Thursday, December 29, 2011

I Do Not Like Your Christians!

Came across this quote on *cough* 9gag the other day - And I am *cough* not *cough* in any way or deed addicted *cough* to 9gag... (Okay maybe a little bit hahaha xD)

Anyway, the point is, seriously, how can you disagree with Gandhi? I must say - he must have a point! You know what? To a certain degree, I think that I agree with him.

Especially when he said this -
Your Christians are so unlike your Christ

It seems that very often people say "you're a Christian, you must act this way" or even "Oh, are all Malaysians like you?" Like it or not, on this earth, we are ambassadors. Ambassadors of our country, our family, a certain ideal, or all of the above!

So what makes someone, someone? (If that makes any sense at all)
The Bible says in John 13:34-35
34 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Here's the crunch line - Many Christians are not like Christ! And that's sad, considering the word "Christian" was a play on words, kinda meaning "little Christs" (think Christ Jr.)

So what makes someone "Christian"?

In short, LOVE.

I just hope...
I just hope that if someday, someone asks...

I'm not too unlike Christ =S

And if I am, tell me why, and i'd love to know why and how I can improve. Please =O

God bless!


Tuesday, December 6, 2011

2 and a Half Months...

Maybe it's just the stress of the exams.
Maybe it's the change in the weather.
Maybe it's just the Christmas season that's approaching.

I walked into the Royal on Gordon today. In case you didn't know, I volunteer there now. I call Bingo. I came to discuss my schedule and some other issues with the person in charge of programs, Kara Thomas. While waiting for her, I heard the organ playing, so after meeting up with Kara, I went to investigate. Turns out, it's John Eccles. Pretty famous guy, he's got his own hall in UofG. Had fun talking to him. Promised I'll see him again and tell him about the Prince of Wales and the Repulse...

Maybe it's just that simple piano songs remind me.

I called Bingo at night, and tonight someone got angry at me. Apparently on behalf of the residents there, they're not "bumbling idiots". Huh. It definitely was my fault. Perhaps I shouldn't have repeated stuff so often. Or maybe I should've called her numbers more. Either way, she didn't win, and no win = unhappiness... I got a little uptight. I wasn't as friendly as I usually was for the last game. I think the other residents could sense that. Sweet, sweet lady gave me this:

Maybe I miss comfort, and a smile that turns a frown upside down.

Another lady told me that I'm doing a great job, and that they love me. Kept repeating "How terrible!" about the person who called me out. She... She does look like her. Too many memories.

Maybe i'm just weak, tired and emotional.


Or maybe it's just that I miss her.

It's been 2 and a half months.

Mama, everywhere I look, I still see you. And... And I miss you.
Too much.

Mama, this Christmas, I'm not gonna be with family. I'm not gonna be with friends.

I'll be at the retirement house. I'm not quitting. I'm gonna keep smiling, even at them, the way you liked it, and the way that got you smiling back.

This Christmas, I'm celebrating with the old folks. And i'm celebrating that you're with the birthday Boy. I'm celebrating for you, in your memory too.

Maybe I wanna call you and talk over the phone.
Maybe I miss you more than I care to tell people.

Maybe I do.


Monday, September 26, 2011

To Mama, a Farewell, Not a Goodbye

To ask me to speak (or write) about the life, and all I remember about my grandma, my Mama into a few minutes (or a few words) is like asking me to write the history of the entire world unto a tiny piece of scrap paper. It simply isn’t possible. And I never will begin to think it is. Yet I shall try my best and write whatever comes to my heart in regards to my beloved Mama.

“Mama very love you, you know?” Those are the words that meant the world to me, and they still do, so much more than anyone could ever know.

For as long as I can remember, Mama was always there. Strongest lady I’ve ever met. Mama and Kongkong loved each other. They’d always get into arguments and Kongkong would let her win. I still remember a squabble they had when I was about 10 or so. Mama said that Kongkong was “siao”(crazy), and Kongkong on the other hand said that Mama was “kurang ajar”(insolent). They loved each other. Now Kongkong and Mama are finally back together again. I’d bet anything that Kongkong missed Mama too much, and asked God to bring her home.

Daddy used to always make fun of her, and she’d always shrug it off. Every single time. Deep down, I know she loved it. She was fun. She loved us all, and even when people made fun of her, she’d just go “cin bo eng” (useless), in the most loving way possible, as my family loved to do.

I remember Mama calling us at home, and when I answered the phone, she’d go “ah miao keng ha?” (that’s how she pronounced Malcolm). I loved it. Or everytime when she’d call mummy in the office, she’d ask “po nek le to ti ko?” (mummy was known as po nek)(where are you?) or “po nek le to opik ha?”( you’re in the office?) Do correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe she was also the person in the family who started the whole point of saying “he (sounds like hair)” among my mother and her brothers and sisters. Even today you can still hear them saying that when they talk to each other.

My cousins will all agree with me on this next point – we always say that Mama was “so cute!” She didn’t know very much English at all, but what she lacked of in quantity she more than made up for in quality. Plus she possessed (arguably) the greatest confidence of anyone her age. When she was full, she’d say “a bad word” (ask the cousins or myself if you want to find out what this is). There’s also a story about “funny, letchego” but again, ask the family. As such, so many phrases in our family were actually coined by Mama.

Mama was very opinionated about things and when she hated something, she hated it with a passion. When she loved something though, I’m convinced that no force on Earth could possibly stop her from getting it. I was blessed to be on the receiving end of her love. At one point of time, she followed a Chinese drama on TV (it aired every night from 10-11, I believe) and if ANYONE were to call during that time, she’d ignore the phone. Best part of it, she even WARNED us that she was going to do it. Yet I can remember that once, not realizing the time, I called from Canada during that time, and yet she took some time off her show to talk to me. Granted, it wasn’t the longest chat in the world, but she did. And I never will forget that.

The truth is, I might have seen this coming. While I was on a missions trip to North Africa, I got word that Mama wasn’t feeling too good. I begged God to allow me to see Mama, and not to take her home yet. He did. I spent every week of the summer going up to JB to see Mama, and those were some of the best memories of a few personal times I’ve had with Mama.

Mama was a great storyteller. Just over the holidays, she told me stories about her family, how she used to speak/read Japanese, and how her family ran a convenience store during the Japanese occupation. She also told me something that possibly not many people knew about, that her father was Baba. Even mummy never knew that. I felt super proud, super special to know that.

One of the things I miss (and will continue to miss the most) is her smile. The last few times I saw her, she was really down. She wasn’t too well. And I could tell. But every single time I looked into her eyes and smiled at her, she’d look back at me and smile, with the brightest, truest and most loving smile you’d ever see. And at that very moment, just for awhile, everything would seem normal again. All the chatter about her being unwell would die down, the fact that she wasn’t holding her food wouldn’t bother me. At that split moment, she was just Mama. My Mama.

If I were to write every single story regarding Mama and the effects that she’s had on my life and that of my extended family, all of you would be sitting here for days! If you ask me personally though, I’ll tell you stories, great stories of my lovely grandmother.

And hey, you can say that I’m selfish, I don’t care. But I really really rather have the grandma that I love back in Malaysia waiting for me when I come home for the holidays rather than in Heaven. I guess it just wasn’t fair to keep her away from Kongkong for so long.

“Mama very love you, you know?” I’m sorry Mama, I never had the chance to let you know. I love you more. Always have, always will. I’ll be waiting for the day when I see you again, back with Kongkong, at the Pearly Gates. Meet me there.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

For Japan, I Lift a Prayer...

For Japan, I Lift a Prayer

For Japan, I lift a prayer,
And I know it ain't all much,
But I'll kneel to the Redeemer,
And cry out for His touch.

It always seems so easy,
Take for granted what we've got,
Yet one day you have a TV,
And the next, you have but naught.

All their lives they walk those streets,
Through the motions day by day,
Then earth, just beneath their feet,
For some reason, just gave way.

Jobs they lost, homes they lost,
Worst yet still, their lives they lost,
Raging rivers still they crossed,
Heaven knows how much, the cost.

Japan, the world looked up to you,
While you were hated, you stood true,
Up, upon world's ranks you grew,
You showed the world, and then they knew.

This time, again, I know you will,
You'll rise back up, and take the wheel!
You show the world they can't you, still,
"Nihon-jin" with the iron will.

Still today I sit right here,
In silence, in grief, and even fear,
I bow my head, and take a peer,
To the screen, and shed a tear.

For Japan, I lift a prayer,
And I know it ain't all much,
But I'll kneel to the Redeemer,
And I'll cry out for His touch.

"LORD I lift up the people of Japan into your hands. Help them. Keep them safe. In Your name."


Sunday, March 13, 2011

A Choice...

Apoptosis... Or "Programmed cell death" (PCD)...

Now WHY IN THE WORLD would a cell wanna plan to kill itself???

BUT, simply because of PCD, a tumour can be suppressed, cells containing viruses protect the rest of the cells in the body, feet not be webbed...

Imagine for a second if that cell, and any one of those cells were to say "hey! I wanna live! If you wanna die, YOU go kill yourself!"

... Well I guess that kind of how mutations look like, and tumours happen...

Funny how this is actually very much like life itself, or my life, in the very least.

I believe that every day, we make a choice.
Do we live for ourselves? Do we live for others?

Today, I have made my choice.

Today, I DIE to myself,
But I LIVE for Him.
And by doing so, in LOVE, for the people around me.


P/S: What choice will YOU make, today?

Monday, February 14, 2011

Valentine's Day

The one day in a year where everyone talks about this crazy little thing called "love"...

1 John 4:8
Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.

Good stuff xD

May all of you be filled with love =)



Saturday, January 22, 2011

Everyone Has a Story

Everyone has a story. This... This is mine.

If there ‘s one thing and just one thing I’d have to say I’ve been craving all my life, I’d have to say that it would be “a sense of belonging”. Actually, to be honest, it’s always been more of a fear of losing that very sense of belonging that freaks me out. You see, ever since I was young, I was always included in everything. I learnt that the way to be successful is to be the centre of attention. Whether it was being the teacher’s pet, or doing what everybody else does, or even to the extent of physically abusing my friends, I found it satisfying being everyone’s favourite. Or... Did I?

You see, the whole problem with just “belonging” can be summarized in four words - “It’s never QUITE enough”. Mentally, I understood the whole concept of being a “good person” when it was required. In fact, I even knew how to be a “model” person. Being praised, and having people pay attention to me was one of the greatest joys I could find. But there’s where the whole issue was. I was bitter inside. And whenever I felt that I didn’t belong quite enough, the bitterness welling up inside came out. To put it in simple terms, I was an angry kid. A REALLY angry kid.

Funny how life works out, isn’t it? You see, all my life I grew up with great Christian parents (and I think they’re the best parents in the world, but I might be biased), and I always heard about this “God” person. I knew that people who followed this “Jesus” person are called Christians, and I knew how they were supposed to act. Yet, who- no... Rather WHAT was that to me?

Well one day I heard a message that changed my life. It was a story of love. A love, so crazy that I’d even dare call it madness. It was about a man who lived a perfect life, never did anything wrong, and knew a friend who was quite a scoundrel. One day though, when his friend was about to be punished for committing heinous crimes, because he loved his friend so much, this perfect man took the place of his friend. Everyone scorned upon him, even his friend. And what did he do? He even gave up all he had, and wrote everything in his will in his friend’s name. So the question now is, what will the friend do with it? Will he live his life in memory of his friend who loved him so much, or ignore everything to do with him, not even accepting whatever’s in his friend’s will?

Now here’s the creepy part. The perfect man was Jesus. The scoundrel? That’s me. And in His death, He gave me the option of becoming God’s child. I was left with an option. What would I do with my life?

In light of Jesus’ complete and total acceptance as well as love for the wreck that I am, I broke into tears. Here’s someone who gave up everything he had because he loves me. The selfish, bitter, angry ME.

There’s something about love and what it does to you. It changed alot about the way I think. I didn’t care so much that I’m accepted and in the middle of everything anymore. When you know someone loves you IN SPITE of, not BECAUSE of what you do, it messes you up. You live for Him. You love Him back. And in turn, you find peace. People noticed that I started getting angry less. I felt joy.

Well I won’t my story’s over. In fact, it’s far from over. I still stumble once in awhile, but He’s always there to pick me up. My story’s actually turned into a love story now. You know, one of those stories where the hero loves the heroine and does all the crazy stuff for her, but she only falls in love with him at the very end, when everyone’s like “oh so you FINALLY understand!”

More than anything, I found a sense of eternal belonging, a belonging like no other, one that cannot be extinguished, nor is by any means temporal.

I found my sense of belonging in One who is in His very being, love. As for you, I hope you find it too.

Everyone has a story. Mine’s far from ended. What’s yours gonna be like?

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.