Meeting Wairua

Her feet settled in comfortably into the sand as she placed them one in front of the other continually. They felt like they belonged. As did she, right there on the beach with the cool waves gently washing up around her ankles. This was home, and she was settled. At least, until it's time to move again.

The sunlight was beginning its retirement journey for the day, and even though it would have felt more normal for melancholy to settle in around this time of the day, her feet still felt light. She was beginning to gain momentum when she noticed a solitary figure keeping pace with her not too far off in the distance. She knew right away who it was, but this time the figure was dressed in a red, white and black finely woven top with what looked like a Hawaiian skirt.

She smiled and gave a slight wave of acknowledgement. It was comforting to know that she hadn't wandered too far since the conversation at the coffeeshop. But the distance between them confused her. She didn't feel as distant from *Wairua as their footprints in the sand reflected. As much as she wanted to close the distance between them, the voice in her head kept saying, "Ohhh, watch it. Watch it!"

Her eyes were fixed on the feather on Wairua's headband as she started inching closer, trying to ignore the voice in her head. "Ahhh, scheiße!" she yelped, as the pain shot straight from her foot to her heart where that old wound laid wide open as if salt had just been rubbed directly into it. Refusing to let that first shot of pain stop her, she tried again, but could make no more progress than she did the first time. She felt the first tears coming on and tried desperately to blink them back, but they spilled out as if the floodgates had finally been open.

She looked back up to Wairua, the pain on her face as raw as the fresh stab on the old wound. She hoped for a band-aid or perhaps a magic carpet that would smooth over the broken bits of shell that covered the distance between them, but all she saw were the tears on Wairua's face and the rays of sun reflecting from the little bottle of liquid she wore around her neck.

Chills went down her spine as she recalled the last time she saw that bottle. Suddenly it was like time flew backwards by three years, and she was meeting *Sarayu for the first time. She wore a bottle around her neck the same way Wairua did. Her body went limb and she fell upon the sand, and as each piece of broken shell pierced through her skin, the pain shot straight to her heart the same way the first one did.

It couldn't be the same bottle Sarayu had, could it? The pain and hopelessness of those years suddenly felt so raw all over again. But Sarayu had walked her through those days of sitting in the dark corners wanting to have nothing to do with this thing called Life, and gently put every one of those tears she shed back then into that bottle she wore around her neck. That she could feel as light as she did walking on the beach just a few moments ago was something she celebrated everyday. So where was this searing pain coming from now?

"My child," Wairua whispered, "This isn't about three years ago anymore. Back then you knew me as Sarayu, as Papa, as Jeshua. I'm still Sarayu, Papa and Jeshua, but in Aotearoa, I'm also Wairua, the Spirit of Life. These shells between us are the broken pieces of you, connected between your heart and the people and lands you have been with. You heard it once earlier tonight. Change sometimes hurts. My child, you have been hurting for so long and I don't know why you keep trying to hold up this shell. You and I both know that you do change better in vulnerability to community than alone, and yet you keep holding back from genuine community. We talked about this during those eight hours in that airport, didn't we?

As long as you're not living life here with complete abandonment,
As long as you're not giving your heart away freely and completely to this land and this people,
You're still living in fear.

And giving your heart away doesn't mean simply giving love away. It also means being vulnerable to receive love. You are not less of a person simply because you are broken and empty. But you will become less and less of a person if you keep trying to give away love without being willing to receive Agape in return."

Wairua knelt on the sand, and with her bare hands began brushing off layers and layers of sand from the first piece of shell, cutting her fingers over and over again in the process. She wore a gentle smile on her face as her tears mixed in with the crimson droplets. The smile grew warmer and bigger as more and more of the cream-coloured shell revealed itself.

The first piece of shell finally came loose, and as Wairua dusted off the last sand bits, her smile became one of victory.

"This, my child," she said, as she set the first piece aside and began working on the next one. "This is my blood, shed for you.

As often as you do this, remember Me."


* Maori for "Spirit"
* Borrowed from William Paul Young's The Shack

Soul Food From Aotearoa

Haere Mai. Welcome.

Too much time has flown by since the last time I blogged.

No, I take that back.

The amount of time has been right, but so much has happened. As much as I enjoy crafting words, I don't know that I have the sufficient vocabulary in any human language to describe all that has happened in the last couple of weeks.

I guess the most important thing I have to say here for today though is: I'm now in Auckland. And for that I am thankful.

I've been here less than two weeks now, and already my soul is so filled. Do I still have doubts about whether Auckland is the right place for this season? To tell you no would be a big fat lie. I'm still waiting for the day that we actually formalize the visa process and for the immigration folks to tell me, "Sorry. Denied."

I guess I should back-track a little.

Yes, I made it to Auckland. But I'm here on a tourist visa at the moment because I'm still waiting for a background check in the States to be processed for the visa application. The whole process is kinda complicated (but mostly just annoying) to explain, but simply put: If we waited for the background check to be processed, it would take at least another month from the time I mailed the request to the States to the time we would hear anything back. So we figured I'd come in on a tourist visa for now and apply for the work visa after the background check comes in, seeing as I have enough financial support for now so that Westside doesn't have to pay me yet.

Clear as mud? I'd be happy to explain all the details to you eventually, but that's not the point of this entry today.

The point is, I'm here. I don't have a clue what I'm doing, but apparently Things are happening. And I'm blown away by the fact that simply because I finally decided to stop shuffling my feet around and come in spite of immigration regulations, I get to be a part of Things here. And somehow, trying to put these things down on pen and paper (or keyboard and screen?) makes me feel like I'm cheapening the spirituality of all that has happened. And the fact that my soul has been so, so filled makes it hard for me to not be cynical about it.

I've been having an internal debate between myself and the conversation Jenny and I had back when I heard back from Chad that the folks at Westside had given the go-ahead to continue conversations with me about coming over. A big part of me finds it difficult to believe that good things can come so easily. After all, there were still so many questions left unanswered.

• Would I fit in theologically?
• Would I find the soul friends quickly enough to help me process transition the way my Anderson community had before I fall back into my unhealthy coping measures?
• How the heck is the Greater Being going to equip me enough to work with kids?

But those are not the important questions for now. The scariest thing is that there already are people here who will walk this journey with me. They've listened to some of the ridiculousness of the questions I've been asking. They've helped me try to balance out the head and heart sides of ministry. They've been so intentional about taking care of me physically, spiritually and emotionally. Part of me wants to say, "Yeah, but I'm new. How long will this last?" while another part wants to say, "Shut up. Just because you've had your share of church folks hurting one another doesn't mean you're allowed to stop believing in the power of Agape."

But again, that's still not the point. I can keep rambling, and keep digging for cynicism then further still for truths that combat cynicism, and still completely miss the point.

The point is, I'm here. I've done a good job so far of covering up how tired I really am, and how I feel like I'm running on nothing. This year has been long. The journey to finally be physically in Auckland has been exhausting. The ability to simply sit and let Things happen is clearly coming from a Being far greater than me right now. The truth is, Things will happen at Westside regardless of whether or not I'm here. I get to be a part of these Things not because I'm a good person, or because this is a reward for my willingness to let the world be the village that raises me.

I get to be a part of this because Agape knew this was my love language. And for that, I am in awe.

I apologise if I haven't been very coherent. The desire to finally put some of these thought bubbles down into words has been great, but even greater has been the desire to simply sit quietly in awe of all that has happened and the One that has weaved these stories together.

Love you all, and appreciate each one of you so much for being a part of my village.

Coffee Shop Conversations

She sat behind her computer typing away furiously with a slight frown. Occasionally she would look across the rows of trees below to let her thoughts breathe for a few seconds, and the frown would ease up just that little bit as she sipped her cappuccino.

For that few seconds, she let her mind race back to the last time she was in that coffee shop and a slight smile crept up on her face as she continued typing furiously. It was the beginning of a summer that was about to change her life, except she didn't realise it yet. And the people around that table--an eclectic group nonetheless--seemed to fit in so well with the fact that they were just outside of Berlin, Germany. "If Portland was the capital of Weird in the US, Berlin would probably be that equivalent for this part of the world," she thought to herself. Of all the places she had traveled to, it would of course make sense that these were her top two favourite cities. She was, after all, weird and proud of it.

She took another sip of her cappuccino as she furiously tried to put to words all the thoughts and theological implications that had gone through her head in the last week or so. "In every circle of friends, there has to be an old soul," she smiled as she remembered that comment she made in passing in one of those conversations. That was when she realised she had so many people in her life to fulfill the many layers of human relationships that were required for healthy human functionality. Each one of them gave her something different to be thankful for, and something else to think about. And she was becoming increasingly confident that regardless of where in the world she went to, it wouldn't be difficult to establish these circles again from next to nothing.

So lost was she in the attempt to process the current theological ramblings that she jumped when she finally looked up again and saw him sitting there.

"Holy crap, Papa! Don't do that to me again!" she let out in a harsh whisper. He simply smiled back.

"How long have you been... Never mind, don't answer that." She knew. He had followed her from the house to the bus-stop, to the train station. Then again, she was pretty sure he was at the airport with them earlier that day as well when the kids in the youth group decided to head there after church. And the last time she was at that spot. And the day she moved to Anderson. And TKGS. And...

"Ok, ok. Got it. I'm guessing we need to talk?"

Again, he said nothing and simply smiled.

"I know I've been doing a lot of thinking, and very little feeling," she finally said after some time passed since his silence. "And we both know that I've been doing a lot of thinking so that I can avoid feeling. I'm frustrated because I'd rather be in Auckland. But truth be told, this whole process has worn me down a lot, and I'm not even excited anymore. Everyday is just blah because I want a sense of "normalcy" and don't laugh because we all already know my life has been and will continue to be anything but normal. But that's not what I mean. Even if it turns out that Auckland would only be for a little while, I want to feel at "home" somewhere for that little while. I want to be able to walk into a shop somewhere and say, "I want this for my living space, and it's reasonably-priced and sized," and be able to buy it instead of thinking that it won't be able to fit into my two pieces of luggage. I've loved being able to drop everything at the last minute to go spend time with people because I don't know when's the next time I'll get to see them, but a loose schedule like that for more than just a couple of months is about to drive me crazy. I may have spent a lot of time with the Kenyan sisters this summer, but I'm still used to having SOME kind of structure. Am I ranting?"

He still said nothing and simply smiled.

And that was when she understood. Through all these transitions she craved nothing more than just one constant. That Constant had created all the circles she had just been so thankful for to hold her through each change, but Constant was still constant. And Constant constantly gave her space to think as she needed to think, feel as she needed to feel, not feel as she needed to not feel...

Constant constantly gave her space just so she had space.

"Hopes told you you had the gift of giving space," he finally said after she caught her breath.

"But I only have space to give because YOU give me space," she said.

"My child, I don't need answers from you. I don't need you to figure me out. I don't need you to rant when you're frustrated, sing when you're happy, or cry when you're upset.

I just need you to be you."

The [Truth?] About Worship

In a recent conversation, we were for one reason or another talking about how worship is structured in churches these days. So when I heard a song that had the lines, "You are love; You are life" in its bridge in a congregational setting recently, it made me stop and think.

What's the purpose of this thing we call "worship" anyway? To sing songs of adoration to the Leader of our faith? To tell the One we believe to be Creator how thankful we are for our existence? And was it mandated that we only sing songs surrounding the existence of this Creator? And if so, does that make our Creator a self-centered being?

As usual, I don't claim to have answers, but a thought hit me today. Sure, I believe in the existence of a Being that is love and life, but I'm wondering if that's all I sing about regardless of where I am or who I'm with, wouldn't that get kind of annoying to the people around me?

I mean, if a good friend of mine is head over heels in love with their spouse, sure, I would enjoy hearing about their spouse from time to time. Heck, if they didn’t talk about their spouse at all, I would probably be worried. But if all that they talk about is their spouse, then clearly their relationship with their spouse is of such high importance that my relationship with them doesn’t matter.

Or let’s just put it bluntly. If all this friend talks about is their spouse, then that’s just plain annoying. I might even start wondering if they have an unhealthy relationship that leads to them not being able to talk to other people.

That being said, if all this friend talks about were their parent, favourite political leader, sibling or best friend, I would probably be equally concerned, if not annoyed.

Now I acknowledge that this Being that is love and life is a little more supernatural than the average human being, so the relationship would also be a bit more supernatural. But doesn’t this Being also teach that the greatest commandment is to love the Lord your God with your heart, soul and mind AND your neighbor as yourself? I may be interpreting this wrongly, but I believe loving your neighbor also means being in enough of a relationship with them that we don’t just talk about our spouse/parent/favourite political leader/sibling/best friend all the time.

And also, if this Being that teaches that one aspect of the greatest commandment is to “love your neighbor as yourself,” then I’m not sure I would be able to think of this Creator as the aforementioned self-centered being.

Streaming it down a little further to my personal belief that one revelation of this Being comes in the form of Jesus of Nazareth, also known in some circles as the Christ. I find myself guilty of forgetting his humanity from time to time. I tend to think that the only form of humanity he took on was the ability to suffer so that he can empathise with our suffering. But I’m starting to wonder if his humanity also required him to learn how to love. At least in the Christian circles, we don’t find it difficult to believe that he loved the Creator – if he didn’t, he would not have taken on the human form to redeem creation. But his ability to love people out of his humanity? I think if we didn’t catch that from reading the Gospels, we’ve already missed the whole point.

Which leads me to my next thought… Isn’t this what it means to be “evangelical”?

This will be for another time. But for now, I looked up “evangelical” on the Merriam-Webster dictionary and found this:

: of, relating to, or being in agreement with the Christian gospel especially as it is presented in the four Gospels

2

: protestant

3

: emphasizing salvation by faith in the atoning death of Jesus Christ through personal conversion, the authority of Scripture, and the importance of preaching as contrasted with ritual

4

a capitalized : of or relating to the Evangelical Church in Germanyb often capitalized : of, adhering to, or marked by fundamentalism : fundamentalistc often capitalized : low church

5

: marked by militant or crusading zeal : evangelistic evangelical ardor of the movement's leaders — Amos Vogel

Interesting, huh?

Also, a friend of mine posted this some time ago that I thought was interesting food for thought to throw into this mix.

Thoughts?

Penang Highlights Part #2

The Peranakan Culture
Even before the TV series “The Little Nonya” came out on Channel 8 a few years ago, I’ve had a fascination with the Peranakan culture, but I will have to admit that the TV show was what sparked the interest to examine this people group more closely. I am an anthropologist after all. So when we had the chance to visit a Paranakan residence on our last day in Penang, I was naturally excited.

Peranakans are a people group known as Straits Chinese that exist only in this part of the world. They are Chinese ethnics who, upon their arrival in parts of Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia, took on the ways of the native Malays and some of the British-influenced European lifestyles. The men were called Baba, and the women Nonya. They tended to be wealthy and influential Chinese who worked in close alliance with the British colonial government and had the opportunity to travel to parts of Europe.

As an anthropological nerd, I could probably go crazy writing about this people group, but that will be for another time. I will say this much though: The fusion of the Chinese reds and golds with the darker, richer streaks from the Malay ethnics, combined with a touch of European décor make for a very unique interior design. The Peranakan home is fascinating because of this very reason.

I Met Love at Kek Lok Si (極樂寺)
Kek Lok Si is a Buddhist temple that is considered one of the landmarks of Penang. It stands out as one of the tallest buildings in the state, and if I’m not wrong, the only religious space of that magnitude of grandiose.  According to Pastor Sunny’s wife, a Christian prayer summit that happened some years ago caused the head of the original building to fall off. It has since been reconstructed with a bill that came up to something like RM40,000 (S$16,000 or USD13,000).

Since we were all about being touristy, we visited this temple because there were a bunch of cheap touristy shops leading up to the top of the temple. It was quite a hike so we didn’t make it all the way up although I would have liked to if the weather hadn’t been as dreary as it was that day. On the way up, there was this elderly lady sitting at the corner with a little plastic container with a few coins in it. Something about noticing her sitting there haunted me for a while, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. She wasn’t the first beggar we had come across, but it bothered me that she had come to the temple to beg.

We kept walking a little further and finally my mum and Auntie Audrey decided they were tired. I went up a little more until I got to what appeared to be the bottom of the temple, and for a while, just stood in awe. There was something about the Buddhist chants that seemed so calming in the midst of all the other chaos that was going on in my life at the time, and it reminded me of the couple hours in the Japanese Gardens in Portland with the spirituality guru, Cassie Trentaz. But I couldn’t shake off the image of the lady still haunting me, partly because I knew I was going to see her again when I started my descend.

There in that courtyard, I finally figured out what it was that was so haunting. As the BFF might put it, there was “The Voice” saying, “She’s clearly looking for something or she would have gone begging on the streets instead of within religious space. Funny, ain’t it, in times of need she would come to the Buddhist temple when you don’t see her sitting in the Church.” I kept trying to rationalize “The Voice” away, and we ended up having a conversation that went something like that:

Me: She was probably raised Buddhist, so of course in times of need she would turn to the only form of religion she has ever known.
The Voice: Or could it be that Christianity never quite offered her what she was looking for because Christians were too afraid of stepping into the space of other “false religions” to notice her?
Me: But if I offered her anything, wouldn’t she assume I was sent by Buddha, even if I was trying to represent Christ?
The Voice: But if you didn’t offer her anything, what chance of a conversation would you even be able to have with her?
Me: But we’re in a hurry so I don’t really have time for a conversation anyway…
The Voice: What if she wasn’t really looking for sympathy or for help? What if all she needed was to know that someone saw her? You claim to see spiritual things, say the words, “I see you” from the movie Avatar so easily, and believe in Namaste, but what’s the point of seeing these things when you don’t actually see?

Me: Crap.

The Voice won. Of course.

If I had the opportunity (translate: if I hadn’t been such a wuss), I would have told her that I saw her because I saw Love, and I had Love that came from a source that was bigger than me. Did I have the capacity to Love a stranger? I’m not sure. But I knew Love saw her, and Love wanted her. Love didn’t want her to be compliant to a list of rights and wrongs; Love just wanted her.

As I started making my way down from the courtyard, I scrounged around for some loose change. There wasn’t a lot, probably not even enough for a full meal. But Love said, “Look her in the eye. See her.”

I met Love at Kek Lok Si.

Go here for pictures

New Blog Series: The [Truth?] Shall Set You [Free?]

In light of some of the conversations I've had recently, I've had some things being tossed around in my head. They mostly challenge the ideas of truth and freedom that I have held for a while, and some of the things that have been said or that I've said have surprised me as well. So I'm starting a new blog series that I'm titling "The [Truth?] Shall Set You [Free?]" to wrestle with some of these things, and I'm inviting you to participate if you'd like.

This blog space has not historically been very interactive so I'm not sure if it will become more it will get following the launch of this series. But in light of the possibility of more participants, let me lay a few ground rules before we begin:

I write this coming from the perspective of someone who grew up in a Christian home but not completely around Christian circles all the time until I went away to college. I have a relationship with Jesus Christ, and I see the world through the lenses of my relationship with Christ, even if some of the things I'm about to write may challenge that notion.

1) If you would like to contribute more thoughts into this dialogue, please clarify where you are coming from and through what lenses you see the world. It would be helpful to assume that there are others who may want to participate who do not share your faith or religious views.

2) Please be respectful of others. This space is not open for bashing others' thoughts, and comments will be moderated. Disrespectful or offensive posts will be deleted.

3) Keep an open mind about things. My hypothesis for this series is that, when it comes down to the bare essentials, we are all trying to make meaning of truth and freedom.

I'm looking forward to the interactions we might have in this space.

Shalom.

P.S. Don't worry, the other usual stuff that appears on this blog will still make their regular appearances :)

August 31 Update

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always offering prayer with joy in my every prayer for you all, in view of your participation in the gospel from the first day until now. For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. For it is only right for me to feel this way about you all, because I have you in my heart, since both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel, you all are partakers of grace with me. For God is my witness, how I long for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus. And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more in real knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve the things that are excellent, in order to be sincere and blameless until the day of Christ; having been filled with the fruit of righteousness which comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.
- Philippians 1:3-11

Dear friends,

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you.

On this very day a year ago, I embarked on my last first day of school for what I hoped to be the last time (at least for a long while) and, over the course of the year, wrestled with this idea of the journey to Auckland.

And here we are now, a year later. I was hoping to at least have my flights to Auckland booked by now, but as it turns out, things don't always turn out the way we hope. The visa application process has been made more complicated because they are requiring extra documentation from the States side since I have lived there for more than five years. So now we are still waiting for all the extra documents to be processed.

But waiting is not a fun game, especially while I'm in between places and countries. The feeling of displacement is unsettling, but that is the reality for now. Your thoughts and prayers for patience and for the rest of this process to go smoother than it has so far would be greatly appreciated.

In the meantime, I have enjoyed spending time with family and old friends. I have also been coaching a student from Thailand who is preparing for an English placement test to get into the public schools here. Because I grew up speaking two languages fluently, it never crossed my mind how challenging English grammar can be. And try getting someone whose first language doesn't differentiate the R and L sounds and have a hard time with the S sounds to say, "close to the coast" and you get variations like "crose to the clothes" and "clothes to the coats."

As I write, I recall the words of Paul, so well-narrated by Todd Faulkner, campus pastor at Anderson University, who spoke at Park Place two Sundays before I left. I thank my God in all my remembrance of you. I long to be in so many places -- Anderson, which became home for the last seven years; Germany, a place with so many dear friends and fond memories; Auckland, the place that I have wrestled with landing in for the past year; and Singapore where so much of me still finds its roots here -- each of these places because of you. But regardless of where you are, and regardless of how frustrating the journey has been, I thank my God in all my remembrance of you.

"For it is only right for me to feel this way about you all, because I have you in my heart ... you all are partakers of grace with me. For God is my witness, how I long for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus."

Thank you for your encouragement along this journey. I apologise if I haven't written back to you personally; time has not always been on my side. And thank you especially to each one of you who have asked, prayed and been so supportive of this journey.

I carry your heart

Penang Highlights Part #1

Penang is a place that I haven't been to since... Oh, I think before my sister was born (She turns 17 today, by the way. If you see her around Anderson, give her a big happy birthday shout out!). This past weekend, my mum, Auntie Audrey (a friend from church) and I took a quick weekend getaway there.

It's fascinating to go back to a place where you haven't been to in a while, and seeing things through different lenses.

Our primary purpose of going there was to eat and shop (this is a getaway after all) because things were a lot cheaper there (they are about the same price if we did a dollar-to-dollar comparison, but the exchange rate is about S$1 to RM2.45). I usually do my major shopping once a year when I'm back in Singapore because we'll go to some part of Malaysia for a day or weekend and we'll get our shopping done then. This time though, my luggages are already packed and ready for New Zealand, so I didn't get to do as much shopping. But I still returned with a very full stomach and so much more food for thought.

Colonial Roots

Maybe it's because so much of the research I had been doing for my last semester of seminary revolved around the impact of colonialism in New Zealand, the fact that Penang was one of the Straits Settlements was of a lot more interest to me. Sure, the Brits didn't do a very good job defending their colonies during World War II, but if not for them, Singapore would not have achieved the economic status that we have today. Which makes me think, maybe the Brits didn't do all bad.

Or perhaps, it's a matter of building upon whatever good or bad the Brits may have done for the betterment of the quality of lives for the people. Penang, in a lot of ways, as my mum and Auntie Audrey were eager to point out, reminded them a lot of Singapore in their childhood. A lot of their equivalent of a "town square" is very similar to Singapore's City Hall area, what with the Padang, the Esplanade and the like.

The second morning we were there, we went up Penang Hill by the cable car. On the top of the hill, there was a Masjid, a Hindu temple and a bunch of houses from the colonial era, many of which were built by hand because there would not have been machinery available for those purposes at the time. These are now private homes, many of which function as vacation homes owned by foreign investors because most of the locals probably would not be able to afford them.

Cabbie Culture

Something that was really fascinating to me was what I started to observe as "Cabbie Culture". Cabs don't go out on the streets like they do in Singapore or New York City, so you have to either call ahead or wait at a hotel or shopping mall (much like Anderson, I suppose?). But even there, there's a code of conduct. Cabbies who get there first get the first customers even if the customers talk to other cabbies. It is understood that if there's someone who got there ahead of you, you have to let them have the customer and wait your turn. One cab driver told us he had been waiting outside our hotel since 5am that morning, and when it was his turn to drive us, it was around 9am.

On an average, cabdrivers make about RM60 per day (S$24, US$20). On good days, they can get up to RM120, and that is usually on days when they know they will have an influx of tourists (usually dependent on Singapore's holiday season). Cabbies are given a list of when cruise ships from Singapore arrive (usually every other Monday) so they know when to go to the jetty.

The Church of God in Penang

We had the opportunity to visit the Church of God congregation while we were there. Pastor Sunny, his wife, and two of their three kids came and picked us up that morning. On the way there, they explained to us that the church recently officially became recognised as a deaf church. The congregation is made up of maybe 20-30 people, and about half of the group is deaf.

It was fascinating watching the way the deaf congregation communicates because as Pastor Sunny's wife (I really should remember her name, but I don't) pointed out, there are no secrets in the deaf community because everyone sees what everyone else is signing. They are less embarrassed by anything, and are very eager to welcome new people in their midst even if it is difficult for both sides to communicate.

She also pointed out that even in the deaf community, there are cultural differences. In a recent conference, other deaf churches in the area got together and she said you could tell who are from Kuala Lumpur (capital of Malaysia) and Singapore. The ones from the cities tend to be more educated and have a broader worldview while the ones from Penang, for example, tend to be more oppressed by their families because they were perceived as bad luck. She went on to say that it is for that reason that the sermons we hear in the church are simpler so that the deaf community will be better able to understand that the Gospel is FOR them.

What a noble concept, huh?

Still to come: The Peranakan Culture and Meeting Jesus at Kek Lok Si 極樂寺

Happy 31st Birthday, Church of God Singapore

I'm starting to realise that probably after Christmas and maybe Chinese New Year, this time of the year is probably the best to be back in Singapore.

A week ago today, we celebrated Singapore's National Day. Even though we didn't do anything particularly festive on National Day, just being amongst others who knew the significance of the day (regardless of how much or little it meant to them) is still refreshing.

On Sunday, I got to celebrate the 31st anniversary of the Church of God in Singapore, the church that I grew up in.

Kids doing their special item

The kids and youth presented a few special items in celebration. It was one of many moments this week that made me realise again, I'm not as young as I think I am anymore. I couldn't recognise any of the kids anymore because most of them were teeny babies when I left. And when Carissa and Yan Zhang got up to sing, I could not have been more proud of the not-so-little-anymore MingMing who sounds so much like Ingrid Michaelson, one of my favourite indie artistes.

Rev Timothy Khoo

The theme for this year at our church is to go and make disciples (based on the Great Commission text in Matthew). I'll admit that the cynic in me was already starting to go, "Oh, here we go again with another overdone sermon. Make your three points, la di da and end with the whole go ye therefore and make disciples, do the altar call and be done so we can go eat." Even if the preacher was someone I had quite a lot of respect for, how different can Great Commission sermons get?

And then he launched into Bonhoeffer's The Cost of Discipleship.

Yup. Had me totally suckered in. Even if the main message of his sermon was somewhat cliche, that he talked about Bonhoeffer and drew several parallels to the personal journey that I've been on in the last seven years made it difficult for me to write off the message.

After service was over, there was the usual anniversary lunch. As always, it was fun to be back with the old gang and feeling like (at least amongst some) I've never left. And then there was that little big surprise.

My pastor had told me earlier that week that there was an old friend that I needed to meet again when I was at church that Sunday. This was the father of a guy whom I was in the same class with in Primary 1 and 2 (1st and 2nd grade), who also happened to be a part of my pastor's accountability group. As it turns out, he had a gift for me that was beyond anything I had expected. And now the fundraising effort for this year is even closer to being done!

Solomon and "Uncle" Ben

The festivities continued as the old gang (that now included the "generation" younger than us) migrated to someone's home where we found their parents had also invited their friends (many of whom were parents of our peers) over. The after-party consisted of way too much ice-cream, running around with babies and teaching them to not be afraid of dogs, Uncle Jeffrey showing off his brand new coffee-maker and a lot of card games.

It was good to be home. One of many homes.

Tutoring
This week has been one of those times that I wish I spoke Thai. I've been working with a kid from Thailand to get him ready for his English entrance exam. While he's already able to communicate fairly well, trying to explain this whole grammar and sentence structure thing is a pain. Something comes up every night that boggles my mind. Last night I learnt that in the Thai language, it's difficult to differentiate between the R sounds and the L sounds. So when he tried to say "close to the coast" we got variations like, "crose to the clothes," and "clothes to the coats."

Visa Updates:
Well, I've had many queries about what's going on with the visa, so here's the quick lowdown.

I was initially supposed to apply for a 1-year visa, but after some conversations with the church in New Zealand, we decided that it might be easier to go ahead and apply for a 2-year visa so that we don't have to renew it again next year. But there are extra documents required for a 2-year visa, which include a medical exam and a background check. As of earlier today, the medical exam is done and I'm clear to go. I've turned in the paperwork for the background check, so now we wait. It's likely I won't be able to leave before Sep 1 as we had hoped, because the background check won't be ready till Aug 29, and it will be another 10 days or so before the visa gets approved.



Alright, I have more to write, but I'm about to head out for dinner with an old friend from Anderson who's in town, and will be off to Penang for the weekend.

Love you all.

These Things Used to be Normal

Ok, this living in too many different parts of the world thing is starting to really annoy me.

I walked in to the hospital yesterday to get my medical exam done for the visa application. The lady who was helping me get registered asked for my passport instead of my IC (Singaporean Identification Card). She apologised when I asked if it was ok to use my IC instead because apparently I didn't look like a Singapore citizen?

With all this paperwork that has to be done and all the running around to different places to get official documents, more than once I got a weird look because I had to apologise that I didn't know my cell-phone number.

At one point, the lady at the bank thought I was nuts for not having a cell-phone number that didn't belong to my family. The number I finally gave her after fumbling around for a long time was already in their system--under my sister's name.

When I was applying for my ATM card, the lady thought I was nuts because I didn't know that ATM cards here don't expire, so the one I had applied for when I was 16 is still valid--and shredded in some incinerator somewhere in Indiana.

Then when I couldn't remember how I used to sign my name at the bank 7 years ago, I had to apologise that I haven't used that bank account in 7 years.

Or the fact that I'm suddenly very aware of the amount of diversity we have on our little island. The radiographer that did my x-ray yesterday was Filipino. The receptionists were Thai. The lady that did my blood-work today was Indian.

These things used to be normal. But the Singaporean in me is still 18 years-old, doesn't know how the banks work, and stuck in 2004.

Instead, my "normal" is catching people by surprise.

The lady who did my blood-work was super impressed that I managed to get a job working in a church in New Zealand.

And then having to explain that not all church people are humble are easy to work with.

And cringing when I hear the word "back-sliding" used on people who haven't gone to church for a while.

And explaining post-Christian Europe to non-church friends.

Sigh.