The Rain Falls On The Just And The Unjust

I've always heard them say, "The rain falls on the just and the unjust," and wondered what they mean.

See, the thing is, I've always loved rain. Growing up, Mum always made us carry an umbrella to school so that even if it rained on the way home, we would be sheltered from the rain. Sometimes, even if I had an umbrella in my bagpack, I would still walk in the rain because I loved the way it fell on my head and my skin, and even the squishy feeling of my wet socks rubbing against the insides of my shoes. But once I got home, I would hurriedly take off my socks. The moist feeling wasn't quite so fun anymore and I'd be eager to get dry. But then I moved to Anderson, and the rains there were not the warm rain that I could cool off in. The freezing rains annoyed me because I quickly learnt how much I hated the cold weather.

Which makes me wonder, when they say "the rain falls on the just and the unjust," do they mean the warm rain in Singapore that I love, or the freezing Anderson rain that I detest?

And who do they mean by just or unjust? See, I used to have clear definitions of who the just were and who the unjust were. The just were the good people--the ones who overflowed with Jesusness and everything they did was Christian and Christlike. They had decent jobs and a good reputation. And the unjust were... Well, the ones who clearly could do better with their lives but weren't willing to try hard enough.

I don't know when the lines started to blur for me, but I finally noticed it last summer. The people I hung out with and would consider to be my friends fell into the category of the ones that I would have previously labeled unjust and have nothing to do with. I wish I could say it was because I was overflowing with the love of Jesus to the point that whether they fell into the category of just or unjust didn't matter anymore, and that I would be able to love them anyway.

The truth is, if I were completely honest, the reason why I hung out with them was because I thought I had something to offer them. But when I heard all the stories that led them to the places that they were when we became friends, it was then that I realised how I had made those judgment calls of "just" or "unjust" based on the way I was socialised to interact with them.

I used to think that aside from the poor little women in Africa who made TAPP beads and the likes of them, everyone else who was HIV-positive got it because they made irresponsible life-decisions. Would I have chosen to not associate with them simply because they were HIV-positive? I think not. But the friends that I got to know last summer made me realise that even though they were in places that I wouldn't have usually found myself in when we met, the reality is that I could very well be where they are, even given the upbringing and socialization that I've had. Sure, they've made a few choices that I'd like to say I would never make., but if I were in the circumstances that they found themselves in when they started making the first "bad" decision, I don't know that I would have done anything different.

But the rain falls on the just and the unjust. If Justin had a choice, I'm not sure he'd start down the path of drug abuse which eventually led him to the day that, even after deciding to get cleaned up, he received his diagnosis of being HIV-positive.

All that to say, I'm not sure who the just or unjust are anymore. But I know that I hate the word cancer. Even more than that, I hate HIV. And not because the physical suffering of one condition is worse than the other, but because I'm guilty of having judged one as "deserving" of suffering.

When the truth is, as it boils down to it, who am I to judge? Besides, the rain falls on both the just and the unjust. So what does it matter?

Processing TCKness

Forgive the thought spillage here, but the last few weeks have been spent running from one thing to another, with a few minutes in between to stop and think. So tonight there might be a bit of verbal diarrhea, but we'll try to keep it contained.

It's that time of the year when the identity crisis of the third-culture kid in me hits its lowest point trying to figure out these transitions not just between one culture to another, but one home to another. You know how they say, you can be in a big crowd of friends but still feel lonely? Well, you can also blend in with a culture but still not feel like you belong anywhere.

Blending in is not belonging.

And maybe it's wishful thinking for someone with my vocational call to want a sense of belonging in some culture of the world considering the rest of my life probably entails continual transition from one culture to another.

Just thinking about sitting in the room tonight with a bunch of seminary friends that I know I've done a fairly good job of being intentional about being relational with. God only knows how much easier it would be for me to hide behind tasks so I don't have to deal with the risks of getting hurt by love. God only knows how much easier it would be to keep doing life in isolation as I have for so long.

And God only knows how hard it has been trying to focus in the here and now.
Sitting at a party with acquaintances, checking my phone every once in a while for updates on a friend's health.
Sitting in a room amongst friends watching a movie and trying to chill after an exhausting week, heart hurting for friends on one side of the world and trying to figure out how the heck I am doing with my own emotional health.
And getting antsy about that dreaded 30 hours on the plane, finally getting some down time, yet being afraid of having to deal with myself again this year.

And trying to figure out how the heck I've gotten so culturally messed up that others can relate to pieces of my story but not the whole deal.

I've always known my cultural adaptability and chameleon-like personality would come in handy with my vocational call. But at the same time, I really just long for community that would know the ins and outs of the story and still stick with me through the rest of the developing story, rather than hear the stories because they are fresh and fascinating and they've never met a more culturally messed-up person than me.

But I know community is hard. And my level of commitment to being community to others is my own, and I cannot hold others to my same standard.

And while I'm frustrated with life at the moment, I would never trade any of this mess for anything else in the world. Because it is out of my messed up cultural identity that I can do well with the post-modern, post-Christian world, and without the story that backs up this mess of cultures, I have no understanding or credibility in that world.

I'm frustrated. And I'm getting tired so I should end this one before more ridiculousness ensues. For whatever reason, I'm REALLY looking forward to my decompression time at that favourite place in the world this year.

Thankful

It is nearly 5am.
I just turned in my last big paper for my second to last semester of seminary.
I should be sleeping.
But I'm wide awake with a heart full of thanks.

Thankful for the way God works to bring new people in to be family.
Thankful for the accountability to take care of myself over the last few weeks of sickness.
Thankful for honest, genuine, transparent conversations about life and things that have hurt us in the past.
Thankful for prayers and strength through the past weeks of physical pain.
Thankful for opportunities to do life together.
Thankful for second chances.
Thankful for the opportunity to watch new family members discover the blessings of doing life as family.
Thankful for reminders to not take the familiar for granted.
Thankful for the comfort that if I need anything at all, regardless of what time it is, there will be someone who will show up for me.
Thankful for family that are not afraid of the ugly, messy sides of life.
Thankful for the willingness to confront these ugly, messy sides together.
Thankful for a global family spread across all these different time zones that even when one side is asleep while I'm up writing a paper, there's another side to talk to to help keep me awake.
Thankful for prayers that kept me going this week.
Thankful for those who understand the depth of the spiritual warfare of this week.
Thankful for everything that made staying up till 4:30am writing a paper enjoyable.
Thankful for stamina to still care about this academic work even after the discoveries in Germany this summer.
Thankful for opportunities to do life and relationships to make this academic relevant.
Thankful for this couch to crash on after this night of paper-writing.
Thankful for you who are reading this.

And finally, thankful that I can now go to bed.
So blessed. So thankful for you.

Sweet November; Life Together

Alright Blogger world, I did not mean to disappear for so long. But hey, life happens, right? And if life is about the journey where we'll just keep learning, then allow me for a few seconds to share about the things I have learnt in my disappearance.

You know how as the Sunday School kid, you kind of learnt that Jesus was the answer to everything? Then in youth group they tell you that you learn some nugget about God and then comes the time that you will be tested on what you learnt? I guess that has been the last few months.

The realisation hit a few weeks ago that I was finally getting into the deep melancholy of having left a place that took up so much of my heart for a few months. But this time I was surprised that, once again, it wasn't the "cultural transitions" that we typically think about. It wasn't transitioning back to communicating in proper English everyday instead of fragments of English and German.

No, it was missing being relational. It was missing intentionally spending time with people as my full-time job. Granted I know it's unlikely I'll ever have the opportunity to just do that as a full-time job again, I do miss having time to not just hang out with people, but actually do life and walk together with them.

And then along came people who, if left to my own choice, I would never initiate conversations with. And then I fall into their story. And we walk together. In my 6.5 years here, I've never had to take someone to the ER or the chiropractor. But I've also never been to a corn maze or carved pumpkins, or done any of the fall fun stuff.

But that all happened in the last month.
This is what doing life together is about, huh?

But it's also the willingness to stick around and fight the fights when we disagree. To apologise when we mess up. To step outside of our mess and realise that when we're stuck in the thick of the storm, whether intentionally or not, our actions sometimes hurt others.

These were all things that I read about in books. Oh, Bonhoeffer's writing is still so uplifting. But the actual living part of it is so much more painful and emotional. But so worth the while in the end.

No beautiful prose or fancy vocab this time that I'm coming out of hiding and re-entering the blogger-world. Just plain, simple, honest truth - at least, that's what I tried to do.

Love you all, and hope things are well - and if not, at least hopeful - in your world.

Variations on a Theme Called Agape

Love is only true when it comes out of the heart, not out of obedience to someone or some law. It is not a mandate but a choice. That is also the most painful kind of love.

It is the kind of love that needs no reason, it just is. It is called "I AM."

It is the kind of love that does not need explanation; the kind that has a capacity beyond human understanding.

It is the kind of love that does not need its voice to be heard.

It is the kind of love that is willing to hurt; the kind that will not let go.

It is the kind of love that can only be expressed after having experienced that same kind of love first. It is called "We love because He first loved us."
It is the kind of love that led to Calvary; the kind that chose to give itself to one(s) undeserving.

It is the kind of love that is called Agape, Yahweh, Christ, Spirit.

Kyrie eleison
Christe eleison
God forgive me, for I don't have it in me to love like that.

Morning Will Come...

She lay in the dark, her eyes shut.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
After the sleep, morning will come.
And the ghosts of yesterday will no longer haunt.

But instead, she sees her face.
And it all comes back.
2 am nights of screaming because all other words fail.
A pain that seemed to penetrate through her guts.
Life so brief, kinship so deep.
And the deep darkness that settled because she was no more.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
After the sleep, morning will come.
And the ghosts of yesterday will no longer haunt.

But instead, she hears that familiar tune.
And it all comes back.
Evenings of dreading the short walk between the bus station and home.
While the someones blasted that same familiar tune about... "evening"
Things, people, thoughts she wanted to avoid.
And the reminders of the ones who walked in, had their fun and left her empty again.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
After the sleep, morning will come.
And the ghosts of yesterday will no longer haunt.

But instead, she sees their faces.
And it all comes back.
Evenings of long walks with her tiny hand in his.
And her tiny feet on his as they twirled around the room.
Years of innocence where nothing else mattered except the gentle giants in her life.
And how quickly that all ended as he was no more.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
After the sleep, morning will come.
And the ghosts of yesterday will no longer haunt.

But instead, she's confronted with herself.
And it all comes back.
The ghosts of yesterday.
And the joy she found, stolen yet again.
The mask of strength removed.
And frozen emotions stirred again.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
After the sleep, morning will come.
And the ghosts of yesterday will no longer haunt.

Memories of pain.
Goodbyes said too soon. No, goodbyes she never wanted to say.
Hands she should have kept holding for the journey but pushed away because she was too used to being alone.
The longing for a sense of belonging somewhere - anywhere.
They all return to haunt when night comes.

Morning will come - she knows this in her heart.
Ashes will turn to beauty - she knows this too.
But the nights are cold and dark. And long.

Morning will come.
But how long?

So hold me Jesus,
I'm shaking like a leaf.
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of peace.

Thoughts on Religious Harmony from the Culturally Mixed-Up Singaporean...

As a general rule of life, I avoid making any kind of commentary on religious or political scandals. But I guess there are always exceptions, and today is probably one of those.

The scandal that was supposed to unfold this weekend involved the whole deal of the Burning of the Koran by the pastor in Florida. This isn't the first literature burning scandal to be happening in my lifetime, so I was about to just shake my head and keep my mouth shut lest I get slammed by either sides.

But then I thought about my Muslim friends that I grew up with. Today, they celebrate Hari Raya Puasa (as it is so called amongst Muslims in Southeast Asia). Today, they celebrate the end of Ramadan, where they've just spent a month fasting as part of their faith tradition's call to identify with the needs of the world. And if it goes as the pastor in Florida had planned, tomorrow their sacred scriptures that call them to these acts of reconciling with the world will be burnt.

I'm sorry, they may not be claiming Christ. But are these not peaceful thoughts that Christ would preach as well?

So much more I can say, but tonight, I'm thankful for my Muslim friends and all that they've taught me about love. Oh, I could tell you stories of this love and this friendship, but words won't be enough.

There's a little magnet on our fridge that came in a care-package a few years ago. It reads:

Declaration on Religious Harmony
We, the people in Singapore,
declare that religious harmony is vital for peace, progress and prosperity in our multi-racial and multi-religious Nation.


We resolve to strengthen religious harmony through mutual tolerance, confidence, respect and understanding.


We shall always
Recognise the secular nature of our State,
Promote cohesion within our society,
Respect each other's freedom of religion,
Grow our common space while respecting our diversity,
Foster inter-religious communications,


and thereby ensure that religion will not be abused to create conflict and disharmony in Singapore.


I share this not to brag about the little island-city that holds my citizenship. But these are the values that we were taught growing up. And while not all of us get the big picture of the racial/religious harmony thing, at least we try.

And it kind of makes me wonder what my Singaporean friends are thinking of the Church in America. Or for that matter, what the rest of the world thinks now. It's sad, but the bad press gets out a lot faster than the good stuff that's happening...

Personal Notes...

#1
They say people in ministry don't cry. They're not supposed to.
Or maybe we just don't want to think they do or don't want to see it because they're supposed to be the strong ones.
But people in ministry are people too.
They hurt too.
They lose a friend, a sibling, a child.
They say a lot of hellos, but they also say a lot of goodbyes.
And how can they not cry when they keep leaving pieces of their hearts with people and places?

Hey, I know it's not October and not time for Clergy Appreciation month yet, but take a little time today to care for the people in ministry around you, will ya?

#2
Two years of seminary are over and done with now. How much have I learnt? Not much more than the extent of how much I don't know, and how much I will probably never figure out. Except for that one constant: love. All that digging, all that discussing, all that academia, only to come back to the simple truth: love.

As my dear wise friend Mike so brilliantly worded it, "Love is so simple and yet so profound. We study in order to understand the profound part. We "do" in order to understand the simple part. We need both."

#3
So quitting my job and coming to Germany may not have been the smartest thing to do given the way the economy is now. Even till the month before I left, people kept asking if I had really thought through this carefully.

Well, it may not have been the smartest thing to do, but it's definitely been the biggest step of faith I've taken, and boy what an adventure this has been. And life is about adventure, isn't it?

Before I came, I thought I had two years left of school - two more years to figure out what's next, or if I wanted to do even more schooling. But then I came here and my world got turned inside out and upside down all over again and I think I found/remembered even more of who I really am and not just who the Singaporean/American societies have wanted me to be.

And so, I'll finish school in May with one degree instead of two. In the meantime, I'm still looking for some kind of employment to help pay for this last year of school. The good news is, now instead of taking a full-load, I'll only need to take three in each semester to maintain a full-time status for my student visa - which cuts down on tuition AND gives me more time to either work or simply hang out with people. AND the other good news is that I might have my old student job at the Human Resources office at AU back for a while to tide me over till I find something else.

Big step of faith, eh?

Peter tried another angle: "We left everything and followed you." Jesus said, "Mark my words, no one who sacrifices house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, land—whatever—because of me and the Message will lose out. They'll get it all back, but multiplied many times in homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and land—but also in troubles. And then the bonus of eternal life! This is once again the Great Reversal: Many who are first will end up last, and the last first."
- Mark 10:28-31

Then what's next? Well, I've already taken a big step of faith so another big step wouldn't hurt, right? Who knows. There are a few possibilities, but if you want to know, we'll have to go out to dinner... Or do it the German way - coffee or ice-cream.
 
#4
As I mentioned earlier, I think I've found even more of myself in the last 2 months. And now that my time here is ending, I'm still going to love with all that I am, can and have. But I also need to start preparing mentally, physically and emotionally to head back to Anderson.
 
When I left Anderson, I was in such a mess that I didn't even realise what a mess I was in. I can't say I've completely sorted through the mess, but at least now I see the mess. And now I'm returning to one of the "home cultures" again. I don't know if Anderson is ready for me - or I for them, but here we go. The countdown now stands at fourteen days. Or two weeks. Two weeks too little.
 
Hey, if you're the praying type, say a prayer if you remember, will ya?
 
Love you all

Walk With Me...

Though youths grow weary and tired,
And vigorous young men stumble badly,
Yet those who wait for the LORD
Will gain new strength;
They will mount up with wings like eagles,
They will run and not get tired,
They will walk and not become weary.
- Isaiah 40:30-31

"I used to think that the ability to soar is the highest level of attainment. I've been thinking about that scripture again recently. Anyone can soar in the good times, but true strength comes in the ability to put one foot in front of another and being completely dependent on God." - Ann Smith

I've been wallowing a lot lately. I guess a part of it is the fact that I still live in a college town where community continues to be transitional and another transition season is just around the corner. You can smell it in the spring breeze already. Another baccaleaurate and commencement Saturday is sneaking up.

But this year, I think there's a little more wallowing than the usual. I'm also wallowing in the fact that this will be my first summer in the last 6 years that will not be spent in Anderson. If you haven't already caught on, yes, I'm a very sentimental person. Perhaps a little too sentimental every once in a while.

The deepest, darkest shades of the wallowing comes out with the people I would trust with my life. Not that I've truly completely lost all hope. But the confidence in the community allows me to get to the point of complete abandonment in the darkest shades of wallowing, knowing that this community is still rooting for me, believing that deep under the layers of wallowing, there's still a beacon of hope that I don't think I'll ever find the ability to let go of.

This evening, I was getting into my car to head home. But the sun was still up, and it didn't feel right to leave campus yet. So I took a walk around campus on one of my old routes. Somewhere after the halfway mark on that route, I was hit with image after image of faces that I had taken walks around the vicinity of the campus with, and the seasons and times - both of life and of the climate - that we had walked.

And then the words from my conversation with Ann earlier today hit me.

Anyone can soar in the good times, but true strength comes in the ability to put one foot in front of another and being completely dependent on God.

And then I thought about all the people I've taken that walk with.
And how we put one foot in front of another shoulder-to-shoulder.
And how we wallowed together from time to time.
And how I found God in them.

And then, I'm thankful.