Reflections on Full-Time Christian Ministry

I stepped into the venue a bit drunk from a very heavy dinner. It was a special day, my first day in my new company. I had succeeded in entering the organisation I admired, to do a role I desired. The compensation was great, and I knew the people there who would make the job a really good workplace. 

Two weeks prior, I had my first long break in years. I spent my time doing what I loved the most. Reading, perfecting my swim technique, practicing jazz piano, cycling new roads around the island, hanging out with close friends. Though I ran myself ragged at times squeezing too many activities into a day, I was thoroughly satisfied with life. Nothing needed to change. 

Until that night, when Denesh spoke: “I’d bet that 90% of your objections to full-time paid ministry are due to fear or comfort, or a mix of both.” Fear of what would come and whether we’d cope. Love for comfort and the good life. He posited that most of us were likely to be seen by our friends and families as having respectable jobs and leading enviable lives. 

To make things even more attractive, we had nothing searing our conscience, as we had done our best, given our free time to do church work. Leading studies, serving others. We gave financially, and tried our best to help where we could. 

But rarely did we give sacrificially. Barely did we love our enemies. And unwillingly we would be to give up the respect owed when listing our illustrious careers, photographs, or any inkling of our occupations. We want our cake, and we want to eat it too. 

On days that I’m bored, I’d sometimes dig into my past; look at people who I once considered close friends. Read abandoned blogs and pull up snapshots of time gone by. One would naturally feel some sadness, especially when the trail goes cold, and we don’t know what has happened to the person. Many go offline because they aren’t doing too well. 

I was surprised when I found myself shaking off the melancholy by looking at what I had now – the new, relevant, and real. I’d swing the door open and find my smiling wife and give her a hug as an appreciation and embrace of the tangible present, which is infinitely better. 

A part of it definitely makes sense, for I can only appreciate who and what I currently have. Yet looking at current circumstances and privileges betrays a love for my current life. What I had learnt in Romans, about God’s incredible mercy, and about the privilege to be unashamed, participating in God’s grand salvation plan was not something that came easily to me. 

And whenever my mother tells me of each so-and-so from my home church who has upgraded their life or had any noteworthy achievements, I couldn’t help but be peeved and think, “is there all there is?” Not out of jealousy I think, but it seemed almost irksome that Christians around seemed to always be pursuing life upgrades. Yet here I was.

The truth is, I have never seen anyone who was successful in the world, and who was also sold out for the gospel. As written ad nauseam previously, I had encountered a lot of wonderful well-behaved and well-mannered Christians who you’d think as ‘godly’. But it always seemed that godly talk was a special sacred language they were adept at speaking at certain conventions, but not in other areas of their life. 

They were never sold out for the gospel – making difficult and counter-cultural decisions for the sake of gospel proclamation. They excelled at being a great support in church, but also a connoisseur of the good things in life. I must stress that these are not necessarily opposed. What I’m insisting is empirical and anecdotal: I have never seen. Make of that what you will. 

However, to insist that we should be counter-cultural as a rule is as pharisaical as one can get. That is no different from finding another means of distinguishing ourselves socially – to be successfully godly in the midst of terrible Christians. That is not the point. 

The point is that God expects believers to be sold out for the gospel. The key is that Jesus demands everything of us – that foxes have holes and birds have nests but the son of man has nowhere to rest. Jesus conveys an expectation of what life will be like following him, not a fact of our actual assets, that we’d must be homeless. To be sold out is not about what we have, but about what we do about what we have because of who we are. My concern should not be interpreted as cultivating an aversion to anything remotely expensive or luxurious, but about whether I still believe the truth. It’s not about the amount of money I have in my bank, but an awareness of how that affects my heart, and how much I realise that if I were being honest, it all makes the words of Jesus slide by smoothly with little effect. 

And anecdotally, again, I have never seen a Christian who had everything but who was still sold out for the Gospel. 

Taking an honest look at my life. I had nothing to offer but excuses for why I had delayed thinking seriously about full-time Christian ministry. While that is not the means to be ‘sold out’, I realised I was trained, and I had much more desire to proclaim the word than others. The only thing that held me back was my love for comfort. I realised that for all my life, I had never sacrificed anything for the gospel. Slight inconveniences are not sacrifices. I struggle to be faithful when my life is smooth sailing. 

At the core of it is about what we believe to be true. Is the future really infinitely more glorious and beautiful than what I see now? Is the approval of King Jesus really the greatest thing to seek? Are our heavenly possessions worth anything at all? 

“But many who are first will be last, and the last first.” Mark 10:31

My Dearest

What a whirlwind of a year. Not too long ago, I had just taken my first steps into married life. It has simply been one of the best and most eventful years – building the house, struggling with the world, loving our visitors. My dearest wife is just the loveliest woman I know. She is slow to anger, kind and patient, and who loves Jesus deeply. 

Though her physical constitution is far from strong, it has not held her back from loving and giving the best of her time and energies. The question of mortality is always before us, the subject of suffering and sacrifice is never too far away. Yet she lives so boldly, never pitying herself, and always unabashed about her weaknesses. 

My wife has left such a huge impact on my life, a point I am not always conscious of. After we spend a weekend together as husbands and wives do, and when we go our separate paths for work, I sometimes feel a deep pang of longing for her. As if I lost the ability to question, to think, to ask, and to be curious about the world, because she is always doing these with me. Sometimes I weep uncontrollably because I wish I had given her more affection and attention when I could. Sometimes I fear she’d never make it home to me. 

Some of our most intimate moments happen right before bedtime. Once I put my ear to her chest, and told her I heard her heart beat loudly. She looked at me, a small face wrapped up in the sheets, and said one day that heart would stop beating. That sentence struck me hard. I had never truly grasped that there would be a day when she would not be by my side anymore. 

Every so often when we are cosy and wrapped up under the duvet, her hand searches around, looking for mine. Somehow, my wife delights being with me. She gives me her attention and time, and drops everything when I am in need. Even in anger, she does not treat me coldly, or freeze me out. Instead, she tells me what I did that saddened her. When I feel wronged, she asks for my forgiveness, teaching me that ‘sorry’ is not enough, and that we must put aside our pride and ask for grace. 

My wife has never nagged at me, but she has never been afraid to confront me for wrong and sin. Somehow, some way, she trusts that God can work in me to be more Christ-like, even though this is far less certain than nagging. It could be a book that I happen to read and reflect on, it could be a talk I hear. It could be a couple of days away, or it could take months, perhaps years? She waits for me to grow, and celebrates when I have grown. 

Hungry and seduced through my eyes, I am caught up in the world of appearances, and I see how that leads to idolatry and sadness for her. Yet it hits me especially hard when I see how others view her with the same lens. My mother complains to me that my wife dresses frumpily, which greatly agitates me. For my wife’s beauty and joy is far louder and pleasing than the clothes she wears. She’s an artist who used to care about her external beauty, but who has come to realise how much it harms her soul and the planet. Yes, my wife is an artist, one who refuses to live in the world of appearances. 

I always tell my wife that she’s the brains in this relationship. Not only that, she has always been razor sharp in her understanding of the bible, though being only half a decade old as a Christian. I always had to share and preach to her to get feedback on pedagogy, delivery, and the sharpness of my own talks. Yet she had always encouraged me to lead the family spiritually. 

I had never thought that one could be so changed by a person. I had thought that we are only changed by meditating upon the word of God. That is not wrong, but I had never considered how my wife’s life and behaviour embodies and exhibits the word of God. Not perfectly, but concretely, practically, and emotionally. In my wife I see a glimpse of Jesus, and I see how Jesus informs her behaviour, her emotional reactions and most of all, her worldview. Deliberate and considered, she can account for the biblically-rooted views she has, the positions she takes. She’s not simply a person who was born into a good family and has a sweet temper, for her past history and current life bears marks of God’s grace and intervention. 

I was often told that the most important thing in our twenties was to marry well, and the person you marry can either double or halve your ministry. Through my marriage, though early, I have come to realise the importance of this. I imagine that even if I married someone just slightly different, my greed and love for the world would have led me on a pursuit that would have seen us grow independent and eventually, apart. By God’s incredible grace, I have married someone who has not only more than doubled my ministry, but who has made me think hard about what Christian life and ministry is. 

She is a flower in this beautiful garden that God has likewise planted me in. I too shall grow and shade her, and tend to her. I pray that I can fully appreciate and watch her grow and blossom, before the Gardener plucks her away. 

Signing off,

Fatpine.

Standing Firm

When I was much younger I looked up to many inspirational male figures in my life. In a matter of a decade, I have moved on and changed my opinions of them. I can’t begin to describe how thankful I am for his sustenance, and how much compassion and sadness I feel for the lost, and those who are gradually moving away from his faith. As I learnt in Romans – we are all culpable, for our purposeful rejection of God, for not acknowledging him, and he gave us up to our own sins and desires.

I never thought much about that before. Until my wife described to me how sad it is when a parent gives up on their child and no longer intervenes. That is the worst form of rejection. And so it is, billions of souls given up to do what their hearts desired, billions of souls suppressing the truth of God and his imprints around the world. If it were not for God’s merciful intervention, I would be one of them. He did not leave me to do what I desired, he jolted me, tore me away from what I wanted. That is incredible mercy.

When people ‘grow up’ from their faith, they struggle to rationalise it because their stage of life appears so completely different from their Christian past. Much like how Susan Pevensie ‘grew up’ and stopped believing in Narnia anymore: “What wonderful memories you have! Fancy you still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.”

So many things remind me of how much we Christians are on the edge on a day-to-day basis. Yet we hardly pay attention, or suppress it for another day. Is it not tiring to keep thinking about life’s big questions and problems? Instead, we pursue things we think give us life. ‘Love what you do and you never work a day in your life,’ – they say. That starts the search, a well-meaning one for purpose and meaning, but little do they know it is in fact a search for the divine.

Why do they seek that which will not satisfy? Why do they keep pouring hours and hours into things that are useless? These are questions I’ve caught myself asking of those around me lately, and increasingly, of myself. I’m starting to think hard about what good use can God have of my life. Just last week, Binh Soo asked me why wasn’t I taking the step towards full-time ministry. “I feel like I’m always just one misstep away from major sin,” I confessed. “Well aren’t we all? Aren’t we all.” he replied, almost with resignation.

It’s then that I realised the reality of spiritual battle, that there can be no steady state, or self-sailing ship. Swords are crossed everyday, and thoughts killed and banished. Yet the onslaught is unrelenting, until the day Jesus comes. When Nigel Styles concluded 1 Thessalonians in Cornhill class the past week, he quoted a pastor who told his congregation that in a decade, there would be no more than 1/3 of the current folks left in the faith.

Paul himself was more explicit about the reasons in 1 Thessalonians: opposition, and worldliness. A fear of rejection and suffering due to our faith, a fear that so commonly intersects with our desire for security and comfort in this world. It is no wonder that in 2 Timothy, Colossians, Hebrews and in Revelation, Christians are told and warned of the need to stand firm. Believers will certainly fall away, they are expected to, which is why we must listen to what God has to say, which is why we must be sure we are confronted, and be at the crossroads every day.

Paul says the antidote to fears of opposition and a desire for worldly security is the belief and expectation of the day of the Lord. If we lived as if he would come in our lifetime, it changes the way we behave. Elsewhere Paul declared his desire to be with Christ, for to die is gain – that we should feel a tinge of disappointment every morning we can open our eyes knowing we can’t be with the Lord. But since we are granted another day, what should we do for the Lord?

I’m blessed, so blessed to hear these warnings and reminders of the future that will come. I hope I stand firm. I pray I don’t waste my life. Jesus, may the seeds sown in my heart not fail to blossom! May not my obsession over the cares of this life and love of the world take his words away.

Signing off,

Fatpine.

Are you there?

For many people, including myself, there comes a time when we realise that Jesus becomes a mere token in our lives. What’s worse is that we almost feel unsuited for the former days when we were more radical. Remember the time when we said our money belonged to God, and we willed them to be used for His purposes? Now every extra cent hurts. Remember the time when we said when we truly believed our friends needed the gospel? Now sharing a link or making some kind of declaration keeps us on edge and our hairs standing. 

It isn’t long before Jesus is relegated to a token, a pendant that doubles as a fashion item, an identifier for upright behaviour and righteousness. But Jesus, the one we must rely on to love our neighbour? Jesus, the one for whom we willingly sacrifice time, money and career? Jesus, who had sacrificed himself for us, but can we move on for now? A tinge of regret, a flicker of agreement – yes that seems ideal. But no, it seems almost beyond us now. Why is that so? Perhaps because we had ignored almost all warning signs along the way. Perhaps because we refused to be radical enough. Perhaps because we didn’t surround ourselves with the right friends to ask prayers from, or rubbed ourselves deeply enough with the word of God. In conclusion, that middle-class dream is too much to give up. 

I find it so much harder to hit the ‘reset’ button now, throw things out of the window, rip out weeds of toxic habits and cherish afresh how wonderful Christ’s sacrifice is now more than it was 2-3 years ago. I see now, and imagined in future, the consequences of this are severe; and will show in every aspect of an increasingly godless life. One little more argument that we refuse to back down on, not thinking of how to serve my wife, keep the marriage in its current state. Day by day, every act of non-building constructs a disappointing picture of a loveless marriage. A late night’s sleep, shortening prayers, and letting more and more opportunities slip by… all the essentials for building a polished career: a highly respected professional with strong Chrsitian morals – by the by, when provoked. 

God detests that. He did not set about on his glorious redemptive plan to unite all things in him with his people playing his part by being polite Christian professionals flashing cryptic hints of who they belong to when asked. That is not nearly enough. He loved and saved us when we were dead and against him. We do not merely pay tokenistic tributes. We have no vanities to speak of, no glories that can dream of matching his magnificent plan. Pathetic that we even thought of it, that we even tried to reason, that we bargained. Haven’t we realised? This route is only death? And whatever we would have gained in this world is not new – there is nothing new under the sun. I’m ashamed. 

The life he called us to is not an all-action life full of charity and time spent in church activities and missions. Those are activities and events. We, however, are to respond to that great event by living a cruciform life. And it means praying for courage for patience, instructing difficult family members. Having loving conversation in tears. Having compassion on difficult people and investing in them. Saying sorry and seeking forgiveness. Not speaking out when we want to, and speaking out when we don’t want to. Scheming for opportunities to engage our friends. Starting a diary to reflect upon our sins, meditating about areas in our lives where the Gospel has not fully penetrated, working hard on our marriages, learning to lead our children with wisdom without idolizing them. Weighing our hopes and dreams, and decidedly sacrificing them. All these – what a glorious thing when done out of love for God’s love for us. What a great encouragement to our neighbours. What a beautiful portrait that cannot be taken away. It will never be reduced to mere toil under the sun, for it is empowered by God’s spirit and enabled through Jesus. It is His work. And his work will not be in vain. 

That you Jesus for reminding me. Now I recall how sweet it was to spend time reading your words in silence. Like the sound of spring water falling over fern leaves and rocks, and the sight of summer barleys dancing with the wind. I have foolishly chosen to feast at the table of the world. Thank God for the faithful preaching of your word that rebukes, corrects, and trains me for righteousness! It is without doubt, effective. 

You know, people like to describe following Christ as the greatest thing in the world that nothing can compare to. That’s not always the most accurate way to put it. There are countless more things that excite me more than following Christ. Comedies, podcasts, mastery of skills, money, sensuality, games, good times. It is not that following Christ is more exhilrating. It is that following Christ is enough. I need nothing more. 

Please keep me, and us, Lord

Fatpine.

A Foot in Two Worlds

This Larkhill camp has really helped me to appreciate anew the beauty of the Gospel message.

Sure, I’ve been a Christian for more than a decade, and I’ve learnt the techniques to quickly tell people of what the Gospel is in the most effective manner ever. In recent years, I’ve come to realise that there is no better way than to open up the word of God to explain. As good ol’ Rob exposited from Romans – one reason why Paul could have the benefit of such strong Gospel partnership from the Romans, a people he had never met, was because he had been very explicit about his Gospel. 

And it’s true, even between believers, we tend to speak in Christianese, using broad terms to signify that perhaps we are in the same position. I would call them weasel words. When we hide behind these words, it’s easy for Christians to speak past one another, to pray generic things, to miss out on what God desires and how he intends to accomplish his will.

In the four days, we had helped our campers to clearly and progressively reveal the Gospel. The talks on Isaiah on man rebelling against God the creator, of the promise of rescue from judgment, of a suffering servant who would rescue, of that free offer that would ultimately satisfy, all interspersed and connected with a staggered morning study on Luke’s Gospel. All these questions answered, all the mystery revealed, all the anticipation resolved and fulfilled in that man Jesus. “Why stay on the cross if he’s innocent? What’s his purpose?” – they ask.

Because he has a mission only he can fulfill; he is the suffering servant, he is the man who will accomplish salvation for the stump of Jesse. But we need him to open our blind eyes, for Luke tells us in Chapter 24 that even to his disciples, Jesus chose to reveal himself through scriptures. There is no excuse for us 2000 years later.

I had not been cognizant of the entire flow even during training. Quite focused on getting my studies right, I didn’t truly get the fuss the rest made about how this passage came before or after that other passage or talk – all of which forced me to be careful of what I did or did not articulate. But now, having it seen it all, it dawned on me how beautiful the entire Gospel message flowed. Even the professing atheist had to confess that this Jesus accomplished something unique and important – but when confronted with this word of God, all his epiphanies were not sufficient for him to make that commitment.

At the end of our four days, even though amongst us remained those who did not profess, my heart was full of joy and lightness. There was no pressure or ill will from rejections. For, at the very least, the Gospel message had become clear to them, so clear they could articulate it in their own words – not through the ingenuity of technique of mnemonics or fancy diagrams – but through the direct confrontation of the opened word of God. As Marc prayed during one of the meetings through Acts 8, when Philip questioned if the Ethiopian eunuch understood Isaiah, his reply was honest, “how can I, unless someone guides me?”. Our job was simply to explain the scriptures, not to explain why it’s justifiable for us to hold our beliefs.

Yet, at the end of it, it became clear to me that some people were not ready to commit, while others were simply willing to say an outright no. This should not be surprising; but I begin to wonder what it is about me that I believe? Nothing about me, I conclude. It’s all the work of the Holy Spirit.

What a lovely use of my holiday. Some people say I’m weird, others say I made a great sacrifice. But it was the loveliest time for me, and the sweetest time for my soul. If it even makes me love God and reading his word for one more day, why is it a waste, why was it a sacrifice? Returning to work, I feel almost like an actor in a world that believes that its chief purposes is in success, money, the accomplishment of earthly goals; and I almost feel as if I need to play along, though ultimately my awkwardness and stiffness will show that I can never fully integrate play-acting and reality.

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; hear, that your soul may live; and I Will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.  – Isaiah 55:2-3

By any standards, the Larkhill camp was small, yet the implications of the Gospel message is so vast. And as if none of these mattered, the world will continue moving and revolving around godless pursuits. The gravity of sure judgment has me roused in a desperate pantomime unheeded by unwitting passerbys, as if all I do and say are obscured by an impenetrable block of glass. Yet all will have to account when the Lamb, who stands as though slain, returns.

The sky vanished like a scroll that is being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place. Then the kings of the earth and the great ones and the generals and the rich and the powerful, and everyone, slave and free, hid themselves in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains, calling to the mountains and rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb, for the great day of their wrath has come, and who can stand?” – Revalation 6:14-17

A waste? A sacrifice? No, the sweetest and loveliest time for my soul, even if it helps me to love God for one more day.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

 

Gospel Chokepoints

It seems to me that once one starts trying to get adult life started, when we get consumed most hours in the day with work, with making plans for the future, with climbing and scaling that we inevitably reach impasses. These impasses we would previously take weeks, months, and even years to settle; but now, we do it within seconds. So much so they are impasses anymore, but the calcifying of our characters, the hardening of our hearts.

These are ‘Gospel chokepoints’, where we decide to turn a blind eye to what scripture asks of Christians, where we decide that we can comply to the big things, but not these small issues, where we refuse to be challenged and humbled, where we compromise. These chokepoints are where the spirit is unable to work, not because it is not powerful enough, but because we simply refuse it. Just as when the great unbelief of Nazareth led to Jesus’ rejection, and he could do no great works among them.

It has surprised me how often these chokepoints have surfaced in recent days, and I’m genuinely appalled at how my first instinct is to carve out boundaries where I refuse to allow the Gospel to effect, boundaries that I wish to stake a claim for my sovereignty. Maybe as we grow older and become more ‘schooled’ in life, it becomes far too easy to reject the word. Yet, as the parable of the sower teaches, it’s those who keep on listening, and not merely those who listen, who will eventually bear fruit that will grow a hundredfold. Truly, it is easy for the cares of life, and the many other distractions adulthood rings to crowd out our listening to the word.

It is an absolute horror when we get to such a stage. When our Gospel becomes nothing more than a powdered embellishment, adornment for the sake of aesthetics, like calligraphed verses hanging on family walls, no different from empty well-wishes or seasons greetings. “I hate and despise your feats and solemn assemblies” says the Lord through Amos. And like the Israelites in those days, we store up our wealth and build our dreams while offering plastic worship, lip service to the Lord.

As Amos warns – ‘why do you desire the day of the Lord?’ we shall not be surprised then, when Jesus comes again, and we are found out for so wilfully rejecting the creator of the heavens and the earth.

signing off,

Fatpine. 

Could it be?

The second time I ever held a girl’s hand, everything felt right. There were no alarm bells going off within me, there were no fears that sprang, hidden in my subconscious for years. My world had not closed, there was no dome that separated us from the world. It wasn’t the final fulfilment of a long-held desire. It was unplanned but intentional. It felt quiet and peaceful.

Moments, relations, occurrences like these are wonderful because they are unlooked for, yet are surprising. Serendipitous encounters that spring from little sparks in our hearts, those tiny bulbs that we don’t realise have turned on until we turn to look. It is at times like these that we opine: God works in mysterious ways.

Like two bears twisting and turning heads in a honey pot, nobody realised how the tunings in our hearts gradually shifted; and in first desiring that ethereal honey, we secondarily turn to notice this shared space now only two of us occupy. I was aimless, grieving, last in every respect of the world’s measurement. I was not desperate for human affection, but only thirsting for the security and solace of Jesus.

Yet you came, with the love of Jesus, empathising, caring, inquiring, making sure I was well-kept, well-read, showing me I wasn’t all that alone. I began to see how the dreams I ever wanted I could now have help to accomplish them. To tell the world Jesus loves them, to give to those who are in need, to bless people like myself, people so difficult to love.

I always refrained from the expression: everything feels different this time. And it still holds true. Nothing feels different. Everything feels the same – exactly what it is, exactly what it should be, only more. A heart’s desire for His words, only more. Love for my neighbours, only more. Compassion for the lost, only more. Anticipation for His coming, only more.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

Christian currencies

As I confidently sang some of my favourite hymns one Sunday morning, I noticed a latecomer enter the hall. I didn’t know him very well, but from my brief interactions with him, as well as in observing the reactions of those around him, it seemed that he wasn’t the most popular person. Well, it’s not that he’s unpopular, but maybe he’s just not as sociable, and quite lacking in the “it” factor that popular, perfect Christians have. Yet as I eyed him walk in, I noticed he took a detour to shake the hand of a girl sitting in the row in front of me. The girl was a paraplegic sat in a wheelchair. After he left, she strained her body backward so that she could see her benefactor for one more time.

This girl was the beneficiary of acceptance, and it struck me that so few have been so humble to receive others like that. In Mark chapter 10, the disciples rebuked people who brought children to Jesus. But Jesus was indignant, declaring, “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” This wasn’t the first time. Back in Chapter 9, right after the disciples discussed about greatness, Jesus picks up a child and says, “whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.”

Right after this event in Chapter 9, the disciples want to oust a man from this imagined spiritual superworld, because they were not of their inner circle. This exorcist was casting out demons by the name of Jesus. The disciples were jealous for their name: they were the kosher disciples of Christ. They had gathered a name and reputation for themselves. They had no time for people who, by their status, could not bequeath any glory to the disciples, neither could they stand others who tried to be like them. Unbeknowst to themselves, they were slowly cultivating the hard hearts of the Pharisees in the start of Chapter 10, who were so well-versed in the law, but did not understand its purpose.

And then comes along an earnest young man who kneels before Jesus. “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He asks. This man must be the real deal. He has done everything right from birth, and he appears to be such a godly person. We are not unlike them, we know and like and celebrate the “perfect” Christians in our churches. We court them, pursue them, want their friendship, delight in their company. Their presence makes us feel good, closer to God perhaps. They have so much to offer us. But hidden deep in this young man’s heart is an idol he will not relinquish: his great wealth. He walks away dismayed, thinking he had done what was sufficient, but he had nothing to offer God in return for righteousness.

These sequence of events must have dealt a heavy blow to the disciples, as it has for me. “Then who can be saved?” they ask, exasperated. They thought they were in the right circles, and even when they saw someone more perfect then they, they were disappointed to discover that he fell short. Jesus tells them, with man, it is impossible, but with God, anything is possible.

We know that there’s nothing we can bring to God in return for salvation; yet we secretly think we are still of some value. It shouldn’t surprise us that even Christians amass for themselves some kind of ‘spiritual currency’, thinking that being good at understanding the bible, attending the right talks, serving in the right ministries, doing the right disciplines, hanging in the correct circles, should earn us enough to be accepted. In favour of these currencies, we are often too happy to make split-decision evaluations of the people we want to include, and those we want to exclude, just as the disciples did, looking on with envy at the rich, moral man, looking on in disdain at children, and people who weren’t ‘first-raters’.

But relooking at what it means when Jesus said that, “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it,” one way is to see it as Jesus making some obvious qualifications to entering heaven: have the attitude of trusting, dependent children. I learnt that another way is to read it like so: you will not enter the kingdom of God unless you receive it like how you receive children. In other words, only those who are humble enough to receive children (who are of low status), will truly receive the entry. This speaks to the person’s attitude. Are we completely surrendered, having nothing at all to offer? This is humility, and only having emptied our hands can we truly receive this gift in full.

I have dabbled too long in this Christian trade. No matter how tamed I was by a camp, sermon, book, spiritual high, I could never escape this hidden thought at the back of my head: surely, I have something to offer. Surely, I am of some value. For this reason, it was far too easy for me to stay within Christian circles, cultivating friendships with popular, godly people; yet I had little time and patience for those who did not put God first. I thought, perhaps, I was just being rightfully focused on God’s kingdom. But little did I realise that I was filling up my hands with these currencies and looking to Jesus for a fair trade.

Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to the cross I cling.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

 

A happy indifference

One day after bible study my pastor asked me what thoughts I had from the story of Daniel in the lion’s den. In Chapter 6, for the second time, an injunction is passed, and no man shall pray to any other god or man, or face being executed. And this was Daniel’s response in Chapter 6:

When Daniel knew that the document had been signed, he went to his house where he had windows in his upper chamber open toward Jerusalem. He got down on his knees three times a day and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he had done previously.

Daniel 6:10

As he had done previously. There are two ways of reading what this meant. The first way is to understand Daniel’s habit as being especially obvious and salient such that it was easy for his opponents to accuse him. But a second way of reading it is to see it as an unwavering habit that went on undisturbed – no matter what the external state of affairs.

It’s easy to overlook the fact that at this point of time, Daniel was an old man, perhaps of 80, as a good 60 years had passed since the first incident. He could claim to be under extenuating circumstances, having this or that threatened, status, image, family, power to influence, and all other influences. But indifference, a godly indifference, a joyful indifference in favour of his master.

I wonder how many of us will claim to be under extenuating circumstances: but I have a test! I have a really difficult boss! Work is extremely stressful! I have a family! My child needs special care! But what can we claim given that our master is Lord of all, creator of all, and the very one to whom we should run to in our times of trouble – the very one who saves.

Once adult life begins staying passionate and eager can seem to be a futile attempt to paste a piece of paper on the wall. The problem is that the adhesive is weak and it keeps falling to the ground. Perhaps the more we have to pick it up again, the more we feel weary and one day we give up. And then decades past and we look back and wonder why we were so passionate when we were younger. But let’s stop creating excuses for ourselves, for Daniel didn’t.

Everyday before we do a test, an exam, face an panel, give a presentation, start a new work day, or even if we really really love what we do, we should come before God and pray, and make a habit of taking it to Him for consultation, no matter how small the task. We should cultivate a happy indifference for all that happens to us. We shall fear Him as He deserves.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

The right answers

People who have dwelt long enough in policymaking circles tend to have very astute judgment and a broader set of considerations that could be injected into every particular scenario. These are often wisdom gleaned from years of experience, and are insights that those considerably less intelligent or experienced could never have foreseen.

For this reason, policymaking is often more than just a contest of ideas; but also a battle of wills – and those that are more wilful can borrow their years of experience as a source of validation. As a young policy officer, I have come to realise that creative ideas can only get you so far at times; once a submission goes out of your mailbox, you essentially leave it to the hierarchy of the wise to duke it out. And who will have the final say? The one who claims to have seen the most, knows the most, and wields the most.

This can be intimidating for many, and I would guess this pertains to many areas of life as well. It is quite easy to be overawed by the eloquence of intelligent men and women, or be silenced by those the world considers to be so immeasurably wise. In a world where there are no right answers and solutions, their verdict is often the fairest and the best, the one that we defer to by virtue of their wisdom. And for that, sometimes we feel a little small, a little stupid, a little useless. We may even question our purpose in this world.

The weight of their words hang ever so heavily that we almost feel suffocated, unable to express our thoughts, unable to reason even. Because in every decision we make or ponder making, there seems to be an obvious right or wrong. One is almost certainly unwise, and that which was prescribed glimmers with what appears to be truth. That’s why we don’t feel affection for naggers and quibbling grandparent don’t we?

Yet if we’re not careful, the more roads we travel and the more we expand our knowledge, we risk thinking our own words are also worth more weight. We think those younger than us should hear how we spell out the nuances to buying a flat, or how the new couple should hear out our very own principles when we dated decades ago. This is a spiralling cycle of know-it-allness. We want to count as people with opinions worth hearing; and we want our two cents to be worth more than gold.

Yet amidst all the arguments, prescriptions, wisdom, nagging, direction that floated about throughout the week, I headed to church on a Sunday expecting to hear another man who assumed he was worth listening to. Only I realised that he wasn’t speaking his mind – he was speaking God’s mind. At that point of time, I thought back to all the very smart and wise and experienced people who trusted in their own advice, weren’t they all just shooting arrows in the dark, trying, somehow, to hit a target they couldn’t see?

“It isn’t stated in the bible, so I dare not make certain comments on this,” said my pastor when we threw really difficult theological questions at him during a class one day. That was interesting, I thought. If I were as learned as a pastor, and being of a certain stature, surely, I would make a well-reasoned theological estimation to that question. Well, I know I would have even now. Yet my pastor demurred humbly. The word of God is not to be trifled with. It is not in the realm of opinions, experience, or mere human wisdom.

God doesn’t tell us to do something because he thought it best given the circumstances, or personally experienced the same hardship and didn’t want us to walk the same path, or worse, because he had learnt from personal experience that it just wasn’t ideal. He tells us something because he’s the source of everything, and he tells us something because he can, for that which is contrary to him and his word is more than a world of pain and un-ideal circumstances. That which is contrary to him is simply nothingness, a void.

For this reason, all these advice and worldly wisdom that we attribute weight to are, when placed in the context of God, worthless and wrong. If God alone creates, then their utterances become nothing more than worthless words spoken out of context. They are like individual letters of the alphabets floating around aimlessly, with nothing to string them together to mean something – a word, a phrase, a sentence, a story – because they are woefully godless.

And I hope this informs who we want to be as we grow wiser and more experienced in life. Shall we be that grandfather with too much wisdom to dispense? Shall we be that boss who thinks too highly of his own expertise and knowledge? Shall we be the Christian who would feel embarrassed if he didn’t have the last word in a theological argument? I hope not, for God never expected even his prophets to understand the movements of the stars and the workings of the universe. They were to speak what He spoke and to live godly lives.

Therefore, whatever our station, whether intelligent or less, experienced or new, may it be that we understand the context of the universe: God spoke it into existence. And as Christian men and women who have grown up with the bible, may we be marked not by our personalities, experiences and thoughts, but by our willingness to hear and obey His word.

As thousands around the world remembered the passing of the young Oswald Chambers, one Lambert summed it up:

“The most precious thing that has come to many of us through the message of God’s beloved servant, Oswald Chambers, is that for the lowliest, least promising, and most insignificant person, the Great Life is possible. The mightiest things are made available for ordinary persons in and through Christ Jesus our Lord.”

This is the context of our lives. For all things were created for him and through him. Need we worry more? Need we seek further guidance from sages and tellers and wise men? The manifold and boundless wisdom of God is but a sneer to all these worldly pretentions. God has not given us all the answers, but He has told us how to live.

As Lambert prayed, “God help us to follow him as he followed Christ.” May we leave behind not wisdom and wise sayings about the good life well-lived; but rather, leave for our young a model of living for the good shepherd worth following.

Signing off,

Fatpine.