I think about my Christian faith as a journey where I'm shaped and moulded very differently from the person I make myself out to be. Over the years, I've discovered gifts and new things about myself I never thought I was, attributes that I'd never have associated with myself otherwise, but it has made me a stronger person on the whole.
The days at St James as a four-year-old girl were fun. I'd run up and down the pews staring at the multicoloured blur of stilletos, loafers and sneakers and then gaze at the majestic stain glass in awe. I could never sit still, I was always peering about looking for new things to do. God was a father figure, someone mightier than my own father, and biblical characters were simply colourful pictures jumping out from the children's Bible. Noah had his animals, Jonah was swallowed by the whale.
I grew up and moved to my grandfather's church, but I didn't like the Sunday school children as much as I thought I would have. I was teased and ridiculed alot, I was always put down, and I hated the boys with a vengeance. The only time I looked at them in the eye was with that defiant smile when I beat them in those memory verse quizzes.
Janis first saw the change in me after my baptism, and she told me frankly how she always tried to reach out to me, but there seemed to be that permanent barrier where I never would let my guard down. I started serving more in church and in Crusade, and alot of the time I struggled with saying no when it came to Christian commitments. I felt like I wasn't doing enough if I refused, and it seemed like the cardinal sin to do so.
Shirley told me that serving is reflected in my entire life. It's not the amount of work or effort I put into Crusade, or being in a committee or leading a discipleship group - but serving encompasses being diligent in my studies as well, honouring my parents and fulfilling the other things I hold with importance in my life. I never saw it in that light but she's right. I always feel guilty when I reject a Christian commitment, but slowly I've grown apart from that feeling. I've learnt to do what enables me to grow in my Christian faith, and the right amount of ministry depending on the capacity I'm able to handle. What's the point of taking up all these commitments and forget the sole purpose of why we're doing so ultimately?
Till today, I prefer to be the one in the back, the one that people never notice. The one arranging chairs, the one working the sound system or the one preparing the bread and the wine. But God never leads me in that direction. For some reason, I'm constantly thrown into leadership positions - being a spiritual multiplier, being a Sunday school teacher, leading prayers, giving speeches or being at the forefront of organising committees. I've always hated the idea, because I never feel good enough or 'holy' enough to be in that position. But the years of doing these things have brought me to that level of whole dependence where I know I'm nothing without God. I suppose if I were arranging chairs, I wouldn't have to pray so hard to make sure the chairs were all in place. But being up there in front of hundreds of people, or being entrusted five girls under your care for you to disciple and nurture - I wouldn't have done this all by myself. The experience has been humbling and I'm entirely committed to prayer before I do something which is out of my own ability.
God speaks true and rewards as He has promised. The semester where I was busiest with Crusade and church commitments, I saw how my grades proved to be the best. That night where I chose to attend Oasis when I had that 226 resume due the next day, I saw His faithfulness shine through when I finished the resume in time to catch the last bus home. I had already set aside money for the cab ride.
I struggle with spiritual gifting. I've always wondered where my talents lie, and that doesn't include trivial, superficial things like being recognised as a fashionista, or being able to identify the latest trends. I can't cook, sew or do math. Neither can I be a doctor, lawyer or investment banker. The world prides occupations like that, and talents like those are recognised. But I've realised that my gift has been staring at me straight in the face for the longest time, and only when I'm faced with the challenge of joining the discipleship committee do I think about the prospect thoroughly.
It's people, people-related things, discipling and being the centre of handling groups. Shirley thinks I'm a pivotal factor in the growth of my cell group, I've been told that I'm everyone's best friend, I seem to be able to work group dynamics and I genuinely enjoy being around people and seeing them happy. That also means I'm awfully affected by things that happen to others (which sometimes I wish I weren't), but I suppose I can't change my nature. I hated it in the past where I would be in the centre of everyone's problems, when everyone told me everything and I was supposed to handle it all for them. But I realised later there must be a reason why everyone tells me everything - and that's the part of me I need to fully maximise in terms of my serving as well.
Campus Mission 2007 in Korea beckons tomorrow, and I think it comes at no better timing where I'm wholeheartedly seeking direction in my life. Besides kimchi, beef and Won Bin lookalikes, I'm determined to come home knowing what I really want for myself.
The church camp to Melaka marked my return home somewhat, where I would finally integrate with the church friends again after six months of being away. I was apprehensive, but perhaps Dad knew better when he signed me up without telling me, the minute registration opened sometime in March.
Rooming with Julienne and our sacrificial dads who watched us snatch the seaview room away on from them on the first day, and when we sent them off to change money for us while we lounged around on the beds laughing at how grateful they should be - we popularised our fathers by the end of camp by making them heroes in our eyes, and in our friends' as well. It was an apt end to the week which ended with Fathers' Day, and we decided that our dads were strong influences in our lives, from the fact that both of them chose to skip sermons to sleep and watch Heroes and that led to us running back to our rooms halfway during a sermon to sleep as well. If our dads didn't do it, we wouldn't have dared. And they understand, they even brought back food to the room for us because we slept right through lunch.
And the sermons, it was funny how a packet of sweets or dried guavas would immediately be sent down the youth row the minute Shirley saw a head nod off. Blue Van even had a guava sticking out of his mouth while he was sleeping.
I loved Jonker Walk, that long street selling old toys from our childhoods - the pop pop's, cool lighters, clogs, rubber-band guns, puzzle boxes and rubber insects. The street food reminded me of Shanghai, the cabbage dumpling discovery was amazing. The delight on our faces with the first taste of Melakan cendol, that lime and sour plum drink, pineapple tarts, fruit candy, muah chee and nasi lemak. Mark coming up with that stupid chicken rice ball song and telltale story that got longer and longer, which irritated everyone by the end of camp - he wouldn't stop about how terrible the balls were. Lastly, the nights of Bridge, Murderer and endless talk sprawled out on a queen sized bed.
It was a good camp, and I am integrated back, in His perfect timing.
Have you ever had that strange feeling where you seem to be stuck in the shadows between reality and that forlorn dream? I distinctly remember crying myself to sleep last night, It seemed like that stronghold I had on myself gave way I can't conjure that pain up now But it was there last night, wasn't it?
I woke up this morning with that feeling a distinct memory, That vulnerable image forgotten, Which left me wondering the whole morning whether it even happened at all.
The last goodbyes are always painful, and moving on to something new never appeals to me. Even if moving on means reverting back to the life I lead before I left for Hong Kong. Suddenly the pressures from others surface, the responsibilities mount and the inner woes I've tucked away deep into the recesses of my heart threaten to spill once again. The last five months feels like a dream, and lying under the canopy of my own bed, it feels as if I never left - yet I did, and something in me has changed, like how all experiences are bound to lead to.
That feels so far away now, but that image of the teary hugs and the reluctant waves goodbye at the Hong Kong airport remains a clear and colourful still frame in my mind. The friends I left behind - Mel, Billy, Gary, Joseph - the nights of overnight KTV-ing, breakfasts at 6am and sleeping at 7am, waking up to Homey's tea set or another yumcha, shopping and late nights at the pingpong table or lying under the stars on the grass - that's the hardest part, to know that all this will cease to exist any longer.
Being in town tonight brought on that burst of reality and I felt like I was missing something. Everything was darker, quieter, less bustling, the coffeehouses were packed with loud groups of chatter and even shopping was lacklustre. I've been so used to the bright lights at Mongkok at midnight, the smell of street food wafting at every turn, crowded road crossings and empty Pacific Coffee Companies. Unconsciously, I felt a sudden dislike for the place - and Orchard Road is normally one of my favourite places in Singapore. But I put that down to being away for too long, and it will take some settling in.
I enjoy meeting up with family and friends I've missed, catching up, and this season's collection at River Island - but other than that, nothing really holds me here. I don't particularly like the country, and living abroad for almost half a year has made me realise that there is so much out there in the world that I want to see and experience. Living in Singapore narrows your mindset - you somehow think there's nothing more to life than a good education and an illustrious career. I firmly believe now in my personal freedom and other treats life has to offer, and that is something I don't quite get living here. Not when I get a phone calls monitoring my whereabouts and when a new school semester brings about fourteen weeks of no other life but work.
I can rant about the education system for hours. A degree in a mid-ranked university in the United States or the UK probably holds as much weight as a degree from any university in Singapore, and we're working about a hundred times harder. Tina, a British girl from one of my classes back in Hong Kong, was laughing about how relaxed she was during her undergraduate days as we walked back to school after lunch, and how working instead of studying took up most of her time. As much as I'd like my daughter to be part of the SCGS pride, I'd much rather her spend her teenage years somewhere else.
I loved being away from home so much because of the freedom I got, the ability to do anything I want whenever I want, and being accountable to myself for my own actions. I don't deny the horrifying laundry days, the times where I had to drag myself out of bed to fetch water for myself and the tedious process of admin duties which come along with solitary living, but it's only made me more independent and reliant on myself to pick up new skills. Washing machines are now my friends, and I understand which material dryers hate and immediately shrink.
I've cried alot in the last two weeks. I cried for two days straight when my dearest roomie left Hong Kong, and just walking down the corridor towards 203B started the waterworks. Then staring at her empty side made the tears fall even harder. French toasts, Macaroni and Cheese nights, TVB serial marathons, Argyle Centre, ICA and endless conversations before we fall asleep every night will now have a soft spot in my heart because of her. I cried at the departure gate two days ago, and cried nonstop as the plane took off and soared into the night sky.
The tears have stopped, but the ache and nostalgia still remains now. It's a new beginning, and I've finally dragged myself out of the abyss of laziness I had successfully gotten myself into and started writing again here. I will complete the events and post the pictures I've procrastinated about soon.
I miss the Hong Kong iced milk teas already, and I know the memories will keep recurring and I'll long for more of what I left behind, but I'll fondly remember them and move on.
