Overcomers in Malacca

Once upon a time, in the late 70s, God brought a bunch of teenagers from Petaling Jaya together. They became known as the Overcomers, and carried their ministry far and wide.

As the years passed, they grew up, many got married (some within the group), got jobs, got children... and a fair number kept in touch somehow.

Then on 13 August last year, Uncle Mark and Aunty Boon Kee hosted a reunion for the group in their USJ home. For the first time in many years, many in the group came together under one roof, and were reunited with their mentor from thirty years ago, Pastor Philip Sung.

And then it started. Again.

Old songs were fished out, old photos resurfaced, old memories recollected... some professed a need for more ginkgo. And plans were slowly hatched for a full-scale ministry trip to Malacca, present home and base of Pastor Philip.

Thirty years in the making.

* * * * *

So where do I come in? Well, I happen to be one of the people represented in this group:


The children of the Overcomers (not all are in the picture).

Destined from birth to be a part of this incredible network, we were supposed to follow our parents to Malacca, as the ministry trip was also to be a family trip.

So we did; what choice had we? *wink*

But then it was later revealed that we weren't to just tag along, but had to prepare a performance for the congregation at Pastor Philip's Bethel Church.

After some eighty-odd exchanges via e-mail, we staged the surprise of a lifetime (okay-lah, our lifetime!) for our parents. And the rest is basically history.

Along the way, I realised we glorify God when we do what we do to the best of our abilities. Above all, I learnt that life is like a jam session of mistakes and learning; and I guess this is part of the legacy. After all, let's face it: our parents would have never called life a 'jam session'! ;-)

* * * * *

I won't comment much on the pictures that follow, but there are two things I'd like to clarify, mostly for Zhen Yan and Melissa. I did not use Photoshop (to be honest, I don't know how!), but I did edit the pictures in terms of brightness and contrast. And as is evident, I played with colours a LOT, using another software.

A photographer once remarked that Photoshop (or any digital editing for that matter) should only be used to enhance an image and do what is beyond the scope of the camera, and not to cover up mistakes.

So my approach in the photos I did take (I didn't take all) was certainly not, "Never mind about this mistake lah, can Photoshop."



What is Malacca without dodol?


If only trees in our rainforests could bear these signboards.


Jumping into a rooftop jacuzzi under an orange sky.


Bryan looking very intense in the shower area.


A somewhat illuminated and angelic shot of Zhen Yan. This was taken either by Kevin or Zhen Quan.


One of the most difficult shots on the trip. Lighting was terrible on the beach; after all, a floodlit beach defeats the whole purpose of romantic evenings by the sea. So I had to use long exposure (I think about two seconds).


This is what Eunice, Melissa and Zhen Yan would look like on negative, if I'd used a film camera.


Experimenting on a trishaw-like cart with inverted colours and increased contrast.


The Overcomers... and families!

* * * * *

Lessons learnt from mamak:

Zhen Yan: "Real men wear pink."
Ben: "And real men drink pink."

Shalom

I stopped teaching last week; Wednesday was my last day. Little did I know just how eventful Thursday would be.


It all started in the morning, when Mum and I were treated to a display of incessant barking. We really thought Ryan had lost it, when, lo and behold, we spotted a little bird hobbling across the garden. The dogs, locked in their cage for the previous night, were unable to get to it.

Immediately I rushed to the gate, but by then the little one had hopped out of the garden; it was clearly injured. After chasing it in circles around the bird's nest fern, and coaxing it out--with a broom--from under David's friend's Wira, I finally managed to catch it. So we took it to the backyard and dressed its wounds with Dettol and iodine. It lost nearly all of one wing, and all the feathers near its tail had dropped off, leaving bare its rear half. Must've been a cat at fault.

Sara looked after the bird while Mum and I went, first to school to get the 1119 cert certified, then to the IDP office and the Great Eastern Mall. She fed it some bread, but we doubt it ate any. At Great Eastern, I looked up some books in MPH and successfully identified the bird as Geopelia striata, commonly known as the Peaceful Dove or Zebra Dove.

A dove. On the first day after stopping work.

We decided to leave in in the backyard, but put the pail in a larger basin, which served as a moat to deter ants from getting to the bird. Since morning, we lined the pail with a piece of cloth and put some water in a little dish (the sort of container used for puddings/jelly at the pasar malam). We also gave it a small chunk off a banana, hoping that perhaps fruit might whet its appetite where bread failed to do so, though all in all, it seemed as if what the bird really needed was a good night's rest.

That night, before I went off to bed, I found the basin and pail in the bathroom downstairs; Dad moved it in, I think. Deciding to check on the bird once more, I lifted the basket that was used to cover the pail, and to my utter horror found its head submerged in the water dish.

Either it drowned while trying to drink, or it died and fell headlong into the dish.

* * * * *

I am no vet, but that night I came to terms with something I had been thinking of the whole evening: I was really worried about the bird, and wasn't at all looking forward to leaving it alone at night. So, having secured the moat and placed the basket on top of the pail, I thought it would be safe until the morning, when we could move it to a safer and more conducive environment.

It seems it wasn't sufficient. I said I came to terms; what I mean is that I realised that there are times when we need to keep watch all the time. And I recalled this Donut Man song whose chorus went;

And even though the Good Shepherd counts sheep
He never sleeps, he never sleeps...

* * * * *

The next morning, I stared at the Bible, again clueless as to which passage I should read. So I turned to the Nails and Thorns Lent Meditations list.

Romans 6:1-11.

What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means! We died to sin; how can we live in it any longer? Or don't you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.

The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus.

--Romans 6:1-4, 10-11 (NIV)

The word 'baptism' leapt out of the page. I thought of the state in which the bird was found dead, submerged in water, and it struck me as being physically and metaphorically similar and symbolic to baptism.

Because in baptism there is water, and there is death. Death of the self to sin.

...Other echoes
Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?
Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,
Round the corner...

--T.S. Eliot, from 'Burnt Norton' Stave I

Was the bird calling to me? Calling me to follow? To turn my back on sin and live the life God wants me to live?

* * * * *

Could this also be a preview of life as a biologist?

Despite my diminished dreams of becoming a doctor, might I still be called to be a healer?

* * * * *

Rest in peace, dear Peaceful Dove. Till we meet again.

Boy meets girl... and then what?

Confession: I've not been keeping up with the Lent Meditations. But this morning I had no idea where to go in the Bible, so I decided to check the list of Scripture passages in the Lent Meditations schedule. And today's is 1 Corinthians 6:12-20.


"Everything is permissible for me"--but not everything is beneficial. "Everything is permissible for me"--but I will not be mastered by anything. "Food for the stomach and the stomach for food"--but God will destroy them both. The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never! Do you not know that he who unites himself with a prostitute is one with her in body? For it is said, "The two will become one flesh." But he who unites himself with the Lord is one with him in spirit.

Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a man commits are outside his body, but he who sins sexually sins against his own body. Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honour God with your body.


Bought with a price. Therefore honour God.

* * * * *

Thoughts after church last night:

Testimonies of deliverance and miracles may seem incredulous and incredible, but if we really believe the truth of the Gospel, can we expect anything less? When Jesus walked on earth, many great things happened.

If Jesus is alive, shouldn't great things still happen?

We need to reclaim the 'legendary' dimension of our faith, simply because the King has yet to return. And it is hard for us to truly believe that this is really our Father's world, because it seems to be running without Him.

But sometimes echoes of another world do shake ours, and we wait. Perhaps Frederick Buechner put it best when he wrote, "Even at our most believing, I think, we have our serious reservations just as even at our most unbelieving we tend to cast a wistful glance over our shoulders."

* * * * *

I'm glad Li-Shia found it. At last.

The pledge remains till this Thursday. I won't forget.

That little (not-so)-last house

One of the most irritating things that can happen to a writer is to lose writing stamina and/or momentum. And this can happen when an idea comes but the writer has no time to write.

* * * * *


It rained on Sports Day, so the tug-o-war and closing ceremony had to be postponed to the Friday before the holidays. All the tents were stripped bare, but we decided not to risk climbing onto the roof to take down the name board. And so Shaw became the last house standing.

And this year, we weren't last as people like to expect. The greatest irony was that Mr Kali kept mocking Shaw on Sports Day with his usual sarcastic "There's no hope for Shaw ah, Benjamin. No matter what you do it will still be last," with an emphasis on the 'last', and in the end, his house (Treacher) finished last.

It was my very last Sports Day, and the one in which I was most involved (with the house). I was glad to make up for missing Sports Day last year due to the Forensics finals, and it was an added bonus to help see Shaw through to a record-breaking year in which we won the March Past and finished Second Runner-up for Tent Decorations.

Also, I discovered that I actually have more stamina than I thought.


The general theme for this year's Sports Day was '50 Tahun Kemerdekaan dari Aspek Kesukanan Negara' or something like that. So we had to think of something patriotic, and with someone like me on board, the last thing I wanted was a stereotypical 'Glory Malaysia' kind of theme.

So we attempted a twist on the idea of independence and decided to use Shaw's colour (red, blood red) to suggest the other side of independence; that behind every grand victory lies unspeakable sacrifice. The flag at Iwo Jima, the photograph of the Japanese samurai sword surrender at the VI, the Tugu Negara: we don't see the blood, the gore, the dust and the destruction. At least, that's not the first thing that comes to mind when considering the nation's 50th anniversary of independence.

As a result, we trashed up our tent, making it look like a half-destroyed army barracks in the aftermath of a battle. And we had to marching boys' costumes spray-painted red for blood. All in all, I think I was very much influenced by the themes underscoring U2's 1983 effort, War, and that's probably where the white came from: the idea that peace is still possible and innocence redeemable.


This was easily the hardest part of the march past: the hormat. Hard because nearly everyone has a different interpretation how to hold the hand up, and because it is executed when the squad is nearest to the audience and judges. We spent some time on Friday (the day before Sports Day) perfecting this command, and believe me, it isn't easy teaching a squad comprising mostly of Form One boys.


But in the end all the effort paid off, and Khin Yew (left) and Shamsul (centre) are certainly very happy, considering all the effort they put in for the March Past. Not to mention Zailaha who resurrected the cadet drill master in her to inspire some discipline in the boys.

And then there's Wei Leng (right) who tirelessly helped out with the Tent Decorations. I do suppose my minimalistic and U2-like metaphorical approach cost us some points, as the winning house (Thamboosamy) boasted styrofoam/cardboard models of the Petronas Twin Towers and the Eye on Malaysia ferris wheel. I wanted something more evocative and less concrete.


A close-up of the trophy we won for the first time (and hopefully not the last).


And here are some of the key players: Shamsul (House Captain, standing), and seated from left to right, Wei Leng, Amirul and Li-Shia, all three of whom brought everything together for the Tent Decorations.

* * * * *

While talking to Li-Shia on Sports Day, I realised that the kind of people we have been inviting as Guests-of-Honour for our major events in the last few years leave much to be desired.

This year, of all people to invite, we had Malaysia's Head Commissioner of Sports. And I'm thinking, shouldn't we get people who actually have something to say about sports, rather than just some big-shots who happen to hold some important office in the country's bureaucratic system?

Let two major VI events, i.e. Speech Day and Sports Day regain their worth. Bring in educationists and scholars (most recently Prof. Kamal Hassan, the IIU Rector, in 2005) for the former, and sportsmen for Sports Day. And please, please let them be Victorians, not some fellow who carries a 'Tan Sri' in front of his name but has no attachment to the school whatsoever.

For if we are to inspire the students in the class and on the field, we need people who have been there and come back again. We need to meet and hear Victorians who have gone on to be successful and academia and athletics alike to bear testimony to the present students; we need to maintain this legacy, being as we are a school rooted in tradition, and no less than the oldest school in the nation's capital.

* * * * *

And in the end, two questions and a statement:

What is the point of this sacrifice?
Why did I swing the stick and pull the wire?

Fillers plug holes where there's a need.

On throwing stones

Sometimes it's about seeing something differently.


Jesus went across to Mount Olives, but he was soon back in the Temple again. Swarms of people came to him. He sat down and taught them.

The religion scholars and Pharisees led in a woman who had been caught in an act of adultery. They stood her in plain sight of everyone and said, "Teacher, this woman was caught red-handed in the act of adultery. Moses, in the Law, gives orders to stone such persons. What do you say?" They were trying to trap him into saying something incriminating so they could bring charges against him.

Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger in the dirt. They kept at him, badgering him. He straightened up and said, "The sinless one among you, go first: Throw the stone." Bending down again, he wrote some more in the dirt.

Hearing that, they walked away, one after another, beginning with the oldest. The woman was left alone. Jesus stood up and spoke to her. "Woman, where are they? Does no one condemn you?"

"No one, Master."

"Neither do I," said Jesus. "Go on your way. From now on, don't sin."


(John 8:1-11, The Message)

Gems from an encounter with Brian McLaren

That morning, I met up with Brian McLaren at the PJ Hilton while waiting for Sivin and company (i.e. Bob Kee, Kia Meng, Yew Khuen, Jaime Sim). Recognised him from behind, heheh...

There were some interesting thoughts during his session at Seminari Theoloji Malaysia on Monday, 5 March.

For instance, "The turtle was found to be fully functional, and when the ring was removed, it was able to grow into the normal shape."

* * * * *

Dr Voon, during the Conversation segment, remarked on the loss of the relational aspect in our relationships, citing SMS as an example of how we tend to choose the cheapest way to communicate, regardless of relational value.

She also commented that the church has become somewhat utilitarian, wanting people for their abilities but not necessarily for who they are. A typical conversation might go like this:

Church leader: Wow, you're a pianist; you can play piano during worship!
Visitor: Wait a minute... do you want me for me, or for what I can do?

* * * * *

In commenting on shifting worldviews and perspectives, McLaren shared this interesting thought/quote from Max Planck, the great quantum physicist:

"New ideas thrive, not so much because they are good in themselves, but because their enemies die out."

* * * * *

But above all, the words that resonated most with me from that day, were not spoken during the official session (as with all the best thoughts in life), but in the Unser on the way to STM, as we were passing the A&W restaurant.

The conversation had moved to the late Stanley Grenz, who came under much fire because of his opinions, and not many stood by him.

On this, McLaren said, "It's not so much what your enemies say, but the silence of your friends..."


Let us not be silent.

A bit of grace

Why would a sinner like me still want to serve in Christian ministry?

I guess even if I'm bound for hell, with no way to turn back, I would rather have lived well than as if I'd not lived at all.

One of those days... :-(

I don't normally blog to whine about days that go wrong. But yesterday was one of those days; one of those rare days when nothing really goes right.

I only have about ten minutes for this post. If everything goes wrong, perhaps there is some therapy in blogging about it.

* * * * *

I chose to stand in when no one else would.

Missed the conference, missed the friends.

Why am I a filler?

And then the broken sandal.

All that walking; for something. Or nothing.

They took a group photo. We weren't there.

We could have been.

The white pants. What for?

Just to get soaked carrying another's burden.

The heavy rain, the heavy pain.

Washed away. Sluiced away.

The torrents; the mighty torrents.

Two twenties. One fifty.

Seventy forgotten.

Seven. Perfection?

Far from.

Teeming with life forgotten.

No chance to meet.

Has been so long.

So long away and zoning out.

Sweet dinner resting on the teeth.

Coated in saccharine smiles throughout the night.

We hurt each other and we do it again.

Was it worth it?

Worth everything we lost?

Worth having to stop now because of a busy day I don't want?

* * * * *

There is a silence that comes to a house
Where no one can sleep
I guess it's the price of love
I know it's not cheap

~ U2, 'Ultraviolet'

First and Last

The first King and Queen of Narnia are a horse-and-carriage cabby and his wife, none of whom believe they are anything near royal material;

"My children," said Aslan, fixing his eyes on both of them, "you are to be the first King and Queen of Narnia."

The Cabby opened his mouth in astonishment, and his wife turned very red.


But the Great Lion Aslan builds the Cabby up by giving him a set of charges, to each of which he responds well; the last of the charges is this:

"And if enemies came against the land (for enemies will arise) and there was war, would you be the first in the charge and the last in the retreat?"

"Well, sir," said the Cabby very slowly, "a chap don't exactly know till he's been tried. I dare say I might turn out ever such a soft 'un. Never did no fighting except with my fists. I'd try--that is, I 'ope I'd try--to do my bit."

"Then," said Aslan, "you will have done all that a King should do. Your coronation will be held presently..."



Two days to the 104th Annual Sports Day of the VI.

Along the way...

Dinosaur tooth? Extremely large canine?

* * * * *

I used to think 'troubleshooting' was a game. Whenever I saw the word in a manual, I thought it was a guide to some arcade-style shooting game.

Imagine what it must've been like when, to my disappointment, I learnt that Microsoft Word (and most other programmes for that matter) didn't have guns and bad guys!

* * * * *

There is an ongoing debate between Young Earth Creationists (YECs) and basically all other scientists on the age of the earth.

The YECs claim the earth is no older than 10,000 years, citing 6,000 as a pretty good estimate. This is based on a literal reading of Genesis 1, and thus also pegs the universe at about the same age, since everything we see was created within six days, literally speaking.

On the other hand, the position generally accepted by the scientific community is that the universe is about 14 billion years old, based on readings of electromagnetic waves from outer space and light travel from distant stars.

For the most part, I do not find it difficult to believe that the universe is truly billions of years old. But this is not because I think science is more real or rational than the Bible. Rather, I think both the Bible and science require a more mystical approach; neither should be understood in merely literal terms.

Blame the poet in me.

The universe is 14 billion years old simply because it sounds more legendary that way. God created everything in six days... whatever that means. There is a sense of the unknown in both God and the universe, a sense of the mystical and incomprehensible that lends a sense of awe to the truth of our very origins.

I like science, not because it is more real than myth, but because it is more mystical. It is only the arrogance of science that conveys the illusory idea that science must be more true.

And I believe in God, because the last word does not belong to science or faith or reason. Real beings do not trace their origins to ideas, and if I am a real being, then there is a real-er being out there. If an idea is the ultimate truth, then I am also an idea, a nothing, a mere phantom that fades like a wisp of smoke in thin air.

* * * * *

The picture above is of an albino cili padi grown by the Pehs of Taman Paramount in PJ.

Mirrored

The first of the 1987 'Overcomers' and one of the original 1970s Overcomers, both born on the same day.

Collision of generations; here, now, and soon to be, Malacca.

Happy 20th birthday, Laura!
Happy 48th birthday, Aunty Jenny!

* * * * *

This shot was inspired by Laura's idea to use the fake window frame mirror at Uncle Lawrence's for some episodes of posing and cam-whoring, after which we decided to throw entire families into the frame, literally!


Technical details:

Taken with the Nikon D50, using the SB-600 speedlight as an indirect flash. ISO 200, aperture F5.6, shutter speed 1/20s and focal length 48mm. Brightness later reduced to -20 and contrast increased to +20 using the Minolta DiMAGE Viewer software.

The modelling Liews:

Uncle Franky
Aunty Jenny
Laura

Charity and Chastity

Blame it on the calendar; Valentine's Day and Ash Wednesday fall on consecutive Wednesdays this year.

The two occasions could not be more unlike each other. One is an extravagant celebration of love (often more extravagance than love), while the other is an austere commemoration of sacrifice. The one a no-holds-barred romp through commercialisation, and the other a much calculated preparation for the most solemn event in history.

And now to link the two in a single blog entry...

* * * * *

We were supposed to have dinner at Madam Kwan's, KLCC. But due to some unforeseen circumstances, we ended up at Kinrara mamak in Sri Petaling.

Just a week prior to Valentine's Day, we visited the place for the first (and only) time and ordered a bandung suam. When we returned on Valentine's, one of the mamak approached me and asked, "Bandung panas, boss?"

Either they have photographic memory or my peculiar dining habits seem to leave an impression.

Away from classy dining and everything else Valentine's Day stands for, it was nonetheless a memorable night out and one that fostered culinary bonds between Cheras and Sri Petaling!

Just for fun, we asked if they could make ghee tosai in the shape of a heart. The mamak laughed and said it would be difficult as the tosai would stick to the pan, and there wouldn't be enough time to sculpt/mould it. So they prepared normal tosai for us to cut ourselves.

Seeing that our efforts were in vain, a number of mamak congregated around the pan in an attempt to do what they claimed they couldn't. After several failed batches of wasted batter, they decided to use roti canai dough instead. Preparing a mould using newspaper, they finally succeeded in producing this:


The next night, when we walked past the same shop, one of the mamak waved at me.

It is final: the dinosaur's footprint remains in Sri Petaling.

* * * * *


Lent begins today. Sucker for symbolism that I am, this picture reminds me of the Incarnation, of the Word made flesh. Yes, I know sirap limau ais isn't exactly wine, but it's close enough.

I wonder if the Lord's Supper might've been different if Jesus and the Disciples ate at a 24-hour mamak joint.

And is there a connection between the generally secular celebration of human love and the sacred remembrance of divine love?

* * * * *


I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.

--Psalm 130:5 (NIV)

[Love] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

--1 Corinthians 13:7 (NIV)

Thanks, Miss Shanti.

* * * * *

There is an account in the Bible (Mark chapter 10) of a rich young man, often referred to as the 'rich young ruler', who asks Jesus what he must do in order to inherit eternal life. Jesus quotes to him the commandments of the Mosaic Law.

"Teacher," he declared, "all these I have kept since I was a boy."

Jesus looked at him and loved him. "One thing you lack," he said. "Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

At this the man's face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth.


When in the Bangsar Shopping Centre (BSC) yesterday, I saw a poster in The Body Shop that said all profits from sale of the new Rougeberry eau de toilette would go to the fight against AIDS.

It reminded me of something I read about charity some time ago, about how charity has become commercialised. About how all kinds of companies pledge to give amounts like 10% or 20% when that kind of amount actually makes no difference to the company.

I'm not criticising The Body Shop; in fact, I think quite a number of their ideals are indeed commendable. I'm just wondering, what's the point of giving to a cause when the gift is only a small portion of a great excess? Why only profits from the 'special edition' Rougeberry (I bought it before this campaign was launched, so profits from my purchase will not go to it) and not profits from all sales?

Granted, The Body Shop is not a philanthropic NGO, but perhaps multinational, multimillion-dollar companies could set a better example. Microsoft can give 90% of all that it owns away, and Bill Gates would still have enough to support his offspring for several generations.

On the way out of BSC, there was a lady asking for donations on behalf of an organisation--I cannot remember what. I was in a hurry and declined. Yet I've given on so many occasions; as long as I have something to give and there are people in need, this will not end.

All this about giving. And giving. And giving. To what limit?

Jesus is unequivocal: everything. Or at least, enough to actually make you realise that security is not to be found in what you have, but Who has you.

And I fall short.


(By the way, the Rougeberry e.d.t. is probably one of the best Body Shop products I've encountered in some time.)

* * * * *


What then of Lent?

What of that perennial talk of balance between passion and purity?

Or, in my immediate context, of charity and chastity?


Today's Lent Meditation is on Hebrews 12:1-14, and this is the epic chapter of exhortation that follows the epic discourse of faith in Hebrews 11, and it begins like this:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

--Hebrews 12:1-2 (NIV)

But I ask, what if the great cloud is only one witness? And I'm not talking about the One witness, for He is always there. But what if there is only one witness? Is it reason enough to keep running? Reason enough to throw everything away and follow the One Voice?

Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. "Make level paths for your feet," so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.

--Hebrews 12:12-13 (NIV)

Strengthen your weak knees. Heal the lame. Too close for comfort.

Too good to be true.

Or as Max Lucado would say, too good... it has to be true.

* * * * *

At this time of the year especially, I never fail to be reminded of T.S. Eliot's poem 'Ash Wednesday'. Not just because of the title, but also because it is one of his best (and one of my favourites), parallelling his work in Four Quartets in terms of structure and substance.

Some excerpts that seem surprisingly real and relevant this year:

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

...

Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.


There is something of love in both the experience of Valentine's Day and Lent. And love is not cheap.

Only in Mark's Gospel is it written that Jesus loved the rich young man. Matthew and Luke do not record such words, and John does not record the account at all. Why did Mark include how Jesus felt about the man?

And then Eliot's poem. There's something painful in it, something that is echoed also in U2's 'One'.

This doesn't sound like it's about love. But it is. The hands of love that made things as they are, that are making things as they should be. The hands that bring us together, the same ones that drive us apart. Moulding, making, shaping... like the mamak, only so much more. The hands that work till they bleed.

In a ring of never-ending hope incarnate in never-ending drudgery, the ones who are our Valentines and the ones for whom we wait... one and the same.


Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

A little bit of this year's ISKL Forensics

We were the last name on the first Rafidah Aziz shield.

And thanks to this year's team, we are also the first on the new one:


Indeed I was thrilled to win the shield as a participant last year, and again as a coach/judge this year. The VI is also now the only school to have won the shield in consecutive years.


Kishan returned to judge (he, Miss Shanti and I judged Original Oratory finals) and Fang Hai made history this year by being the first ever Victorian to enter three Finals in the same tournament. He went through to the Finals for Extemporaneous Speaking, Imromptu Speaking and Oral Interpretation.

In contrast, the previous most illustrious speaker from the VI (guess who) never made it to more than one Final in any given year.

Our actors, on the other hand, have had much more success in the Finals, with a good number making it to both Solo and Duet Acting Finals (and also winning medals) in some years. Gustave was in both Finals last year and this year.

One of the best things about judging was that I finally had my revenge on the exorbitant prices charged by the ISKl's canteen; judges are served an incredible array of excellent food (for free!) in the Tournament Headquarters, and the canteen staff wheel in new dishes at regular intervals!


(I'm not quite sure who the man is, but he could be Robert Carrelli, who once taught Val Kilmer and Kevin Spacey.)

Thoughts on Heaven and My Handphone

While at Sri Petaling Maju mamak restaurant with Li-Shia on Thursday, we overheard a conversation between what I think was a Muslim cleric and a Muslim layperson. We sat in the open, and these two guys had a rather animated discussion going on, with the cleric doing most of the talking.

The cleric said, "Di syurga kita boleh buat apa-apa. Tak ada larangan." It means, "We can do anything we want in heaven. There are no restrictions."

I believe this is true, but also something that is often misunderstood, for many take it to mean that there is endless liberty in heaven and so we can backstab all we want, or beat a person as much as we want because there will be no pain in heaven, or something else that is no less self-indulgent.

What we often miss, I think, is the fact that heaven is not easy to enter. Jesus said the path is narrow, and not many can walk this path. It's like saying we can do anything on top of Mount Everest; but how many can actually make it to the summit?

Only the righteous will enjoy heaven. Hanya yang beriman. Which is few, if any, of us. Least of all me. Am I becoming the sort of person who will enjoy heaven? I recall a metaphor from Brian McLaren's The Last Word and the Word After That; he suggested that the fires of heaven may be hotter than the fires of hell, and only those who were tried and true could endure heaven.

So yes, we can do anything we want in heaven. But will we, in the first place, make it safely through the Gate who is Jesus Christ?

* * * * *

On Tuesday, 6 February, my handphone flew out of my hand onto the drive-through lane outside Aquaria. It landed hard on the ground and broke into pieces. Thankfully, it didn't actually shatter, but the battery, keypad and cover were instantly dismantled and scattered over the pavement.

My grip on my handphone is nothing compared to God's grip on us. Though we shatter, he can and will mend us.

By the way, this testifies also to the hardiness of the Nokia 3100. Or maybe it is simply the grace of God and nothing else. Whatever the case, it is a miracle. No less.

Thoughts on the disciple who left the boat

Yesterday, Pastor Vincent preached on 'stepping out', drawing on the account of Peter stepping out of the boat and walking on water. (Matthew 14:22-33)

It so happens that I spoke on the same thing in my Impromptu speech (2nd Round) at the 2005 ISKL Forensics, the year I won the Silver in that event. The prompt was a quote (source identified by Pastor Vincent: John Ortberg) that went, "If you want to walk on water, you've got to get out of the boat."

In the account in the Gospels, Peter cries out into the storm, "Lord, if it is you, tell me to come to you on the water." And Jesus replies, "Come." Of course, there is a storm blowing, so it should be rendered, "COME!!!"

And what follows is probably one of the most dramatic episodes in the Gospels, throwing theologians and scientists alike into heated debate; the former about who really was the 'ye of little faith', Peter or the other disciples, and the latter about how on earth it could be possible to walk on water.

But what stands out most, to me, about this account is how it paints a portrait of Peter, the leader of the Twelve. Despite Peter's many apparent failures, Jesus still used him to lead the church.

Consider the account in John 21. This time the sea is calm, and the fishermen have caught nothing. Then Jesus calls out to them and tells them to try the other side of the boat. They do, and miraculously the fish fill the nets to breaking point. Instantly, John realises it is Jesus;

Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, "It is the Lord," he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water. The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were not far from shore, about a hundred yards. When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.

Jesus said to them, "Bring some of the fish you have just caught."

Simon Peter climbed aboard and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, "Come and have breakfast."

So yes, these are the disciples who turned their backs on Jesus (with the exception of John) after the last supper. And here they are, being invited to breakfast by the One they had betrayed. Crazy grace. Crazier still when you consider the parallel between this account and a similar one earlier in the Gospels.

No, not the account of Luke 5:1-11, in which another miraculous catch is recorded, followed by the decision of Peter and company to follow Jesus. In terms of event and plot, yes, Luke 5 bears striking resemblance to John 21. But that's not the issue here, I think. Somehow I get the impression that Jesus wasn't trying to make a point about fish. There was something else.

The parallel account seems to be Matthew 14:22-33. On the stormy sea, Jesus calls out to Peter and Peter climbs out of the boat and into the water. On the morning of the breakfast, Jesus doesn't call Peter; he wraps his garment around him and JUMPS out of the boat. Jumping out of the boat a second time and getting wet that he may see the Lord.

In the first episode, Peter is hesitant but nonetheless trusts his Lord. In the second episode, he is eager to meet the One... he betrayed. I wonder, what made Peter so eager to see Jesus that second time? Of course, there was no storm. But while the other disciples slowly steered the boat to shore, Peter was swimming like there was no tomorrow towards Jesus.

I wonder what Jesus felt, to see the boat in the distance and this disciple, this Peter, swimming towards Him.

Jesus knew that in Peter, He had found someone who dared get out of the boat, someone who would not be afraid to brave hell itself if only to get a glimpse of his Master. Would Jesus find someone like that in us?

Just a few random strands...

Soo Tian and I have proven that it is indeed possible to cam-whore with and SLR camera:


Things like this kept me going during my National Service stint:


* * * * *

Teaching is good job, especially if you are uncertain about what the future holds.

I guess I'm learning to live day by day, and in teaching there is rhythm, but not so much of it that it becomes drudgery. Just enough rhythm to provide momentum to keep moving, but not enough to crush the soul. Or maybe I just haven't been teaching long enough.

There are deadlines, certainly, but perhaps it is the nature of education that provides the inspiration to teach: education is a lifelong journey, not a quest towards some examination at the end of the school year.

I don't know what lies ahead, where God will call me... but when the time comes I will know. I believe I will know.

Mercy

Something happened at the KL/PJ SCF Leaders' Convention at the Methodist Boys' School (MBS) this morning that greatly disturbed me.

My friend, Pei Wern, the immediate past president of Pudu Girls' School's Christian Fellowship, was turned away at the registration counter because she was wearing jeans. The rules did not allow for jeans.

But the thing is, virtually the entire worship team was wearing jeans due to an error in communication!

And not only that, Michelle Chan was also wearing jeans. Michelle was the president of Assunta's CF in 2004 (my year) and was part of the Convention committee then. She then went to the MBS for Form Six, and was also present at last year's Convention. She, of all people, should have been aware of the dress code.

Mrs Lim Hean Hwa, one of the advisory teachers of the MBS's CF, explained her predicament to me; "If we let her in, then we'll have to do the same for others wearing jeans." And of course, they want to make sure they make a good impression so that the school will be more favourably disposed towards such events in the future.

But my contention is this: it's not fair to turn someone away, while others who have committed the same offence get in scot-free simply because they are part of the programme (for example the worship team) or because they are ex-students of the school who are helping out (like Michelle).

I'd put it this way:

Pardon one, pardon all
Or pardon not at all

When Jesus told the thief who hung beside Him, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise," He tells that to every hanging criminal who turns to Him. Jesus practised no partiality, so why should we?

Besides, it is always better to err on the side of mercy and grace than that of legalism. As some would put it; when in doubt, obey the spirit of the law over its letter.

* * * * *


Bought this book from MPH today. Something which looks like a very promising read! (Can't say the same for the green book Shern Ren bought, though *wink*)

I like the idea that the DNA molecule is pictured on a stained glass motif on the front cover.

d'NA. DNA.

Who knows what the future holds?

Might this be my destiny?

Caught // 270107

Sometimes I feel so
powerless to resist these
dark desires, acting

in ways that would shock
those who know me and it is
just so hard to stand.


(By Ali Sufian bin Ali Katib)

500

I'm back. After twenty-two days, I'm back. Teaching has really been exhausting, and I've had barely enough time to even go online, let alone blog. It's been mostly e-mail and a little on Akouo these past three weeks.

Today Pn Darlilah returned, so I've been relieved of my duties as relief Biology and Science teacher. I have nonetheless been reincarnated as a Maths teacher, taking over Mr Rizaki's Form 1 and Form 4 classes; he's recently transferred to SMK Damansara Utama.

* * * * *

This is an entry I wanted to write and put up as the final entry of 2006; I think the earthquake in Taiwan had something to do with my failure to do so. I can't quite remember now.

At any rate, it is a significant milestone as this entry is my 500th on ThirtyOne. Indeed if you calculate, 500 entries between the Decembers of 2004 and 2006 means an average of 250 a year: more than one in two days, but also less than one a day.

So yes, it's been three weeks since my last entry. Is it worth the wait? Is it worth waiting three weeks for a post which means so much to me? Is it worth waiting for some great things in life, knowing, or somehow guessing, that when they come, the wait would have been worth it?

* * * * *

Two things defined 2006 for me: poetry and photography.

Of course, there was the Poetry Speaks calendar. There was also much reflection on, and quoting from, the songs of U2, which are pretty poetic; typically Irish! And Evanescent Shadows, my magnum opus of 2006, is really a poem written in prose.

As for photography, one word (well, three actually) sums it up: SLR (Single-Lens Reflex). I also learnt how to adjust details like brightness, contrast and saturation, and flirted from time to time with black & white photography and long exposure.

It has also dawned upon me that good cameras are hard to handle. SLRs generally don't have anti-shake functions and all those nifty mechanisms with which most digital cameras seem to come bundled these days. But then the quality of SLR shots makes it all worth it, and the camera is truly a tool for art, not a gadget for a consumerist market.

* * * * *

Hence, this entry features a set of poems matched to pictures. These poems are among the best from the Poetry Speaks calendar towards the end of the year, and I thought of taking pictures during the three-day d'NA Seremban trip to go with them. I just asked God to help me keep my eyes open for interesting shots, but really, it is by his grace that these shots were taken and chosen.

I had originally planned certain shots for certain poems, but then as I was editing the photos, others suggested themselves as having better potential for visual accompaniment. All seven photos below represent my progress as a photographer thus far, and I've employed almost all the skills (both in photography and editing) I know to produce them.

But before that, a few words from William Blake; I was literally thrilled to find this poem in the Poetry Speaks calendar sometime in December!


To See a World in a Grain of Sand
By William Blake

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

* * * * *

Two thoughts after d'NA Graduation 2006:

d'NA has not changed, but we have. even the younger ones are now already older ones.

Our lives are marked by surprises. I realised that the petal shower episode marked the second, and last, d'NA camp (2004) without a graduation ceremony; from 2005 onwards, every year would end with a graduation.

* * * * *

I've decided not to comment on the poems or the pictures; they shall speak for themselves. Perhaps someday I will explain in detail how each piece was created, and why I chose them. But not today.


Faded Photograph
Aging together


(1/20, F4.5, 18mm)

from "You Are Old, Father William"
(A parody of Robert Southey's didactic poem, "The Old Man's Comforts and How He Gained Them," 1799)
By Lewis Carroll

"You are old, father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
"I feared it would injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."


Moon Scar
Hurting together


(1/40, F5.6, 55mm)

Silver
By Walter de la Mare

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the wild breasts (sic) peep
Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws and a silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.


The Mosque is a Mirror
Learning together


(1/10, F4.5, 22mm)

"True poetry has no great interest in improving or idealizing the world, which does well enough. It only wants to realize the world, to see it better."

--John Crowe Ransom


Psychedelic Vodka
Rejoicing together


(1/15, F3.8, 23mm)

from an Essay on Criticism
By Alexander Pope

A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring;
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.
Fired at first sight with what the Muse imparts,
In fearless youth we tempt the heights of Arts,
While from the bounded level of our mind
Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind;
But more advanced, behold with strange surprise
New distant scenes of endless science rise!


Lomographic Spin
Experimenting together


(1/2, F8, 22mm)

Delight in Disorder
By Robert Herrick

A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness.
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthralls the crimson stomacher,
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly;
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat;
A careless shoestring, in whose tie
I see a wild civility;
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.


Dust to Dust
Worshipping together


(1/8, F4.5, 31mm)

Gratitude -- is not the mention
By Emily Dickinson

Gratitude -- is not the mention
Of a Tenderness,
But its still appreciation
Out of Plumb of Speech.

When the Sea return no Answer
By the Line and Lead
Proves it there's no Sea, or rather
A remoter Bed?


Salam Saudara
Living together


(1/13, F5, 31mm)

"Poetry gives the griever not release from grief but companionship in grief. Poetry embodies the complexities of feeling at their most intense and entangled, and therefore offers (over centuries, or over no time at all) the company of tears."

--Donald Hall

* * * * *

I am especially proud of the final picture. It was very difficult to shoot, and I don't suppose it's too difficult to guess why. ;-)

Ruminations on Biology and the Creation

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.

--Genesis 1:1 (NIV)

It is good to start the year (or anything for that matter) at the beginning.

While holidaying in Port Dickson, I read E.O. Wilson's latest book, The Creation. In it, he implores the Christian community to join forces with the scientific community in an effort to save the natural world--to save creation. Wilson himself is an atheist and one of the world's most eminent biologists.

Indeed the book is worth the RM80 I paid for it (using the vouchers courtesy of MPH), but I was deeply saddened to know that yet another great biologist had turned his back on God, thus joining the ranks of Charles Darwin, James Watson, Francis Crick, etc. How can people whose life is built upon life itself, miss out entirely on the Author of life?

Consider this picture:


Would I ever be able to convince you that a pen magically arose from the table and drew it on my left arm? I don't even think I'd be able to convince you that an earthworm or fern did it. At a glance, it is evidently the work of a human being (or else a robot; but a robot is man-made, thus the drawing is indirectly also the work of a person).

Note that the picture above is that of a sunrise/sunset. Yet legions of intelligent scientists claim that a complete accident produced the real thing:


Just because they cannot see God, they disbelieve His existence. But although we may have never met or seen any evidence of Willaim Shakespeare's existence, we can believe he wrote Macbeth, Hamlet and all the other great plays attributed to him. Evolutionary science always wants an explanation that can describe the creation without any reference to a Creator.

But we don't need to know how God made the world any more than we need to know how Shakespeare wrote without a dictionary or thesaurus (Sui-Jon pointed this out to me some years ago; indeed, such indispensable volumes were absent in Shakespeare's time). The creation itself testifies, just as The Last Supper testifies to Leonardo da Vinci and the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel to Michelangelo.

Of all the pictures I took (quite few by my standards; 200+ over four days), I like this one best:


While I was reading on the balcony on the last morning, a whole flock ('swarm' would be a better word) of swallows swooped past me. Only after they did it a second time did I decide to bring my camera out to catch them if, by some great fortune, they did so a third. I waited, camera on my lap and ready at a moment's notice, to see if God would bring them by again.

Many swallows flew this way and that, but not in a large group. Then out of nowhere, they appeared again in formation, flying across the hotel. I'd attached my telephoto zoom lens and set it at maximum zoom of 200mm to get the shot. Then just as I snapped, they disappeared over the opposite roof.

Is there any sense in thinking that the camera which took the picture (my Nikon D50) is a marvel of human brilliance and precision in technology and manufacturing, while the birds themselves are chance accidents of evolutionary history?

It struck me just now that, in the picture above, the swallows look like scraps of debris rather than birds. And I was reminded of this verse:

Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.

--Jesus, in Matthew 10:29-30

The issue isn't about how old the earth is or why dinosaurs aren't mentioned in the Bible, etc. Rather, all of creation echoes in only one question: will we follow the Creator? The one to fear, the one whose majesty is above all and whose splendour is displayed in the creation... God is God.

* * * * *

Substituting Pn Darlilah, I begin teaching Form 5 Biology and Form 3 Science in the VI tomorrow. Li-Shia will be taking over Pn Asrima's Form 1 and Form 3 Science classes.

Lord, have mercy. May we learn as much (if not more) from the students as they will from us, and may we truly grow in this experience.

Biology has always been one of my greatest passions. But I never knew I'd be teaching it so soon. Well, at least here's a biologist who will count for God's camp!