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 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 Christian’s little secret?

There are some days that I walk home worried, even terrified. I wonder how my life would be decades from now. I wonder how much I would change, how much I would compromise. I’m genuinely terrified of losing the faith, having no more passion or zeal, to conform to the world, to be unable to fulfil my ministry. I fear that I would give in to lust, that I would cheat on my spouse if I got married, that I would not do the things in the faith, things I hoped and aspired to do as a young man.

These are times that I am full of fear and doubt and I say, “Lord, I’m not sure I can do this.” Yet we can be assured that we are not in a bad place at all. In Exodus Chapter 3, we are faced with a scenario that’s pretty similar:

But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?” He said, “But I will be with you, and this shall be the sign for you, that I have sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God on this mountain.”

Exodus 3:11-12

It’s almost as if Yahweh chose to ignore Moses. In another sense, Yahweh gives the most comforting response. Lord, who am I? And Yahweh almost says: it’s true, you are nothing; be that as it may, I am with you. He effectively says later – I will be who I will be. And why is that not more than enough? This is a hint for us to start being curious. Who will God be? And then a quick sweep through the Bible we see that he is the merciful, the gracious, the loving, the one who has been tempted in every way, the one who is Lord over all, the glorious one, the one who will judge, the one who died and was raised. This is the God who will be with us.

At times like these there can be nothing that we have that will be helpful at all. Adults often deceive themselves through their various gadgetries and paper qualifications and little pep talks. But children? they are completely defenceless and vulnerable. They need only look to the hand that will hold theirs in return, and full ease and security will overflow. This is how it is, isn’t it?

And so, with all the youthful exuberance now tempered, and I finally question, “Lord, I’m not sure I can do this,” the response to this should invariably be: of course you can’t, you were not meant to! In the first Avengers movie, Bruce Banner was asked to transform into the invincible and destructive Hulk at a dire moment of need, implying that his transformation was usually unpredictable and even uncontrollable. But Bruce responded, “that’s my secret Cap – I’m always angry.”

Perhaps that’s the secret of the Christian who will be found faithful on the final day, the Christian who fulfils his or her ministry. The secret? I surmise that it is this: I’m always fearful and in need. Psalm 36 is not a bad start for such a Christian:

Transgression speaks to the wicked

deep in his heart;

there is no fear of God

before his eyes.

For he flatters himself in his own eyes

that his iniquity cannot be found out and hated.

Psalm 36:1-2

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

The myth of easy-listening faith

A few days ago, I was deeply absorbed with a brother in a conversation about the book of Mark. He was telling me all his thoughts about what certain passages meant, what he heard and received from the trainings he attended and so on. I was just listening to his very delicious thoughts. At the end of conversation, I praised his work ethic, and told him how envious I was of the training he received at his church, which featured some of the “best bible handlers” he had ever met. But he simply replied, “no, no, we all have the same bible.”

At first, I thought he was simply offering some almost patronising cold comfort. But after I went home and thought more about it, the more I realised what he said is in fact, true. After all, the guy he claimed to be the “best bible handler” he ever met wasn’t even seminary trained. As I progress in this journey to unlock more and more of the wonderful mysteries within, I sometimes feel so stupid that all these things have remained within reach, but yet still locked away.

I remember when I reread the Narnia chronicles, I was so amazed that such enthralling stories remained forgotten and unopened, far away on my dusty shelves. And I have no doubt that there are so many yet un-mined wisdom, opinions, theories and things that would undoubtedly help to shape a more colourful world – all closed and tucked on my shelves. And that seems to be the case with the bible.

The same book that we can find in the courtrooms, in hotel drawers and in almost any part of the world. All the intricacies that can be found in the book of Mark, the way things were structured, the way the various prophets anticipated that final Prophet, the arrival of the one like David who would shepherd his sheep, all in the form of king Jesus. All these details are not lost to us! These very things can be found in these very strange places, in bibles of every shape and form. Yet they remain closed, tucked away, hidden from the light. Like carrying a sealed locket on a necklace around my neck, I had, since a young boy, always kept it close by; but it’s contents remained mysterious and locked and unaccessible to me.

If we have the bible then, why are we so preoccupied with great bible teachers? Is it not also our duty to study the text carefully to come to the right conclusions of what Jesus demands of us? Why do we await good expositors, as it were, to lead us, to make things plain, to stir our heart strings? Now that there’s a global wave of unveiling, I realise also that there’s a great risk that we kick our shoes off and lean back as we listen, yet never having our worldview changed and shaped.

If we take a superficial look at Mark 6:1-29, we see three ways in which Jesus is rejected. He is first taken offence to by startled people in his hometown who are in a state of utter unbelief. Second, Jesus is rejected by those who hear but do not believe enough to receive and provide for his disciples. Third, Jesus – and his proxy, John – is rejected by Herod, who “heard him gladly”. Three ways Jesus is rejected, and in progressively flattering ways.

The fear for those of us who enjoy sermon after sermon of wonderful exposition is that we simply end up like Herod – though we are moved, touched, engaged, and rebuked, we stop short of repenting. Good exposition may simply sound like musical tunes to our ears. And this is flattering to Jesus, but sadly, people like that will not be invited to the marriage supper of the lamb. He doesn’t need the flattering of sycophants.

This is in line with what he declared in chapter 4 – only those who listen, accept, and bear fruit are those to whom the secrets of the kingdom have been given. The rest will listen, applaud, but never be able to understand. I don’t think he means for us to understand intellectually. I think he also means for us to understand experientially, to understand in the sense to see Jesus as undoubtedly and undeniably true. So true that some fixing of our worldview is necessary; emergency surgery is necessary. We are to be thankful for the good exposition we hear, the engaging speakers who speak directly to our hearts; but Jesus didn’t make that a necessary or even sufficient condition for dependence on Him, or to have a mindset of a harvester. He simply said what he requires of us. And we’d be a fool to wait for others to keep telling us what he means. It’s true, we all have the same bible.

Yes, reconstructing our worldview is an endless and daily task. There are times, after hearing the clearest, most engaging and moving sermons, I see once and for all, with acute clarity, the nature of sin. It’s as if a painted picture has come to live, the preaching from the word actualised the truths in the bible, and I was so sure this would help keep me from the sins and sinful states I unconsciously slip into. Yet after a week or two, my worldview has shifted – all without any consultation or enquiry. And that is that, as the sun rises every day, our worldviews have to be worked and reworked, and with no less than a daily effortful encounter with the word, with the guidance of the Spirit, and with the prayer and reminders from our community as our brick and mortar.

It is no wonder, that as a person of routine, I find aberrations from my routine the most potent weapon of the devil. Too much fun from a camp, the new sights and sounds of a short holiday, the assignment requiring me to stay up a little later, the obligation to show a visitor around town and so on. All of these may mean a day or several days off building the right worldview. And just like that, we are limp and lifeless, swept into the vast, boundless ocean by the tides of the world. Are we diligent enough to fight for a little glimpse of the word?

Over the past months I’ve walked with several brothers and sisters as they were introduced to good and faithful exposition for the first time. As I saw their eyes open, I was so happy for them; a testament of the power of the word. Yet months later, I almost wish I had given them a warning. To be so blessed to listen to good preaching ought to make our Christian life harder, not easier. It ought to change our disposition, to encourage us to die every day, to encourage us to deeper and sweeter intercourse with the Lord, to suffer even when done wrong, to see our workplace not as a springboard for a good life, but a field of souls ripe for harvest. Good preaching will be in vain if we do not seize the bible for our own, to repeat His words to ourselves as one rereads the texts of her lover. It will all be in vain if it simply delights us to hear gladly like Herod did.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

Discipline in the Christian life

I recently bought a new guitar! It’s the most I’ve ever spent on a guitar, and I hope it’d be the last I’d ever need to buy. It’s been a long time since I spent much time trying to keep up with old songs and techniques and even to learn new songs. Not only do I find that as a much older person (actually, only several years have elapsed), there’s less interest, I think there’s also far less discipline. Or to put the latter in different words, far more things to get distracted by.

So it’s been quite refreshing to spend an full block of time just practicing and practicing; and for some reason, practicing the guitar always ends up with me drenched in sweat, and with my throat parched. I rarely ever feel my throat parched even when I exercise. But perhaps the guitar has this uncanny tendency to dehumidify my body and just soak up moisture. Maybe that’s why they say taking not of the humidity levels of the environment matters a lot in taking care of the guitar, for it is in itself, a humidity absorbent?

In any cases, it was a rare delight, because I can’t easily recount days when I would willingly spend such a long amount of time completely focused on honing a craft or simply perfecting movements. In fact, being as old as I am, I rarely see myself, and also my peers doing anything of this nature anymore. It seems that once people start working, they just get busy with coping with work and life and then perhaps spend the remaining amount of time getting distracted by other things?

Weeks ago I happened to open a dusty drawer and saw an even dustier planner/diary with the leather all melted in this perpetual summer heat. It was a planner I kept during my military service and I would write random thoughts or plan my timetable for the day. There was a lot of time to do anything in those days, especially on weekends when one was scheduled for duties. And being one of only two guys in a huge medical centre for an entire day, I would plan my time to see how I could get the most out of it. And this is how it looked like for that one Saturday:

10am – Guitar practice

Songs that need improvement:

• Papa George
• Mombasa
• Amy
• I’ve always thought of you

12:30pm – Listen to Moral Maze

1:15pm – Call WH for discussion

1:45pm – Piano Theory

2-3pm – Livejournal

3-6pm – Guitar jam!

Diary entry, 2011

Presently, I know how to play none of the songs. I don’t even know what one of them sounds like. Well, it doesn’t mean it was all a waste; for these were more of the ‘peripheral’ songs, the songs that didn’t mean that much to me. I guess I was more astounded by how much discipline I had in those days, locking myself in a room for an entire day practicing and practicing (and even apportioning time to write blog entries!) But in another way, it wasn’t that surprising as well. While social media was in existence, I did not yet own a smartphone, and there just weren’t that many things to be distracted by.

Days ago I went online to look at some of my friends to see how they were doing. To my surprise, most of them looked very different from their profile pictures. And some of these friends were the most popular and good-looking people around when we still hung out. It just felt so odd to me. How did several of these friends, who used to spend so much time preening and frowning in front of mirrors in their teens, now completely give way to double-chins, premature “dad bods”, and bending postures? This is not an attempt at body shaming. Rather, I wonder how one could once be so vain, yet not make any effort to stay in shape. Perhaps they weren’t vain enough.

I’m working through 1 Peter now, and it reminds me again “all flesh is like grass…” Already, as I cross the mid-20s, I feel a noticeable difference in lifestyle and physiology. Perhaps it’s like a purifying fire, and crossing the red sea of the mid-20s will simply eliminate all the motivations and passions that once ignited you, even if it’s something as stupid as vanity – if you don’t hold on to it with discipline.

On the other hand, crossing this red sea could reaffirm yourself of what you find worthwhile and of value in life: a passion for the word, a yearning to be like Christ, a heart for the lost. Perhaps this is why D.A. Carson once said that he was always wary of young Christians buzzing about in Christian ministry, thinking too much of what they could do for the Lord. For Jeremiah and Isaiah didn’t – they felt so utterly inadequate and so aware of their sinfulness.

So shall we, after crossing that diving line of fire in as short a time as one or two years, find ourselves with a bloated jaw, an isolated and untouched bible, a drought-ridden prayer life, worsening postural integrity, and *eek* – our once-inseparable instruments now foreign to us? When we were both still teens, a friend once told me he believed he was gifted in music, and proceeded to spend much time developing in that area. Just two months ago when we approached a piano together, he confessed he had lost every single thing save one or two songs based on muscle memory.

Perhaps we should stop being so hard on the young. Maybe they are the ones who have sufficient desire to be disciplined about what they like. Yet, on the other hand, the inevitable crossing of this purifying fire is a reminder that without discipline and desire, even if just for 5 minutes on a tiring day after work, we will lose it all – and more, to the amorphous distractions that beep and call out to us through bright screens. These are modern day morphines that numb us from the pain; they don’t heal, but are only relaxants that put the hopeless at ease. Hopeless because we have ceased to desire and have given in. It is, at the same time, a state of ecstasy and one of self-denial. We say, “enough, I’ve had a long day.” Pitiful self-pleasure. Is that not the fate of the grown up?

I sincerely hope not. A good friend brought me to an art exhibition yesterday and I was glad to see that even in the midst of busyness, there are still plenty of people who are questioning themselves, their world, and the people around them. Peeking into the journal of an artist, I saw how she was not fearful of confronting difficult questions she experienced in her life. These artists never ceased to inquire about the world – for how could we ever be done inquiring? (As a matter of fact, my friend repeated the word “curious” no less than 10 times) And in order to express themselves, they had to be disciplined, to be on their own, to spend time to know their thoughts, to hone their craft.

Same goes with the middle-aged legal consultant who quit his job to go into seminary. Everyone recognises the amount of effort and time he expends on every little sermon outline of his. He leaves no stone unturned, and never fails to provide a robust account, no matter how small the assignment.  Never distracted, and always in deep thought, I heard he spends hours in libraries and scours through commentaries and essays. Crows feet line his eyes; but there is so much vigour and vitality in this man. Why is that so?

From the moment we cross that line, we are like fish pulled out of water. We will flap around and eventually die. But there are those that demonstrate sure signs of life, fighting till at last they truly are constrained by time: they simply have no more to give! They are disciplined, and resist every attempt to pacify and sooth them into death – the loosening of muscles, the isolation of that once-favoured instrument, the morning after  of the dying ember. And the difference is that this discipline costs them, for when we were young, discipline had a huge reward, we had men and women to impress, and the approval of many to gain. But in our later days, no one would reward us for discipline. Instead, if discipline would mean to lose time to watch a little tv, to indulge in a little more cake, to just lose ourselves in a silly game or be scrolling through feeds. Curiously, all of these could be said to be “reserving some alone time” or to “give ourselves a treat”, when it does the exact opposite. It eases us into a coma.

What a scary thought. Yet, it is nevertheless true that all flesh is like grass, and the grass, flowers, and all its accompanying glory will fade. Yes it will, with time! What I realize, however, is that we can willingly surrender attempts at living that meaningful life where we endlessly inquire about the world. We do so by giving in to gluttony, to quick stimulation, we run away from difficulties and problems and seek to pleasure ourselves. This is not the fade of time, it is an abnegation of our duties to be stewards of the created order. Instead, we happily lose all interest in all that surround us; and inevitably, along with this, an interest in the impending arrival of Jesus. Our master is coming, let us resist that fatigue and remain disciplined, to keep inquiring, keep honing, keep asking, learning, and being fruitful.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

An anthology of ghosts

I woke up in the middle of the night (waking up in the middle of the night has now become a daily habit for a month) with extreme sleep inertia, the kind that would get you back to sleep in less than a minute. But my thoughts seem to be hungry racehorses head-butting the stall doors that hold them back; and at this opportunity, a slipped thought led to two hours of consciousness.

I first thought of a sermon I was working on, which led me to a sister’s comment that I should try writing short poems. This led me to make up a small verse that I thought would be wonderful and memorable to recite. The wonders of mid-night serendipities.

Okay then, time to switch off and go back to bed. But then came the onslaught of random things. I’ve been in a writing slump recently, the posts I’ve written don’t seem fit in tone or content for this blog – not to my liking anyway. Yet at this moment there were so many things coming to mind, so vivid that I was sure I wouldn’t forget them. I was so eager that I wanted to get up immediately to write them, and even to finish the entire sermon.

And so in order to return to sleep, I had to write a line down just as a gesture to put my mind at ease. I got up, typed it on my phone, and went back to bed. But I did so at least 5 more times. So exciting.

There might be a barrage; but I think I have to flush away some of the older, unpublished ones for now, especially the really months or even years-old ones. Much like setting loose old ghosts.

Learning our tastes – 18 July 2016

Learning the tastes of the modern person also means taking note of the structures that compel us. At times, these things propel us for good (although I think this is rarely the case). Many other times, it’s nothing more than mere virtue signalling, or if not virtue, then something else – as long as it leads to our image. Examples include appearing to be globalised and well-traveled, and even being humanitarian, ever heard of poverty tourism?

On a less sinister level, there’s also drinking coffee – not so much for caffeine – but the status associated with it. Not only do you have to be able to afford it, coffee is to many, a kind of acquired taste. It may taste bitter to many people, but true connoisseurs of coffee know how to appreciate the aroma of the freshest brew of coffee beans. It also tells you that I need my daily caffeine dose (I’m way busier than you to get regular hours of sleep).

Untitled – 15 August 2017

It seems like the past few months have been an unending struggle; a major struggle in defending the sufficiency of scripture and its beauty. And there were moments that I doubted – not the beautiful mission itself, but whether or not it’s time to retreat. There are some battles that are not worth fighting, for one reason or another. And also there are times when we lose sight of our motives and purposes, some battles we fight for our pride, but not for the cause.

One female recently made a comment: “you know, girls like guys who are driven.” I took it to mean that I had better be more driven. Yeah, maybe I should be agonising over other things like starting a family or getting my career on track. But I can’t help feeling that time is ticking away, and there are some people close to me that may not be around soon. I think word ministry concerns the eternal fate of souls, it cannot be neglected, not even for one day.

The promise of love – 3 December 2017

I’ve been meeting married or soon-to-be married folk in recent days, perhaps because most of my friends are older than me, or that some others are in that stage of their lives when marriage looks to be a natural progression. “You’ve been married for half a year, would you recommend it?” I asked, half rhetorically. The response was a positive; but it’s not like i’m going to take it seriously anyway, right?

Beneath the celebrations and the happiness of having become ‘fulfilled’ or ‘completed’ or simply, happy, are the darker undertones unknown to most. Reduced to a quiet mutter, I hear of issues I never knew happy couples could face, difficulties I never knew could stand in the way of that enchanting feeling of being in love. Yet these men quietly get to work in that small, simple house, playing their part as husbands and as a partner in maintaining the household. Out of love, maybe, or perhaps more of duty – or both.

Marriage is a curious thing because it is a contract, and contracts are nothing more than promises of future action. Far more than being there in “sickness and in health”, which, sometimes simply adds unneeded and almost unrealistic drama to the ‘bottomless depths ‘of our love for our partners, we are promising much more than just being there physically. We also make promises of our future emotions – our tempers, instabilities, insecurities, flare ups and so on. And that is essentially saying that I promise to still be with you even though I may not feel like being with you tomorrow, or some other day in the future.

Yet, unlike other contracts, the marriage contract is rarely policed or enforced. Aside, of course, when we decide to divorce, or when we cheat on our spouses. And not excluding these, there is nothing more to coax us or to make us feel like keeping to our grand words. There are no penalties, and the rewards are hardly tangible. We know duty may keep a marriage unbroken, but what is to keep a marriage thriving? I still wonder.

“You make me feel unprepared for marriage..” said a friend. It wasn’t my intention, I was simply curious about marriage, and asked a ton of questions about what he would do and what his role would be. I’m not a marriage expert, I’m merely an enthusiast. I don’t know exactly what’s going to work, but I know that every single thing that is left unworked in us before a marriage is likely going to remain unworked in a marriage. Things don’t just work out after flowers are sprinkled on us and two become one. Marriage needs tons of work, I feel, and much of it must begin far long before we can even get a sniff of it.

But what am I rambling on about? After all, a hundred or so years ago, I would be having my fifth child by now. Yet maybe it’s because back then I would live till maybe 50 if God wills, meaning I could almost live with reckless abandon. Perhaps it would be more ‘yolo’ back then than now. Perhaps the thought of having to endure a ‘lifetime of agony’ with someone unsuitable as a spouse wasn’t so bad back then because a lifetime only meant several decades – if we were blessed enough. Maybe it’s not that mystical, after all.

Earlier this year, for the first time in my life, I felt that I finally received the ‘gift’. The gift of being content in singleness. For much of my adult life, I yearned to completely know and be known by another. Little did I know that it was this, and a whole host of other lies. When I had finally shut out the pressures of others (even the little ones bug me about marriage), the romanticisation of the idea of being in love, the images of sexual desire that call out for satisfaction, I didn’t find a lot remaining.

Book plug – 27 February 2017

I recently read a book titled How to Think by Alan Jacobs, and found it pretty refreshing. For this reason, I’m recommending this book to anyone who has time to read. I would not say that reading this book will magically unlock your hidden ability to think; as a matter of fact, it’s precisely because it doesn’t do that, and doesn’t claim to that makes it a worthwhile read.

I found the book refreshing because in the world where we prize the ‘sovereignty of technique’ (as Oakeshott puts it), we have an author who understands the over-rationalization that goes on and writes a long prose from start to finish, resisting the checklist and propositional approach (i.e. 10 ways to think clearly). And be warned: moderns who have trained themselves to be inattentive to long sections of text may not be able to handle the book well. In his earlier book, The Pleasures of Reading in the Age of Distraction, Jacobs himself recognizes that his brain and hand have been almost hard-wired to itch for the smartphone to check for updates.

I must admit I like the book because it’s very familiar to me. Jacob quotes many of my favourite authors and philosophers, and I would venture to say that we share a very similar worldview.

Alas, thinking is under threat. And I boldly surmise that much of this is due to our treasured new technologies. I myself struggle against this cloud of thought passivity, it’s as if very safe and friendly hands are trying to put a bunny like myself to sleep and I cannot resist the lure…

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

 

What to do with our gifts

In recent weeks, I’ve had the pleasure to meet up with several friends, some of whom I haven’t met for a while. As I listened to their goings-on and what they were doing in life, it occured to me that some of them were thriving and growing, and others, less so. One reason was simply because they were able harness their natural gifts at their workplace, and therefore become more successful.

Some others, on the other hand, found it rough going. Sometimes it was because I saw that they were not playing to their strengths, and found themselves doing something that did not allow them to use their gifts to optimise their work performance and hence enjoyment. I saw how 6 months made a huge difference as it became clear that a friend of mine had become vastly more articulate, having now a very big picture view of certain processes, and seemed to thoroughly enjoy her work. In a way, it was as if her work had magnified her gifts, and I was certain that she was primed for success.

To be good at certain things and thus crafting a niche that adds value is, of course, very different from being passionate about a certain kind of work. So I shall put the passion variable out for a moment and talk more specifically about gifts and aptitudes. And my question is: what ought we do with our gifts?

I guess at the broadest level, our gifts may give us a clue of what kind of work we may be best suited to do, what sort of industries we might feel comfortable working in. Beyond that, they also make up our potential; how, given this or that gifts, so and so has the potential to really be very successful in his/her field. These were the kinds of talk bandied about and it did make me wonder a little about my gifts and my suitability for my job and how it would aid my career.

Obviously, if you know anything about me, if I were given just a little time to daydream, I’d often gravitate towards daydreaming about how awesome I could turn out to be. How I could use my gifts so excellently that one day I could make such a huge difference to the organization and perhaps to society. I guess the people around me also had faith in my potential. And then, in a timely manner, I snapped out of it.

When Christians think of gifts, we think of them as being blessings gifted from God; blessings we need to use well if we want to be good stewards. To be frank, most of us don’t really know what to do with it, or how we ought to use it well. In any case, the good Asian parent would say that excelling in them would be the perfect way to glorify God. Through the years, I’ve come to see that this is very pernicious thinking. A kind of specious biblical adage that parents love to repeat. But we are being disingenuous because it’s not clear how we are necessarily glorifying God when we use our gifts excellently.

Obviously, these are not necessarily falsehoods as well. Yes, it is true that if we excel in what we do, and intentionally use them in certain ways, we can glorify God. But if we are being honest and if we truly think we are working for our master, and that the kingdom is truly important, then we must draw attention to Jesus in very explicit ways as truly ‘glorifying god’ through our gifts:

We can be so good at our work that we help those that are weaker, and in doing so, tell them about God’s love and compassion for us, and show them that we are willing to love and care for others despite being competitors. We can use them so excellently in work in ways that clearly add value to society, by growing an organization that helps to set important agendas for society that can bring positive change; and then one day when we can give a speech, perhaps we can speak of what really motivated us, and how Jesus truly saves. But that’s surely a more roundabout way isn’t it? And how often do we forget to even utter his name?

Having spoken to many on the topic of career and working life, there are always endless considerations to weigh, and so too, very many wonderful analyses pointed out by analytically sharp friends. You know, there are one million and one ways you can get your career to advance, and so many different things you can watch out for or do. Yet one friend spoke something vastly different. He mentioned that work-life balance is really important. Because it’s important to have sufficient time and energy to serve God and others within and without the church. Now that’s something new.

Now then, notwithstanding the various ways we can serve our colleagues at work, or to see our work as a kind of service to others and God, might we then consider a slightly different perspective to work and giftings? What if we saw our gifts as opportunities to be so efficient at our work – not so much to get a much vaunted position or promotion – but so that we can spare more time to invest in lives outside of our vocation? What if, instead of the 8 hours it typically takes, we are so gifted that we can complete our work in 4 – not so that we take on more and expedite our career progression, but so that we can put work aside and put the remaining 4 hours to prepare for a bible study?

Nothing I have said should suggest that we don’t put our best effort into doing the work we are assigned. Rather, I’m suggesting that we should use our gifts well so that we have more opportunities to bless others with God’s word – in a way, a more direct way of speaking, thinking, and singing of God in our lives. As I prepare to journey through a new chapter of my life, I look back fearfully at every little thing I’ve written about adulthood and working life – many Christian men and women seem to be too absorbed by it, so much so the flame that once so passionately glowed for Christ now flares for another purpose. I fear the same for myself.

J.I. Packer once described Christian endurance as a long-distance race, and we all need to persevere for that prize of final glory. What what does that require?

“… what perseverance requires is a sustained exertion of concentrated effort day in and day out – a single-minded, whole-hearted, self-denying, flat-out commitment to praising and pleasing the Father through the Son as long as life lasts… This sustained inward effort, raised to the limit of what you can do with your brains, gifts, and energy God has given you, is one central aspect of Christian holiness, one without which a person’s supposed holiness would degenerate into self-indulgent softness.”

J.I. Packer, Rediscovering Holiness

If correct, then it means our entire lives are a constant struggle, a battle which will become incredibly costly if we allow complacency to fester. As long as we breathe, we strive to please the Father through the son. And anything beyond that is noise. Notice here that Packer does refer to our gifts; and unlike what our parents or friends or career counsellors may make it out to be, our gifts are only one of the many things that if used properly, could aid us towards sustaining that inward effort to please God.

Imagine then if we used our gifts so excellently, thus leaving us more time not to do more, but to do less – to ponder and rest upon God’s words. What if we could reserve more time to help other working folk hear God speak his word to their lives again, to remind them of the kingdom they belong to, to sing His word to them and together submit prayers and supplication in the name of the Son?

D.A. Carson once exposited Matthew 25, referring to it as one of Matthew’s kingdom parables. v14-30 records the familiar parable of the talents, in which those that had used the given ‘talents’ well and brought returns to investments for the master were well rewarded. This passage has often been explained as us using our gifts well as good stewards, bringing glory to God.

But Carson tells us that this can be read in similar terms as the command in Chapter 6 to lay up our treasures in heaven –  in which we are encouraged not mainly to ‘guard our hearts’, but actually to choose our treasure. Here, in Chapter 25, we are to improve our master’s assets. But how? Through increasing conformity to Christ: by witnessing to others, giving, suffering for good, growing in righteousness. These are all treasures moth and rust cannot destroy.

If true, then in a sense, even our gifts do not truly matter in God’s economy; and it is the development of Christlike character that is truly a return to investment – an effort that will earn the praise of our master on that day. May we then use our gifts in ways that help us better enlarge his kingdom and mould our character, as we persevere to preach the word to others.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

Answers to “why?”

“Surely there is a mine for silver, and a place for gold that they refine… Man puts an end to darkness and searches out to the farthest limit; the ore in gloom and deep darkness.” Yes, searching down below, where there’s a darkness so deep that it is forgotten by travellers, unseeable by the keenest eyes in the skies, and untrodden by the most ferocious predators. Yet what the beasts cannot see, man surmises – he sees it with his mind’s eye, this very precious thing of exceeding value; he must work hard at it, to choke the flowing streams and stem the waters from falling so that he can uncover that which is superbly hidden. That ore of value, that treasure that surely exists, is wisdom.

The above paraphrases verses 1-11 of the 28th chapter of Job. Christopher Ash tells us that this chapter has an odd position because it doesn’t seem to be addressed to anyone. Neither does it seem to add value to the arguments between Job and his three friends. Therefore, Ash concludes, it seems to serve as an interlude. It appears that mankind is mining to acquire an object of great value, an object no one has seen but everyone is sure exists. It seems so mysterious, since the days we thought of epistemology and how we know what we know, we already assume that there is something out there that is knowable. It’s the brilliant human mind at work; and this mind, in seeing a racing Cheetah, is not only content with concluding that they are fast, but also wonders about its actual potential. That is, how fast can the category of animals known as Cheetahs run?

Obviously, all of human inquiry is about asking the ‘why?’ question, just in different ways. For the sake of simplicity, we could say that one way is to understand our world mechanistically, that is, what are the mechanisms that adequately explain the phenomena of rain? Another way of understanding the world is to understand its purpose – the courts are more interested in one’s motivations for killing a coworker than in how my strangling caused death by asphyxiation. Sadly, the ‘gift’ of psychology is to assume that even questions of purpose can be approached mechanistically. With this in place, all of contemporary human inquiry becomes synonymous with scientific inquiry, and questions of purpose become lost in this materialistic quest. Indeed, if all there is to know is knowable, then those who know the most will reign.

But this chapter in Job mocks at this notion. Verses 12-14 tell us that this wisdom cannot be found. “Man does not know its worth, and it is not found in the land of the living.” Such a wisdom “cannot be bought” with all the gold, neither can its price be matched with all the prized jewels of onyx or sapphire. Man is priced out of ever reaching wisdom – the topaz of Ethiopia cannot equal it (19). In fact, death and destruction are personified, and if ever we could travel to the depths of the netherworld and meet them for questioning, their only response would be: “we have heard a rumour of it with our ears.” (22) So who knows the exact place of this treasure? I think we all know the answer.

God knows. He starts by standing at the finishing line of our race to accumulate data of the material world. He says he knows it all, every measurement, every ounce, every inch, for he ‘gave to the wind its weight’ and ‘apportioned the waters by measure’; he ordered the falling of the rain and directs the way of lightning. (v24-26). He knows, of course he knows it all, for he made it all. So this quest will be in vain, for even if we can know so much about the mechanics of the world, we will keep asking another ‘why?’ Why? What’s the purpose of it all? And even if we don’t ask that of the natural world, the most accomplished inquirers, scientists and academics ask that of their own lives: why did my wife leave me? Why did this happen to me? Why am I such a failure? Why can’t I overcome that? Why do such people exist? 

And as much as we try to have control over understanding the depravity of humankind, we will fall short. This poem ends in a queer way, in v28: “Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to turn away from evil is understanding.” At the end of the crazed search for knowledge and understanding, we are empty-handed, and the bible tells us to fear Him and do good. Oh, how much he wrongs the curious inquirer in us! But I suspect this gives peace to many who try to make sense of this crazy world. Ash reminds us that this end directs our search away from the architecture of the world to the architect himself. In other words, the search for wisdom as an object is doomed to fail.

If man knew everything about why the world was, he would become conceited and puffed up. I once had a friend, that, after evaluating the purposes of God’s order and the reasons for existence of evil and suffering concluded: I think I can build a better world than god. Indeed, without God all our endless inquiries will be for nothing, for our best achievements in this short life may barely get us a mention in the historical records of the great multigenerational quest to understand the material world. But what of the larger ‘why’?

That is perhaps the purpose of the book of Job. We cannot presume to have more wisdom and knowledge than our all-knowing God! Yet we are not to be men chained in a dark cave, content with making sense of the shadows cast upon the wall ahead of us, for we know Christ is the repository of all God’s treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Even at times when it appears that everything seems to be falling apart, God help us cast our eyes on Him, to fear His holiness and continue to flee from evil. May we find our answers in Him.

Signing off,

Fatpine.

 

The detrimental balanced life

One of the most dangerous ideas that poisons the contemporary Christian is the idea that one should ‘balance’ out one’s pursuit of God. And nothing can be more discouraging than when a fellow Christian tells you that. What this message means is that our faith, this Christianity, ought only be one of our many priorities in life. It is fair to place God as first at all times, but it is also important not to ‘overdo’ faith, they say. Other than knowing the Bible, one should also spend much time being exposed to the many things life offers. Such a person is a well-balanced person, able to be flexible and offering lots of value to the world.

Well, if ‘overdoing’ faith involves being a biblical zealot well-versed in the biblical texts, then I definitely agree. Such people are probably the most stubborn people you’d ever meet. One shouldn’t mistake their stubbornness for passion, and their lone ways as being specifically set apart. I also agree that we are to be informed with the affairs of the world so that we may be useful and productive workers and labourers. Apart from these, what’s left for the well-meaning Christian? Is there really a ceiling to our pursuit of God? Can we be too passionate for His purity? Many people might say yes, and especially if they believe that the key to a good life is to keep things on an even-keel. It’s simply a management of priorities: all are equally important, it simply depends on their placement on the list.

However, any reader of the Bible will know that this is not possible, neither is it biblical. What then shall we make of Paul, who, in considering the surpassing worth of knowing Christ, counted all things a loss? In other words, after Christ, everything else is category rubbish. This means that prioritising life should not look like ranking categories in a list. Sotheby’s auction is not going to list a random box of hair from the barber’s among its list of Picasso paintings and fine diamonds. No, it doesn’t even get on the list because it’s rubbish. And this is the Christian life: Christ and rubbish.

If this is true, then a whole lot of things belong in the bin. And that includes marriage, friendship, wealth, housing, health – already the ‘nobler’ pursuits that are well worth our time and effort. Obviously, this doesn’t gives us the free reign to hurt our friends and spouses and eat without concern for our physical state, or to be unwise stewards of our resources. But Paul does back it up, warning us that since the appointed time has grown very short, “let those who have wives live as though they had none, and those who mourn as though the were not mourning… and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of the world is passing away.” (1 Corinthians 7:29-31)

Then there is no list. No, perhaps we may picture ourselves as being on a unending road trip that’s a metaphorical pursuit of God. We are always pursuing God, but along the way, we have to eat, sleep, and life does get in the way. Inevitably, we accumulate new friends who accompany us, some hitchhikers, and a ton of leftover clothes and food. Sometimes rubbish stays because it’s necessary – they help us get by. And you never know when that empty paper bag may come in handy. Yes, it means God’s blessings for us can be rubbish, if they contend with God for our attention.

If God is so supremely important, then how can there ever be a ceiling to the pursuit of God? On the contrary, 1 John presents to us a more radical view: do not love the world, for the love of the Father is not in him who loves the it. 1 John (2:15) This reinforces the radical binary Paul introduced to us. It is a zero-sum game, you either love the world, or you hate it. Kevin Deyoung tells us that the desires of the flesh, the desires of the eyes, and the pride of life, seem to correspond to the three temptations Jesus faced in the wilderness. The promised satisfaction of our sensual desires, the owning of things we covet, and the pride of being adored; where Jesus succeeded, many of us fail daily. How then can we not constantly rely on Him, constantly kill sin, and constantly kneel at His feet?

The Christian life is one of fighting desires with desires. If we are not struggling with anything at all, then the devil has won. If, in living our daily lives, nothing provokes despair and disgust within us, then we have loved the world. David Wells said it well, “Worldliness is what makes sin look normal in any age and righteousness seem odd.” If we will not stop to consider how we have failed to be more loving, how we have failed to pay attention to Jesus, even for just a little while, then we are in trouble. Don’t live a balanced life. Live a Christ-like life; let us strive to have our hands and hearts cauterised by holy things.

Signing off,

Fatpine. 

A glimpse of your smile

People that know me quite well will know that I’ve this tendency to deprive myself of good things if I know I have to endure bad things in between. Sometimes this sort of delayed gratification can be seen as self-flagellating. I wouldn’t deign to enjoy something for even a minute if I know that I have to enter a state when that joy will be removed from me. This means that I care more about ‘now’ than what has been. If an impending ‘now’ is going to be rough, then I shall put off any brief enjoyment and just endure through any difficulty.

This was most pronounced when I had to do my military service. I hated the farewells and the feeling of good company right before I went in for good. Because it made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside and that I had such good friends. I could bask in their presence and enjoy their laughter and their jokes. I knew I was alive to them, I was often the subject of their conversations. Yet when the time came to enter the army for the first time, it almost felt as if we never met. The separation was so thorough I struggled to think of them as real people in my life; and I soon forgot their smiles.

And this would go on for two years. Every time I had to report back, it would seem like I’m desperately soaking in any form of encouragement and positivity. Yet my heart was quite dead, distancing myself from it all, knowing that no matter how much I was encouraged, I couldn’t bring a friend in. You bring nothing in. And before long, you face that dreary walk into that dusty bunk, hidden away from civilisation. A place faraway from kindness, individuality, spontaneity and sometimes even hope. I remember the first time I came out I was so moved just to see grandmothers and middle-aged ladies walking about and getting on with their lives.

As I read through scripture this week, I realised that eternal separation is a big deal. And we don’t take it seriously because we don’t think hard enough what it truly entails. In some ways, what I faced doing serving in the military was a little shadow of what eternal separation might be like. It reminded me that perhaps I like pleasuring myself so much now, perhaps my exams/relationships/work assignments/interviews are life-defining at the moment, but when it passes, will it be worth it losing sight of God then, given what will be ‘now’? The ‘now’ of eternal separation?

As it has been since the earliest of days, since the time the Jews were exiled in Babylon, it was prophesied “And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.” What great woe if I arise but face everlasting contempt!

If you thought depression was bad, if you thought having a bad day at work was bad, wait until you experience death, death that signifies eternal separation, of having the wrath of God consume you, of having the father turn away from you, of seeing the Jesus not as merciful saviour but with eyes of fire ready to separate with you for eternity.

Even in our worst days, even when we think of death, even if we find no hope, there always is some hope, there’s always something worth living for. It’s a pity that we resort to cheap thrills to cheer us up. Yet consider this, there’s so much we can do, there’s still so much that is left to help us cheer up, brighten up, to enliven, to lift us, to comfort us, to make us smile. Yet consider what eternal separation entails, everything that could be remotely positive loses its function.

There is no encouragement, no good news, no respite, no cheerfulness, no reward, trust, no words that can provide a semblance of hope, no sympathy, no consolation or reassurance. One cannot be brave, resilient, forward-looking; cannot have endurance or perseverance that comes from some kind of determination. You will not suffer in silence, because there’s nothing to hold out for. Even your senses grieve you, you see fire and suffering, feel the biting of worms, hear the gnashing of teeth and smell burning sulphur. There is nothing that will stop your crying. Your tears will flow on for eternity, for you have been rejected God.

At that moment, you know you stand condemned, without any answer. You know that you deserve this shame and contempt, your life is a living testimony of an active rejection of God. O that I gave up something, anything! For these pleasures are alien to me now. I don’t remember the smell of sweet buns, the taste of luxury or the feeling of sensual pleasure. I was first and envied in the world, and all my heart’s deepest pleasures I didn’t deny; but now I am last.

Yet though being sinless, this was what Christ endured for us. Sometimes we think, “how could Jesus possibly know what I’m going through? How could Jesus possibly sympathise with me?” Well, he can, and not because he went through the same suffering you did, but because he went through the ultimate form of suffering, when His father would turn His gaze away from Christ.

Consider then the future glory that awaits. How everything that could ever hint at darkness does not make sense for those who are raised with Him. There will be no more tears, compromise, caveats; no misfortune, bad news, falsehood, gloom and annoyance; no more obstacles, challenges, antagonisms, no more naysaying. And we stand justified in trial, not looking at what we’ve done in our lives, but by that free gift on the cross. We look back wishing still we had done things differently. I knew it, I knew it! I knew it was worth it; alas, if only I had trusted Him more in my weakest moments! If only I had been more faithful. Yet, I waited and endured for His name in bitterness, and now I taste goodness and sweetness all my days. I was a servant, and now I am first.

Notwithstanding his theological flaws, Charles Wesley wrote many great hymns. And his last one went like this:

In age and feebleness extreme,
Who shall a helpless worm redeem?
Jesus, my only hope Thou art,
Strength of my failing flesh and heart:
O could I catch one smile from Thee,
And drop into eternity?

A dying man, a helpless worm. O for a glimpse of a smile, for a hint of favour, and that is sufficient for an eternity of comfort. The future is clear, and we can partake in the most joyous marriage supper of the Lamb, or we can forget the meaning joy and goodness, knowing only death. As my pastor once said, the book of Revelation sure is apocalyptic, but it is really filled with ethics: worship God, worship God.

Signing off,

Fatpine.