VirtuaLife

This article is dedicated to potatoH in Singapore, who was amused by my tart fetish. Yes, I do love tarts! They're simple, unpretentious things that give mouthfuls of taste and alot of bang for your buck (although I baulked at the price of the sweetened condensed milk last week).

Anyway, the homestays have been pestering me to cook these again.

Was feeling rather whimsical when I got home last night. I set up Mummy Lim's present in the kitchen (a deLux 45cm fan - hahah probbly not too appropriate for winter) which Dot topped off with a bowtie and a reflective card. The artsiness of positioning the present perfectly in the kitchen(hahaha) resulted in a total overrunning of my creative juices and I began to think about some of the recipees I've been meaning to improve upon - prime among them, my delectable tarts.

So this is how I changed the recipee from last time...
. 1 cup of self-raising flour (changed from normal flour)
. 4 tbspn margarine (up from 2 1/2 - give more fragrance)
. 1 400g can sweetened condensed milk
. 2 cups milk
. 1 cup brown sugar (from white sugar)
. 3 eggs (up from 2, I wanted a more custardy inner)
. 1 tbspn cinnamon (wanted to see if it would make the tart more appealing)
. 2 tbspn almond essence (confused with bee-sting cake, this did nothing)

Mix all the ingredients together; there's nothing hard to it. Melt the margarine beforehand. I tend to use a manual egg-beater but if you feel lazy go with the electronic mixers. The original recipe recommends straining the flour to achieve a smoother texture, but I did that in previous iterations and it didn't make an iota of diference. Once the mixture is smooth, spoon it into a greased muffin tray. See below:



I find that the optimum height of the tart (for my oven (gas-fired) seems to be between 1-1.5 cm. Under that and you're making crispy coinage, over that and you get these bloated entities that collapse on themselves once all the hot air moves out of them.

Bake for 20 minutes at 200C. Without opening the door (just use a torch to shine in if you're curious about the colour) lower the heat to 180C and let it sit for another 15 minutes.



The final result should look something like that. The picture was taken 1-minute post-removal, no photoshopping (hah!) Use a fork to scrape out the tart from the sides of its enclosure, lever it out and turn it upside down to cool.

It can be eaten hot or at room temp, I normally do room temperature but it also works well being toasted for a minute or two and then being served with vanilla ice-cream.



Then, just for fun, I tried to do an edible impression of the Sydney Opera house. Supplement sails with tarty circumferences and I'm almost there, right?

Eat it... and be prepared for the tart-shaped tummy that will come soon after! There's enough sugar in one of these things to make your teeth rot on the spot ^^.

EVALUATION
The taste was good, first batch (brown ones) achieved a good layer of chewy crust with a creamy and firm inner. However, I think due to the extensive baking it ended up visually unorgasmic and didn't smell as nice as I hoped (yes I did smell all of them...)The second batch, on the other hand, was slightly underdone, probably because they were thicker and I used less time to cook them (it was 2am, puh-lease) Colour was nicer, but... well, rather too pallid for my taste. The inner was soft and steamy when cracked open but had some trouble holding its shape.

The two colours and sizes was me experimenting with tart depth and cooking time. But I reasoned that the dark ones were from South Africa, and the yellow ones from China O.o. I liked the darker ones, although they were a tad (hah! more like 10 minutes) overcooked because I was wasting time on Facebook.

Baking is so therapeutic. So fun! I don't think I could go out with a girl who doesn't like cooking. They're missing out ^^. Oops, there I go again, thinking about relationships. The bug is back. =_=.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

Last Friday I skipped life group to catch up with a few dear friends... and meet many new ones!

The BeeDee girl was, as always, making me laugh (or at least smirk violently) just by her presence - nothing new there. But oh! Tell you what was new, though - her perfume! Very fruitylicious ^^. Great taste jodydody; that is a knock-out perfume (for me at least hahaha). Also caught up with VenVenVen (means comecomecome! in Spanish?) who was waging mental war against fleas, and Joanna, who went on to wage war against a waiter with social issues :D. We haven't been together as a group since... Joanna's party last year! I think. Vaguely, anyway. Also saw Aaron! But the Mista Man was quiet as usual, and I didn't have the right mentailty to poke him ;). Another time, promise!

And then the new peeps whom I got significant (read: >5mins) runtime with - I tried to talk to everyone but inevitably there were a few convos that dominated the night. In order of meeting - Bjorn (he told me he had a hearing difficulty but I couldn't hear him half the time! =S sorry, man!); Ron and Yoshimi, in my second encounter with them - funny funny couple, I luv ya guys, you make me smile; Melanie, with whom I now seem to have an asian-asian disclosure agreement? *coughcough*; Helen, whose relentless teasing I seem to have attracted (what did I ever do to deserve it apart from saying you came from the moon? *attempts to look pathetic and fails*) and Yao-Yang, who amused me for reasons I cannot remember anymore... O.o

But enough talking. Here's some photos:


half-serious picture


not-serious-at-all picture. Who takes out the title of camwhore between the two of us?


venecia's moment to shine


the sneeze-and-cleave shot. you had to be there to appreciate it


group pic! sorry I seem not to have taken individual photos of everyone... =|


picture-in-picture? with face recognition?

In-in all it was a good night, with good company and good, clean fun. Thankies to all of you peeps!

In Faith, Hope and Love!

I must admit that sports medicine is scary. It requires a certain level of…. spontaneity to one’s actions that I seem to fundamentally lack. It requires you to be loving and yet tough as nails (otherwise the players will chew you up, being the big hunks of muscle that they are), gentle yet firm, and authoritative yet open to suggestion. Not to mention being a team player, when you are perhaps the only person on field who can’t dribble a ball (or shoot hoops) properly. Talk about starting with a disadvantage.

Because the sports medic is a team player, I am principally against the idea of casual sports trainers for weekly sporting events – it’s very difficult to ‘own’ your team when that changes every time the whistle blows. So I tend to reject most requests for help - not good for my finances, unfortunately.

Back to my context. So I’m attending to my team – let’s call them the EebeeGeeBees (EBGBs)- for the first time (the other times were trial runs with someone to assist me). In my head I was wondering whether I could keep it up. Sports medicine is hard – you gotta be prepared to travel long distances, be ignored (a sure killer for me) and have swearwords thrown around you like some kind of expletive festival. You need to steel yourself against childish anger, petty commentary and the palpable sensation of defeat, which can linger around long after the carnage has ended.

I honestly didn’t know if I could make it. Me, with my big mouth and bigger ego, but with a seemingly shrinking supply of clinically useful skills in a physiotherapy context; I didn’t know whether I could cut it in this job.

And I didn’t know whether I had the team’s acceptance, and whether my services were provided to a satisfactory standard. That’s another thing. There's hardly ever any feedback, in this area.

But something happened tonight as I watched the game played out. I watched the boys burn scars into the field with their relentless sprinting and attacking runs, felt their grief as they missed tackles, squandered opportunities, or were outclassed (or just outbeefed) by their opposition. I forgot about how much I hated their swearing, or lewd language. I forgot about their ‘crowd’ mentalities, and began to see them – each and every one – as precious individuals struggling to achieve excellence. And I commited myself, right there and then, to pursue excellence in my services – strapping, first aid, and massage – such that I would not let them down.

When the match ended there was a little lump in my throat. No, it wasn’t a cough lozenge. It was a ball of tightness that resonated with the hearts of my EBGBs (they lost the match).

I’ve talked in my blog before about passion. I’d like to extend that concept, now. Passion cannot happen without ownership – it’s like discipline; a commitment without that extra ‘ooomph!’ of heartfelt emotion. Discipline is not a bad thing. But it pales in comparison against passion as an inspirational force.

I came back tonight, aching, sore after 7 hours on the field, over 2 hours in the car, and 3 hours spent car-hunting with Sharon. But was elated that I'd reaffirmed something to myself - in God (I've been praying so much the last few day I seem to randomly spit 'amen's out), nothing is impossible. Like taking the ego out of Theo. Or putting the commitment back in.

And the most beautiful thing? At the end of this game, one of the guys came up to me and said, “Hey Theo! Thanks mate, you did an awesome job.”

Thank you, God, for remembering me. And thank you for each and every wonderful person that you have placed in my life.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

At the moment, I own a rather cluttered mind (which, unsurprisingly, looks like the current state of my room). In it prowl the spectres of unresolved matters, unclaimed finances and distant notions of academic excellence. Cemented into one corner is a relational burden that no amount of dynamite blasting (figuratively) seems to have removed despite God’s own reassurances. In another corner is a growing spiritual burden for my life, my friends’ lives, and the continued commission of my new church.

I sat down today to nut a few of these issues out with God.

Chorus from ‘Nothing Compares’, Third Day:
Nothing compares
to the greatness of knowing You, Lord
Nothing compares
to the greatness of knowing You, Lord

Nothing compares. Do you believe it? Do you really? Sometimes I look back at my life and have to shake my head in wonderment at the…. exposure I‘ve had to God and His miracle works. To see people getting out of wheelchairs as I watch, to have my own relatives manifest demonically in front of me… makes it very hard to deny the existence of a God. But… NOTHING compares to the greatness of knowing my God, of having Him do miracles in me. Nothing compares to His direct guidance or caring intervention. Yes, there’s more to it than just knowing there is a God. It’s about experiencing Him up close and personal.


From millions of miles away, the Sun is already too bright to be looked at directly. Imagine its 'presence' if it were to suddenly draw closer to us. Such is the magnitude of the power of God.

I was reflecting on this because of a testimony that Cait and Cass had to share about the exercising of their faith in God. But it wasn’t my central focus. In fact, I was praying about UNIDUS. Praying for some kind of explicit, personal revelation that would seal the deal, no questions asked (or at least no room for intelligent debate, as I so like to do). And then I stumbled upon Zechariah 3.

(v1 – 4)Then he showed me Joshua the high priest standing before the angel of the LORD, and Satan standing at his right side to accuse him. The LORD said to Satan, "The LORD rebuke you, Satan! The LORD, who has chosen Jerusalem, rebuke you! Is not this man a burning stick snatched from the fire?"
Now Joshua was dressed in filthy clothes as he stood before the angel. The angel said to those who were standing before him, "Take off his filthy clothes." Then he said to Joshua, "See, I have taken away your sin, and I will put rich garments on you." (v6 - 7)The angel of the LORD gave this charge to Joshua: 7 "This is what the LORD Almighty says: 'If you will walk in my ways and keep my requirements, then you will govern my house and have charge of my courts, and I will give you a place among these standing here.

At first I must admit that I thought this reading was rather erroneous and I flipped to another area, Hebrews 3:15:

As has just been said: "Today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts as you did in the rebellion.”

Oops.

I re-read Zechariah a second time and it dawned upon me that these two verses actually addressed quite a few issues I’d been stuck in a perpetual stalemate against, namely the idea of repetitive sin and the notion of perfection in God versus perfection for God. When I read Hebrews, I felt God prompting me, saying (in essence) “I’m not interested in how generous you are. The reason you haven’t seen My full blessings is because I’ve shown you areas of your life that need fixing but you have resisted that. You cannot buy your way out of sin. And you can’t help UNIDUS if you are not availing yourself to me, because then you are doing it for selfish reasons. So get yourself right before I give you a target.”

Oowch.

Notwithstanding my desire to give despite being essentially unemployed, that was a very, very touchy revelation =|.

Zechariah 3:6-7 speaks of the charge given to Joshua, the high priest, the spiritual leader of the remnant Israelites who were rebuilding the Temple. Once again, gifts that I have been seeking or desiring progress upon, God answered by telling me that I first had to be obedient before I could begin to claim His blessings. I had to step out from the areas of repetitive sin He revealed to me and not continue to palm them off as unresolvable. And, just as He took the burning stick of Jeshua from the fire, absolved the priest’s sins and clothed him in new garments, so too would I require God’s strength more than ever to overcome these issues.

Lawlessness against God. That was God’s charge against a rebellious Israel. What to do? Well, it goes back several weeks to the Love/Fear sermon at Hope, or several years to the Love/Fear debate at OCF, but the issue rears its ugly head once again. Obviously I never integrated my findings, hahaha. It was beautifully expressed to me, once, in the following way (by I-can’t-remember-who):

“If we were to seek a remedy for our legalistic ways, we should pray for more love. But if we were to seek a remedy for our lawlessness, we should pray for more fear.”

Only when both love and fear operate in tandem can we begin to have unshakeable faith in our God. And only when we begin to understand Him more, do we have the opportunity to invite Him in and make Him personal to our lives.

Every day, every hour, every BREATH! I want my God to be personal to me.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

Understanding Behaviour

"Many things - such as loving, going to sleep, or behaving unaffectedly - are done worst when we try hardest to do them." C.S. Lewis

"The outward man is the swinging door; the inner man is the still hinge.” Meister Eckhart

Behaviour should not be the means to an end but rather an end unto itself, for it is the outward expression of one's thoughts. Only when this is achieved can integrity be fostered.

If you behave in a manner you don't like, you restrict/limit your behaviour, but it is your heart that you change.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

An excerpt from my reflections (03.05.08)

I’m in one of my ‘why me?’ moments to God. Last night, when Lemuel was promoting the HBC touch footy event, I was both dismayed and appalled by the lack of response to the event. I’m sorry, but that’s exactly how I felt. A grand total of NOBODY wanted to come for the day. Righteous anger? I was ready to do some smiting by myself, right there and then!

The problem with any group is that its central vision ends up being trumpeted and pushed by a few people, and exploited (unwittingly or otherwise) by the rest. Lack of ownership in a group is the equivalent of building a wonderful house for people to live and grow up in, only to burn it down because someone wants to see how long the infrastructure can sustain a fire.

I nominated myself, anyway, because even though I’d committed to spend the Saturday studying I felt that some exercise couldn’t do me harm, I wanted to scope out HBC and see whether it was something suitable to invite my friends to and I wanted to spend time outdoors admiring God’s creation. So along I went.

Snaps to Cass and Cait for making it along, even though they didn’t participate in the games… their presence brought my anger down (retrospectively) from boiling point to a more controllable simmering. Even though I didn’t talk to them, I was encouraged by their effort (even if it was coincidental) to make it to the day and… well, contribute just by being there. I think people sometimes underestimate the power of physical presence. Not me. Thanks girls; even if nobody else says it, I am grateful and appreciative of you just being there.

As the day droned on, I was also struck by how badly we (the playing people) functioned as a team. In team games, the individual is required to step down in order to let the team shine. I’m not accusing anybody of anything here since this was a social event, but it was interesting to observe how frustrations arose (see my ‘patience’ post!) from a lack of goal-scoring and certain team members began to play more individualistically. God really put a burden on my heart for team relationships (a logical extension from boy-girl relationships?); so much so that, right now, everywhere I look I am overwhelmed by the paucity of unity displayed in teams, and even more so, sometimes by the very people who trumpet it. Hmmm.

Then there was the back (or pelvic) pain. It engulfed me as I was bending over to scoop up the ball to play it on. Felt a little twinge in my back like it was releasing a catch and then this whole wave of pain washed over my back and bumbum. Oh no, not good. In the five seconds it took to stand up, try to pass the ball on, and then spasm with pain again I recalled that this was probably a recurrence from another episode three weeks ago, my first ever of low back pain. I had a bit of a dramatic moment after I assured Jazzy and Joseph I was okay, looking to the sky and rolling my eyes. In my mind I was like, ‘God! I gave up my day to encourage your events explicitly and you let this happen to me? Unsurprisingly, there was no response, unless you call the sun poking out from behind the clouds and radiating me with more UV a response.

Overall, it was an interesting day, with some troubling realisations, one or two convictions, much food for thought, and… a very unfriendly companion of low back pain (LBP) to keep me company, now.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

I thought I understood what patience was. To me, it meant tolerating other peoples’ incompetence or delays. A quick search of the internet reveals as much.

I haven’t always been patient. There was a time when I used to make other people’s problems my own for the sake of achieving that ‘perfect world’. In some ways (although no where near as consistently) I still lapse back into this old mode of thinking. I was pretty pleased with myself for beginning to develop patience.

Lately though, I’ve begun to appreciate how… facile… this understanding is.

One of my friends always runs late for his appointments. Sometimes I am over at his house and he asks me to tag along with him. I find it hilarious how, for every minute after his planned departure (to the appointment destination), he begins to move more and more frantically, yet he doesn’t seem to prepare any faster. I could wait for him for hours and not feel fussed. Is that called patience?

Some of the boys at my old church used to have get-togethers where the inevitable topic of relationships would surface. Every time (or thereabouts) it was the same old story, someone had done a booboo that needed attention or fixing. Of course, the issue never got truly fixed… unless you count the three or four weeks of non-reporting in between as a good thing. And me? I was a badly dressed, introverted 14 year old guy who called these blokes (median age 20) my friends despite their incompetence. I never took them up on the issue, either. Was I patient?

A rolling debate about feminism leaves me at odds with many girls (not mine, though) who believe it is their ‘right’ to make boys wait for them, especially when getting ready for outings, etc. With interest areas in psychology, relationships and culture, I am both fascinated and horrified at a mainstream attitude that in reality is an emotional and spiritual dead-end. Yet, I’m quite happy to let it sit with these girls (and some guys). Once again, I ask the question: Is this patience?

Perhaps it is. But perhaps patience is much, much more.

You see, tolerating incompetence has no intrinsic cost to self if it doesn’t affect you. In all three above instances I was aware of incompetence, but this had no effect on my interaction with the involved parties. I’d already budgeted extra time to muck around with so it wasn’t costing me anything I hadn’t expected. If something does not have an identifiable cost, then it’s reasonable to assume that it will have a negligible effect on the way that I function. Hence, there is no reason on my behalf to spit sticks and feel all narky in general.

Patience is more than that. Patience is biting your tongue when people do something that affects you negatively. It’s about learning to smile with your heart – not just your mouth - when you know it’s only going to be poked and prodded. It’s about… offering someone your left cheek when they have just struck at the right, and doing it with a heart of love (Matthew 5:39).


A snail crossing... if you were in a rush for a big meeting would you wait for something as miniscule as a snail to cross, or would you drive straight over it?

Didn’t think about it that way, did you? Aha! Don’t worry. Until a week ago, I didn’t either *gringrin* Just as a side note, I really, really love taking clichéd, overused and undervalued Bible verses to expose their true meaning… that is how the Bible is meant to be read.

Patience. Do you have it? I thought I did, in parts. I used to wonder why I could be as patient as a rock in some situations and as fiery as a matchstick in others. Well, now I wonder no longer. I’m going to take patience to the next level. And I hope you guys will join me.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

I’ve been wondering for a while about what makes me… me. Who is this Theodore that everyone is friends with? They say he is inspiring, intense, committed, extroverted, uplifting, and funny of all things! That's not the Theodore I know. Sometimes I play along, but my heart is not in it. Instead, I'm asking myself, why? Why is this Theodore person so radically different from the me that I know? I acknowledge I have elements of all these things at times, but certainly not enough of any particular one to get excited about. People, settle!

I briefly entertained the thought of everyone being blind, deaf and dumb, but survival instinct told me this probably wouldn’t be the best approach to resolving the issue. Instead, I found the answer tonight. On the radio, of all places.

“We are overcomers.” the radio announced as I made my way home. Overcomers? What does that mean? What could that mean? Overcoming is a word often associated with a physical context. Overcoming physical disability is a circumstance we might be well acquainted with. To overcome means to triumph over or to render the problem null and void. Yet for every physical context there is an associated cognitive parallel as well. The ability of one to banish – a word of lesser strength would be a disservice – problematic thoughts. And, for Christians, there is also ‘overcoming’ in the spirit realm.

Now, if I were to claim that I have overcome an ankle sprain only to subsequently decline an invitation to play sports because I wanted to ‘take it slow’, I would be a hypocrite. If I were to forgive someone for the hurts they have caused me only to shun them a place at my dinner table, I would be a hypocrite. If I were to share convictions about my God being victorious over sin only to succumb to its temptations some time down the track… I would be a hypocrite.

A hypocrite.

I was talking to Michelle yesterday, after she shared her machine-gun testimony (I thought it was an understandable speed, though?) and once again, what was going to be a pat on the back and some small words of encouragement turned into a full-blown conversation. I remember at the end, she remarked to me, every time I talk to you I end up feeling inspired, to which I replied instinctively, you don’t talk to me enough then, hahaha! But inside my mind, I was thinking, what did I say? I was just having a chat! Then she said something that really captured me. Everything you do, you can link back to God.

It wasn’t until tonight that I fully understood the magnitude of what she said. What was she saying? I believe she was saying that I’d learnt to overcome. I not only claimed victory in God, but I’d wrapped myself in it and, get this, was prepared to live it. You see, the word overcome is a verb. I won’t insult your intelligence – yes, you know that verbs are ‘doing’ words. It implies an action. An action! How many Christians are prepared to act on what they believe?!...

Not enough.

And that’s very sad. As the Pastor Mark (from Ipswich Community Regional Church) aptly said, we are the salt to this earth. We are the light to our world. The operative word is ‘are’. We have a purpose that exists in our current context! It doesn’t matter whether we are spat upon, despised, hated for what we do (thankfully, against the fruits of the Spirit no crime can be labelled, Galatians 5:22-23)… we still need to do it. And in order to do this effectively, we need to have overcome. What are we going to tell God on that final day, having failed our commission? Uhhh… sorry, God. I thought someone else would do that for me. I wasn’t ready when you called. In fact, I wasn’t ever ready. Because, you see, I was too busy hiding in this cupboard. Yukk.

The speaker finished off by saying this. “If I was a fireman sitting in my truck and there was a house burning down with people inside just down the street, but I didn’t help, what would I be? If I was a scientist who’d just discovered a cure to cancer but didn’t release it to the community what would I be? If someone was drowning and I had a rope in my hands but didn’t throw it to them, what would I be?

I think I’m beginning to understand this inspirational Theodore that other people see. It’s not necessarily about the passion – lots of other Christians are passionate. It’s not about the education, either – lots of other Christians are well grounded in Bible theology. Neither is it about the personality – there are lots of other bubbly go-getter types around. It’s not even about my history – I’m one of those Christians ‘cursed’ with a clean past. No, it’s about my mentality. My approach. You see, if I die today, I win. I will be in Heaven with my Father. If I live for another 50 years, I also win. I can only imagine the lives God has lined up for me to embrace. If for some reason I lose everything, become crippled and have only my mind to call my own, I also win. Nothing can deprive me of the freedom I have found in my Father.

Because I have overcome.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

- - - EDIT - - -

I realise this issue treads dangerously close the 'artificial, always-happy Christian' that has been subject to criticism (and rightly so, perhaps).

Firstly, for my friends, you know me. You know I wouldn't be bothered with such superficialities as painting a happy face if internally I was experiencing turmoil. Take my life and judge me against my words if you will. I'm not embarrassed of who I am.

For those who need more substantiation on this issue; for example, the cynics among you who regard this as a form of relgious denial... let's clear something up. I am not rejecting my circumstances. Instead, as a Christian who believes very much in the power of my God, I am acknowledging that He has the power to lift me up beyond my circumstances and grant me a new lease on life. It's not rejection because I can still empathise with those who are in similar situations. Because I can acknowledge the potential impact of inaction on myself. I challenge you to find a 'person in denial' who's self-awareness corroborates their claims, and whose life stands testament to their words. But I won't hold my breath, and it would be prudent if you didn't either.

If what I say finds a place to stay in your mind tonight, don't do nothing about it. One doesn't taste-test a dish, find out it's good and then walk away from it. There is a God who longs to take you on a journey of self-discovery, a God who desires to show you love so perfect that it completes you. If what I say finds a place to stay in your mind tonight, begin to seek Him. Seek, and you will find.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

I don't know what possessed me to check it out.

I'm stuck at uni again, adamant that I will not drive home in peak hour traffic. So i'm entertaining myself with a bit of reading (good old-fashioned stuff, that is), a smattering of mechanics (learning how to tamper with car ignition timings), and some FB-ing, namely an episode with a solar eclipse (you know who you are).

I happen to flick over to Gmail and start a convo with lovely miss Jojo. I haven't talked to the girl for ages! Every time we talk, I'm reminded of how scarily similar we can be at times. Maybe thats why I don't talk to her much anymore...

Anyway, I mouse the cursor over her name and the picture pops up. Nothing unusual, just her and her boiboi. I mouse over a few other friends. Them and their boyfriends, too. Hehehe... singleness is fighting a losing battle. A few more friends and a few more faces... wait. What's this?

I go back through the faces again, to make sure that I'm not seeing a white elephant. The double-check confirms it.

Seven of the eight girls on my list with boyfriends have display pictures with their boyfriends (poor left-out boy!).

Of the six guys with known girlfriends, only one has a display picture with her (lucky girl!).

Now, one can justifiably argue that all boys are bumm'oles and all girls are insecure. Justified yes, but correct?

It's a little something called 'sycawligy'. And, to me, observing the differences between males and females, is simply beautiful.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

For a page that is about my life, I don't really talk about it directly. Oh, the events are based on things that have happened or are happening to me, but I have this incredible (and annoying, to some) tendency to make my thoughts rather… abstract.

So, let me post something nice and simple. Something you can relate to without much effort. I want to talk families. I want to talk about Mummy Lim.

Here’s the story. I come from a single-parent family, the divorce of which was particularly bitter. From this event I nurtured an attitude of scepticism towards people, towards relationships, and even towards myself. In some ways it was good as it forced me to rely on God for everything that I did. However, in many other ways it was also bad… for reasons that influence me till this very day. Because of this I have never felt close to my family. And that feeling has been central to many... issues. Namely my insensitivity and can't-be-bothered-ness towards mummy Lim and Dot. And at the time I was only nice to Daddy Lim because I was wary of his motives and tried to second-guess them. Outwardly it looked like I'd held everything together pretty successfully, but inside it felt much more like a psychological war-zone.

As I grew up and my faith matured, the conflict intensified. Attacks upon my character became more common. Those from external sources were understandable… I handled them the best way I could have in that time and with what wisdom and faith I had. But they were not the real gripe. It was the internal attacks that truly exposed me. Attacks from mum. Attacks from my sister. And emotional burden from dad. Tell me, how is a 12-16 year old boy prepped to handle stuff like that? The one preserving element of my faith was an encounter I had with God (when I was 11 or 12) that, time and time again, prevent me from denying Him. So I stood my ground, albeit shakily, desperately grasping onto whatever I had.

Sixteen years old. The rebellion years. I never took drugs (although I was offered). I never smoked, apart from one incident where I tried to in my backyard in the middle of summer and subsequently set a bush on fire (the start of my dramatic career, yay). At the time I served in the worship ministry in Christian Outreach Centre (COC) on Tuesday nights, some Saturdays, and all day Sunday. Mummy Lim was already at World Harvest Ministries. Dot was over at Garden City Church (and even Hope Brisbane, for a while). I was a Christian, but my walk was radically different from the matriarch of the family, mummy Lim. And once again, that was a huge source of disagreement and fallout. I can’t recount the specifics, but I do remember the emotions I harboured towards mummy Lim. Anger. Condescension. Contempt. Superiority. I used to entertain myself with a ‘what-if’ scenario… what if mummy Lim died? How would I feel? How would I react?

The answer was… inhuman. Suffice to say, as far as emotions went, I was pretty much emotionally dead. Indifferent and uncaring. In my puritan approach to Christianity, coupled with an immature understanding of God’s agape love, I had barricaded my mind and heart in a fortress so impregnable that no person could enter it.

To shorten a long testimony, the catalyst for change was my time at Overseas Christian Fellowship (OCF) that for two-and-a-half years was the mechanism by which God chose to mount His assault on my life. If you know of my God, you know that when He wants something, He gets it. So He got me… and my attention. It has hardly been a walk in the park since then, but things have changed. For the better. My relationships with the family were still rocky, but… well, at least they existed, now. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Evaluation time presented itself most unusually. It was last Friday, after life group and around midnight (group Connect was on the next day). I was about ready to go to bed and mummy Lim was in the sun-room doing her accounts. I happened to pop my head in the door and a conversation started. And continued. And continued. Until 4:30am. In that time, we aired grievances, differences in opinion, differentiation between action and intention, talked about bitterness and forgiveness… you name it and it was there. There were tears (and also toilet breaks!) but they weren’t sad – they were just expressions of emotions so real that we—mummy Lim and I—couldn’t let go of them.

A few nights ago, I gave myself the same ‘what-if’ scenario. To my immense relief and conviction the tears began to well in my eyes almost immediately. I’m so proud of mummy Lim. Of all the hardships she has overcome, of all the things she has done in steel-clad conviction for God. She is one of the things in my life that would hurt me most to lose. We still don’t see eye-to-eye, but we face in the same direction, now. A family? We’re learning to be one, again.

It took almost a decade, but refinement in God’s eyes is a lifelong journey. Father God? Let me count my blessings. Thank you for making me human again. Make me, mould me, use me and fill me… I give my life to the Potter’s hands (The Potter’s Hands, Hillsongs).

So I was zipping along the Pacific Motorway tonight after an interesting talk with Yang and Sarah when I chanced upon yet more roadwork. It’s been a horrible day for that, everywhere I went seemed to have a lane closed (Inner City Bypass), or roads being resurfaced (Sunnybank) or random witches hats seemingly protecting nothing (Morningside).

Anyway, so I see the roadwork sign, and slow down to the required 80km/h. I see blue flashing lights in the distance. Police often park their cars on the road to ‘threaten’ motorists into obeying. It’s a crude form of discipline, the principle of which I don’t approve, but it does work. Sometimes too effectively…

And what makes me say that? Take this case in point. I slow to 80km/h, but the car ahead is slowing below 80, below 75, below 70… I watch the dirty, rain-splotched bumper getting closer and closer to me until I pull into the right hand lane and overtake. Silly motorist being scared of being booked and so goes WELL under the speed limit. Talk about traffic impediments. Grr.

Look ahead. Another sign. The right-most lane is closed. Bummer… Gotta merge back again. I merge without difficulty since the other car is doing something like 50km/h and I have a nice margin. Easy.

Look ahead again. Strip of white on the road. No, not on. Above. Above? Moving. Waving… a light. Ouh. Police. Signalling me. To pull into the closed lane. I was a bit slow to react and almost ran over the cop (hehehe…oops *embarrassed*) because I was trying to work out why a cop would pull me to the right (which is principally dangerous since stopping bays are on the left but that would require me to cut across another lane of traffic). I pull over between the witches hats, wind the window down and wonder why a cop would want to talk to a nice guy like me.



- - - Begin account - - -

Cop (walking over slowly): Hello.

Me (grinning about God-knows-what): Hello! How are you?

Cop: Good. Hmm. (silence)

Me (default salesperson mode): Can I help you?

Cop: Can you turn down the music please?

I glance at the radio which is thumping out some suddenly-very-stupid-sounding techno music. I fumble for the button, get my finger jammed in the cassette deck player instead and it’s about 5 seconds before I can dislodge and find the right button. I turn back to him: Oops! Sorry. (sheepish)

At this point I think he was a bit iffy about me – I could see it on his face. Who wouldn’t be? I think I would be dubious about me if I happened to be a cop pulling myself up. At least he didn’t laugh at me, which I would have.

Cop: Do you know why I waved you to stop?

At this point the little donut in my head started processing with the food-fuel from dinner and made a few chilling connections. Roadwork. Sign. Slow car. Flashing lights. Uh-oh. My hands, if they weren’t cold before, were positively frosty now.

Me: Ummm. Ahhhh. I saw an 80km/h sign some way back and thought I slowed down… but I must have sped up again when overtaking? (another sheepish grin, but with worried eyebrows this time)

Cop. Hmm. You were doing 80km/h. But there were actually two more signs, two signs with 60km/h about 100m after that sign.

Me: (blinkblink?) Inside I’m beginning to get very worried but by virtue of the spreading frost from my digital region the smile is now frozen on my face. The stupid signs must have been just as I overtook that othe car, hence I didn’t see them. Arghhhh…

Cop: Can I see your licence, please?

I fish my wallet out of my pocket and give it to the cop.

Cop: … That’s your mobile.

Me: Ouh! Hahaha… err.. sorry. (rummages around in footwell, find the wallet wedged into the far corner and beep the horn lightly with my head as I strain to reach for it. I take tmy licence out and give it to him)


hmmm.. not alot of similarity between the two, eh? I must have been a wee bit stressed...

Cop (looking at it for a while): Can you tell me your full name?

Me: THEE-oh-DOOR feh-LIP-aye VIL-lah AB-ree-ILL lim

Cop: That’s pretty complicated name!

Me (lamely): Ehehe… I’m a pretty complicated person?

He steps back from the car, giving me opportunity to massage some life back into my frozen fingers. 20km/h over the limit is three penalty points, a $225 fine and, for P drivers, instantaneous revocation of licence, all very valid points confirmed by Mr. Policeman moments later.

Cop (looking at me severely): You are on open licence right?

Me (meekly): Umm. P… (more awkward silence)

Cop (sighs): Look, I’m going to give you a warning this time, okay. It’s your lucky night tonight. Please try to keep a lookout for more road signs. There’s a lot of them around in this area, and at this time of night.

Me (squeaks with relief, Becky-style): Thank you shoooo much, sir!

Cop: Don’t let me catch you doing it again.

Me: Thank you shoooo much, sir!


Self-impersonation of what I probably looked like after hearing the verdict (now imagine that face staring at you out of a car window)

- - - End of account - - -

LESSON 1: Even good drivers are bad drivers at times

I do take pride in my ability to ‘understand’ the ebb-and-flow of traffic. I can generally differentiate between tourists driving and locals. I can tell which way a person wants to turn or merge before they start signalling (I look at the silhouette of their head inside their car to see what they’re doing). I usually can predict if a driver will be too cautious or aggressive, and place myself on the road accordingly (to avoid being caught up in their mess).

As tonight proved, for everything I know there are things that I also miss. Just like an experienced therapist uses their intuition equally with scientific evaluation to obtain a diagnosis, so I use a set of inbuilt assumptions about human behaviour and road psychology to optimise my driving efficiency. And just like an experienced therapist may not comprehend a rare pathology, so my system also fails me when it comes to identifying ‘tricky’ roads.

LESSON 2: Smile REALLY hard. Your life… or licence… may depend on it

A smile hurts nobody. Being nice is not a crime you can be accused of. I think I was accidentally nice in this case because I didn’t KNOW what I did wrong and by the time I found out the smile was frozen on my face. Did I ever tell people how beautiful they look when they smile? There are few expressions I find more attractive (I just have a poker face for these things so nobody ever knows).

Without too much speculation, it would probably be fair to say my outcome may not have been so favourable had I not smiled… and kept on smiling.

LESSON 3: Learn to love your authorities

I do a lot of car research, having been in the market for a car for a while. A recurring theme is the tendency of many car enthusiasts to rubbish the ‘inadequacies’ of the police. While I do not support some of the regulations coming into effect and I will voice out about them, I would never do so in a way that demeans an officer of the law. These people PROTECT our roads. They protect our lives. And the system they use may be flawed, but innately I want to believe that all cops are motivated by a higher calling of protecting the stability and livelihood of our communities.

I wanted to talk to the cop. You know, ask him how his night was, make a few jokes (I thought he was going to RBT me), that kinda thing. They don’t do an easy job, and it’s nice to make someone feel appreciated… valued.

CONVICTION

Now that all that dispassionate logical reasoning stuff is done, let me share with you a revelation that runs concurrent to these thoughts and empowers them within a greater context.

I was saved from a serious booking offence by God’s imminent mercy!

It has been my prayer since last year that if I was to drive people around, to be the chauffeur, the designated driver, then I would commit in spirit the hearts and minds of every single person who laid bumbum in my car. In essence, I told God this… “Hey Pa, I’ll pay the petrol, I’ll make the conversation, I’ll even go that extra mile (or thirty) to collect another lost sheep. But I need You. I need You to water that seed, to make it grow, to make it whole. I need you to protect me always and forever from the times when I can’t protect myself. I need your tangible and LIVING presence in this car as I carry out Your work.”

God was there.

It has been in my prayer within the last month to be given a mentality that would submit to my authorities. To love and obey, even though I do not agree, and only to run away when something is in direct contravention with God’s law. Just like David did, when Saul was hunting him. I prayed so hard to be able to recognise my authorities, that even in ignorance I might not malign their works.

God gave me that mentality.

It was my prayer today, since the unhappy hour of 6am for God to protect me despite my sleepiness, to inspire me with confidence, to empower me with strength, to protect me with mercy, and shower me with favour, that I may do the works He had planned for me in fullness and with competence, come what may.

Did not God demonstrate His amazing grace?

Under almost any circumstances, a cop will charge a young man who is found speeding behind the wheel. We ARE the danger crowd. I've watched my friends being booked. I've heard of other people being booked. Why was I so blessed?

Tonight I stand (read: sit) convicted that God was watching my road, even though pride made me concentrate on other things. He has always watched my roads. But never so literally as this.

Abba Father… You are the best thing that’s happened to me! (The Best Thing, #2 Oxygen 2001, Avalon)

In Faith, Hope and Love!

Guess what I got in the mail today?



Finally! I've been rejected, and couldn't be happier :)

Now I can fly to Singapore without the threat of being arrested... maybe I can do what Alfio did and get drunk in the airport and go sleep-rolling around the corridors. *contemplates possibility*

In Faith, Hope and Love!

"The result of human self-pride is mutual alienation... because of sin we become so egoistic that we can no longer understand one another, nor do we even care to do so."



Archer, G.L., (2007) A Survey of Old Testament Introduction p.182 - Speaking on the Tower of Babel and the Confusion of Tongues

Don't think that applies to you? Let me alter it slightly...

When was the last time you thought someone's point of view was not worth understanding because you were 'more' right?

When was the last time you thought you understood someone but ended up misinterpreting them? Did you ever follow it up with a 'why did that happen' reflection?

It's worth thinking about. Really.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

An excerpt from my reflections (03.04.08):

"There is light at the end of the tunnel" Anonymous Proverb

My first recollection of the saying(s) was packaged by Toy Story, when those cutesy little green monsters collectively screamed “We see the light!” (I think it was Toy Story). At that time, boyish as I was, I likened it to a the world around me – a train shooting out of a tunnel, the haunting glow of an angler fish in deep sea… even the blinding flash of fluorescence when my parents turned the lights on me playing console games at 2am the morning before school – with the physical and metaphysical accompaniment of awe, dread and wonderment that such circumstances evoked. Sometimes it was all feelings simultaneously, which got a bit messy...



As I grew up (not older), the meanings… evolved. Comic-like appeal was traded for brooding contemplation on the significance and metaphorical utility of light and its corresponding darkness. Feelings were no longer nebulous and reactive, but driven by hope and, to an extent, self-determinism. I bemused myself with the discovery that ‘the light at the end of the tunnel’ is simply the fulfilment of a goal and the rewards that we stand to reap from pursuing it. But what do we put value to? What goals truly illuminate our heart?

I then thought that if light embodies the journey’s end, then what stands between us and our goals? Darkness? But what is darkness? Darkness is not an entity, it is merely a concept to explain the absence of light. So, what stands between us and our goals? After much contemplation (and accompanying confectionery to provide food for thought) I concluded that the majority obstacles (minor ones would make the explanation too long) are the lack of instantaneous reward and minimal desire to work for it. Things that exist in our imagination. Quite trivial, isn’t it? Yet you’d be amazed at the number of people who never question how they do things... or don’t (read: very few people). Leading me to my conclusion:

Ignorance is not bliss. It is a deadweight that leeches you of your right to Life.

Ignorance is the bundle deal of everything we choose to see as irrelevant, even if it isn't. It is a most insidious form of egotism that appeals to our knowledge of self (even if we have none). Isn’t that the suicidal beauty of perception? It permits one to live out their fairytale life even while the reality around them continues to fester and decompose. And ignorance boils down to perspective, doesn’t it? Reality doesn’t have a favoured emotion or standpoint, it merely a snapshot of things as they are. But perspective is what happens to reality after we process it with our fears and desires, filter out the portions irrelevant or threatening to ourselves, and add a dash of our own unique spices into the mix.

The physiotherapist in me says, “This is pure theory. What is the functional impact?” If ignorance shapes perspective, then it dictates what we see. Maybe we are facing the wrong way? Maybe we are imagining a light that does not exist. Maybe we don’t even understand the light that we see!

While perspective lets you to see the light, mentality is what allows you to walk towards it. I am a huge proponent of realistic optimism. I have breathed it, walked it and courted it for several years now. And I believe that my life – its careers, friendships, revelations, reflections, inspirations – all reflect my conviction that nothing is impossible… without God. Where do YOU stand in terms of mentality? Is the glass-half-empty or half-full? How does that affect the way you see the light at the end of your tunnel? Do you find it worth running towards? Maybe you want to sit down and wait for it to come to you? Sing songs to take your mind off the darkness? As far as metaphors go, the implications of this one are endless…



Let’s talk about distance. I am here, the light is… there. But it’s all mind games. You can see the light. You can feel the warmth as its guiding rays caress your skin. What you sense is the promise of rewards that emanates from the very source itself. Given this perspective, one must also realise that the light is not just at the end of the tunnel, but in fact it permeates throughout. How fundamentally awesome is that!?

How does this relate to me? I live for my God, the God of the Old and New Testament of the Holy Bible, which is infallible in its recording and is verified by secular/independent means. I live for the purpose stipulated by this Book, which is to bring the love of God to ALL the nations of the world… starting in my backyard. Can [evolutionary] science claim such a noble or selfless cause? Or even the wealth of evidence to back it up? I think not.

Summarily… everybody has their own tunnels to navigate. Some might be stuck in a rather straightforward subway, while others maunder through what might seem to be an endless rabbit warren. There is ONLY one true path to the light… depending on what you believe your purpose in life is. And to achieve the light, you need to work for it. But you do not work alone – by virtue of the fact that you can perceive the light, you know that its promises already surround you.

A tunnel full of light? I sure hope you see it that way, too.

Excerpt from DC Talk’s “In The Light”
“I wanna be in the light
As you are IN the light
I wanna shine like the stars in the heavens!
Oh, lord be my light and be my salvation
Cause all I want is to be in the light
All I want is to be in the light”

In Faith, Hope and Love!

I'm really a child at heart.

I ask the questions that would turn an adolescent crimson-faced, I do things that make the adults among me blush. I have no shame... well, no shame that anyone has managed to tangibly pinpoint. I live to please my Father first, but getting a smile out of everyone else is nice, too. I have energy, and then I have more energy. The world is my oyster(s)... I don't want to stop shucking in case I stumble across a pearl.

And right now I'm playing "I Spy", university style!

Girl sitting opposite me. Caucasian, about 21 years old, in an obvious rush. She logs on, sees something horrible, gasps and swears. Her eyes go all filmy. Rapid mouse-clicking and wheel-spinning ensue. Bad exam results I think. She prints off a few documents that irritate her even more. Sits down too quickly, kicks the table leg. More swearing. Eyes glisten. I hear the words "You are so dead" somewhere in her agitated rambling. Mobile call - she answers within three rings "Oh, hello honey... I'm sweet. And you?" Eventually she leaves, the only part of her obviously not upset being the inanimate folders she is carrying.


How deceived would you feel if this tantalising wafer of fresh honey turned out sour? Would you wish it upon anyone else?

Interesting.

You know, the more private one tries to make a problem, the more public it becomes. Mental and spiritual burdens can have physical manifestations! I recall one of my acquaintances - lets call them X - in Philippines in an obvious state of distress. X had huge panda eyes (not apparent in previous days), was moving all jittery-like, spoke funnily (like chest was constrained) when talking to me, and avoided eye-contact when talking. These were the symptoms I could diagnose, alongside many other smaller cues I was more uncertain about. Not normal, eh? Of course, when I asked X, nothing was wrong.

Later on I found out that something I had said to X was remarkably intimidating and challenging to the way they had been living their life. How did I find out? Despite X's insistence about nothing being wrong, I took the initiative and - with a bit of divine intervention (you think I can hone in on these behaviours so effectively by myself?) - effectively GUESSED the problem, which I laid bare to X. Pending another few days of talking, the problem was resolved.

Sometimes I wonder if acting like this is an indicator of the divorce between a person's perception and their reality. I cannot remember the name of the book that I read, but it essentially said that the distance between your perceptions and the reality of your situation is the measure of discontent that you maintain in your life. What does one stand to gain from perceiving themselves as having-it-all-worked-out when their DAILY LIFE is very obviously dysfunctional (or at the very least, non-optimal)? Peer acceptance? Pride? Success? A defining sense of self-worth?

Search for quotes on Google (term: "reality and perception") and you will find many secular authors deriding the utility of reality. I believe this highlights Humanity's basic struggle against the integral limitations of our human character. It is representative of the wild Lion, captured and placed in a nature reserve in Kenya where it tirelessly paces up and down the boundary, looking for an escape. "I belong in the wild!" its heart roars. But in its passion to escape, it forgets that on the other side of the fence, there are poachers...

People who deny their reality? That's not being imaginative. That's being delusional. And I say that as someone whose imagination is so obsessive-compulsive I often find it nigh-impossible to control. Imagination is a powerful tool for the human mind. And as with any powerful tool, it can be massively abused.

Another girl sitting next to me now. Asian. Maybe 22-23 years old. Wavy black hair, Korean style. But not Korean looks. Pleasant smile. Oops I jinxed her, now she is frowning. Maybe she bombed in her exam too? Her fingernails are painted black with little red images on them... flowers? Nice chin. Shoulders are uneven. Now she's speaking to a passing friend. No accent, must be an ABC. She tells them something is wrong. Friend laughs. So does she. Good. I observe the other people around me for a while but as she gets up to leave, my eyes cast back to her. Nice skirt. Nice shoes. *innocent cough*

"Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away."
Philip K. Dick - "How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days"

Reality? Don't deny it. Even little kids can see through that...

In Faith, Hope and Love!

An excerpt from my reflections (29.03.08):

It hit me just after lifegroup tonight as I was tuning my voice for praise and worship. It carefully inserted itself into my mind between the lyrics of “You Gave Me Love” (Reuben Morgan, Hillsong), giving me pause and shoving me somewhat abruptly into reflection. So what was this thought?

“You gave me a love that caused my heart to overflow,
You gave me love much deeper than my heart would ever know
[Insert … here]
You have set my feet where I belong
Put within my heart a brand new song!”

I’ve said it many times - I’m really passionate about people. I’m passionate about reaching out to those who have never had a chance to know Him properly. I’m passionate about bringing purpose and meaning, about bringing SIGNIFICANCE to even just one more person’s life. It’s a passion alright! It’s a passion that allows me to ask God for strength and endurance, for the ability to care well beyond what I could singularly accomplish. Everyone deserves to know their God. Everyone.

But what about those brothers and sisters of mine who have already come to know Him? Do they need the same love and encouragement? Do they need to be urged gently onwards with loving criticism, with a hug or friendly squeeze, with a kind word? Happily, I believe they do! Where I have erred is in the implementation. Imagine for a moment a game like The Sims 2. You remember those little coloured +es and -es that appear over the sims’ heads? I used to walk around imagining little love-meters floating over all of my peeps’ heads. I used to watch people interacting, people talking to each other, cuddling and hugging, and I’d imagine these little love-meters filling up. A full meter = someone who feels loved. And I'd focus on those people with empty meters in order to give them a little bit of a top-up, a booster shot. Now that aint a bad thing in itself – my love for these people was 100% real. Unfortunately, it was also 100% clinical. Because I was busied myself looking after the ‘unloved’, I wouldn’t want to ‘waste’ my booster shots (ahaha) on the loved ones.


In this case, I guess I'm the girl who's watching the other two. But I'm so much more subtle than that! Err.

However I realised the following flaw in this approach. Allow me to use a slightly different scenario for illustration. Say it was my birthday and I was expecting gifts from people. If there were 10 people coming to my party, I’d be 100% happy with just five gifts, even if they weren’t the gifts I wanted. If I got six gifts, I would still be 100% happy, no more. That is the principle for diminishing returns – after a certain numerical value, no more tangible benefit can be gained. This gift doesn’t make me happier than I already am, but MAYBE it contains a gift that I have desired for a long time. In other words, I may not be any happier, but I may end up being more fulfilled.

Back to tonight. I’ve been convicted that there is a whole dimension of loving others I have totally overlooked in my desire to care for everyone simultaneously. It had completely slipped my mind how personal the gift of love is. A person’s love-meter may be 100% but he/she might not be getting the RIGHT kind of love. A purely clinical approach to this kind of situation is unjustified by virtue of the fact that we can never really KNOW the hearts of others (let alone ourselves). Agape love by its nature is unconditional so attempts to emulate this should not have such clinical parameters restricting me from showing love to others, right?

“So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you” (John 13:34). To love AS CHRIST LOVED was a revolutionary concept, for You gave me love much deeper than my heart would ever know. Yes, my approach did demonstrate love but I’ll be the first to admit it was not fully Christlike in scope.

How does this play out in practice? Let me use my lifegroup as an example. There’s about 20-30 of us on a week-by-week basis, each with our unique needs, fears, and contributions to the rest of the group. Naturally, for a group that big, there are smaller groups that the peeps tend to hang out in. Some of these groups do a better job at showing love than others. Some groups always have full love-meters; others have love-meters that fluctuate; yet others seem to be running perpetually low. To the latter types I would avail myself, praying for words of comfort and wisdom from God to refuel and re-energise them. To the former type I would generally distance myself. But now I know that even if I cannot make someone feel any more ‘happy’ or loved’, maybe the ‘gifts’ in my life will speak into theirs in a powerful and transforming manner.

It’s going to be hard, make no mistake. I will be pushing my ability to utilise all of the love languages, even those I am not inherently disposed to. It will require me to overcome my own fears and inhibitions and will force a level of critical self-analysis that may open even more wounds than I am currently aware of. Yet, as I have done before, I am committing to let go, and let God =).

I’ll finish with this quote: “Yes, you will be enriched so that you can give even more generously. And we take your gifts to those who need them, they will break out in thanksgiving to God” (2 Corinthians 9:11). In other words, we are blessed so that we may be a blessing unto others. And the love-meter? It's so much more than that.

Don’t squander your giftings ^^.

In Faith, Hope and Love!

Helloooo!

Marking the start of a new blog - the old one was a bit to messy to manage. Hopefully this one sits better :)

The tedde-tech site will be revived and continue to run alongside this one.

In Faith, Hope and Love!