Archive for March, 2009



I love my mom 🙂

Today she came with me to NCC for the first time. It was sheer joy to hear her laughing to Pastor Prince’s many jokes, or secretly spying her quietly wiping away tears during praise and worship and Pastor’s closing prayers.

After seeing Pastor Lawrence, Pastor Daniel and Pastor Prince, she remarked: “Your pastors all have the same hairstyle eh.”

While she’s been attending another church for a number of years, it’s always been my secret desire to have her attend mine. Because I know how much of a blessing she’ll be to the people around her, and how much she will receive and grow by sitting under Pastor Prince’s ministry. Knowing her, she’ll probably start hosting CG at my home and cooking for everyone!

There’s so much to be said about my mom. She’s a super zai career and family woman when I overhear some of the stuff she’s done when she speaks casually about such things over coffee with a friend; so much so that a couple of her students have asked her to be their godmother! Right now, she’s organising the Christian students in her classes for regular prayer sessions in school.

I wish I could write more about her, but it’d take too long. We may not be affectionate, whether with words or touch, but it’s something that runs deeper than those things. Above all else, she is someone I deeply respect, admire and love. Thank you Lord for placing this woman in my life.


What It Means To Be Made New

Dear Dad,

2.25am and it’s the cool after-rain air streaming through the open windows. A Long Spring playing wordless in a perfect accompaniment of melding guitar riffs and harmonised acoustics. Notes on every revolution of the wheel. Da da dum dum da da krsshh tscch da dum dum daa..

Each second and I’m trying to find the words.

Each moment and I’m trying to understand.

Each bar and I already know you are the answer.

And this is when I realise that I do not have to walk in my flesh. Nor to give weight to its every rise. Everything — the voice of accusation, the glare of my own reflection, the bewilderment — they are not me. They are not you. And I will not let them rob me of what you have given me.

The very moment when you whispered with spirit resolute in all finality that your work was done, perfect and complete, led to that same moment I lay in the darkness, staring at the shadows thrown across the ceiling, realising that my world had fallen apart beyond conventional repair. It was then in that utter brokenness that only a divine omnipotent figure could provide me the sort of rescue that I craved so desperately.

And in that moment, time folded into itself and conjoined two points separated by two thousand years becoming an ever-present surreality which would only hold poignant significance to myself for the years to come.

In that moment, I was no longer the me I had grown accustomed to for the past nineteen years.

In that moment, I was made brand new.

In that moment, I was reborn unto a thing of God unlike anything else that had walked on earth.

In that moment, heart and soul and spirit melded likewise with Spirit. In that moment, I became a thing unnatural to what we know as the world, ungovernable by physics or relativity or quantum mathematics.

In that moment, I was and am and will be clothed in eternity.

I am supernatural.

Like you.

So I refuse to be walk in this natural fallible flesh. I refuse to be conscious of anything else but you and your love and your finished work. I refuse to let my imperfection or my circumstances reign over what I speak or set my hand to.

Instead I will speak what I believe and hold so fiercely in my heart. And I will love.

I will love like you.