what I did this morning

I have done most of the things I had intended to do today, and the things that I have not done (sigh) I have decided to be worthy of procrastination. So here I am, blogging.

This morning, I went to pick up one of our pastors from the airport, at the request his family, who were unfortunately unable to greet him themselves. The entire thing was rather uneventful - we came, we picked up, we left. (By we, I meant me, and the pastor's 16-year-old son, who accompanied me.)

The reason I am blogging about it (apart from the fact that I am bored), is that speaking to this man reminded me of what C. S. Lewis called 'people who have their eyes set firmly upon heaven.' Indeed this man has his eyes and heart set firmly up there. I don't know him well, he only comes to Australia once in a while to preach to our church... he usually lives in Taiwan where he is the pastor of another church.

Upon leaving the airport, I said: "And there's the traffic again..." to which this pastor quickly said: "If there is lots of traffic, it means the economy is booming, and the government will soon build new roads. It's a blessed thing, if you look at it that way. Imagine if the streets were empty - we'd never get new roads..." I was very surprised by this postulation - this level of optimism can only be from the truly blessed (after all, we get traffic jams everyday without road upgrades in sight). I declined to suggest that if the streets were empty we'd never need new roads, and kept driving.

We were coming down Hale street, approaching Coronation Drive, when he suddenly asked me: "Sida, what is your role in spreading the Gospel to China?" ... There was a silence as I tried to think of what to say very quickly. At the same time, I knew the 16 year old beside me was suddenly rather embarrassed and was also thinking of what to say. Finally, we both spoke.

"Dad, she is only young..." said the 16 year old, 4 years younger than me.
"Um. I am not sure..." said I. "I don't think I am considering returning to China anytime soon. If at all."
"Ahaha," he laughed nervously, aware that he'd put me on the spot. There was a silence. "The Gospel need to be preached in China," he said, finally.
"Of course" said I.

Upon more questioning, it was revealed that he is heavily involved with evangelical efforts in China, their organisation has trained recently some 200 Chinese men and women who were able to spread the Word in China. These operations had to be done in secret, for fear of persecution (reminds me a little of movies..). In fact, a finishing-school had recently been built that churns out preachers... a sort of seminary, which of course is not called a seminary, not officially anyhow. He told me that he envisions China to one day have so many Christians that it would be able send missionaries elsewhere. "The British and the Americans have had their turn - this is now the century of the Chinese."

This sort of vision... well, it has all the characteristics of the vision that starts off great things. It is vast, grandiose, ambitious, and sufficiently unlikely for it to be scoffed at. This is the sort of visions that says to all other visions: "pfffft, you? you're not a vision, I'm a vision! You're a daydream!"

The topic was not pursued further, but I felt very guilty for not having shared in that vision. I guess my future plans involve working in medical aid with a missionary movement in third-world countries, but it did not occur to me to mention this - and I am glad. My plans, even now, sound flimsy and superficial.

Why do I not like the idea of working and spreading the Gospel in China? Why do I prefer the idea of Cambodia or India or Africa? I guess, for one thing, it's the prospect of exoticness - after all, I've been to China, I know what China is like. The other thing I think is the language barrier. I left China when I was 9, so I have the communication skills (in Chinese) of a 9-year-old. Well, perhaps a little better than that... but not much better. I have enough problems explaining my faith in English, the thought of using Chinese gives me headaches. In Cambodia, if you can't speak the local language, it is an inconvenience. In China, if you can speak the local language and yet the locals have no idea what you are on about - then you are an imbecile.

On the other hand, I can speak Chinese, and I can read about 80% of the written word (with my finger under the line and with a great deal of concentration). Perhaps that is where I ought to go. In the end, God will show me where I fit in His plan.

I just hope it doesn't involve China.

A funny excerpt:

"Most medical students faced with giving their interpretation of a chest X-ray either opt for a 'spot diagnosis' (usually wrong) or raise their eyes to heaven, hoping for divine inspiration. However, a systematic approach is generally more useful!"
- From Clinical Examination: a systematic guide to physical diagnosis by Nicholas J Talley and Simon O'Connor.

Funnily enough, as a radiographer, I know something of the systematic approach. If put on the spot by a clinical tutor, I may well hope for divine inspiration. Despite the two, I will probably still come up with a 'spot diagnosis' that is incorrect.

In the words of a friend: "we live and learn."

On maturity

Recently, a good friend asked me, across MSN: "Sida, when will we ever mature?" This question was asked during the time that I was cramming for my exam and I knew she was busy doing some gigantic assignment. My thoughts ran thus:

1. Soo sleeppyyy... whyyyy is she asking this me now? at this time? How on earth did she come up with this?
2. Hey! What did she mean, when will "WE" mature!
3. Lord, help me to answer my friend's question with Your wisdom, help me to address my friend's concerns
4. Hey! Why did you only remember the Lord at thought number 3? Are you loosing it?!

By thought four, I had sufficiently awoken myself to attempt a serious conversation with my friend. We considered what "maturity" meant to us, and discovered that our thoughts ran more or less along similar lines. Neither of us were capable of a succinct definition but we could both point out to characteristics of maturity in others, that we knew we lacked. She pointed out to her friends, who were capable of great self-discipline despite working long hours, and who seemed to be capable of working with an attitude of good cheer. I thought of some of my fellow Christians, who seemed to be able to take all difficulty in a matter-of-fact, uncomplaining sort of way, always trusting God. You never hear them complaining about anything. Our discussion ended with a consensus that we both had no idea. I think I said something about not knowing when I will mature but trusting God to use me all the same (this sounded very good, but says nothing about my own impatience with myself). Being a non-Christian and also being distracted with a gigantic assignment, she replied with something along the lines of: "mmmmmm".

Now that I have had time to think, if we were to look for the characteristics of a mature person, one need not look further than the good Lord Himself. One thing that struck me the most is Matthew 14:12-14, which describes Jesus's actions after hearing the death of John the Baptist. "When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick." The actual number of the crowd was five thousand, besides women and children (Matthew 14:21).

I can imagine how I would feel, in that situation: my friend has been killed brutally, I wanted to retire to somewhere quiet to pray and mourn... and there's the crowd again, five thousand this time... same as usual - with all sorts of infirmities, pushing forward, each wanting attention, each wanting to just grab at my robe. I can not say what I would have done, but I can imagine myself complaining, even if just privately to my friends. This is the maturity that I lack: the matter-of-fact way that I see my friends go through their daily lives, balancing work with ministry with family, and yet never complaining and always trusting in the Lord.

A few days after I'd decided to reprimand for my lack of maturity, I was reading Habakkuk when I realised that it less about "never complaining" and more about "always trusting". Habakkuk 1:3 says: Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.

In fact, I can remember several other instances of 'complaints' in the bible, from the biblical greats: - Moses, Jeremiah, David in countless psalms, Job, Elijah, Jonah... and I'm sure that those who are more theologically minded can think of others too. What is important to note, though, that in all these prophets who made 'complaints', they ended up trusting God nevertheless a few verses down the track. I guess Christian maturity is more about trust and faith than anything else.

Trust and faith - so simple. This whole blog entry comes down to simply trust and faith. But as I progress in my pilgrimage (so to speak), I encounter trials that test these simple things, such that I want to cry louder than all the prophets (and the lamenters from Lamentations) put together. I guess it's heartening to know that it is OK to do that, as long as (to quote from the bible, Lamentations 3:24) I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him."

Post-exam blues

On Post-exam depression

The exam was bad. I don't want to talk about it... but I think I should have been more organised with my studying and perhaps approached a different way... anyway I'm not going to think too much about it until the exam results come out. It is sufficient to say that perhaps it is the worst exam I have ever sat. At least with the Gamsat, it was ok to do badly because everyone does badly.

Immediately afterwards, I went to a shopping centre to comfort myself with the latest fashion, only to discover that I am now too old for the latest fashion (either that, or I am too sane to wear it). I went to disrupt a friend at his workplace, but immediately guilt added itself to my general bad-mood, as I realised that I was disrupting someone at their work. I picked up my brother from school, and he had nothing comforting to say but "Well, we'll have to wait and see. Are you still buying me dinner?" (Although later, to his credit, he said "If you're so smart, and failed that exam, I don't know how all those doctors became doctors." Not bad coming from a nine-year-old.)

Fast forward to Saturday, I didn't have work. My mum said: "I'm taking your brother to art class, then we can go shopping."

"Don't wanna shop", said I.
"What are you going to do at home?" at the time I was still sitting in bed, albeit reading a book.
"Dunno..."
"You're not going to just sit around and mope all day, are you?" My mum was getting worried now
I kept silent at this point, putting faith into the view that if you ignore them, they will go away. It doesn't always work, but it works enough to always try it.
"You're not going to just sit around and mope until you get the results, are you?" she repeated.
"Yes"
At this point, my mum set her jaw and said: "No, you are coming shopping with me." (Actually, she doesn't have the kind of jaw that you can set. But believe me, if she had that kind of jaw, then she would have set it at the point.)

My mum believes in a sort of cleansing after a traumatic event. A literal sort of cleansing. After my exam, I gave my study room a cursory sort of clean-up, putting my exam notes in a pile under my desk. I felt nauseous at the sight of them, and I thought that I will sort them out after I get the results.

I was sleeping when I heard the banging, and I knew it came from my study room. In it was my dear mother, with a big broom, and a big pile of dirt, scrunched up paper, and, yes, my exam notes, sprawled among the other stuff. "I have swept everything that is on the floor into this pile. I even reached under the desk and shelves. I want you to take out what is important and then sweep everything else up." I guess that is one way to face your phobia of study notes... On her way down stairs, my dear mother said: "Oh, I am also going to do some washing for you. I want you to empty your closet of all the things you should have washed. And be quick about it, I don't have all day."

This, I knew, was part of my mum's way of literal cleansing, but I had nothing particular that needed washing, that wasn't already in the laundry. But I knew my mother... if I told her that she will storm into my room and no doubt the drawers will yield a dirty sock and some shirts that I should have hung up but 'forgot' to do. I knew from experience that the easiest thing was to appease my mother with a few socks and some pyjamas, regardless of whether they needed washing or not. Then she left me alone to my moping.

Actually, I realised that I spend more time talking about moping than I actually do mope. The reason is that, when I am by myself, I try anything to take my mind off things. But the result is that all my friends seem to be a bit worried about me. I'm ok, really, I just complain a lot.

Just realised that this blog entry seemed to complain more about my dearest mother than about that exam. I hope she never reads this.

Top 5 things to do immediately after exam:

Sida's top 5 things to do after I complete that damned exam coming up on Thursday:

1. SLEEP!
2. SLEEP more!
3. keep sleeping...!
4. maybe go see Shrek with my brother... then sleep some more...
5. go shopping! Then sleep...

As you can probably see, I am really tired right now, and I'm just so over this exam.