's prompting to go wherever, do whatever. Come to think of it, I really should stop counting the costs of following Him, when He never counted the cost of saving me.

 ".....Christ Jesus...who, though He was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted Him and bestowed on Him the name that is above every name" - Philippians 2:6-9 

Foto gallery

Doing It Differently

It's the first day of Chinese New Year 2019 ; my limited social media links are filled with pictures of family get-togethers, young and old posing in their best red outfits, food galore, and the ubiquitous (obligatory)  wishes for blessings, prosperity, happiness and all things nice. That's all fine and good. I have no problems with it.

But I can't help wondering if my family is the only odd-ball one that's not 'in sync' with other 

families. Sometimes a bit wistfully, I wonder why we aren't really "big" on celebrations,  be it birthdays, cultural, religious events or even once-in-a-lifetime events like my own wedding or my children's graduations.   I dare say every family splashes big-time on such occasions. I remember my wedding dinner hosted only 6 tables in a noisy Chinese restaurant shared with another bridal couple. We didn't have a wedding planner, my husband's best buddy lent us his Mercedes-Benz for the day and we didn't have our honeymoon till about a year later, when we had enough money to go spend a weekend in Genting Highlands. But all that had absolutely no bearing on our 17-years love-affair together on this earth.

As for my 3 children, not one of them got their "mortar-board" mug-shot.  I asked each one when their turn came, if they wanted to spend hours shut up in a fancy hotel, listening to (mostly boring) speeches,  sitting at tables together with thousands of others, waiting for their 1-minute moment of fame, to hear their name (amongst thousands) called out, to receive a scroll, which I paid a small fortune for. All three said no need, even the one who scored a Magna-cum-laude - that's the highest distinction honors.  In fact the absent-minded one only collected the piece of paper from the university one year after  repeated reminders that I paid a lot of money for it. Some people, especially mothers, are absolutely horrified that I didn't "allow" my children to graduate "properly", since it's an achievement which should, must, be celebrated to affirm their hard work.  Well, to each his own - we keep things simple with a private dinner-out together, like we do on birthdays. Personally,  I don't think a graduation gown and a mortar-board has any relation whatsoever to my pride in their accomplishment. As it is, I am sure their not having a graduation photo to post on their Fb never affected their outlook on life in any way.

I suspect my nonchalance about such things came about the day I sat on the bedroom floor, sifting through my husband's stuff after his funeral. I looked at the old, yellowed photo of him in his graduation robes, I handled his degree, paper certificates and awards in my hands. And I tore them up, because all that didn't matter  already. I guess facing the death of a beloved gives a totally different perspective as to what things in life are truly important, seen in the light of eternity. 

Like I said, we are not big on celebrations.  Still for the past 16 years, from the time of my husband's passing on,  I have insisted we make the long (sometimes 10 hours) trip "balik kampung" to Alor Star to join my sisters for the family reunion dinner on the eve-nite. I guess it's my way of making up for all the prior years I have ignored them, as I never kept in touch ever since I was adopted out of the family.  At the very least, ever since I became a Christian then, I knew I had to go back to tell them the good news of the love of God for us all.

But this year, for the first time, we broke tradition. The children were not keen to go back. I know it's hard on them, especially now that they are all grown-up adults. They have no connection with their cousins. They don't understand the dialect, like me they are 'bananas'; the most they can manage is  Keong Hee Huat Chai (Hokkien version) . Besides, it's not particularly comfortable having to share a room in strange surroundings, just as staring at the TV for 3 days can hardly be termed entertaining.

Could I have insisted? I guess; but I ask myself, what's the point, really? It's like forcing them to go to church. For awhile that's what I did ; requesting that they accompany me only 3 times a year - on the "big" occasions - Christmas, Good Friday and Easter. They followed, dutifully. But I could see their hearts were not in it.   And finally I figured God Himself would not be pleased; if He could not have their hearts, the mere presence of their bodies in a church building meant nothing and is worth nothing to Him. I stopped the farce.

So this year we didn't join the long queue of vehicles clogging up the North-South highway. We don't have any pictures of big family reunions or 10 course food presentations to show off.  The house wasn't decorated with anything. I didn't buy even 1 single jar of CNY cookies. On the 2nd day, we  visited the only 2 of my husband's relatives who were in KL. Other than that, the children happily did their own thing. I, also quite happily, sweated it out in the garden, telling the flowers and veggies to grow well.  The happiest one must be Maffin our cat; he gets to lounge around in his fave spots and we are at his service. I  called my relatives to wish them blessings. They understand.  And I am certain all the 16 past Chinese New Years of sharing God's love with and to them are not in vain.

At the table, it was just the 4 of us with 2 simple dishes, as usual.  No big deal. Sure, we may miss an earthly reunion dinner with our blood-relatives, but as I declared in my prayer , we will not miss the ultimate grand reunion feast with Father God and His family of people from every nation, tribe, and tongue on that great day when His own are gathered back together to be with Him - after all,  when everything is said and done, that's the reunion that really matters, because that is for ever.

"Let all that you do be done in love." - 1 Corinthians 16:14

Makeover

My hands throbbed, my fingers got swollen and my back ached.  No, I wasn’t sick.  Just my old body feeling the effects of hard physical labour, something I have not engaged in for the past decade.
The first thing I did right after my retirement after retrenchment was pick up the broom and mop.  I think I make a better maid than the Indonesian 'ibu'  we used to call in to clean house twice a month.  For starters I do it free of charge, plus I do it more often and more thoroughly  than them.  I am ashamed to admit some parts of the house have never been cleaned ever since my husband's passing some 17 years ago.  Like the store room.  Every year I would resolve to clearing and cleaning it.  Year after year, it remained just that – a resolution.

Well,  finally I did it -  in 1 day.  I simply threw out all the boxes of books,  toys and everything from yester-years which nobody had touched since they were chucked in there.  The salvageable stuff came up to 150 kg,  which earned me $50 from the old-newspaper collector, a tidy reward for all the sweat I put in. Now the store is suddenly so spacious - I can actually walk into it.  I am reminded how it’s so obvious we have to discard all the old stuff in our lives to free up space for new things. I am sure many of us have a lot of ‘old baggage’ that needs throwing away. Problem is we never quite get down to it.  Some in fact prefer to cling onto all the dust and dirt of the past for whatever reason and are not really interested in the ‘off with the old, on with the new’ refrain.   Sure, we can find a thousand and one (seemingly justifiable, even good) excuses but it's a no-brainer if we don't get rid of the old clutter taking up all the space, there will never be any room for other/new things  – obviously I am not talking about just cupboards, shelves or stores here.  Sometimes we end up missing the best, just like how it was when not many bothered to make room for Jesus when He decided to come down to earth. How much we lose when we are stuffed so full of ourselves, we have no room for God to dwell in.

The store was only for starters. Next project was the garden,  or rather the jungle in front of and behind the house. I have grand plans to turn the wilderness into an Eden -  flowers in front and
vegetables at the back. But first I had to fork out $700 for 3 guys to chop off all the trees and shrubs that have been towering up so very well year after year, to the extent that I have got young saplings growing from the top of the rear roof gutters. Yes, trees were growing from my roof, and the roots were creeping over into my neighbour’s side, something she had already alerted me about very politely some time back. I don’t think she will be that polite anymore if I still don’t do anything about it.  The guys took barely 2 hours with a power chain-saw .  I took  7 days,  sitting on an upside-down flower pot,  clearing the drains,  picking and pulling at the weeds and grass. And that's only the front plot.  I haven't started on the back portion yet.

 
Sweating it out daily,  I learnt a life lesson about roots.  What seemed just a little inconsequential blade of grass can be attached so tenaciously to invisible roots that spread far,  wide and deep into  the ground. I pull at one and find it's connected to another bigger root that's connected to another and yet another. There's a whole network of very much alive roots underneath the soil that's unseen. I tear, pull, slice, and hack at the mass (mess), till my trusty 20 year old shears can no longer cut properly. Man, those roots were stubborn. And I get to thinking how the Bible talks about roots that spring up and cause trouble.

How many roots we all have buried deep inside us that need to be removed.  Diseased roots of bitterness/unforgiveness that make body and soul sick.  Dying or dead roots of faithlessness that once believed in God. Ugly roots of sin that block us from experiencing and/or communing with a holy God.  And just like the roots that run so deep in my garden,  invisible roots are so deeply embedded in the soil of human hearts,  that many don't even realise how they bind us up  inside in knots. Some choose to deny or ignore them, mostly  because it's just too painful and takes too much effort to tear them out.

For there is no short-cut – they must be forcibly torn out. I remember how my husband would painstakingly  use  a screw-driver to manually dig up clumps of cow-grass before pulling them out. Expert gardeners tell me I must tackle the roots  thoroughly before I can  plant any other thing successfully.  Otherwise they will sprout and grow to overwhelm other plants by 'stealing' soil nutrients away.  Sounds so like how the devil comes to steal kill and destroy man who were 'planted'  on planet earth to bear good fruit.  Bad roots are bad news. 

I saw in the  garden I had neglected over the years a prophetic picture of my own household.  So I fought those roots every morning.  It became a battle not just to physically clear a plot of land,  but to deal with all the twisted roots that had crept into and wrapped themselves around the hearts of my family.  It gave me a lot of satisfaction yanking them out physically and by prophetic extension spiritually.  To finish off the job,  I sprayed just a little  weed-killer over stubborn spots,  being alerted of its potency.  Applying it  reminded me of the all-sufficient power of the blood of Christ to remove once and for all every root that defiles my household garden.

By now I knew  this was my season of getting foundational things right with God, if I wanted to see the breakthrough I had been praying so long for my family.  And He wasn't stopping at the garden. I  left the ground to lie fallow for some days to get rid of the weed-killer effect, but in the meanwhile God set me up for another big task - to repaint the exterior wall.  No contractor wanted to quote me,  because it was just too small an area of work. So I had to DIY. By the time I finished scraping off peeling paint and black mouldy spots, scrubbing and washing off the entire wall,  I felt as if I had no arms left. And I hadn’t even started on putting on sealant and a new coat of paint.

Of course God had an object lesson in there somewhere for me.  Every blemish on the ‘wall’  of our lives must be scraped off totally clean in preparation for God Himself to paint on it anew.  If all it took me was  2 cans of chemically-laden liquid to make an old wall look good again,  imagine what my Creator God who paints every sun-rise, sunset and rainbow, who hangs every star and cloud in the heavens, who put colour into every flower and shades the waters of rivers and oceans...what a master-piece He can paint on the wall of my – nay, of every – life. But first the wall must be prepared to come under the scrapper, to be scrubbed hard, washed, wiped down thoroughly and finally to submit to being painted over.  Just as we can’t simply brush on new paint on an uncleansed wall, likewise God won’t draw on the dirty mouldy canvasses of human lives, blackened by sin.  It’s up to us whether we want to put ourselves in His hands to do what only He can do – clean us up and make us His beautiful work of art.

I haven’t finished with the garden. In fact I expect to be sweating over it continually and continuously, motivated by a desire to make it beautiful and useful, so that it doesn’t degenerate into just a ‘jungly’ mess of weeds and creepers.   I anticipate the pleasure of seeing it bloom well, even if it means throbbing hands, swollen fingers and aching back. The pain is worth it.


Come to think of it, I am so glad my God is also in the business of making human lives bloom. Indeed Jesus  is the master Gardener; He has already expended His all – literally blood, sweat and tears - through dying on the cross , so that every life can grow into its maximum potential of beauty and function – as He designed it to be, simply because He loves us.





“And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; or else the new wine will burst the wineskins and be spilled, and the wineskins will be ruined. But new wine must be put into new wineskins…”
 – Luke 5:37-38