The one thing I ask of the Lord—
the thing I seek most—
is to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
delighting in the Lord’s perfections
and meditating in his Temple.
For he will conceal me there when troubles come;
he will hide me in his sanctuary.
He will place me out of reach on a high rock.
- Psalm 27:4-5 (NLT)
From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
- Psalm 61:2 (NIV) Continue reading
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I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.
Praying this for myself. I need to see Jesus in this way again, to know the hope, and the great power that exists in my life no matter how dire my situation seems.
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This semester I’m taking 3 History classes and I’m suffocating under the pile of readings I have each week. But I truly, truly love History. Although it really hasn’t always been this way. Seven years ago, I fared much better with Literature. I was so in love with words, metaphors, poetry and alliterations. History was interesting but I never could master those dang Source Based exams questions. Everything changed in IB. My confidence in my own writing and literature was blown to smithereens.
As I reflect upon my own history, there have been many signs that I would become the History nerd I am today. At aged seven, I owned a Dorling Kingsley book on Ancient Rome. It was a treasured possession and one of my favourite books. I also had a collection of books about English Kings & Queens – mind you, this was all before Horrible Histories. Speaking of Horrible Histories, my family borrowed almost every copy that was available in the Queenstown Library. There were many other beloved history books which occupied my childhood bookshelf and might still be in my room at home, but let’s not keep going on, it’ll get embarrassing.
The point is that I’ve reached a point in my academic life where writing political science or sociology papers have become frustrating because of the lack of discipline and focus the subjects have, in comparison to History. While I came to Tufts aspiring to major in International Relations and follow my interest in international affairs, I’ve returned to my all-time favourite discipline - History. Now I’m probably primarily a History major with a interest in international relations, rather than an IR major with a History double-major on the side. Funny eh?
Oh and for the past 5 years I’ve been dating the guy who was once introduced to me as the “History god” of AC.
Told you I was a History nerd.
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Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Thou art the Potter, I am the clay.
Mold me and make me after Thy will,
While I am waiting, yielded and still.
Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Search me and try me, Master, today!
Whiter than snow, Lord, wash me just now,
As in Thy presence humbly I bow.
Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Wounded and weary, help me, I pray!
Power, all power, surely is Thine!
Touch me and heal me, Savior divine.
Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Hold o’er my being absolute sway!
Fill with Thy Spirit ’till all shall see
Christ only, always, living in me.
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In the last year my heart has been sad, weary and frustrated from its lonely state. Its been hard to compose my thoughts into words. A part of me also hasn’t felt safe enough to share any of it.
After almost a year of not posting on this blog, I look back on its title, why I created it and how things have come to pass. Before coming to college I decided to start up a new blog where I would connect to everyone at home. I knew it would be a series of “Hellos” and “Goodbyes” – hello goodbye hello goodbye. I didn’t think I would come to reflect on the meaning of home and friendship as much as I have. In naming this blog, I predicted the transient nature of my relationships here and back in Singapore.
Friendships, relationships, community, trust and love take time to build but I didn’t anticipate how long they would take nor the loneliness I would experience in the meantime. While I appreciate the friends, opportunities and support I’ve received here, my heart has not felt as vulnerable, alone, unstable and hurt as it has been. There’s really nothing like home.
There’s nothing like the laughter and understanding of dear old friends, even if it is over the computer speakers and screens. Despite how I’ve been feeling, all it takes is a good friend to remind you that someone is there for you and cares for you.
Hi Jules 
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I’ve felt this way many times before. I’ve felt my heart ache so much that it was literally hard to breathe. My heart is tired of being split up in two worlds – Home and Here. My heart knows what Home feels like and knows Here isn’t quite Home, it will never be. Yet my heart sometimes feels settled Here. It loves Home but loves being Here too. But no matter how long my heart is Here, Home is always where it was first loved, held and made into everything it is. Home is where the delicious warmth of friends is and the undeserved comfort of family.
While my heart is weary, it is slowly being revived with the knowledge that its companion and love will be Here very soon. Who knows, the future might well be Here.
(Image from Quoteskine)
Today was Good Friday, we nailed our sins to the cross, we Christ to the cross with our sins.
We remembered the painful road Jesus took to his death with a Service of the Shadows. With every point of suffering, we blew out a candle. We confessed our sins on a piece of paper then took turns to nail it to a cross. I sat there in the sanctuary in silence, listening to the chilling sound of the hammer hitting the nails. I thought about how every clang was the sound of nails being drilled into Jesus, how every time we sinned – every time we took his love for granted, every time we were selfish, impatient, rude, proud, insolent, lied, lusted, let injustice and deceit slide by – hammered the nails into his flesh, tore open his skin. My heart hurt as much as it could. I got chills down my spine as I realised how much pain we cause our Lord, Father and God each day. Everyday we sin much more than all the clangs that rang out in the sanctuary today, yet He loved us to death. Literally loved us to death.
I think about how Jesus knew God’s will and plan, struggled with it yet obeyed. He submitted to God’s plan even though it lead him to a painful, humiliating and lonely death.
I stand amazed at the suffering that was borne for me, for how much love there must have been for someone to have endured that for me. I know I don’t deserve it. I look back at the past school year and depth of loneliness, sadness, frustration that has surrounded me and wonder how much more lonely, isolating, painful and miserable it must have been for Jesus. I haven’t had it easy, neither did he. I cried endlessly, asking God why I am alone again, asking him if I am that unlovable that the friends I thought I have ignore me, that I don’t get invited to hang out, that I am so isolated to the point that nobody knows what’s going on in my life unless I say something, that even when I try to look for help and support I’m met with silence. I cried out demanding my right to be loved, to be understood, appreciated and cared for. I’ve cried out because none of it has seemed fair, it still doesn’t seem fair. I cried because I’ve given so much to a community that isn’t giving back, I’ve loved people who don’t love me the way I want them to. I’ve cried because the weight on my back and my heart has been unbearable and there has been no one who would share it with me. He remained silent when he was wrongfully accused, prosecuted, beaten up, nailed and left to die. He cried for us. He cried for me.
My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.
My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.
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dear blog readers, these are my beloved brothers from the Tufts Christian Fellowship. They organized a Sisters Appreciation Night for Valentines 2010. I felt so appreciated. This video is the best gift ever, I’ve watched it so many times. It never fails to make me smile!
(I wrote this in September 2009, but never published it.)
Yesterday at the 1st Freshmen Small Group, I realised that I’ve been going to church for over 20 years and gone to the same church for all those years as well. As far back as I can remember, I’ve always loved worship. I’ve never been a singer but I’ve always loved to sing praises to my God. I loved singing Sunday songs, back when they were written & drawn out on poster (vanguard sheet) paper.
I have fond, vivid memories of standing on an orange plastic chair with my parents during the adult service. I had my favourites worship songs, hymns and Christmas carols too. That’s probably where I first encountered words like “diadem” (All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name) and mistook the line “what a mighty God we serve” for “what a might God, Lisa”. (My cousin’s name is Lisa, you have to forgive a five year old.)
Despite starting out a clueless babe babbling tunes at church, worship has become such a great part of my life and my relationship with Christ. Many a time when, especially in times of despair, a line of a song I’ve sung in worship comes to me. I find myself completing the line, chorus and verse. The words begin to make me think, of how the “Shepherd of my soul” is in full control of my life or when His “eyes are on this child, [his] grace abounds to me”. They even help me remember verses and God’s promises in verses better. There is always a peace that enters my heart and stills my anxious being.
I’ve always wanted to worship God and commune with Him more through worship. Since I was young I always looked up to the Praise team, wanting to sing beautifully like that. I even remember the first time someone told me I should consider joining the worship team at a church camp many years back. It was a few more years before I eventually joined the team and started leading worship in Kaleo. Unexpectedly, I became involved in the ‘worship team’ at SC where we saw so many of our friends come together to worship and pray together in school. I remember sitting in a circle in the galleries, just praising God from the depths of my heart. I can still feel the breeze that use to blow through during those recess breaks. It was truly like no other. I remember the stillness during Prayer Meetings where we spent afternoons interceeding for our beloved AC. I remember when we’d break into song and everybody would follow.
Its been many years, I pray that I will worship the Lord all the days of my life. I’m not a musician, I’m not a singer but the songs of my heart goes to the One who deserves all glory, honour and praise.
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