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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
SHAME AND FAILURE
I used to tell my dad, "don't look at them. look at me". he likes to dig up the spanish inquisition and cruel missionaries to discredit christianity. not knowing how to point him to Christ at the time, i pointed him to myself. little did i realise the insurpassable hurdle i placed before him, nor the unbearable millstone i placed on myself.
for better or worse, this CNY put the spotlight on one thing in my life - my gross failure to be a contributing member of my family. i've been a shameful example of what a christian is like, and for that, i don't think i know how to even call myself one in front of them. it is not the Christ of my faith that i am ashamed of, it is myself.
the irresponsible thing for me to do now would be to draw even closer to my adoptive family - the church - and comfort myself with convenient truths, like how God's love cannot be earned by good, responsible conduct. and i could very well balm myself with that kind of unconditional love but no... the real cost of my christianity demands more from me than escapism. it demands that i reimmerse in my family and start being a functioning cog in my earthly father's house.
in the meantime, i just feel heavy. my dad doesn't need the spanish inquisition or cruel missionaries anymore. he's got a boy who discredits christianity all by himself.
Labels: defeat, identity
10:45 am ]