Archive for January, 2010

Faithfulness

last night in the highlands

Faithfulness. This was the word prayed over me by Jon as we sat together with Shawn in his room, going over tomorrow’s songlist, clarifying chord progressions, tweaking how each song would lead to the next. I couldn’t help thinking, that just a few years ago, you could put a guitar in my hand and I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I’m far from an expert, but the simple fact that I can even strum, let alone sing while playing, is proof enough to me that He is faithful.

Now, to be in this place, right at this moment at this point in my life, I am reminded once again of His heart for me, that every word and whisper and secret that have never known any other human ear, He has heard and answered in kind. This can all seem so curiously insignificant, especially when considered against the grand scheme of things, but it’s all about — as some of you may come to agree — the tiny little details. It’s that little smile, that near-imperceptible nod, but filled with so much meaning, so much life.

I honestly don’t know what to expect for tomorrow. I may mess up completely, fluff the chords, forget the carefully-crafted plan I have to slide effortlessly from one song to another, remain silent when I should not; it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. All I need to do is show up, because He definitely will. So in spite of my sore fingertips and creaky voice, I just have to rest, to keep my heart safely ensconced in my Father’s hands. And He will take over.

Your faithfullness endures always
Where mountains fall and reason fails
And You calm the raging seas
And You calm the storms in me, again

All I know is I find rest in You
All I know is I find rest in You

My heart will praise throughout the night
Where singing seems a sacrifice
Your grace is all I need
Your grace is all I need

FAVOURites


My first time attending CG was in fact with NP during the Campus days, and even then it took a great deal of rebellion against self to do so. Needless to say, still too steeped in my own insecurities and the immense inertia of moving outside my comfort zone, my time with the NP CG was short-lived.

It would be several years later, after taking a journey of brokenness, when I decided to take the plunge again. To see if this fellowship-with-the-brethren thing would work out. After all, when you’ve hit the rock bottom of your flesh, what have you really got to lose?

I would never have expected that it would be a decision that would change my life forever.

Our twenties may contain only a decade, but they remain the most formative for our generation. Higher education, commitment to our first full-time job — the two most crucial aspects of life for a young adult in our contemporary society in Singapore — this is, I believe, when we grow up the most. Leaving behind juvenile notions and preconceptions of people, friendships, life goals; sooner or later we embark on this journey, forced to confront the very real truth that we need to make what can be very hard decisions that will lay the foundations for the rest of our lives.

But I digress. The notion of CG is something very close to my heart, and some of my best friends in church have been met through it. Some of the most amazing people I know I have encountered through CG, and through whom many of the life-changing moments in my life have occurred. Great joys and great sorrows, to meet people and see some of them move on from my life.

And yet God is still faithful. I remember praying, at many points when I have felt disenfranchised and marginalised, that somehow I would have that sense that I belonged. Though some of us may be loathe to admit it, no man is an island, not even the most taciturn and introverted of us. And years on, I find myself surrounded by friends whom I consider an honour and privilege to know. Friends who have stuck by me, prayed with and for me, and shown me my Father’s heart through simply being themselves. Friends who care. Who love in the way they have been loved by Him.

Sometimes I feel that I can never adequately express the measure of gratitude I feel towards them, even for the little ways that they have moved me. I can make envelope-cards, mixCDs, tiny inconsequential doodles, streams of words — and still I feel that they fall far too short of what I want to say.

So even if this sounds a little too trite and contrived and even outright silly: thank you for being you. My life is all the more richer for you being in it.