The sweet aroma of unforgettable people

For most of my life, I have searched for church community that I could cherish. I once met someone who told me that the teaching wasn’t critical; rather, a church community mattered more. I disagree with such a notion that community is the most important factor to look out for. Yet like most people, I always longed to be part of a community of believers who cherished the word of God and endeavoured to treat it seriously. Alas, most of the communities I met were made up of nice earnest believers – but they were forgettable people nonetheless. I’ve now come to realise that my position of what is the most important thing is all the more true: that without the Word of God preached clearly and faithfully, we only become part of a community of people who are like ourselves. We like them the people around us because they are like us. They, like us, are frankly, forgettable.

Many of the churches I had been a part of did not put God’s Word at the forefront, even though the bible is filled with commands to listen, hear, consider. Even though the most important people were not kings and priests, but prophets. Why does it matter? It matters because our God is a speaking God. When hearing the unadulterated Word is not paramount in a church, what can we say about the community that forms as a result of that? The result is that when friendships are challenged, as they inevitably will, many walk away from the faith. When not centred upon God’s Word, belonging to an active and thriving community that we love can do very little indeed.

Look no further than the pandemic, which has almost served as a post-truth reckoning for many long-time Christians. Many who were once faithful and active have faded away, or have come to realise that they can  be Christians and still be in the world, or so it seems. Many churches are in disarray, community life is destroyed. On the surface, this seems like unfortunate fallout of the pandemic. In reality, it is the gleeful work of the devil, of pastorates who do not see and insist on what the core of church is: a people who gather to hear the Word of God. 

At the church that I grew up in, they used to say, “Christianity is not about rules and regulations, it’s a way of life.” I now see how dangerous that teaching is. Yes, when a group of people accept that this is how we decide to live, it sounds appealing. But such a community is built on accepted customs of what we collectively accept and reject. Individually, the idea of Christianity as a “way of life” is dangerous because it reduces following Jesus to habits and reflexes. Like developing a taste for only vegetables, or deciding to be an early sleeper and riser. None of the disciples that Jesus called to follow him were merely deciding on a certain way of living their lives. They were – at different points – stumped, rebuked, corrected, faced with impossible decisions. Following Jesus requires an active wrestling with the Word of God. 

What’s the relevance to community then? The relevance is that unlike a “way-of-life” community, a community that treats God’s Word seriously looks markedly different. It is open and welcoming because it is not defined by customs, it is ever changing and ever challenged because God’s Word is received in different ways. It has a global and grand view of the Gospel, and of community. Belonging to such a community, one has the privilege of seeing how God’s Word works differently in the decisions of a widow, of two young parents, of a struggling single, a primary school student, and so on. In such a community is where we find unforgettable people – those whose lives emit the scent of a follower of Jesus.

Upon reflection, the past few years have simply been the best of my life simply because I’m rooted in a community that treats God’s Word seriously. Our pastors labour hard in presenting the Word as faithfully, struggling hard against temptations to put other things first. They ask our prayers that they will remain single-minded, focused on labouring in teaching and preaching (1 Tim). What is the result? The community is filled with unforgettable people. For the first time, I see people who leave the next step up to God – where shall I go? What shall I do, O Lord? Since I started going to church, I was serious about following Jesus, but that had always never interfered with where I wanted to be in life. In such a way, Christianity becomes my north-star, to get bearings when lost. Yet I barely am lost. I know what life I wanted to live. While my ambitions were unassuming, I still defaulted to the lifestyle and goals of the believers around me – many seeking to do well and prosper as a matter of course. 

But living life and growing as a matter of course is simply the idea that Christianity is a “way of life”. That is a sad idea of what it means follow Jesus. 

Over the school holidays, I had spent entire days with my pastors. Some unexpectedly, as a breakfast and a stroll turned to lunch and a movie, and then to dinner. We saw how they lived their lives, how they taught their children. Every part of their lives seemed to leave marks of Jesus’ Words. It turns the wisdom of the world on its head. Their young children are unlike others their age, and are sociable and thoughtful – far unlike how I was as a child. Our pastors struggle over big decisions and their implications for obeying Jesus. What would purchasing a house here mean for their ability to uproot, for their heart’s desire for security on earth. How would it financially tie them down and eliminate options to serve Jesus better? In witnessing our pastors’ families in such close quarters over the couple of years, I breathe in the scent they leave behind, the footsteps and marks of following Jesus. 

These are unforgettable people not because of how crazed and fervent they are about Jesus. They are unforgettable because the knowledge of their debased nature is never far from their minds. They are like bear looking for honey, stubbornly going to where the Word is preached. They are like Mary, looking to do nothing than to sit at Jesus’ feet. They sin and confess, and ask for grace to grow. They critique the assumptions of the world ever so often – not because they are non-conformists – but because God’s truth is so active in their minds that the clashes and contradictions become apparent. I have never loved a community so much. Yet, it is not to be preserved. 

Over the past few days, after I had been challenged about having a global perspective on sin and salvation, I choked when singing a part of a verse that went, “to live is Christ, and to die is gain”. I had difficulty seeing things that way in my present life. What was the best way to not waste my life? I found myself asking that question repeatedly. The preacher wanted us to go and to bring the gospel out. Out where? Out of our church! When I confided in the pastor’s wife, she wisely told me that the community couldn’t be an end in itself. In years to come, if there weren’t people leaving to bring the gospel to other places, that meant that there was something wrong with our community. It would mean that the community had become a group of friends who had now adopted Christian behaviour as a way of life. It would mean that we were not obeying God’s Word, obeying the call to go. 

What bittersweet truth as tears welled in my eyes. I had longed for such genuine fellowship, a community who listened hard to God’s Word. I had found it. I cherished and loved it. We shed tears together, we strived hard together, we served and loved one another, and had difficult conversations rebuking one another. But God calls us to go, the Son of Man himself had not a fixed dwelling. He had to keep proclaiming the Gospel. His disciples went to where the Gospel was not heard. This is the paradox of such a fellowship. By it’s very nature, it must break. Yet though it breaks, they go forth with the aroma of Jesus on their heels. I shall never forget them.

Signing off,

Fatpine.

P.S. If ever you’re interested to read more about a Word-centred church, how is it different, and why it is critical to every believer, do take a read at this little book I wrote to my parents. 

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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.