The glory of a King

"This is Jesus... In His glory... King of heaven, dying for me" - Tim Hughes, in the song See His Love

I recall, not so long ago, watching a Chinese TV drama based on the life of the first emperor of the Han dynasty, Liu Bang (Chinese 刘邦). Like most TV drama series based on historical personalities, it greatly dramatised and elaborated on actual events and legends. Anyway, there was one episode that showed the great emperor in one of his most spectacular defeats early on in his military career. All his 500,000 soldiers had been killed in battle, and he himself had been pursued. His wife and two children had fled (or been captured, I can't remember which), and the only man with him was one of his personal body guards, a young man of about 20.

In the story, the young bodyguard protected the king through enemy lines, and fled with him until they were on a mountain, until he could not go any further. He revealed that he had 2 or 3 arrows in his back, and now that he was dying, his only regret was that he could protect the king no longer.

The king held the dying young man in his arms, and looked down the mountain at the landscape strewn with the bloodied bodies of his 500,000 men.

"Their blood is on my hands," the king cried, "your blood is on my hands. What kind of king am I? All who follow me are dead, how will I ever face the world again?"

"No. Your majesty, you are not a failure." the young man said with his last breath. "Look around - all these 500,000 died for you, for your glory. Look around, this is your glory."

I remembered this scene today when I was at our Easter service today. This is the story of a king, whose glory is shown in the 500,000 men who were willing to die for him... the complete opposite of the story of Easter, where the glory of the king is that he was willing to die for his subjects.

The glory, the power, and the kingdom, for ever. Does a king ever die for his subjects? Does the death of a king ever get termed glorious? What kind of king dies for his subjects? A king who loves his subjects more than his pride or glory. And God knows we don't deserve it.

Crucifying Christ

Imagine... imagine that it is AD33, the week preceding Passover.

You are a devout Jewish pilgrim, celebrating the feast in Jerusalem. The city is crowded at this time of the year - not only with people, but with animals and carts. By the side of the streets there are merchants and peddlers, advertising their goods above the noise of the crowd, trying to take advantage of this busy season. Looming somewhere in the background are Roman soldiers, on their guard against disturbances and possible revolts. Their presence remind you that the holy city is under occupation, and the survival of your race is an act of lenience from Caesar.

Down the street you hear a hubbub - people of all shapes and sizes were singing and shouting and waving palm branches. It was a procession of some sort, and in the middle of the crowd was a man seated on a donkey. This was the famous teacher from Nazareth, charismatic and gentle, and yet with the authority to rebuke demons and raise the dead. There was even talk that he was the Messiah... You'd heard about this man, and along with everyone else on the street, you rush forward and crane your neck for a closer look. The procession and the crowd had the Roman guards looking at each other with anxious faces, but they needn't have worried - for as you craned your neck, you notice the strange man was weeping. You don't catch everything he muttered, but you hear the words "they will dash you to the ground." With these bleak words, you wonder how he could be the messiah.

Over the next few days, you take care to come and listen to this teacher, this radical - and his teachings left you feeling disillusioned. First he went to the temple and overturned tables and benches, then he kept talking in parables, some of which did not make logical sense. How could a king ever invite beggars to a wedding banquet? How could two small copper coins offered into the temple treasury (by some widow) ever be "more" than the vast riches donated by others? He condensed all the laws and prophets into two sentences, insulted the Pharisees and teachers of the law, and referred to the Almighty God of Abraham as Daddy. Most alarming of all was this allegation to be the Messiah. This fleshly man, impoverished, ever under the watchful eyes of the Roman officers, preaching his messages of sacrifice and meekness - how could he save your nation? Where was his army? Where is his power? He said the Kingdom of Heaven was near - but all you could see around him were his disciples (an unlikely team of fishermen and tax collectors) and the outcasts of society (the lepers, the disabled, and the "sinners"). This is not the messiah you and your people have imagined and hoped for, this meek earthly creature could not be the Son of God or indeed the Son of Man. You refuse to believe it, and anyone who stated otherwise was blasphemous, insulting both your traditions and your God.

This blog post is getting long and wordy, so I'll end my narrative there. I think everyone knows what happened next - the teacher from Nazareth was betrayed by one of his disciples, imprisoned, denied by another disciple, and crucified. He was blameless, but he died for our sins, he died because of our sins.

I'd always thought that if I were there, I'd be different. Why did they crucify him? Why did Judas betray him? How could Peter deny him? How could the crowd turn their back on him so fast? And how could Pilate wash his hands of the whole matter with a clean conscience? I always thought the story was strange, for I would have never done those things, and neither would most of my friends.

But now that I think of it - who was I to be judgemental of the Pharisees, or Judas, or Peter? If I were in their positions, would I have been more righteous, more faithful, more wise? If I had been in their shoes, if I was in Jerusalem in AD33, I might well have thought what they thought, felt what they felt, and done what they did. I might have been one of those who threw stones at him, who sneered at him, who dared him to come off the cross. If I were there, I might well have crucified Christ.

What happened that day, when Jesus was crucified, was not one man's destruction and betrayal brought about by a few men who sinned. No, because that man was not any man, and because we all have the capacity in us, the nature in us, to do what those sinners did. And thus, the Son of God was pinned to our torture device, and we pinned our sins on to him.

Today, we can not gloat at those sinners of AD33 - because their sins live on, in each one of us. People continue to proudly refuse to recognise Christ, like the Pharisees of old. People see but do not accept, like Judas, and like Peter, people lose sight, lose faith, and lose courage. In fact, Hebrews 6:4-6 gives us the frightening scenario of us crucifying Christ all over again.

In spite of the timelessness and universality of our sins, we find hope in the Lamb that we crucified. With his last breaths he prayed for our forgiveness, and even more wondrously and mercifully, he came back to us (no post-traumatic stress disorder there!). He came back to his disciples to reinstate them, with outstretched arms he forgave all wrongs and cleansed all stains. He knows what we did, how much we hurt him. Yet his hand reaches down, offering to us more than we could ever deserve or imagine.

MSN-less

Damn, my mentor was right. Giving up MSN was certainly not a very practical idea. I've just been trying to arrange a meeting time with my first years, and it is so much more difficult to do it via email. Not only that, giving up MSN means that I have no contact with my friends... so that when I do see them, I have verbal diarrhoea, and can't stop talking... ("my first years ask all these hard questions... tropical diseases are so interesting... I nearly cried when I looked up google images of marasmus...")

Of course, the stubborn part of me says: but it's only been one week, there is not that long left to go, are you going to stop now, you quitter? .... But of course, that's just me being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn, the original high and lofty ideas of Lent are gone out the window... in the process of seeking, the goal is lost.

So he was right. Why is he always right? Of course, mentors are supposed to be always right, but not when I disagree with them... lol

Lent

I was driving to church today when I heard on the radio a woman briefly mention Lent in her message. She said that she was giving up bread during the period of Lent, and each time she reaches for bread she thinks about Jesus. I guess it succeeds in reminding her to keep God on her mind throughout the day, but my scientific mind couldn't help but tick over and wonder about her carbohydrate and fibre intake during these 40 days.

I didn't actually know anything about Lent before I heard this radio message, except once I read in a novel a character pondered whether it was appropriate to enjoy chocolate during Lent. I looked it up once I got home from church - basically it is supposed to emanate the forty days Jesus spent in the desert. Christians thus attempt to put themselves into a sort of "wilderness", where time is spent in reflection, soul-searching, fasting, and prayer. It is supposed to be a time when you rededicate yourself, and, I suppose, clear your life of worldly clutter.

While seated in church, I wondered what I give up during Lent, mainly as an experiment. Perhaps caffeine? No, no way. I thought of a few other things (sugar, chocolate, rice) but finally I came up with the answer - MSN instant messenger. MSN has become part of my daily life - I log on when I switch on my computer (and I switch it on as soon as I get home or more or less when I get up), and I leave it running while I study. There are times when I would come home from bible-study, exhausted but with every intention to do squeeze another hour or so of productive study into the evening, only to spend it procrastinating on MSN. The thing about MSN is that if you leave it running in the background, you check periodically to see who is online and chatting to your friends always seem more interesting than haematopoietic proliferative disorders. If I give up MSN - imagine! My study will be so much more efficient - more time for my family, my friends, and my God!

I was actually quite proud of my idea, which I announced to my mentor while lining up to receive communion. I was expecting some delight and congratulations; I was quite miffed to find that he seemed to think the idea ridiculous.

"Can't you do something practical?" he said, somewhat icily. "Give up chocolate or something. You will be isolated, you'll loose touch with everyone, and everyone will forget about you." With that, he turned his back to me. I didn't pursue the issue further: you weren't supposed to talk when receiving communion and his parents (his father is one of our pastors) were right behind us.

Now that I think about it, I can sort of see his point. It seems like a frivolous gesture, without practical application (he doesn't know how much it interferes with my work I guess) -- self-punishment for the sake of it. He is very much against self-punishment and Christians denying themselves of joy for no good reason. Why give up bread, when it is the staple of the Western diet? How else are you going to get the carbohydrate and fibre - eat cereal at every meal? Jesus may have experienced forty days in the wilderness, but the gospels of Matthew and Luke describes him being lead by the Spirit into the desert. In our lives we often enough go through trials and temptation - there seems little need to walk into it ourselves.

While I do not think that giving up a staple food is necessarily a good idea, the general concept, I find, is commendable - because isn't discipline also one of the Christian values? If I can not resist the temptation to log on to MSN (and see if my mentor is online, and debate with him about this issue), then how will I face the much greater temptations? If I can discipline myself to do the trivial, surely the meaningful will also come easier. Naturally, it would be ideal if I prayed and reflected and meditated without needing to discipline myself to do it. But the fact is that I am flesh, and if I do as I wished, it would most likely not be the right thing.

Of course, the topic has now moved away from Lent, to discipline and self-denial. Lent, we are told, is much more than the giving up of your favourite food. It is a sort of isolation away from the distractions of this world so that you can reflect and look toward God and the joy and peace that comes from looking toward God. That sounds even better - although of course how well it works is another matter. Like the character in the novel, one can easily turn to think of Lent as something to endure rather than enjoy - a time when chocolate seems inappropriate and one is supposed to live in solemn austerity. As much as God delights in us spending personal time with him, I'm sure we are supposed to do it because we like it, not because it's Lent and that's what one is expected to do during Lent.

While I'm not sure how good I will be at praying and reflecting, I will try my best to avoid MSN until Easter (I was quite embarrassed to find, after I looked it up when I got home, that Lent has already started, on the 8th of February). I'm not sure how well it will work - the temptation is very great right now, and perhaps sometime mid-week I'll come up with some excuse to log in. Perhaps, with all the time that I will now save, I can read more bible and reflect more.

Unless, of course, I spend the time blogging, like I am doing now. Sigh.

My testimony - epilogue

I just got home from church - I gave my testimony today.

It was horrible. I don't think I make a very good public speaker at all. I umm'd and ahh'd and went too fast and skipped over bits that I probably shouldn't have. I think I was in too much of a hurry to leave the stage.

Some others, at the end of their testimony, had a "closing message", like the moral of the story or something. I didn't really - I just told my story and said "that's all" and squirmed.

But I guess that's all I needed, to tell my story. The bible tells a story of a man born blind, who was healed by Jesus. Some told him that he couldn't have been healed by a sinner, but the man said: "Whether he is a sinner or not, I do not know. One thing I do know - I was blind but now I see!" - the most powerful tool he had was not carefully planned arguments or theories but the plain truth of his experiences.

Maybe I should have got up there, and said: "I was blind, but now I see!"... then sit down again. Would probably have been better than the waffle of incoherent crap that came out of my mouth, haha.

O well. Maybe it will mean they won't make me do it again.

My testimony

I have been asked to give my testimony tomorrow at the youth group gathering at our church. I didn't particularly want to do it (does anyone want to do this sort of thing?), but I take it the very fact that I was asked indicates that the youth leaders were running out of fresh blood.

This of course gets me thinking about what exactly I should say at my testimony, and indeed what actually lead me to become a Christian all those 1.5 years ago. I don't quite understand how others seem to be able to give a concise, almost structured testimony. Some seem to be able to give it as though it were a narrative. But for me, my conversion was not a step-by-step process. Rather, it was a number of factors that contributed. My conversion was multi-factorial, like cardiovascular disease or osteoporosis.

The short version of how I became a Christian, is that one day I picked up a bible, and read it. Then I went to church, and then I decided to get baptised. Of course, there were a number of reasons I picked up the bible, a number of ways the bible touched me and lead me to start going to church, and a number of reasons I made the final commitment.

I left China with my parents when I was 9, and we lived in New Zealand for 5 years. Almost as soon as we arrived in New Zealand, various friends would take my parents (and me) to churches, and it was there that I first became acquainted with Christianity. I was too young to understand what it was all about, but I knew there was supposed to be a powerful God who supposedly loved me.

For as long as I can remember, my parents have had an unstable relationship. I guess their characters are just too different, they are almost complete opposites of each other. They are better now that they are getting older, but in those days they used to fight and threaten to divorce each other once every 2 or 3 months. During the nights when I used to hear my parents shout hurtful abuse at each other, I used to pray to God: "God, make them stop. Make them stop fighting, and I will be a Christian. I will be a good girl, I will never lie, and I will read the bible." I was about 10 at the time. Of course, eventually my parents will wear each other out and go to sleep, but never immediately after I made my prayer. In any case, I could never keep my end of the bargain, always committing the petty crimes (like lying to your mother about your marks) that children commit. I grew up thinking that God didn't exist - and even if God does exist, I'm stuffed anyway. Surely God is not pleased with children who can't keep their promise to be perfect.

Skip forward to when I was about 17 - at university, I became good friends with some Christians, in whom I was able to see and admire Christian life in action. Although they did not convince me to go to church at that time, I witnessed their sincerity, humility, passion and confidence.

In my final year of my undergraduate degree, my mum started going to church. Her religiosity caused much friction between her and my father, so she stopped going after a short time. But before she stopped going to church, she gave me an English bible (all the other bibles in the house were Chinese).  I remember thinking - Christianity has had such an influence on Western thought, culture, and language. I really ought to read this thing and see what the big deal is, what my friends are so worked up about. Besides, there were many questions I had about Christianity that I was too embarrassed to ask my friends. I figured if I ask them then their answers will come from the bible, so I might as well go straight to the source. At that time, I was in my final year, and was spending about 1.5hours a day on public transport. I started to read the bible on the train, starting from Genesis, skipping through some of the boring stuff along the way.

I can't pinpoint what in the bible touched me. One thing that I remember striking me was the character of Jesus. Jesus was a mystery - the supposed Alpha and Omega, the Creator, but meek as a lamb. He would yell abuse at the Pharisees and Teachers of the Law, but say nothing when on trial for crucifixion. He said that to look upon someone with lust equated with adultery, and compared the Kingdom of Heaven to a mustard seed. I guess the most attractive thing was the shepherd-lamb analogy - he was the shepherd, and I found myself compelled to follow. And as for my questions previously... I don't recall any specific answers to them, but somehow they melted away, as if no longer relevant. I don't even remember what they were.

But I did not follow, even though I knew I should have... after all, I was in my final year, uni was hectic, and Sunday mornings were precious. I told myself that I would go to church when uni finished, but that didn't happen. When uni was over, I started to prepare for the Gamsat (the medical school entrance exam). I was working Monday to Friday, and studying on the Sunday. I still didn't go to church, even though I knew the Gamsat was merely an excuse.

I looked for a church as soon as the Gamsat was finished, and I started attending my current church a week or so after that. After I started going to church, I had two questions. One was - why is it that others raised their hands in church, and sang as if they felt something, when I could feel nothing? What did I lack? The other was the question of grace. What is grace? It's mentioned in Romans so many times. Grace as in graceful?

God showed me what grace was, when the Gamsat results came out. I was not expecting a good mark - after all, I studied when I should have gone to church, how could God reward me for my selfishness? Besides, I had sat the exam before, and last time I didn't have to work full time during my preparation period. The previous year, I got a mark of 60, on the 66th percentile of all candidates. I was expecting a similar result, if not slightly decreased. I nearly cried when I found out... I got 71, on the 96th percentile. This meant that my mark was higher than or equal to 96% of all those who sat the exam. I knew this was a miracle, because there was no way I could have reached that result by any other means. That day I realised what grace is - a gift, from God, that is given to us even though we deserve the opposite. Not grace as in graceful, but grace as in gracious.

The other question was answered in a strange way. I was praying about this very question - "God, give me what they have!", when God spoke into my heart. I am careful in saying this, as I do not want to use His name in vain, but this is the only time that I can say without doubt or reluctance that God spoke into my heart. God asked me: "Do you believe?" - the answer was yes. "For the rest of your life?" - again, yes. "Then why don't you get baptised?"

So the next morning, which happened to be Sunday, I searched out one of the elders, who pointed me to the youth leader, who pointed me to the pastor, who pointed me back to the youth leader.... and I was put down for baptism.

Far out, I think this testimony is too long. It is 11:30pm at the moment and I'm so tired I'm seeing double. I'm not sure if I can go through all this in 5-15minutes.

Oh well, we'll see what happens. I will blog about this later, about the outcomes. Watch this space.

Finding courage

What has happened to me?

I still recall last year in October – a mere two weeks before the end-of-year finals. What a state I was in! Free of fear or burden, resistant to the stressed out people around me – going along at a steady pace, heart and mind at rest, with a calm, unperturbed confidence.

In fact, I even remember arguing with my parents about our new church service at Indooroopilly. The exams being only days away, I wanted to spend the entire Sunday running from one church service to the next, out of the house from about 8am to 6pm.

The exam came, and went – and now the new year is well under way. And I feel – I have been feeling this for a while now – I feel as if I am drowning, with no way to get air back into my lungs, and with no motivation to get out.

What has happened to me? Where is the fearless confidence that I had? The firm refusal to submit into stress, and the capacity to carry it out…

Sure, this year is different to last year, in many ways. But that’s no excuse for my cowardice, nor is it the true reason. The main thing that has changed is not the workload, nor my expectations – it is my attitude. I guess I have been letting my thinking fall back into cynicism and pessimism. Looking only at my difficulties, I lost perspective.

When did I forget that none of it matters, in the end? When did I forget that, no matter what burdens I carry, the fight has already been won? When did I forget that no matter how limited I am, no matter what I go through, no matter whether I do right or do wrong, it doesn’t matter – I already have victory in Christ?

When did I allow the world to get to me so much, to take my eyes away from that which has already been promised to me - a glorious, sweet victory? Even if I fail medicine, even if my parents disown me – all that matters very little, in the grand scheme of things. One day I will meet my Lord and Master, experience eternity, and I will really see that my life here is but a mist.

Looking at it from that perspective, if I am already victorious, what am I afraid of? So what if uni is a mess this year? So what if I am tutoring medical students who are older and smarter than me (Oh LORD, help me with this!!!)? Nothing matters. I have my God, and my God gave me his cross, his covenant.

Hanging On

I'm wondering for the first time whether I pushed myself too far. I've been in denial up until now.

This year, aside from uni, I'm also working, volunteer tutoring, and trying to keep up a small amount of involvement in church. That doesn't sound much, listed like that. I'm sure if I were in undergrad there would be no problems. The problem is that I'm in med, and the people I'm tutoring are also in med. I'm wondering whether tutoring was a bad idea, it is taking a lot more time and effort that I thought it would. I feel like I'm learning this year's contents, and re-learning half of last year.

Needless to say I feel a bit pressured at the moment, mainly because I brought this all on to myself, and I have no one to blame but myself.

My parents want me to cut back on church. For the first time I can see where they are coming from... no parent wants to see their daughter working late into the night, and only see her when she comes out for meals (and even then, to see her glassy-eyed and pale). That reminds me, I really, really ought to spend more time with my family.

The problem is that I enjoy things too much. There is no way I am going to cut back on church any more than I already have. I also enjoy helping the first-years... and so as long as I can manage it, and as long as they want me, I will keep tutoring. I hate work, but I enjoy the money (and independence) that comes out of it.

I'm feeling a bit pressured at the moment (I hesitate to use the word stressed, I'm going to put that off for as long as I can), but I know that somehow I will get through. No, let me rephrase that. Somehow God will carry me through. On the one hand, I feel tired and overworked. On the other, I feel great, because I am doing things that I love. I know that at the end of the year, I will be able to say with confidence that God has not failed me. I can't wait for that time. (In other words, I can't wait for this year to be over with!)

Psalm 13

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts

and everyday have sorrow in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.

Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;

my enemy will day, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.

I don't really know what I have been going through in the past few days. All I recall is the darkness in my room when I try to tap into God the great source of light. You can probably see, from the things I have been writing about... all this talk about wrestling (with whom, exactly, was I wrestling?) and about turning away etc. Then I decided to see what David wrote during his dark times, and I found Psalm 13.

Psalm 13 fits into my past few days like the missing puzzle piece. Yes, I called to the Lord, and He did not come down in a great flood of light, nor like blazing fire from the heavens. I wrestled with my thoughts, God knows I wrestle with them all day long. And who is my enemy? It is the one who accuses me and mocks me daily. I don't know if it is my own thoughts, or if it is the one mentioned in the bible as The Accuser, Satan.

And yet, David has the solution. Trust in His unfailing love, rejoice in His salvation. Sing. No matter what I go through, Jesus has already saved me. Jesus has already given the greatest gift of all; His love will never fail. All I need to do is to keep my eyes on the Cross, steadfastly fixed on what has already been given to me - the victory in Jesus Christ.

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." - 2 Corinthians 12:9 - That was one of my favourite verses; how did I manage to forget it this time round? (Actually, I didn't forget, it just didn't provide comfort, for some reason. Maybe it is being used too much, like a cliche.) Jesus already gave us the greatest gift, the greatest blessing - Himself, in the Holy Spirit. Doesn't this prove that no matter what trials I go through, His grace and blessings will always exceed what I put up with?

Turning away

"When the going gets tough, that's when the real choice is being made - to trust God? Or to turn away?"

The above was from my mentor.

What choice? What choice do I have? What if I turn away? What do I turn away to? To whom do I turn? When he first said it, it sounded good. But now I have no idea what he is talking about.

When the going gets tough - what else can I rely on? What can I rely on, when I am let down by myself and those around me? If I wanted to turn away - what then? He is my glimmer of hope, a promise that every tear will be wiped away. If I let go - how deep will I fall... what will break my fall?

Wrestling with God

Here, I'm referring to the biblical account of Jacob's wrestle with God - it is to be found in the book of Genesis, Chapter 32. To save you reading it all yourself (but I do suggest you read it yourself), I will do a quick synopsis on it for you.

Jacob is the second son of Isaac, and through deceit received the blessings that were meant for the oldest son, Esau. To flee from his brother's wrath, he ran away to Paddam Aram, where he (to cut a long story short), got married and had kids and became prosperous. The time came for him to return to his homeland, and to face his estranged brother. One night, on the road back, he sent his wives and all that he owned across a stream, he himself spending the night alone.

What follows is so bizarre I must describe it using the bible's own words: "So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob's hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. Then the man said: 'let me go, for it is day-break'. But Jacob replied: 'I will not let you go unless you bless me.'" (Genesis 32:24-26, TNIV)

I do not want to launch into an interpretation of this wrestling - I am not a sufficiently avid theologian to even contemplate it. However, I do have some personal experiences that may relate to this paradoxical wrestling.

It happened a few days ago, I won't say what happened exactly, but it upset me quite a lot. It is interesting - I've read enough books and enough of the bible to know why we face trials like these, and to know that God is always with me and will be victorious in the end. But... faced with something that upset me, none of these lofty ideas were good enough to provide much comfort. Instead, I wanted no less than an assurance from God Himself that everything will be alright.

And so it was that I locked myself in my room, with the lights out, tears streaming down my face, rocking to and fro in the foetal position, wrestling with God. I did not blame God for the things that happen, nor want an explanation. I just wanted God to assure me that He is here with me and that everything will be ok. So I pleaded like a child, and even childishly said: "Bless me! I am not sleeping tonight until you bless me!"  I felt a little like a young child, grabbing the coat-tails of an adult and yelling: "No! Don't go! I'm not letting go!" Unlike Jacob, I could not last the night, and eventually, somehow, during my pleading and tantrums, I fell asleep.

I can't help but wonder if Jacob's wrestle is similar to my own. Like my own, it was a time of distress, and like me, Jacob merely wanted God's presence and blessing. Jacob's struggle was a physical as well as a spiritual one - he came away changed in character, but also with a dislocated hip. While I can not boast of a limp, I also did not come away unchanged.

I guess you're wondering, as I did, why God could not overpower Jacob. I think perhaps the answer lies in that God is our father - a parent. Few parents want to really hurt their children, and when the children are as wayward as ourselves (we who rarely come home and spend time with our father), our Father may well enjoy our presence whether we are worshipping or complaining. Philip Yancey said, in one of his books, that God did not leave Jacob until day-break, just to remain with His child and be held by His child's faith.

The other thing you're wondering about is whether God really did bless me that night when I clung on to His coat-tails. To be honest, I think I was too tired and in no state to receive any assurances from God. But the answer came a day later, when the whole issue was more or less resolved. Praise God...

Christian friendship

"A despairing man should have the devotion of his friends, even though he forsakes the fear of the Almighty. But my brothers are as undependable as intermittent streams..." - Job 6:14-15 

Then Job replied: "I have heard many things like these; miserable comforters are you all!" - Job 16:2

Those who know me would know that I'm not always an adept communicator, particularly when it is most needed. But training as a health care professional has equipped me (somewhat) with some knowledge as to what to say and what not to say. Specifically, I'm talking about how to communicate with people when they are going through tough times, when they are sharing their feelings with you.

It is somewhat different when faced with friends, in particular Christian friends. As my friendship with my church friends grow deeper I'm finding that people are confiding in me more and I'm always at a loss as to what to say.

"God will carry you through," I want to say. "Really you shouldn't worry, Jesus said His yoke is easy. These trials are like a character-building exercise, the bible tells us to be thankful for these experiences, because through these we become strengthened and matured. I've had trials before, and I don't think they go forever."

Of course, I can never bring myself to say all this. These words sound so condescending, patronising, particularly if spoken to someone who is a more mature Christian than me. To someone going through all sorts of trials, how do I tell them to be thankful? How do I communicate these meanings without sounding arrogant and holier-than-thou? Furthermore, how can I tell my friends not to worry, to be thankful, when these are the very issues that I myself wrestle with every day?

Job lamented, among other things, that his friends were not able to empathise with him - instead they were patronising and condescending. But how easy it is to fall into that trap! How I wish I could say something, or do something to ease their minds...

But I guess it's not my place to do this - nor do I have the power. God is the God of healing, and God will heal them, not me. Who am I to imagine that I can provide comfort that only God can provide? Could Job's friends ever relieve his suffering? I can only turn my helplessness into prayer, a prayer of intercession for my friends. May God heal us all, amen.

Back to School

Today was orientation for the second year of my MBBS degree. I feel thankful, amazed, and somewhat reluctant - thankful to be here, amazed I'm here already, and somewhat reluctant to let go of my holidays.

I've been assigned to the Mater Misericordiae Hospitals, which I can't complain about since it was my first choice. It is smaller than the other teaching hospitals and therefore I thought I might benefit from the smaller groups and easier administration.

The Mater Misericordiae Hospitals (or at least, the parts I saw today, which wasn't much) is very interesting indeed. The student sections were not impressive - one PBL room was an "annexe" that was connected to a larger common room (which had occasional seminars and was not open 24 hours), the other was a larger room with temperamental air-conditioning, also shared with "some 3rd years sometimes". The rooms did not have wireless Internet access (and indeed required some special procedure to access the ports). The lockers were of two varieties - one was abundant in numbers but becomes so overheated it is capable of melting laptops, the other is more secure but limited in number. I was disappointed with the studying conditions set up - it is as if the rooms were haphazardly chosen and prepared.

The hospitals are administered by the Sisters of Mercy and in almost every room that I have been to, there has been a small and unobtrusive crucifix on the wall. In a hallway I saw a large statue of Christ, and various other monuments of the Virgin Mary and what I assumed was various saints. Hanging in a PBL room was a large print of the Last Supper painting. Although I can't say much for the studying environment, I will be certain to study carefully the paintings and statues.

The topics for the next few weeks have already been given - and the first module is immunology, which some of you may know, is one of those subjects that I wished didn't exist. Even though classes have not yet started, I already have a list of learning topics and stuff fore review.

Sigh.

Deborah and Esther

I used to have a really biased view of Christian women. Well, maybe not of Christian women as they are today, but what it takes to be the optimal Christian woman. My view was largely influenced by the biblical Queen Esther, who had a whole book of the Bible devoted to her tale. Her story was told in children's books and Sunday schools (and yes, I had accessed both of these to varying degrees when young), and she dominated one's imagination like Cinderella or Snow White.

If you don't know the story of Esther you really should read it, if not in the Bible then you should at least wiki it. The story is a worthy read, if only for its entertainment value. Of course, being a Christian young woman, I study Esther somewhat more than for its entertainment value. The story of Deborah (described in the book of Judges, chapters 4 and 5) is also worthy of interest, the reasons for which I will expound upon later.

Queen Esther generally gives the impression of being someone very meek and indeed very feminine. Of course meek does not mean weak - Esther had incredible resolve and strength of character, and, perhaps, a shrewd wisdom. The bible describes her obeying Mordecai's commands, winning the favour of all who saw her, and winning the heart of a mighty and (perhaps somewhat ruthless) king. God used her greatly, using her to save the Jewish people from genocide (a feat for which few others could single-handedly claim credit). Perhaps that is her character - obliging, like water, yet resolved like ice.

I once heard a talk where the speaker (a woman) said: "Esther is God's gift to women - so we may see how we are to be like. Esther bent the king to her will - how? She dressed herself in her finery, prepared a feast, and pleaded through tears." Perhaps that is how you win a man over - dress up, feed him, then cry. But that left me feeling extremely dissatisfied. For a long time I held her up as the single role model to women provided by God, and greatly admired all the soft-spoken, gentle, acquiescent Christian women in the world. I strove to fit myself to what I imagine Esther to be - but I am too different, and was left feeling confused and extremely frustrated.

Then along came mighty Deborah. Though she did not have a whole book of the bible devoted to her, she nevertheless saved Israel from harsh oppression from Canaanites. Deborah is a stark contrast from Esther. She was a prophetess, a judge, and a ruler. She did not shy away from the bloodiness of the battlefield, nor did the prospect of Canaanite chariots hinder her. Like Esther, she had a resolve like steel and a humility that causes the beholder to pause and reflect upon his own pride. But God used her in a way totally unlike Esther. Could Esther have saved Israel by her royal finery and tears? I can only imagine what would have happened if Deborah was in Esther's place. The bible makes no mention of Deborah's beauty, nor her winning favours with everyone she meets (does a ruler need to win favours?). Indeed, I can imagine Deborah having a lengthy debate with the king (after all, she is a judge and ruler). Praise God that we can all be used in different ways! And... praise God... we are allowed to be different to Esther (or the gentle-soft-cliche) and still be able to be used by God!

I have not reached Esther or Deborah in my Women of the Bible devotional yet, but I can't wait til I do. These two are undoubtedly my favourite two women in the bible, but I've come to recognise that the bible contains many intriguing female characters waiting to be found.

happy 2008...

The year 2007 is finally drawing to a close. And what a year it has been...

It is interesting, everytime I look back on the year I seem to look back with rose-tinted specs. The year was challenging, yes, but it was also stimulating, wasn't it? And surely it wasn't that bad. Challenges came, challenges went. It's been a good year.

Of course, then someone reminded me of the rough times I went through. My friend reminded me of times I joked about quitting Med, my tired looks and distracted ways. And that brought back memories... the late nights, caffeine highs, spending hours in the library, my silent wars against immunology/biochemistry/microbiology/ECG ... and last but certainly not least, those crazy Clinical Coaches... Oh, yes. Some things are best put behind us.

2008 would be much the same, although people tell me it's harder in 2nd year. I am old and cynical enough to know not to bother about making New Year resolutions, but if I have plans it would be to read through the bible in Chinese by mid-year (I have only read it in English thus far) and to complete my Women of the Bible devotional. Praise God... I have been, at times, been a rather lazy, cynical, and stubborn Christian this year, but my Heavenly Father still carried me through. Surely He is with me always.

Happy New Year, everyone! Have a blessed 2008.

A disturbing daydream...

This week I have been studying Sarah, wife of Abraham. She yearned for a child all her life; laughed when God promised her that she will give birth to a child (at the age of 90), then gave birth to Isaac. I really am enjoying this devotional (Women of the Bible - which goes through a woman per week). These women - Eve and Sarah - are both women that I had never given much consideration to; but provoked by the devotional, I realised that the short paragraphs in the bible that tells their story also subtly reveal some very complex, multifaceted and intriguing characters. But anyway, that's not what I want to talk about right now.

The devotional this week pointed to Sarah's want to have children, God's promise, Sarah's doubt, and the subsequent fulfilment of that promise. It asked the question: what's your dream? What dreams and desires have God placed in you, and do you doubt? Are you willing to wait patiently?

So dutifully I meditated upon this and discovered that I had no clear discernable dream. Do I dream of a perfect lover? (I'm ashamed to admit this is the first that came to my mind.) The answer was - well, perhaps, but that's not the most important thing. Career? Do I want to be a world-famous specialist? Do I want enough properties dotted around the globe to constitute a small town? What do I really want? Currently I wanted to be able to unreservedly serve my God without anything holding me back - namely, parents who frown and shake their heads and discuss me behind my back as if I am problem child. But that's not much of an ambition. And ever the cynic, I conceded that I could never serve God enough, and besides, there will always be something. Bigger obstacles, not smaller. I did not pursue the subject further, only made the conclusion that I was decidedly deprived of a dream.

A few days ago I met a sonographer who spends 3 weeks every year (sometimes twice a year) in Africa, in a Christian missionary hospital, training the local staff there in ultrasound. I was thinking today, while driving home from work, how wonderful that is, to spend a little of every year working to give a community some autonomy. That is when The Idea struck. I thought: I could erect my own hospital.

Once the initial Idea formed others flowed with it. It need not necesarily be in Africa, it can be anywhere, like Asia, the Americas... anywhere. It would be a Christian hospital, of course. I could buy my own buildings, recieve equipment donations, it need not be hard. Train the locals. It would be a Christian hospital of course. With some counselling services. It would be a lasting legacy. I could even name it after myself. No, no, no, no, no! At this thought I repulsed. All glory to my God! It shall NOT be named after me, nor shall it have my name attached to any part of it. Only God!

So there I was, rounding the little corners in my suburb, arguing with myself.

It's so ambitious. It's so big. It's almost ridiculous. But it can be done... I'm only at the beginning of my medical career, anything is possible. Probably hard to do single-handedly, though... you need a few more doctors to make one hospital; and you'd need a few doctors ALL the time, not when it's just erected. And not just doctors - nurses, radiographers, allied health, pharmacy... Staffing would be a night mare. Will I ever have enough money to fund it? But my God, I can really feel like I made a contribution. I can tell people that I built a hospital, in Africa. It's something that would last after I'm gone, something of value left behind for the world. Something I can present to Jesus. But is that why I'm thinking about it? For the approval of humans? For the laughable illusion of my ideas and works continuing after I'm gone? To feel as if I have given a worthy gift to God? But can I ever give enough? Obviously not; it would be frivolous to try. Furthermore: would this be my gift to God, or God's gift to me? More precisely - is this a self-absorbed day-dream, or a vision placed there by God?

And thus my thoughts ran, round and round in circles, in a sort of taunting self-torment, until finally I reached home and put the idea on stand-by (that is, until I turned on my computer and started blogging). And I still don't know. I don't know whether I will, whether I really want to, whether I'm up for the challenge, and what my aims really are. But to God I admit defeat: there is no way I could possibly know. Even if I were sure, there is nothing I could do right now, except perhaps study harder. God is wise: if all His plans for my future were revealed to me right now I might well faint from fright, or run away like Jonah.

I'm glad I blogged, the knot in my mind is untied. Thus I turn to my Tormentor and say: Har-har, you don't confuse me. I have handed over to the One who is above all powers.

The humility of the nativity

Imagine the little town of Bethlehem... Caesar had issued a decree that a census be taken of the entire Roman world, and so everyone from the line of David was flocked to the town of David (ie, the little town of Bethlehem) to register. King David lived some twenty generations ago, so you can imagine, there are a lot of people. A lot, in a small town. In the crowd that night was a young man, trudging wearily. The bible doesn't tell us but I imagine him to be in his early twenties. He had travelled a long way (most likely on foot... the distance between Nazareth and Bethlehem is roughly 110km, roughly the distance between Brisbane and Noosa Heads), the journey had been slowed somewhat by the girl with him. I imagine the girl to be a mere teenager (they married very young in those days), and she is heavily pregnant. The paintings have her depicted as very beautiful, with flawless smooth skin and a serene look on her face. But we know that God does not look on the exterior, as humans do. I imagine her to be very plain, and indeed one may never notice her in a crowd like this, excepting of course the enormous swollen belly.

To make matters worse, the girl starts contracting. It is Time... the contractions are getting stronger and stronger, and more frequent. Her eyes widen with fear, panic, and pain, and she alerts the young man. He forgets his weary feet, grabs her by the hand, and pushes through the crowd desperately, knocking from inn to inn. Won't anyone let them in? But no, they are all filled, and there are people everywhere. But is there really no room for a teenager about to give birth? Finally, they settle in a manger, Mary gives birth, and they are visited by the Magi and some shepherds. (Of course, this last bit is my imagination. Luke doesn't tell us whether she started her labour while on the road, or when she was already settled in the manger. Indeed, I don't even know whether she experienced pain. But considering that the adult Jesus laughed and wept and got tired like the rest of us, I would imagine his birth to be the same too.)

And thus, the almighty Creator entered into the created world. At this point, surely the non-Christians reading would scoff: does this not prove that he wasn't the King of Kings? Would the King of Kings come in such a way, borne by a scared, scandalised little teenager, impoverished and fleeing from the puppet ruler Herod? Is this the reception befitting a King?

The Nativity story is indeed a humble one. Why did Jesus come into the world in such humble circumstances? And yet, his entire life was a life of humility. He fled from crowds. He told those he healed not to tell others. He washed the feet of his apostles, including Judas, who was to betray him that very evening. The creator of food experienced hunger; the creator of the wind and the rain got rained upon. And finally, the creator of humans got crucified by humans, using the wood and nails that He created. Why? Well, we know why he came (John 3:16 - so that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life), but why the humble circumstances? Why be the underdog?

When I started writing this it was never my plan to expound my own theological theories (God knows I have none). But I could probably hazard a guess. Jesus said: "My kingdom is not of this world", and indeed it was never His plan to become King of the Jews (or any such equivalent) during his time on earth, nor to convert the world by physical power but by sacrifice and love. Had he been born into a rich and powerful household, history might have turned out very differently.

If we take the story of Christmas to be the first great statement in the life of Jesus, the statement would be something like this: "I'm humble, I'm approachable, and I understand your feelings of poverty, hopelessness, fear, and oppression."

What a wonderful statement from the One who is exhalted above all things... the Exhalted who resides in heaven, understanding first-hand the likes of you and me.

And what better time to reflect upon this, than at Christmas...

Crime and Punishment

Just finished Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. You've got to read it. It's brilliant.

What is it about these Russian authors who manage to write a thriller, a tragedy, a romance, a philosophical/social/theological commentry, all in one novel?

End of elective...

Today was my last day of elective at Kingaroy General Hospital. It certainly has been an interesting time. Many times I have fought the urge to blog... but I didn't because, after all, Kingaroy is a small-ish town and I don't want to run the risk of revealing the identities of my patients by blogging about my experiences with them.

At the beginning of the year, when we were all wide-eyed 1st day medical students (oh how long ago it seems!), we were given a lecture named "Celebrating Life and Confronting Death". I think it is fair (and safe) to say that during my time at KGH I have celebrated life and confronted death, observed physical diseases, mental illnesses, and social ills (sometimes all in one patient)... and witnessed the best and worst of humans when faced with a challenge. The faith, resilience and courage of some patients (and their families) put me to shame... and yet some others really discouraged me as well. I guess you could say I walk away inspired and warned at the same time.

The doctors and staff at KGH are amazing... here, I found doctors who actually appealed to my idealistic naive side (rather than the caustic cynic). Witnessing them work so hard and yet still get bad press in the local papers is disheartening... but I guess that's the way it is, we live in a fallen world.

The town is a cute little town too... with two little look-outs to which I can ascend to watch the sunset. I'm in love with the dusk. The only complaint I have is that the water here makes my eczema flair up...

So anyway, tomorrow morning I will pack and clean out my room and start on my drive back to Brisbane... then holidays. It is going to feel so strange, to be on holidays. I don't want to work but I may have to, just to keep myself sane.

that time of the year again...

Yep, that's right. I turned 21 today.

Sigh.