Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.


On identity
i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes.

On Christianity
I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you.

On dreams
Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.


On melancholy
It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself.

On memory and nostalgia
It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting.

On language
I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word.

On politics
Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for?

On society
People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last.

On growing old
Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall.

On philosophy
I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man?

On a daily basis
One line quips, like this.


Monday, April 10, 2006
I’ve been treating God like a vending machine. i slot in my prayers, choose from among the lush array of (1) relationship, (2) career, (3) social life, (4) finances, (5) childhood dreams, push all the right buttons, and after this ridiculous ritual, I don’t even stick around long enough to find out what God wants from me – not even if all he wants is some time together. And I’m quite ashamed of myself.

Today, ps lee choo was saying something to the effect of how when we pray, we want to encounter God in his reality, but is God encountering us in our reality too? Are we letting him see us in all our flaws, all our struggles and pain or are we putting up a front? I’ve been putting up fronts everywhere.

My front in church and cell have been so brave, I bet no one knows that my spiritual kettle has long gone off the boil. My front at work is brave enough for colleagues to not know that my entire life has spun way out of control. There are probably only three or four people who really know how tired I am with everything.

I’ve grown so extremely tired of serving, or so scared of meeting acquaintances in church because i’ve become so protective of my personal time. In a completely egocentric gallilean way, it feels like everyone wants a piece of me when it couldn’t be less true. Most people won’t have anything to do with me, but still I feel like I’m spread so thin on every bread I’ve got my knife on.

I’m probably closer to backsliding than I’ve ever been before, and i’m displaying all the signs of impending burn out. every day, literally every day, I find myself fantasizing about one of the following: (1) traveling to a faraway place, (2) packing it all in and living in the country, (3) going back to muar to stay. It’s not healthy at all.

Today, ps chew preached about the resurrection of lazarus, and when he talked about how that miracle marked the turning point of Jesus’ ministry, I knew that my own life – this drudging life – needed to turn as well. Slot prayer here – press “new life”.

So I remembered that I’ve been treating God like a vending machine, and it’s ironic: that when all i want is stuff out of God, that’s when i seem to get every dang piece of goobledigook. It’s an experience of humble pie proportions. But I’ve no cards left, so it’s back to the hard knocks of good old fashioned getting to know you. And I’m lousy at making up – I’m saddled with all this guilt and shame and issues that I think he wouldn’t care, but he has to. I’m convinced that he has to.

And as for God himself, I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass. i’m tired of being a cynical realist. i want that feeling again, that comforting, peaceful feeling of knowing he knows where I’m at, and knowing that I can trust him to hook everything together. I know I need it, because i’ve been living in his absence for so long now, and tonight, it really, really hurts.


Genusfrog [ 9:48 am ]


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