invisible

every day and night. you go to work and you turn it on. you come back home, and the first thing you do is turn it on.

every moment i face the screen is another moment out of this world. like i opened the doors to the wardrobe and walked through, pushed aside those fur coats, hairs brushing against my cheek, until i suddenly feel the brisk cold of winter, except there isn't really that brisk cold of winter.

unhindered interactions with your closest friends, boundaries of geographic distance like nothing. and you'd all stay up so late for this, hours into the late night, even up till the morning. painful, yet satisfying.

you step in and explore this world, starting with small baby steps, tip toeing, just scratching the surface of it all. and the longer you stand in your place, the more confident you become, and you take an extra step more. you go where you've never gone before, your eyes widen, stretch, and your heart pumps blood in excitement to see what you would never see. it's a beauty, isn't it?

at first, it was dipping your feet into the cold pond. it starts off chilly, the cold riding up your leg and shivers your body. and then, long time after, it no longer is a foot in and a leg out, so easy.



i'm already lost in my own nature metaphors, lost in what i'm telling you, because it is so far from the truth. i can't distinguish one from the other, whether i am truly in one world or another. no, it's no longer so. i look inside a land of infinity, now seeing things i would never imagine to see, would not even tear myself away from. but really what i am looking at, looking into, is a screen, looking right back at me, straight at me, only at me. he looks at me for so long, that will he not just see through to my soul? would he not look deep into my eyes, so blinded by himself, that he would see everything that he needs to do to complete the illusion?

the invisible closes around me and it becomes life. unhindered interactions? no boundaries? no, there are. in the end, you forget where you are, you lose your sense of direction. now you pick which victor you are, but there's only one choice now. the one that doesn't see heart, doesn't see emotion, doesn't see reaction. just words. words, subtext, metaphors, clever wit, implications, and whatever else you can see and read with just WORDS.

what to do now.

some wisdom from ravi zacharias

1. Anything that refreshes you without distracting, diminishing or destroying your final goal is a legitimate pleasure.

2. Any pleasure that jeopardizes the sacred right of another may well be an illicit pleasure

3. Anything pleasure, however good, if not kept in balance, will distort reality or destroy appetite.

Definition of sin: whatever weakens reasoning, impairs the tenderness of conscience, obscures sense of god, takes away relish for spiritual things, in short, anything that increases authority and power of the flesh over the spirit, that becomes sin, however good it is in itself. (John Wesley’s mom)


Applications

1. Pleasure for pleasure’s sake will leave you empty

2. There is a place for legitimate pleasure

3. It is worship (intimacy with God) that brings complete pleasure

november nuances

returning from a weekend in ottawa with friends marked the end of october and a good beginning to november. i was reminded that it is a new day, and a new month, and a new beginning. not only so, it was also the official halfway point of the term. as such, it was imperative to reflect on the past few months, as well as to plan for the upcoming months.

i know what it appears to you, but i don't think it's so bad being in montreal. i just had the thought today that it truly was a cool thing to be able to live in another city for a period of time, and see what different things there are to see, eat the food, and spending time with new friends. those are good things, and i tend to magnify the bad things by habit. yes it does get very quiet here and it does get quite lonely without too many new friends. i have to remember my opportunity to be here, and the cool things to experience and to remind myself to live.

for the past few weeks i've noticed a major mental block again, though just a week or two ago i did come to a realization with.. something.. i don't really remember what right now. but now i seem to be distracted with something i don't know what, that i can't really think clearly. curses to that.

there's been a terrific paradox that has been troubling me. i know that i've definitely not used my time wisely these past few months. i feel like i've wasted a lot of time, and not really accomplishing anything. this has been caused by laziness and a lack of motivation. but when it comes to doing things.. i find that it feels really meaningless. sheer following of a schedule, completing a checklist, doing it for the sake of checking it off a list. that has been a strategy to encourage myself to do things, but once that becomes your incentive, everything loses its meaning. this becomes more and more unfortunate when the things you have to do have more meaning.

so here will be the thoughts that i want to have thought through, and the things i would like to have done.

-ccf magnets. we said we wanted some, i have the supplies to make some.
-bible and prayer. bible and prayer. need i say more.
-read more books. enjoy them, learn from them, and don't read them for the sake of finishing them.
-play more piano. 1800 bucks is a lot of money to collect dust.
-singing. i need to fix my voice.
-guitar. a lower priority thing, but worthy. learn more guitar makes for better worship leading.

things to think about
-future ccf goals? how to serve, why am i serving? i shouldn't serve just because they need someone.
-men's cell? mcdougall ministry? what should i do, when to do it? we should plan these things early
-lifesong? do i want to do coordinate it? do i want to do it this term, or another term?
-mentorship driven? with age and experience (compared to the younger ones), we should be sharing it.
-workshops? same as previous point.

a word to uncle screwtape

i want to commend to you what an excellent job you've been doing with your work. you've managed to chip at my spirit slowly but surely, rendering most of my previously built defences not usable. you developed a plan, you set goals, and you worked relentlessly at it, and those are definitely strong signs of initiative and ambition.

you were able to eliminate any desires to read the bible or to pray. i would tell myself that i wouldn't feel like it. or that it was useless, or it was difficult. and we say that that is what protects us most from the enemy, is closeness with God. and you were able to convince me not that it was useless, but that there was another better time to do it. when that is, i never asked myself.

you're able to take something that is good in itself, and twist it. take the things that i thought i was good at, and use them for the wrong purposes. music and singing doesn't sound beautiful anymore. a good strong thinker? you interest me in other meaningless things, and telling myself that i've heard all the useful stuff. i know enough theology, i know the bible, i know christianity. i don't need to learn anymore. i don't need to think about this, i've already thought about it before. and then before you know it, my brain is just numb from the lack of stimulation, and i had no desire to change that. you are certainly doing a good job, uncle screwtape.

you are able to take advantage of weaknesses. what am i bad at.. well, there is never really a voice to tell me what i am bad at. there is a voice telling me what i'm good at, whether that is actually true or not, and i easily neglect what i am bad at. laziness? lust? pride? the whole shebang. and when i am about to do these things, you make sure that my mind has been numbed and turned off, so that i cannot defend against you. by that time it is already too late, and i am in your grasp.

and now, even more.. regular things that even nonchristians would think about, things like what to do in an evening, or what to cook for dinner, whether to go to the gym. such regular things. now i don't even have motivation to do that. it looks like i don't have motivation to do things in life. or that i am not doing things right. then my own self-confidence is attacked, that i can't do things right.

so there's one more thing i want to say. in the beginning i said that you've got excellent planning skills and such, to administer your little plan. well what about me? they say that a strong man should know what to do with their life, how to plan their life out, and to set goals to achieve. how am i doing with that? not so well either. when i notice a problem that i have to deal with, i don't make a plan to solve the problem, but i avoid the pain and the trouble. i avoid the responsibility to get things right, and i do things that make me feel good but avoid the work.

indeed, uncle screwtape, you are doing splendid.

we love you, jesus..

i'm the kind of guy that never reads ppl's song lyrics when they post it up on their blogs. but i cannot help it here. "we love you, jesus", the radio song for shane and shane's new album, pages. an absolute declaration of love that we can only pray and ask that the Holy Spirit can give to us.

life has so many difficulties and decisions that give us so much pain. and only after you truly look at yourself can you see where you are. by the time you realize to do so, then you've already made a wall so protective that even you yourself do not know what to do about yourself. and when you try to jump the wall, you find a pain so profound and a need so great that your knees just buckle. truly, truly, if only we can love our Jesus more and more, then he will be our comforter, our breaker of walls and our healer.

--

Opening the door to dine with Him.
Traveling to Earth to let us in.
Laying down His glory crown of old.
Setting up the wedding feast foretold.

Oh, we can't contain our love.
We turn it up loud!

We love You, Jesus!
For so many reasons.
For death and life and freedom.
Even now, we love you.

What manner of love is this that You would say
your sin is Mine, I'll take it to the grave. (then rising).
Death oh, death where is your sting today?
Death is swallowed up in victory.

We love You, Jesus!
For so many reasons.
For death and life and freedom.
Even now, we love you.
We love You, Jesus!
In and out of seasons.
In valleys and on top of mountains.
Even now, can we sing.

We love you Jesus!
Jesus!

--

thoughts of a montrealer

i think it'd be fitting for me to note down some thoughts of the past few weeks.

things that have stood out to me, in order of occurence:

-the transportation woes.
what they say is true. montreal is a bad place for transportation. the roads are broken to the core, and the road planning is an absolute mess. if you don't know how to get somewhere, chances are you won't find it. montreal is filled with one-way streets, no left turns or no right turns. right turns are not allowed at red lights (on the island, i didn't know there was a distinction between the rules of the island and the shore until later). downtown is worse. there is no way you can return the same way you came. i learnt that the hard way the first time driving around montreal. i never want to do it again. the level of frustration rose heights comparable to that caused by intense dripping faucets or loud obnoxious people or extreme nagging parents. oh yea, while i was driving my parents were nagging and yelling around too. right.

-the culture difference.
needless to say, montreal is said to "have more culture than toronto." i don't argue that, mainly because i don't know truly how cultural toronto can be because it is so big. the more noticeable difference is the language. yes it is very much french dominant here. many people say that you can survive with english in montreal, but the sad truth is that i don't live in montreal. in longueuil, EVERYBODY's french. everyone speaks french here, and i'm nervous to try to speak english. there was a day that i was at TD and i was scared that the tellers couldn't speak english (they could). another noticeable difference was.. girls. there is a higher percentage of girls than guys almost everywhere i go, almost all the time, some of which are quite the attractive. there's this one girl i see once every so often going to work and she's like a friggin supermodel. by the way, when it was still warm, there were lots of girls showing off their boobs and their cleavage. is that a cultural difference too? holy crap that was kind of annoying.

-the silence.
i live in the basement of a christian family (french speaking). downstairs i have a roommate who is a french assistant pastor. he's only here a couple days a week, for a very short time though. did i mention french speaking. so yea, i am pretty much all alone during the weeks. if i were to not do anything, i will hear silence. i think i found it, the most quiet place. apart from the buzzing of appliances and occasional sounds from the family upstairs, and sometimes the cars outside on the road.. it's silence. pure silence. the silence continues at work, where everyone speaks french around me, only speaking english TO me. i drown it out, almost creating more silence. it is hard for me to make friends at work because they expect to speak french, so there is no need to talk much. pure silence. i can hear my own voice more than ever, and i'm glad of it. i'm glad that i can hear myself think, and that i am thinking.

-the transportation woes.
i am at the mercy of the bus schedule. getting around can no longer be when i feel like it, driving around. living off the island, i have to bus to the metro (that's what they call subways here), subway for 2 stations, change lines, and then subway 3 more to get to mcgill and the downtown core. the subwaying isn't too bad, but the bus comes once an hour on weekends, sometimes half an hour at nights on weekdays if i'm lucky. i am always waiting for subways, waiting for buses. every day, every weekend, i am at the mercy of public transportation. when i wait, i stand around, or i sit around. and i hear it again, pure silence. my mind turns on when it wills to, and that is kinda nice.

so there's more to take of montreal than something so simple as that. after the however many weekends of me going to indigo by myself, eating noodles while msning, walking around the basement thinking of what to do next, or watching the clock as it finally reaches the right time for the hourly bus to come, then perhaps we will see the meaning of it all.

the longest post ever

at first, i was planning to document everything that i did starting the end of term to the beginning of the next term, which isn't even officially here yet for me, and note down every single thought and feeling that was worth noting.

i wanted to write down all the ups and downs that occurred, ppl that were sad, ppl that were happy. things that ached my heart, warmed my heart. ppl i missed, ppl that didn't miss me. the battles to fight, the pains of struggle. conversations worth remembering, efforts worth noting, failures worth forgetting. i wrote out everyone's names, so it would have been open to see. a bit of thought and sleuthing, and secrets of my heart could have been figured. it took hours.

and i wrote it. i got to aug 20. it was pages long, and i already had plans to section it all off by week. then i stopped myself.

what am i doing? everything laid out like a journal, telling the world how i spent my time, testing myself to see whether time was used best. was it? i'm scared that the answer will be no. that the goals i made for these weeks were not accomplished. that you failed to have the best two week toronto vacation you could have.

so i stop. wondering the worth of sharing to the world every tidbit of thought of mine, the worth of telling of every person that i thought about, talked with, didn't talk with. the little pearls of my intricate observations, long-winded yet.. intricate. i fear that after all this, that i learn nothing, that nothing will come out of it all, that i just walk a full circle, back to where i started...

(vacation. a foreign thought, yet all hell breaks loose at its first opportunity. i find my body asking: why is the best not being offered to me? why am i not in constant enjoyment? after such a long term of work, why should i do anything even resembling work right now?

so it happens that way, and i am practically powerless to stop it)

intelligent memory

this is a website and concept that i came across while looking for stuff about memory:


http://www.intelligentmemory.com/default.asp


the author and creator of this concept, dr barry gordon, of which you can check out his creditials on the website, says that there are two kinds of memory: ordinary memory and intelligent memory.

the ordinary type is the type of memory that we use to remember where we put our keys or where is the location of pizza hut or whatever. that type of memory is generally quite weak and unreliable. now the second type of memory, intelligent memory, is smart memory. intelligent memory consists of 3 parts: ideas/individual memories, connection between ideas, and automatic critical thinking. it is the kind of memory that makes links to different things. like remembering that you heard your set of keys made a noise sounding like it hit glass, and therefore it must be on the kitchen table. or your intelligent memory can also be used to solve problems, generally by previous experience. unlike the ordinary memory, this type of memory generally gets better with age, believe it or not. feel free to read more about the definitions on the website.

it can be easily noticed that our intelligent memory is used much more frequently than our ordinary memory. in addition, we often complain that our "memory" is getting worse and worse, and many of us that say so are just in our 20s. does memory loss occur so early? definitely not! common sense tells me that we are approaching our prime memory capacity. so what is the reason? i feel and agree with the website that it is because our memory is not trained. this is similar to an engineering student studying hard for a couple of years, and the parts of his brain that was used for sciences, social sciences, languages, etc. has been neglected and not been used properly. i'm sure that many of you are familiar with this idea, but intelligent memory is more broad with than this. in this day and age of instant messaging, information and media overload, our culture has conditioned our minds to operate by reflex (ie instinctual action, with minimal cognitive activity), as well as with idleness (very easy for this to happen, especially while watching tv or youtube or things like that). because of that, our minds have been absolutely dulled, causing our intelligent memories to become weak. with our ordinary memory being constantly fragile as well, this leads to a generally terrible memory.

so what are we to do about that? there are ways to train your intelligent memories. here are some tips i've found in various places, and i'm sure there are more:

* Pay attention
* Get more ideas
* Look for unusual connections
* Break out of dead-end thinking
* Question your thinking
* Slow down
* Don't multitask
* Become a more critical thinker
* Don't push too hard
* Practice applying IM in simple situations
* Organize your thoughts
* Make plans
* Try new things that you've never done, or do things in different ways.
* Practice your hobbies and engage your mind in them
* Stay away from our culture's conditioning tools! excessive TV/anime, excessive youtube, video games, unnecessary news, and the related

is your memory failing you? i think MANY of you can say yes, and there is a cure. none of us will really productively improve our ordinary memory (requires difficult exercises), but we can all improve our intelligent memory by engaging our entire mind to its full potential. if you want to try it out and tell me how that goes, that would be awesome! i think i will try to do exercise this when i'm in montreal next term.

nothing much worth writing in my mind now. lots of work to do.



a moment of silence.

appreciation for psalms

my recent appreciation for the psalms. so simple, so clear, so desperate, so direct. if i could write like the psalmist...



psalm 18:1-3.. and more!

I love you, LORD, my strength.
The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I called to the LORD, who is worthy of praise, and I have been saved from my enemies.

A good reminder here.. 25-26

To the faithful you show yourself faithful, to the blameless you show yourself blameless, the the pure you show yourself pure, but to the devious you show yourself shrewd.




psalm 57:1-3.. something to repeat in prayer over and over again.. just what we need.. have mercy on us, Lord, have mercy on us...

Have mercy on me, my God, have mercy on me, for in you I take refuge.
I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.
I cry out to God Most High, to God, who vindicates me. He sends from heaven and saves me, rebuking those who hotly pursue me-- God sends forth his love and his faithfulness.





psalm 73:28 (NASB).. nearness is what we desire.

But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the LORD God my refuge, that I may tell of all your works.




psalm 32:3-5, for those who are thinking whether to confess or not...

When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer.

Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the LORD." And you forgave the guilt of my sin.




psalm 37:3-4.. just a beautiful promise.

Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Take delight in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.




psalm 26:1.. this is funny haha..

VINDICATE ME, LORD, for I have led a blameless life (picture a guy tearing off his sackcloth haha)

today at slc, there are actually people dancing.

jazz.

"Jazz is a musical art form that originated in New Orleans, Louisiana, United States around the start of the 20th century. Jazz uses improvisation, blue notes, swing, call and response, polyrhythms, and syncopation, and blends African American musical styles with Western music technique and theory." (wikipedia)

What kind of feeling that does give you? You see people jamming on the drums, the saxophone, trumpet, piano, you name it. Don't you want to dance?

that was what i saw and heard this sunday at slc on my way to study. it was so ironic it hurt. jazz band was practicing in the multipurpose room on the second floor of slc, and i was on my way up to the 3rd floor to hardcore study. it HAD to be jazz, didn't it. so much style, so much freedom and so much personality. yet what i was about to do had none of this. what was set ahead of me was a lot of struggling and stretching my mind and perseverance. currently my assignment is at 5/12, so i have 7 assignments left to do. i have 5 exams in 5 days and i'm absoltely behind.

the feeling of jazz music in the air almost made me laugh out loud.

picture perfect

white petals drifted in the air, covering the forested expanse like snowflakes. the winds were strong, lifting the petals of the nearby trees all over. i brushed my face and looked at the prize. it was garnished with flowers of many colours, but a single bunch of white flowers stood out in the mix of reds and blues. it gave me a sense of royalty.

the willows swayed in the winds, and the sound of them whistled in my ears. i took a step only to get a closer look. i've found the sword, power beyond imagination. it stood upright, proud and defiant, while the flowers bowed before it. i saw it wedged between stones and i already wished for it to have been in a better place, like the scabbard of a just warrior. yet it stood still, not like the constant motion of its surroundings. how strong i imagined it in my own hands.

i walked even closer, and soon the gleam of it caught my eye, almost till it hurt. i saw the etchings of an ancient language on the cold blade, and i knew not what it meant, but it didn't matter. its handle wrapped in soft leather, its blade shined bright as it ever did many years ago. i was in front of it now, hand itching to touch it, arms itching to lift it out of its home. i drew it. the blade rang in the air, and echoed far.

the winds stopped. petals drifted slowly to the ground, but i did not notice. intent on the blade, i ran my hands across the blade, feeling the smoothness of the metal, the rough etchings of the blade. it responded, whispering to me with a low humming voice. i couldn't resist but to hold it upright, wielding its full power with mine.

i saw it work, ringing steel running through the air, slicing through it all like soft butter. gentle, yet ferocious. deadly, yet merciful. a blade of old, wielded by the champions of their day, cowering not in fear, but rising to battle injustice, with no true companion except for their own blade.

the air was clear now. then i saw its scabbard, lying across a tree trunk, blended in the shadows of the trees. i don't blame them, the sword itself was captivating. i slid the sword into the modest scabbard, and let the steel sing in the quiet calm air.

i set off.



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


and the bucket fell over. it was too late, so i could not catch it. i watched as the dirty water spilled to the ground, the now dirty ground. i wanted to snap it in half and throw it at a tree, or something. something to throw at.

no, i didn't do that. i went into the kitchen, searching the shelves below for a cloth to wipe it all dry. i couldn't find one. no, i had to use it. the mop, still damp from use, asked to be used again. the tool for the job, rendered the failure. there wasn't much choice now, i started to wipe, hopefully with strong, solid strokes, before the master returned to discover it all.

it was too late. i heard the door open, and i felt a voice running down the back of my neck as if it was already happening. it made me shiver, and my heart skipped a beat. i quickened my strokes, desperately eyeing for a second option. he walked in, and his first footstep into the room made a quiet *patter*, the sound of a bare foot stepping on too much water. i did not dare to look up, but his eyes bore into mine. i continued to stroke hard, not knowing or caring that the slender wooden mop would not be able to take the force. its hairs started to rub off, leaving the floor with damp hairs of mop residue. i didn't look.

he approached me, slow, steady, and carrying a presence with him. still i didn't look up, though i had such an urge to, to tell him what looked like a disaster was a simple misunderstanding. i didn't have that choice here, no i didn't. without a word, he took the mop from me, held it from the top. i cowered back, not knowing what to expect. i hated the detail that i saw, the whiteness of his knuckles, the flex of his strong forearms, the resolute power in his stature. like an eternity it took for him to take his first swing, and it landed hard. i fell to the ground, comforted by the companionship of flowing dirty water. i heard the patter again, but this time it was not from bare feet, but my bare body. it continued, and i couldn't get up, couldn't fight it, and i just let it fall.

my eyes were closed, but my ears were open, though bloodied. he stopped, and i only knew because i heard the mop fall to the ground. it bounced and rested on the ground, slender wood hitting hard hostile concrete. i could only guess what i felt like. i put my cheek on the cold floor.

changes

it is the beginning of another term in waterloo again. it's been a week and a half being back now, and here are some changes that have come to pass:

1. new mcdougall has returned with a vengeance. on top of a new room assignment, the common areas have been rearranged to fit the summer atmosphere. if you're in town, come check it out.

2. our new line of courses.. thermodynamics 2, partial differential equations, introduction to manufacturing process, kinematic/dynamic design of machines, and fluid mechanics. everyone still follow me? our thermo prof seems to be the best one i think. our fluids prof is a FRENCH WOMAN.. her french accent is sometimes hard to follow, and it gets a bit annoying (though some ppl think it's hot, i don't). our calc prof looks like one of those old chinese women that push dim sum carts at yum cha. her harsh mandarin accent and her less than mediocre teaching makes for crappiness. the manufacturing process guy makes me feel like he is teaching an empty room.. and the way he writes randomly on the board reminds me of CP chou, one of our 1st year profs that draws arrows and circles ACROSS boards and.. mech guys know what i'm talking about hahaha. and our mech design prof is.. pompous and full of himself.

3. after "co-leading" men's cell with the boys in scbc, i'm back in waterloo and i'm going to be leading men's cell for ccf for the first time. i'm excited for it, and the group looks pretty decent. we're meeting up this TUESDAY MAY 17 at mcdougall, for those who are interested!

4. i had no internet for 2 weeks, and us at mcdougall have been relying on DEFAULT. it's like one bar and it disconnects like every minute. sorry to those that i've tried to talk to msn with these few days, i get internet back tomorrow.

5. GIG. GROUPS INVESTIGATING GOD. herm and i are gonna be doing that on fridays at lunch time starting tomorrow, with some classmates of ours. PRETTY DARN GOOD.

6. summer term, 3A. i'm an upper year now.

7. two of my close friends now have girlfriends.

8. i'm away from home now, and therefore i have peace and quiet, if i so seek it. 2 weeks ago from today, i had none.

9. still trying to solve the same problems of my own. heart is still hurting. i also miss people. (i guess that's not really a change)

10. my computer has been being stupid on me (yea i know that's not significant, i just wanted to make it to 10 things)

i can't wait to write a story.

victor

tests of surety

we go through our 20 or so years of life and it easily slips our minds that we are constantly being tested: by our actions, or by our words. how does it make us feel when we do things right? nothing.

but how does it make us feel when we do things wrong?

i had a dialogue with a guy in my department today. he was asking me about something that he REALLY should have been able to check himself (but that's besides the point). what he asked me required a program called MRP, and though being at the company for 3.5 months (i'm TWO weeks from leaving the company), i still have not been given access to it, so i don't bother really asking for it. anyway, he continued to ask me stuff, but it got to a point where he wasn't being clear with his questions and asking me all sorts of random stuff. i didn't know how to answer him, and i just said some stuff, hoping to just satisfy him. yet when i said that, i got this wrenching feeling in my heart, this feeling of unsureness. do i really know what i was talking about? no i didn't.

sure enough, i gave a wrong answer. he responded once with "that's the wrong answer", and i ended up having to cover up my wrong answer with some reasoning about what i said.

it's a petty story, but do you see the problem? how sure of you are of yourself? it's just silly that all these years we are being trained and taught and EXPECTED to grow, because that's the right thing to do. what if you got it all wrong? all this VALUABLE experience, all this time and energy and effort put forth to it, and in the end, we aren't even SURE of ourselves?

then we ask.. who are we, and what good can we do?

something is radically wrong...

an excerpt from "the ragamuffin gospel", by brennan manning

"Life takes on a joyless, empty quality. We begin to resemble the leading character in Eugene O'Neill's play The Great God Brown:

'Why am I afraid to dance, I who love music and rhythm and grace and song and laughter? Why am I afraid to live, I who love life and the beauty of flesh and the living colours of the earth and sky and sea? Why am I afraid to love, I who love love?'

Something is radically wrong.
Our huffing and puffing to impress God, our scrambling for brownie points, our thrashing about trying to fix ourselves while hiding our pettiness and wallowing in guilt are NAUSEATING to God and are a FLAT DENIAL OF THE GOSPEL OF GRACE."

... this hit me like an absolute truck.. there's so much more in this book, and i've only read like 10 pages, i would end up typing out the entire thing.

a simple invitation /irresistable revolutionaries

january 29, 2007 was my 21st birthday. this birthday is a different birthday for most, and was a different birthday for myself as well. after my 2b school term in waterloo, i felt that i've grown up a fair bit. evidence of that was when i learned that some people actually looked up to me as a person (that was shocking!). at this point i wonder what have been my sources of growth back then. it could have been the encouragements and support from my brothers and sisters, or my own desire to step up and make a change.

because of all of that, i thought that this birthday of mine should be revolutionary as well. so i made an evite, inviting everyone to dinner and then out to karaoke after that. saturday night. sounds like a pretty normal birthday get-together, what's so special about that, you say?

well no, that wasn't all that special, but my objective was. my objective was to invite everyone that i knew, that i had at least some sort of friendship with. the result of that was that i sent the evite to not only my closer friends, but those that aren't so close either. even to some that would lead to a very awkward thought or feeling on their part (i even sent it to pastor ted haha.. can see you see PT going out to karaoke? priceless). my purpose was solely for the people and not myself. i spent a long long time writing the evite to describe this, and by the time i was done with it, it was a beautiful piece, every word straight from my heart. here are some of the main points that i mentioned:

1. the purpose of calling such a birthday gathering is to benefit the body of christ, using the occasion of my birthday as an excuse to lure a lot of people of great variety to a common place and purpose.

2. already knowing that one receiving the invitation either can't go or wouldn't want to go, nor even care that it was my 21st birthday, i still sent the email despite of that, to tell the person that i appreciated them and cared about them, and hoped to better our friendship during the time that i am here (not long).

3. no one else would do something like this.

for those of u who've actually read it, u'd know what i'm talking about.
the birthday didn't go as i expected, probably because i sent it out way too late, but it was a good birthday nonetheless. but it's not over. as a tribute and reminder to what i decided on, i wanted to make a note and a point of it, so that i will keep to thinking and caring of others, not just by words but with actions as well.

it makes me think of a book that i wanted to buy but didn't, named "irresistable revolution" by shane claiborne. i think chris has it. so i can say that, i don't know what the book is about at all, but the title is so catching. i want to be a revolutionary, change the way things work around here, change lives. and i want to do it so well, that i'd be irresistable. that people would see what i'm doing, and people would see me changing other people. i pray that i would do all this with the right spirit.

part 5!!! (see part 4 from oct 2005)

they led into the tallest building. it must have been special because other shorter buildings surrounded this one, like it was elevating it.

the two men held my arms behind my back. they had a firm grip on me, but now they made sure it didn't hurt.

we went through the set of double doors that was the entrance. the lobby was covered with mirrored surfaces and other shiny things. there was no signs of logos, so i couldn't figure out where i was going. i didn't really have that much time to look at anything else, because the men forced me straight to the elevator. the man on the left pressed the button, and the elevator doors opened, and i was pushed in.

the man pushed the elevator button up to the 100th and highest floor. holy smokes...
the doors opened, and we entered a well lit room with black walls. we walked towards the counter, and as we got closer, there sat an immensely beautiful blond girl, dressed business casual. i was almost in shock as to how good looking she was, but the two men said nothing, but said to her, "we have to take him to the boss."

"yup, he's waiting." she replied. the men brought me to a set of wooden double doors, and knocked. a voice said to come in. the voice was soft, and sounded nothing like the two big burly men holding to my arms. they pushed the doors open, and surprisingly, more shockingly beautiful women of the similar sort got up to leave the room. i had some trouble not looking at them, but i saw the boy sitting at the desk, leather chair and all.

all dressed up; suit, tie and all, like a CEO of some company. this company.

"have a seat." he started. the men let me go, and then left. i took a seat in front of him, still a bit confused. he didn't say anything, but looked at me.

"welcome to my office. i was told that you would come by."

"where are we? and.. who are you? are you some kind of CEO or something? i saw you running into that corridor in the mall, and then everything changed and now i'm in this weird world. i thought you were going to be in danger or something, running off like that. but clearly you're not."

he replied me with much more intensity than i expected. "do you think i'm some sort of child? do i not look worthy to be responsible for myself?"

i didn't know what to say. before i could make an attempted, i was already judged guilty.

"that's what i thought. i own this company, and all those you see in this building work for me. their paychecks come from me, and they learn from me."

"well okay." there was a slight pause before i asked, "so what does your company do?"

"that is no concern to you, but rest assured that it is a profitable business." what an answer that was! this kid was starting to get on my nerves.

the tension was relieved slightly as he got up to the coffee maker close by. i watched as he fumbled with the stylish, expensive-looking, yet awkward coffee maker. he shoved the kettle into a space that didn't seem to be able to fit the kettle, at the same time tried to get the package of coffee beans into a slot. i watched as he struggled in frustration. it was clear that it would have been much easier if he did it separately. "why don't you do it one by one?" i suggested.

he turned at me with ferocity and glared. i looked back at him innocently, and he turned back to continue struggling with it. after about a minute or two, he yelled out "misha!" the door opened, and one of the girls came in. he motioned her to the coffee maker, and she got to work at once. at this point i really didn't know what to say. mr CEO couldn't work his own coffee maker, and his business was secret (at least to me) and highly profitable (at least to him). he also looks like he's less than 10 years old, with the temper of a barbarian, and is surrounded with excessively good looking women. as soon as i had the time to think over what i just absorbed, he did not give me any time to ask any questions.

"so i believe you've been here long enough. maybe it's time show you around town. guards!" guards entered the room and picked me up by the arms. "hey can you put me down? i can walk myself. " the guards ignored me and took me out the office. i barely managed to turn around to see him still watching me.

the guards led me to the elevator and pressed the button. the doors opened immediately and i was dragged in. one of the guards pulled out an odd shaped key and fitted it into an odd shaped keyhole. the key turned, and the elevator was in motion. downwards. i looked up and watched the floor numbers go down as well. soon the numbers reached 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. and the lights turned off.

the elevator continued to go down. "hey i think we missed the first floor, guys." i said.

"shut up!"

the elevator went down for about a minute or two more (or half an hour, i couldn't tell time anymore). and soon came to a halt. the doors opened. what i saw was.. nothing. pitch black. arms pushed me forward, and i fell onto a cold stony ground, banging my knee to the hard rough surface. i looked up and watched the elevator doors close. light slipped away. i knew i couldn't do anything to get back into the elevator, so i sat and watched in despair.

(our hero trying to do a good deed, ends up getting thrown in a.. i don't even know what. why is he here, and what is he going to face now? stay tuned for the next entry!)