My dad and I

My dad and I -- we've had our fair share of crossing swords. In recent years, our relationship has evolved -- for the better, I think -- but this doesn't mean that we don't quarrel, or shout, or cry; usually, it's a combination of all of the above. The difference now, I guess, is that we don't walk away afterwards, and even through the tears, we can put it all aside for just that one second, say "I love you," and then continue with the shouting and crying.

It took a near-death experience for us to understand how important it was -- this relationship that we have; we may never get the chance to rebuild broken ones.

My dad -- he loves us so much that I cannot even begin to tell you. That's why he's always afraid that we'll fall down; that we'll make mistakes; that we'll get hurt. He'd gladly play the martyr, but he'd never let us do the same. And the problems arise because this is not a balance that you can strike.

My dad -- he stands up for what he believes in: for God's truth, for the only truth he knows. And that's what we've learnt to do -- not just by what he says, but mostly by what he does. But it always seems like the very person we expect to give us a pat on the back is the one who bursts our bubble.

"Just sit down and keep quiet," he says. "Otherwise you're going to get hurt."

God knows I've sat down many times -- kept my fair share of quietness. But after a while, you wonder if the gnawing inside of you is worth it; and you realise that you're going to get hurt even if you keep quiet, especially if you sit on your hands. Others may not be able to hurt you, but you're going to get hurt anyway -- and it's going to be more painful.

How can something so right be so wrong? That's how it feels, to have someone shut you down when what you needed most was just for them to stand beside you.

My dad -- he feels betrayed every time we make a decision contrary to his advice. A rejection of his authority, of sorts. I don't think he knows how difficult -- or easy -- some decisions are to make. And while his opinion matters the world to us, there are other factors that complete the equation. It doesn't mean that we're belittling his wealth of experience or judgment, it just means that we made a choice.

We make choices, and sometimes all he can do is to guide us -- but we're going to have to learn too; from our mistakes, from our victories, for our life to live. I know that he wants to do more than that -- if he could, he'd make us queens of the world -- but I hope he understands that his guidance is everything we could have hoped for; so many of the decisions in our life depend on it, that it's become part of our lives too.

We make choices, and he doesn't want us to live with the pain of regret. But the only decisions I've ever regretted are those that were not in obedience to God's word, to God's will. And even those, God has used for good.

***

The reason why there are times where we simply cannot sit down and shut up, is simply because we know that he wouldn't.

***

Dear Daddy,

Thank you for always wanting the best for us; for wanting to love us, protect us, bless us, more and more every day. Even though our disagreement causes us both incredible anguish, it also shows me more of your heart; most of all, it shows me how God can use even this pain for good.

Thank you for being the father I could never have imagined or hoped for. Thank you for being so much more.

I love you, Dad.

Holding on

You've been lost in the wind
And the rain of a storm at sea
The waves crashing over your back
And you're crying out for Me

But as the ocean rages
I am sleeping in the boat
But I have a plan, I'm holding your hand
And I'm keeping you afloat

I'm never gonna let go
My love for you is always true
I'm never gonna lose heart
'Cause I'm holding on tight to you
Should the cruel wind chill your soul
When the world seems out of control
I'm never gonna let go of you

The day's old, this desert is cold
And a dark cloud covers the truth
Fix your eyes on the horizon
The light is breaking through

You are My beloved child
Forever in My heart
After the fall and after it all
You're safe within My arms

Whenever you feel that you're lost in doubt
I am the way
I am the vine, you're the fruit
I am the truth and the life and the light of day

-- "Never Gonna Let Go" by Caedmon's Call (Sample here)

This is just one of those songs that passed me by. While part of me wonders how I ever let it slip, there is a greater part of me that is in awe of God's timing, and the friends that He has blessed me with. These couple of weeks have been tough, and I've almost gone into panic mode more times that I dare to count. And even as I feel that I am clinging on, hanging on by a thread, to this God that I claim to trust, I realise that the truth is really that He is holding on to me, never letting me go. Always have, always will.

The song of Jesus and His blood

As we worship You
Let all the world come and see
How the mercy we've received from You
Can set them free

As we worship You
Let all this joy that fills our hearts
Bring a hunger and a hope
To those who've strayed so far

As we bow in adoration
And stand in reverent awe
Show Your majesty and glory
Let Your anointing fall

As we declare Your name, Lord Jesus
As the only name who saves
May the power of Your salvation
Fill each heart, we pray

As we worship You
Let all the nations hear our song
The song of Jesus and His blood
That proved His love for all

As we worship You
May all the lost and broken come
May they hear Your still small voice
Call out their names each one

-- "As We Worship You" by Tommy Walker (Listen here)

I may never be a millionaire

I may never be the reason
That people come from miles around
Just to hear that beautiful sound
I may never see the season
Where people love to hear me speak
And everybody wants to be me

Dare I go where I can't see
And if I do, will You go with me?
Maybe it's time that I just learn to believe

That I may never be a millionaire
Funny, I don't think I care
May never see the mountain view
I guess I don't need to
I may never drive a fancy car
Or be a movie star
But I'll be, I'll be the light of the world

I may never hold the answers
To the questions of philosophy
Or even understand what that means
And I may never cure the cancer
That seems to run our busy lives
I guess that I'll just join in the fight

Dare I go where I can't see
And if I do, will You go with me?
Maybe it's time that I just learn to believe

I may never be a hero
Or set my feet on Wall Street
Or give the evening news
But I believe in what God wants me to be

-- "Astronaut" by FFH

Grandpa

I've always been closer to one set of grandparents. Perhaps it's because we used to stay together; I don't know. When Grandma passed away, I thought that'd be the end of all the stories. I'd forgotten that she (and Grandpa) had left behind my dad and six other aunts and uncles to keep them coming.

The most important lessons I've learnt, I've learnt from Grandma. Over the weekend, as I was talking to my aunt, I learned something new -- this time, from Grandpa, more than a year after he's passed on.

My grandpa was a man whose heart of generosity far surpassed anyone I've ever known. He always thought the best of everyone, and always gave them the best he could. Unfortunately, this made him most vulnerable to a world who'd learnt to exploit those who trusted the most. He was constantly cheated of his money, and in a crushing blow, he was cheated of the taxi that he drove -- his livelihood.

Grandpa was also very human. Every time his trust was betrayed, he was hurt. This didn't stop him from giving -- that's just the kind of person he is -- but it did make him bitter at times.

"Good thing he wasn't rich," my aunt casually remarked, all the while her eyes never leaving the newspapers, as we sat around for morning coffee. "Otherwise he'd have been cheated of more, and he'd have been hurt more, and he'd end up living a life of thorough bitterness."

As it is, I've never remembered Grandpa as anything but warm and gentle (and, in the later parts of his life, senile), and if being poor meant not being a mean old man to his grandchildren, I think it was worth it in the end.

I think that there have been unduly harsh criticism of -- and, conversely, unjustified emphasis on -- what we now call the "health and wealth gospel." Admittedly, I, too, am sometimes uncomfortable with it, most times, cautious about the dangers of "naming and claiming it." Occasionally, I've even been defensive of it. However, this post isn't about theology, it's about a legacy.

You see, my grandpa, he had health, but it wasn't measured by a blood count; he had health in his heart, and in his soul, whenever he loved and gave so freely, even though he knew -- and from experience -- that every time he did, he ran the risk of being hurt.

My grandpa, he had wealth, but it wasn't measured in dollars and cents; he had the wealth of his family, and the heritage that he passed down, the souls he saved, the lives he touched -- so much wealth that it continues to overflow long after his body is gone.

God knew what my grandpa could handle, and what he couldn't, because He knew his heart. And even though the world tells us that Grandpa'd been shortchanged, God has shown me that He gave him more than enough.

Theology of failure

"When Christians talk about what the church has to offer the world, one thing we do not often mention is an adequate theology of failure. Like everyone else, we live in a culture that adores success, and that never seems to tire of raising the bar. Being a successful human being means making straight A's, keeping a well-paid job with good benefits, staying happily married to an attractive person, raising well-adjusted children, and not gaining too much weight. Judging from the commercials on television, being successful also means driving a hot car, carrying a cool cell phone, having young-looking skin and choosing the right medicine to beat depression for good.

"This leaves a lot of room to fail. But the same culture that creates these conditions for failure is not equipped to deal with it."

-- "Spectacular Failure," by Barbara Brown Taylor, The Christian Century Magazine (via Normal Rockstar)

Light of the world

"Light always points to something else; it never turns in on itself. It is a medium, a channel for the focus to be on whatever it illuminates. At a performance, the spotlight focuses on the artist. In a surgical theater, the blast of brightness is focused on the field of invasion. In a dark corner, the searching beam of the torchlight shows up what has been lost."

-- "Images of Influence," Peter Chao, Vantage Point (Link mine)