Piracy: The complex Malaysian Christian stand

So I was talking with this guy, Caleb, at my cousin's wedding dinner on Sunday night and we somehow got from music into books and into piracy (the copy-your-content-and-sell-it-cheap kind, not the Captain-Jack-Sparrow kind) and online file sharing.
And you know the thing about piracy is, it's not good. It's not nice and it's not Christian. To put it harshly, it's stealing. Sort of.

I mean, I write. I post stuff online. Right now, all of it is free, because most of the stuff I do is blog. Or write articles for people. But I would really like to write a publishable novel, and I might go the e-book route through Smashwords or Amazon. And if I do that, I would really like all the money for those sales to come to me. Like, if each person were to buy an e-book and the royalty comes to me, rather than say if A buys it and then passes a copy to B who passes a copy to C.
Then comes the other thought - what's so different between that happening with an actual print book and that happening with an e-book? I mean, I often borrow books off other people (which is, in fact, A buying the book then passing it on to B and passing it on to C). The difference is - there is only ONE actual print book, as compared to THREE different copies of the digital version.
And how about buying second hand books? I buy A LOT of second-hand books. The money still doesn't go back to the original writer/publisher, does it? It's all very complex. Why is the re-selling of second-hand books legal, but the re-selling (or sharing) of a digital version not? The argument goes back to the number of copies of the book available, doesn't it? There will only always be one ORIGINAL copy of the print book (let's not talk about making photocopies) whereas, there could be many, many copies of the digital version by now.

I also sing and act non-professionally. I know the amount of time and trouble it takes to get things right. Writing a song is a work of art, crafting everything together and getting the arrangements in shape is not only time-consuming, it's expensive if you're going to hire out. It's not good enough to say that oh, but the singers/actors/production houses are so rich anyway it's not going to make any difference to them. The reason they are able to get rich is because they sell A LOT of albums/shows. If you're a new artiste, fresh off the racks, in all probability you're not going to make enough to break even. If you pirate every album or movie you come across, there will be NO industry left because they won't be able to cover any of the costs! Yes, burning a copy of the album is super cheap. But the technology and the time and the effort it takes to come up with the original product is not insignificant.
A music album would need at minimum the band and the singer(s), the graphic designer (to come up with album art or at least the little logo thingy if you buy it off itunes), the composers/song writers (assuming that these songs are not written by the band/singers themselves), the guy who does the musical arrangement (may or may not be a separate person) and the sound engineer (or whatever you call the person who mixes the sound together) - I'm probably missing out a lot of other people (marketing, maybe) and don't forget that while they're doing all this stuff, they need money to keep themselves alive. Then there's the equipment - piano/keyboards, guitars, drums, whatever other instruments are being played, sound desk and all the recording devices, microphones, amps, mixing software...
True, you could probably do without a lot of these and record everything off your laptop, but the sound isn't the same, is it?
A movie? There's the director, producer, actors, cameramen, gaffers, video editors, computer graphic-y/animation people, costume designer, music director... if you've ever stayed to read the credits THAT'S A LOT OF PEOPLE INVOLVED. Let's not start on equipment.

And yet, the thing is, I don't think many Malaysians realise this. It's just a movie to watch, or an album to listen to and if you can get a perfectly good copy for RM4 where the whole family can watch together, why bother going to the cinema at RM8 - RM10 per person (imagine if you have a family of 5) or an original VCD/DVD which may be between RM30 - RM50?
I admit, I do hunt for bargain VCD/DVDs (often priced between RM12.90 to RM19.90). Nothing wrong with that - it's still the original. I don't know how the royalties/payments work that way, but I'm still buying the original product. (I suspect the distributing shop takes the hit, but these are usually obsolete/old/overrun/written off stocks anyway).
Actually, scratch the "Malaysian". I don't think most of society realises this anymore. The concept of paying for value has kind of gotten thrown out the window in recent years. There's so much free stuff around that people feel entitled to having other stuff free, and get outraged when they're asked to pay for it. What's so hard about doing all this artsy stuff anyway? is the kind of reaction you get, as if writing a book can be done in a day. Or writing a song is just a hobby. It may be a hobby for you, but it's a livelihood to others. And if they don't get paid, they can't continue giving you the content you want.



The problem for me, as a Malaysian, is that it's pretty much a way of life, a culture almost. Music and movies are often overpriced for the average person (especially if you're a student) and I admit to having copied music/e-books from friends before. And sometimes there are some great stuff that doesn't come here officially/legally and the only way you can get hold of it is through online file sharing (or the local pirates).

And there's that saying that if your stuff gets pirated and sold on Batu Feringghi, that's when you know you've made it as an artist...

So I don't know. It's wrong. It's plain confusing.
It's a stand I suppose one has to make and I'm trying to. It's difficult.

Review: A to Z Stories of Life and Death (goodreads crosspost)

A to Z Stories of Life and Death by D. Biswas

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Birthed out of a month-long blogfest, D. Biswas’ A to Z Stories of Life and Death presents 26 short stories organised according to the letters in the alphabet. Beginning with the innocence and wonder of a child finding snails in her Aquarium and ending with a fiery funeral pyre in Zone, the stories run the gamut from love, murder, sex, abuse, addiction, myth, sickness and mourning - all revolving around the issues of life and death. 



Majority of the stories are very poignant vignettes focusing on slices of life, with several longer flash fiction in between. Reading them makes you feel as if you are collecting memories from various sources and trying them on for size. Each story has its own personal twist - the endings are never quite what you expect - and most would leave you with a tear in your eye.



What I like about Biswas’ writing is the descriptive way she writes, which helps put you right in the middle of the scene. She is very good at invoking emotions and making you feel the story without a sense of detachment.





View all my reviews

A blogger game!

Got this off Kimberly's blog:

Here's how it works. I'll post 10 random things about myself. If you're interested in playing along, post 10 things about yourself on your blog. If the user account you post with doesn't link over to your blog, be sure to leave your blog url so I can check out your 10 random things. :)

Okay, so here goes:

1. I'm typing this off my iPad whilst chilling at my cousin's house (this is also for you to excuse my poor editing skills while on the iPad because I normally edit everything once I'm home on my comp, but I'm not going home until Monday so that's not about to happen.)

2. The first dish I learnt how to cook was Maggi Mee (instant noodles) at about age seven, using the microwave.

3. I haven't much advanced from there since then. If i need to cook anything, it's bound to be something microwaveable.

4. I'm friendlier online than offline (apparently). I think it's something to do with the way I look like I'm frowning if I think too much. Or possibly the book I usually carry around in case I end up alone.

5. I love singing! Especially in harmonies!

6. Unfortunately, I usually pretty much hate karaoke.

7. I wrote, acted and directed a musical once. (a friend wrote the music and songs, I did the script). I still wince whenever watching the video. Which I avoid watching like the plague.
8. I love describing myself as a bean counter (though I'm not exactly one) so I can watch the puzzled looks on people's faces while they try to figure out what that means.

9. I once had this German word craze for a few months in high school which made a friend buy me a German-English dictionary for my birthday. I hardly used it so it's almost brand new. Anyone wants it?

10. I do most of my writing between 11pm to 2am, even if I start off by sitting in front of my computer since 9pm. I don't really know why.


So that's it from me! Looking forward to yours :) Have a happy campaign, people!

P/s I know I said I'm away til monday. But I got bored and couldn't resist

Away!

Just dropping by to hang up my "away" sign. I've gone 4 hours south to Kuala Lumpur (and parts of PJ) for my cousin's wedding. This is only the second cousin in my family (on my mum's side at least) to get married, so it's a pretty momentous thing. The rest of us 'older ones' are still single... I'll be back on Monday for the first campaigner's challenge thing. So meanwhile, follow me on twitter and read the awesome posts from my awesome writer warrior friends. P/s I'm still trying to figure out what's the best way to link up all the campaigners in my group for ease of following for my and my readers. Tips? Leave 'em here!

I'm broke! (again)

I had an expensive day out this first day of Hari Raya Aidilfitri.
First of all, met up with an old college friend of mine, KK, for lunch. We went to Bella Italia at Belissa Row, where I had the ravioli something-or-other and she had some pasta thingie. (As you can tell, I'm not a food blogger. If I were, there'd be multiple descriptions of the food and the taste and texture and the atmosphere, topped off with pictures and pictures and more pictures...) Then we indulged in some Haagen-dazs ice cream (still reminds me of that ridiculous trainee teacher I had back in Form 4 who didn't know what Haagen-dazs was).
Then we headed off for Logos Hope, and I optimistically declared "I am not going to buy anything!"
As I said, optimistically.

Welcome on board...

Logos Hope! (The logo is ridiculously tiny)

The admission ticket

After about forty-five minutes of waiting in line (during which time Wen Ping joined us and I took bored snaps above), we finally got on board. Into almost heaven. (I guess it doesn't take much to satisfy me. Heh.)
When we left, we realised that the waiting line to get in had become extremely short. Meh - we have to do something about this timing thing. At least we managed to catch up while waiting.

I do think that the bookshop on the old MV Doulos was much bigger than this, but then again, I was much younger and smaller then, so that could have been... erm... sheer perspective. Surprisingly, my stash this round turned out to be quite an even split between music CDs and books (because they had Derek Webb! and also they had CDs at RM5 each, with a buy 2, free 1 deal) and more surprisingly, I had only 1 fiction out of the 6 books (instead of the usual 100%), the remaining being primarily books on worship and/or Christian related stuff. And that would be because their range of fiction was disappointingly small. And rather unknown. I suppose most of them were Christian fiction, which seems to be mainly sanitised love stories or end times/apocalypse scare stories. Haih. Boring!
But all said, happy with my stash! (Pocket is complaining)

On being unusually social (and yet not)

So I've been fairly busy in a social sort of way this week, despite being crazily maxed out at work.

First of all, I finally signed up at goodreads, and spent several hours rating books that I've read so far. Well, not all the books I've read, obviously, but at least those that I remember reading and can remember if I like. I realized that there are quite a few books I think I've read, but I'm not quite sure. There are also books that sound very, very familiar, but I can't tell off the title if I've read them or if I browsed through them at the store or if I (possibly) heard about them from someone. It's all very annoying. Hopefully by rating and reviewing on goodreads I'll get better in that aspect. And yes, I do intend to start reviewing books, which I've said quite often I will do, but never quite got round to doing. The next two books on my to review list are Damyanti's A to Z stories of life and death and Anne Riley's The Clearing. Awesome writers - check them out!

Next, Damyanti invited me to triberr, which is this social-media-sharing-thingy which tweets out new blogposts of your tribe on the tribe members' twitter (does that make sense?) so I've been catching up on some pretty good writer bloggers and tweeters. Which makes me sad because i haven't been blogging regularly. These people post almost every day!

Which brings me round to the next social project I'm thinking of, which is to join the writers' platform building campaign. Why? Because it looks like fun. Also, because I need more external incentives to blog because I tend to do more stuff if I tell other people I'm doing it, because I'm internally VERY lazy). And that's too many 'becauses' in one paragraph. 
[Edit: 29/8 - just signed up!]

Other random realisation of the day: I'm still really bad at typing on my iPad. 

#Fridayflash: Dear ten-year-old-self

Stop caring so much about what others say of you. Your complexes for the rest of your life mainly stem from this one year of being the new kid who doesn’t speak the language.
It doesn’t matter if you run like a penguin, even if your teacher is the one who told you so.
It doesn’t matter if the other kids in class are so superstitious that they think the things you do will give them bad luck. That’s their luck, isn’t it?
It doesn’t matter if they don’t want to be your friends. There are more friends to be made elsewhere, whose friendship won’t rely on whether you’re “in” or not. It’s not as if you’ll remember them past high school anyway.
It doesn’t matter if the locals think you’re stuck up for speaking in English. It turns to your advantage when you start work.

Don’t waste your time borrowing and hiding those Sweet Valley books. There are much better books to read, as you’ll soon discover. Those Nancy Drew books you keep getting with your book prize money? You’re going to be giving them away too.

Treasure those moments in England and Sweden with your family. It’s the last family holiday you’ll have for a very long time.

Believe in yourself. Learn to be comfortable being the odd one out, because you’ll almost always be.

And that’s cool.

---

Nina posted a story prompt on G+ that I initially missed, but I caught a call for submissions off a twitter link she sent out much later.

Read the call for submissions here, if you're interested in writing a similar post!

Worship as a muscle

I think in many ways worship* is something like a muscle. Everyone has a capacity for it, but you can also have an aptitude for it. Part of this aptitude could very well be how musically-inclined you are, but that isn’t really a very good indicator. There are some very musical people who do not worship and there are some people who just can’t carry a tune but are instantly caught up in it.

It’s partly to do with mind-set, as I blogged about here. It’s easy for someone who’s really into music to forget that the heart of worship isn’t about the music or the musician, but about the One that the worship is directed to. It’s very easy to get distracted about how the music is or isn’t picking up, how it is or isn’t good enough. It’s very easy to shift the focus of worship on to the worship itself.

I have had edifying talks over several nights with several people about worship and the state of our worship teams. It’s always encouraging to know that there are others who care just as much about the direction of our corporate worship and also very humbling to be reminded over and over that I do not always get it right and that there are other people striving for the same thing in their own ways.

That said, worship is really like a muscle because it can be built and strengthened – you can increase your aptitude and capacity - or it can fall into disuse or weaken from abuse. There are many times that I just want them to disband the worship team and start from scratch – and that was one of the things we talked about for both the youth team and the main service team (both seriously AND jokingly!). I also managed to be really mean and blunt, which I am when I’m really disillusioned (sorry, guys).

I don’t doubt that most of the people in the team once had a great capacity for worship. Maybe it’s just the way we’ve been running things (or the way we lack in running things, for that matter) that has gotten us to where we are. It could also be the way we tend to cater to the weakest, which is a nice thing to do in the short run, but can be pretty devastating for the long term.

Then Yuen Thern starts talking about really building the team, mentoring them and immersing them into worship; of working together to rebuild that culture and practice of worship**. And you know what? That really is a better solution. You don’t cut off your muscles because they aren’t working right - you go for physiotherapy. You work at it and rebuild it. It’s not going to happen overnight. It’s going to be a tough journey and it really is going to be for the long haul. But it will be worth it***.

I’m in. Are you?





* as in reference to worship in song, not your life as a worship. I suppose this always needs to be clarified. I don’t want you to get me wrong. Your life and how you live it is your worship and the work you do is part of it. Forgive me if I want to concentrate on a small portion of it. I’m pretty narrow-minded.

** I love it when he gets that way! It’s been way too long since I’ve heard this passion from him. Perhaps I haven’t been listening hard enough. 

*** I'm also really excited about our current group of worship leaders. I do think that there is SO much potential overflowing here, and I think that we should hang out more. Who knows what may happen when all our visions align and ignite?

#Fridayflash: Living is simple

Living is simple.
The floating lyric echoed itself in his head. Was it really? He stood on a precipice.

Twenty floors below him, the people seemed to crawl like ants on the sidewalk, bustling about their unknown business. What would they do if he came down among them like a bolt from the grey? Would they run about screaming? Would they be disgusted at the mess? Would they wonder if he had blown in from a stray cloud? He hated the rain. It was cold, wet and depressing.

The strong winds whipped a gust of spray into his face. He stepped back from the balcony railing. A step forward was all it would take for a shot at the next life, if that was open to him.

Living is simple.
It was dying which was hard. The when, where and how was more than he could take. It pounded in his brain, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. Everything he had considered would be too messy, too disturbing for everyone he left behind. If they took the time to bother. That was moot at this point.

His apartment was stark, bare. He sat down on the starchy couch and stared at his peeling fingers. The detergent he used was too corrosive and he had used too much of it, but he wanted everything to be neat and clean when they found him. It seemed now that everything would be except him.

And that was the problem.

Living is simple.
It sure was simpler than trying to die. You didn’t have to think much, living. Living was just carrying on - putting one foot in front of the other, watching time slip away. Living was waiting for the crushing, like the way his car had broken down yesterday, like the gimp knee he had that made him limp, like the smile he had given Kerrie when she had walked out. It didn’t require much effort. It just was.

He walked out to the balcony again, watching the slow stream of red and yellow lights below through the thickening downpour. The north wind blew and he turned to close the glass door behind him, determined that his hard work would not go to waste. He shivered as his soaked clothes clung to his skin. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Living is dying.
---

I didn't exactly start out to write such a depressing piece based on a random line from a Switchfoot song. It just happened.
Switchfoot stuff is generally very hopeful, in case you didn't know. This song is actually quite a nice one. Not depressing at all. It talks about mercy. And choices remaining, like second chances.
I should not take song lines out of context. Sorry.

Bombed.

So there are times when you get ahead of yourself, and you think that you know what you're doing and then you reach a point and go... I lost them. I didn't intend to, but I did. I guess that's another learning curve to deal with. 
I realised something though: the people who are there to worship, do worship, regardless of whether they know the songs or not. You can tell by their stance, by their focus. But I guess not everyone is like that.
On the other hand, a post that deals with what I go through most Sundays here. Because sometimes I tend to be the critic, thinking what I could do better, though that's pretty much a moot point. (The Sundays I lead I'm usually going ohGodwhyamIdoingthisagain?Stressstressstressstress.Savemeeeee) I think the most important thing to remember is his last point:

Lead yourself

I know there’s a “worship leader” on stage. Forget about that. Lead yourself. Make up your mind beforehand that you are going to lead yourself in worship.
This is a habit you need to build. Don’t wait for your favorite song or epic keyboard pad or perfect lighting. Lead yourself. Go for it. Cry out to God.

I don't think there's anything wrong in wishing for things to get better. It's the yearning for something more that pushes you to strive in your art, creativity and basically in everything in life. And that should translate into your worship as well. It should translate into you crying out for God to move in your worship. Because what you have, what you've experienced is never enough. There is always something more, something better, something that you have to press in to.
The thing to remember is as much as you want to criticise after the service, don't let it be that you're criticising during the service as well because then you wouldn't actually be worshipping. And as much as you want to criticise after the service, make sure you're doing something to bring about positive change. Because things don't get better via mere criticism. Things only get better by finding solutions to your complaints.
I guess there are several things I need to work on.

#Fridayflash: Adam's death

In contrast to the harshly lit cells, the interrogation rooms were dark. Mahatma in his tattered prisoner’s jumpsuit seemed to blend in with the shabby room filled with old stains. He figured that a lot of the stains were probably his own. How many times had he been in here? How many times were they going to ask him to recant? He sat rock still in the chair, years of discipline quelling the need to fidget even if he was still as afraid as he had ever been. What if today was the day he would be beaten to death?

A faceless man entered, standing far in the shadows, whilst the beam of the light was shone directly into his eyes.

“We’ve arrested your son. You’d be glad to know he’s been following in your footsteps.”

His heart sank.

“I guess traitors run in the family. What, nothing to say? No fatherly words of concern?”

“What is there to say?”

“No pleading for mercy on his behalf? Ya Allah, you’re hardly human!”

“He chose his own road. Let each man live or die on his own convictions.” Mentally, he prepared a shroud, played a funeral, recited a Psalm. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, may your short life have done some good, provided some beauty, because nothing will be beautiful henceforth. I hope they kill you quickly, mercifully, before you become an animal like me. And yet… Adam for Met. Hadn’t that smuggled note meant that he had escaped? Didn’t it mean that he was now underground with the Metropolitan agents? Or was it merely a ruse to prove that they had caught the mole?

They now dragged in a thin body - a young teen so badly beaten that his features were almost unrecognisable. Mahatma schooled his body to stillness, even as his heart felt like it would fall out of his chest. He steeled his face, showing nothing. The boy, as much as could be seen, resembled Adam very much, and yet, his mind protested that it was impossible. It was impossible that this person could have come from what he remembered of his son’s lankiness. He had only been eight then, yes, but he had shown indications of very great height. This corpse, for it wasn’t breathing, looked to be barely above his own five feet five. Unless his growth had been tampered with… suppressed… denied… but anything could have happened in ten years.

He had to admit to himself, he had no idea who this youth had been. And if he didn’t know, it could be anyone. So he shut his heart back into its recesses and turned his stony face towards the nemesis in the shadows.

“And what do you want me to do with this… corpse?”

“And this is what you would wish for your dream Malaysia? Heartless men like you who cannot grieve the deaths of their sons?”

“You have no proof that this is my son.”

“Oh, you wish proof, cynic?” The man laughed and tossed him a wallet.

Willing his fingers not to shake, he flipped it open.

Adam’s face stared out at him from the identification card, his baby boy grown up. His gaze flickered towards the body. It was hard to decide what he should do. He had been living so long counter to all that they tried to make him be and do, that there were little impulses left in him. Should he acknowledge this strange person as his son and grieve? Or should he deny that it was his son? Or was there another way that would annoy them even more?

Laughter seemed to fill the room. It took him a few seconds to realise that it was coming from him, which then made him shake with fear that he had finally lost it. Maybe he had, and maybe it didn’t matter. As they dragged him back to his cell, tears started falling for the first time in over twenty years, and they wouldn’t stop. 

---

This week's Friday flash is an excerpt from my unfinished NaNoWriMo novel. I picked a passage at random, and edited it slightly for some clarity.

A worship ramble.

One thing about Twitter is that it's been leading me to interesting links/sites. I just started following a whole bunch of worship related accounts which has led to blogs, one of which is Rob Rash. (I'm not sure why he uses ".us" because it makes me think of Rashes. Like Rob has Rashes. Err. Anyway.)

His recent post on Worship Pastor vs. Worship Leader vs. Song Leader is an interesting one:

The Song Leader - The song leader does just what the title implies, leads the church in songs. There is no real leadership or vision. There is no shepherding going on, it’s the simplest form of leading worship as there can be. The song leader sings worship songs.
The Worship Leader - Once again, going off the title, the worship leader knows how to lead the church in worship. This is a step above a song leader and they know how to speak, cast vision, and lead the church beyond just singing songs.
The Worship Pastor - The worship pastor goes beyond just singing songs, casting vision, and speaking into people’s lives from the stage. The worship pastor is shepherding the church. Moving past the stage and Sunday mornings, the worship pastor gets involved in people’s lives and has a sense of responsibility mixed with a calling to move people in their faith.
There is a major difference in all three, as each one assumes a slightly different role. I believe it’s important for those of us that are leading the church, whether in worship, preaching, teaching, or in leadership, to have a real clear understanding of our calling.

I figure that most of our "worship leaders" (WLs), me included, are more inclined towards being just "Song Leaders". A lot of times, it's about throwing a bunch of worship songs together based on our own directions - maybe the current themes in our heads/personal devotionals/etc - with no clear vision, no clear direction that is in line with the church. Maybe this has to do with the disconnect between the WLs and the general leadership of the church. I don't know if this is something the other WLs feel, but it's been something I've been mulling over.
I may be wrong, but I just some how think that if the church is entrusting a bunch of guys (and a girl) to lead the church in worship every week, there should be some kind of deeper discipling happening at that level. I mean, if you really take worship (as in the corporate worship-in-song, not the worship-as-a-lifestyle) seriously, there has to be a correlation between what is going on during the worship, including the songs selected, and the general sermons coming out over the pulpit. There has to be a connect. (On an aside, having the sermon theme/outline BEFORE choosing songs is a great plus. True, it's great and awesome when both WL and the Pastor are so in tune that they sing/speak on the same theme... but face it - it's not that common an occurence. Then the WLs have to scramble about for a suitable song for altar call on the spot.)
Taking that further, it shouldn't only be the WLs per se who are getting this deeper discipling - the whole team need to be on the same page as well. Because a worship leader doesn't lead on his/her own. The musicians and singers need to engage as well, because if not, it will fall back into another weekly performance. The tech people need to be there - not just to make it sound right, but to be sensitive to where the service is going.
I don't know. I suppose that the carecells are supposed to be taking care of this, but it just seems to me that this new cell model is shallower than the previous one. It's a lot more about connecting, yes, but it's not much about discipling. Or maybe I should just be patient and wait until the next level of discipling starts and wait and see if I'm on it. As it is, this leadership cell thing is only for cell leaders. (Okay, this could be a personal chip.)

So the question now is how do we move ourselves from being "song leaders" to being "worship leaders"? And do we wait for a church appointed / ordained / paid Worship Pastor, or do we seek to step up into that role because that is what the church needs, and where our hearts lie?

Restless - Switchfoot

I am the sea on a moonless night
Calling, falling, slipping tides
I am the leaky, dripping pipes
The endless, aching drops of light
I am the raindrop falling down
Always longing for the deeper ground
I am the broken, breaking seas
Even my blood finds ways to bleed
Even the rivers ways to run
Even the rain to reach the sun
Even my thirsty streams
Even in my dreams
I am restless
I am restless
I am restless
Looking for you
I am restless
I run like the ocean to find your shore
Looking for you
I am the thorn stuck in your side
I am the one that you left behind
I am the dried up, doubting eyes
Looking for the well that won't run dry
Running hard for the other side
The world that I've always been denied
Running hard for the infinite
With the tears of saints and hypocrites
Oh, blood of black and white and gray
Death in life and night in day
One by one by one
We let our rivers run
I am restless
I am restless
I am restless
Looking for you
I am restless
I run like the ocean to find your shore
Looking for you
I can't hear you breathing
I can't hear you leading
More than just a feeling
More than just a feeling
I can't feel you reaching
Pushing through the ceiling
Till the final healing
I'm looking for you

Until the sea of glass we meet
At last completed and complete
Where tide and tear and pain subside
And laughter drinks them dry
I'll be waiting
Anticipating
All that I aim for
What I was made for
With every heartbeat
All of my blood bleeds
Running inside me
Looking for you
I am restless
I am restless
I am restless
Looking for you
I am restless
I run like the ocean to find your shore
I'm looking for you
I can't feel you breathing
I can't feel you leading
More than just a feeling
More than just a feeling
I can't feel you reaching
Pushing through the ceiling
Till the final healing
I'm looking for you
I'm looking for you

---

There's just something about a melancholic Switchfoot song that just captures the longing in your heart. I am restless. Aren't we all?
We're all pilgrims, aren't we? Looking for something more. Looking for something deeper.
And there are times we just can't feel Him. It's a glass ceiling we can't get through, even if most times the glass ceiling is of our own making.
Always running hard for the infinite, not yet there, still hypocritically pretending that we are. Still, striving, restless, looking.
Always the paradox of Christ and the paradox of man. Death in life, night in day. 
I am restless, and yet there will be a day. Pushing through.

Also:
Revelations 15:2 appears here? And I saw what looked like a sea of glass mixed with fire and, standing beside the sea, those who had been victorious over the beast and his image and over the number of his name. They held harps given them by God.
Betcha you didn't catch that: Until the sea of glass we meet / At last completed and complete / Where tide and tear and pain subside / And laughter drinks them dry. 

The Shelter - Jars of Clay

I've been having the album on repeat in my car, mainly because 1) I'm too lazy to change the CD and 2) I haven't gotten sick of it yet.

Details just for the heck of it (and since it was listed on youtube):
Jars Of Clay -- The Shelter (2010)
Artist: Jars Of Clay
Album: The Shelter
Release Date: October 5th, 2010
Style: Rock / Pop / Indie
Label: Gray Matters / Essential Records / Provident
Location: Nashville, TN

Track Listing:
1. Small Rebellions (featuring Brandon Heath)
2. Call My Name (featuring Thad Cockrell, Audrey Assad)
3. We Will Follow (featuring Gungor)
4. Eyes Wide Open (featuring Mac Powell, Derek Webb, Burlap To Cashmere)
5. Shelter (featuring TobyMac, Audrey Assad, Brandon Heath)
6. Out Of My Hands (featuring Mike Donehey, Leigh Nash)
7. No Greater Love
8. Run In The Night (featuring Thad Cockrell)
9. Lay It Down (featuring David Crowder, Dawn Richardson)
10. Love Will Find Us (featuring Sara Groves, Matt Maher)
11. Benediction (featuring Amy Grant)

S/N: Jars of Clay lyrics = deep poetry = winners! at least in my book. (Switchfoot too, though I didn't like the style of Hello Hurricane as much as I expected - but Restless off the upcoming album is awesome!)

If  you've been following my older blog, you'll remember that I kind of like to dissect songs (maybe more exactly - respond to them) every once in a while. So I figure I might as well follow up on that here.

I wasted a rescue
Abandoned the mission
I've failed by my own hand
And watched it all go wrong

Hah, isn't this life?So many times all the great plans that we have, the awesomest things we want to do (for God or otherwise) just seems to fall apart at the slightest twitch of a finger)

You said You could save me
That I couldn't save myself
You said that You loved me
No matter what I've done
Isn't this sometimes how we talk to God? You said so, didn't you? But why can't I believe it? Why can't it just be that I can save myself? Why can't it be that I don't need to be saved? You said you loved me, didn't you? How sure are you of that?

When the light is gone
And life is just a dare we take
Still the fight goes on
To give my heart away
Funny, but as much as you deny it, my heart has to belong to something. It can't exist in a vacuum. If I can't love you, I have to love something else. My boyfriend. My books. My games. My work. My family. But something. Something has to have my heart, even if it's myself.
 
And it's out of my hands
It was from the start
In light of what You've done for me
In light of what You've done for me
You lifted my head
Set me apart
In light of what You've done for me
This is what You've done for me
It's out of my hands

Is it? Is it really out of my hands? Isn't there something I can do? Something I can say? Something that makes me feel not so worthless? Something I can grasp?

You grow where the light is
Like trees in the highlands
We're bent by our own plans
To keep us in the dark
And I act like an orphan
Forget that You found me
But You came like a whisper
And saved me with a spark
Yetyoufoundme. Like a whisper in the wind that says, you're worth it. It doesn't matter what you think or how much you can believe - I came for you. It isn't you always striving. It isn't you always trying to be, be more, be bigger. It's you being Mine. It isn't your action that counts. It's your response to Me.

When the light is gone
And life is just a dare we take
Still the fight goes on and on
To give my heart away
Take that dare. Imagine you could live bigger than just you. Imagine that you were a beacon shining in your night. Take that dare.

And it's out of my hands
It was from the start
In light of what You've done for me
In light of what You've done for me
It is, isn't it? It was never in my hands. It was never mine to hold.

You lifted my head
Set me apart
In light of what You've done for me
This is what You've done for me
It's out of my hands
It's out of my hands

It has always been You moving the pieces, directing the scenes. You lifted my head to see a different scene. You set me apart to be a different person. It's not me, trying. It's You, being.

There's nothing in the world that I can offer
Nothing in the world that I can stand apart
Apart from You
Apart from You
There's nothing in my life
Nothing in my life that You haven't given to me

It's out of my hands
It was from the start
In light of what You've done
In light of what You've done
You lifted my head
Set me apart
In light of what You've done
In light of what You've done for me
It's out of my hands
It was from the start
In light of what You've done for me
In light of what You've done for me
You lifted my head
Set me apart
In light of what You've done for me
This is what You've done for me

It's out of my hands
It's out of my hands
Everything I have, Lord
Everything I have
It's out of my hands
It's out of my hands

Oh, It's out of my hands

Other S/N: I love the backup vocals on this. Leigh Nash! <3

#Fridayflash: Time

Your story prompt from Writer's Digest

So this is what mortality feels like, he thought, the steady trickling away of life. It seemed that his feet swung in time with the rhythm of the clock as he stared blankly into space - or where space would have been, if the meeting of the wall and the ceiling hadn’t coincided with his general line of sight.

Time rippled around him and for a moment he had the illusion of being naked, a white towel draped around his waist. He blinked and the hallucination faded. The door in front of him opened and the petite young doctor came in, frowning over her clipboard.

“I don’t understand these results,” she announced to the clipboard.

“What’s wrong with them?” His heart raced in his chest as he tried to keep his voice steady.

“None of your results fall within the normal ranges. You shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

He thought it was cute, the way she bit at the end of her pen in frustration.

“Maybe I’m not.” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Try harder next time. Here. Bend down - let me get a look at your eyes.”

He did as she instructed, taking the opportunity to stare into her large grey ones.

“Not funny,” she snapped.

“Who’s laughing?”

“If you continue to be a creep, I’ll turn you over to the next available doctor. He’s reaching eighty, extremely cranky and will probably give you paracetamol and tell you just suck it up and live.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I should go. My time is up.” He could feel the ticking in his bones now, the many slight jumps in time, images over images appearing before his eyes.

She frowned at him. “Maybe I’m testing for the wrong thing,” she mumbled to herself.

“Yes, totally wrong. Look,” he stood. “Just remember that there’s more to life than this. It’s clichéd, I know, but it’s true. I have to go now. I’ll see you on the other side.”

He watched her from the stream of time as she looked up from her clipboard, puzzled to find that her peculiar patient had suddenly disappeared.

I’m not alive, he thought, merely immortal.

----
So I dropped by Writer's Digest and the latest Your Story competition caught my eye. However, I couldn't quite just stop at an opening line, so I tried to continue the story. I got distracted by the Internet though (as usual) so it's probably not as good as it could have been.
I'll have to work on the not-getting-distracted bit.
Several posts lined up in my brain, just whether any of them will see the light of day. We'll see how this weekend works out.

Happy birthday, @yeohjo, here's to (almost) 27 years of friendship!

Dear Josh,

So. Twenty-seven years ago, you were born. And I've known you for almost 27 of them. Technically. If you count me being in my mom's womb, I've known you for all 27, but that's a bit hard to grasp. Hm. Well, never mind.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. I kind of had an idea earlier, but it slipped my mind between arriving home and turning on the computer and being distracted by Twitter.

We've done much together: firebrands, cell group, writing, acting and directing Star of Persia, worship teams, add maths tuition (HAH I RULE!), camps, random e-mails, strange twitter exchanges, birthday parties, FYU, supper, YOUR FIRST ACCIDENT WITH ME IN THE CAR (It was the first, right?). I'm sure there's much more I haven't mentioned...

You know, sometimes I listen to a bit of flak about your current um, overspiritual state, and how sometimes it's hard to talk with you without it turning into a well, sermon. But that's you. It's what you're excited about and it's exciting that God is doing so much with you. Or you are doing so much with God, whichever way you want to put it. It's beautiful to listen to your passion. I guess I love the way you make me want to do more, to press on more, to not be satisfied with where I am just by listening to your stories.

Maybe I'm getting old enough to wax nostalgic about the "good old days". But we should hang out. Soon. When I'm not so busy, and you're not so busy.

So here's to more of God in your future; that your wildest dreams will be fulfiled with more than you've ever hoped for, because when you glory in God, He glories in you.

Love and blessings,

-anna-

sorry, no #Fridayflash this week.

I told myself that if I could write a short story every Friday for #fridayflash, I would have 52 shorts (or flash fiction) in a year and I could edit and compile it and try to sell it online. Unfortunately, a week of crazy work which is going to continue into this weekend is not much of an incentive for me to sit and write something. I've been rather brain dead all day after a week of midnighters (so NOT me!) and I think I'm off to bed.
So, no #fridayflash today and those posts I've been wanting to work on will just have to wait.

Cheerios.

#FridayFlash: Remember Peace

Daniel opened his eyes and stared at the fan spinning above his head. And so it is morning. Am I truly ready for today?


He refused to think about it further as he bent his head and inhaled the smell of Sherise’s hair. When had she come and snuggled next to him? His arm was around her, holding her like a doll. The sleeping bag suddenly seemed a cumbersome thing he was cocooned inside. He extricated his arm, trying not to wake her up. Once he was free, he picked her up, comforter and all and laid her gently on the bed. She stirred, he held his breath, but she settled down again, eyes closed.

Am I ready for today? Perhaps.

The shaver stopped mid-chin as Sherise pushed open the bathroom door.

“Sorry, did I wake you? I thought I was quiet enough not to.”

"You're going, aren't you?" she asked, her face white under the yellow lights.

He shrugged.

"Take me with you."

His eyes flickered over to her even as his arrested motion resumed. "No."

"Then you are not going."

"Sherise, the rally is no place for you in your state."

"Neither is it a place for you in yours."

"Do you..."

"Remember peace, Daniel," she interrupted him. "If you forget it, there is no point in going."

Peace. He bristled at the suggestion. No one called for peace when you were arrested.

"Daniel, if you're going to look for a fight, don't go. They don't need your help to create a riot. They need people who will remember that it started as a peaceful movement, will continue as one and will end in peace as well."

"And how would you know?" He hated the way it came out gruff and accusing and angry even as her eyes tightened. “Sorry, I…”

"Do you think being grilled for hours on end about this would leave me as clueless as I was before?" There was a catch in her voice. "If you must go, you must take me."

"Why?" he asked, but he knew the answer: if she went along, he would give his all to protect her. If she were there, he would not give in to his basest impulses, his wild anger, his desire to fight. That was why he had decided to go, wasn’t it? To tell the government that he wouldn’t give in to their bullying tactics. It was only peripherally about the rally’s actual demands. Are you sure you really are ready for what today holds?

"This is not about retaliation," she insisted.

He scratched at his chin. But maybe it really is. Maybe all this, the rally itself, is a retaliation against a government which will not listen to reason.

"There is too much tension in the air already. Key leaders have been banned from the city. If they start... if anything happens and you get involved, where would that leave me?"

Daniel leaned against the sink, toying with the shaver. Then he straightened and lathered his face with soap. So do we rally with peace or with war?

"Are you listening to me?"

Bent over the sink with water and foam running down his face, he nodded.

“Stop thinking with your heart and start thinking with your brain. What do we gain if you fight them physically? Battered bones and bruised egos. Is that what you want? And if you get arrested what do I do? Peace is the goal, Daniel, and calling attention to the eight points. There will be no blaze of glory.” Suddenly, she giggled. “Don’t think with the hair on your chest!”

Daniel had to smile. I don’t have any, he threw in his usual reply mentally. He covered his face with the towel, trying to wipe off all emotion before answering. “I can't let you put yourself in danger again, Sherise." Who can guarantee peace if there are many like me without a wife like you?

"And neither can I, Daniel. Remember what we used to joke about? Sherise? She who rises?"

She waited for her husband to nod.

“Then let me rise. We rise together.”

"Get ready," he finally said. "We leave in thirty minutes.”

Peace. Remember peace. Remember the cause. Remember what you are fighting for. Remember. He tried to hold it all in his head, to knot down the purpose, the goal.

I will remember peace.

---
 
For all of you attending the Bersih rally tomorrow, stay safe and stay calm! May the wisdom of God go with you.

Annoyed: Chicken & Duck conversations

I suppose what irritates me the most about this whole Bersih thing (actually Malaysian politics in general) is the whole atmosphere of arrogance and pride. On both sides.

PR has the arrogance of a popular online support. I don't know about on the ground, but online, yes. Their demands may be righteous, but their tone smacks of arrogance, not of righteous anger. It's like a come-uppance. I'm right, so you had better agree with me.
BN has the arrogance of power and money. They know that they have the power of the ruling party and the power to stay in power due to money politics and corruption so they couldn't care less about what anyone else has to say. Any pretence of it being all due to perception is probably down the drain with this whole fiasco with Bersih. Perception? What perception?

Everything is so skewed.
No one is listening to anyone else. As in really listening, in the open-minded, negotiation-possible stance. It's just, I hear you say this, I shoot back at you. The facts are lost or buried. One side brings up some obscure laws and practices in other countries that are simply not applicable in the current undertone (as well as making everything illegal). The other keeps blasting the fact that there is too much corruption and problems and things need to change. Yes, things need to change but what? How? When?
As it is, it just seems to be a whole bunch of Chicken & Duck conversations where nobody is actually addressing anything in any reasonable way.

Okay, maybe the real gripe is this. We know that BN is in deep shit. But what makes you think that PR will be any better?

Anwar is tarred with pretty much the same brush as any ex-BN person is... and this whole de-facto nonsense is a bigger detractor for PR than anything else.

Maybe it's time for PR to start acting as if it is the government, instead of merely playing the opposition card. Yes, you want the best for the rakyat. What are you doing about it? Is it possible to do something even if you are not the elected rep? Are you not able to visit your constituency if you're not the official elected rep? By standing for that constituency, you have elected yourself to care and to take notice of these people. It doesn't matter if you lose. You still have that responsibility for them if you are really serious about making a difference and not just in changing the government.

It is possible to be so caught up in the idea of change that you forget why you are trying to make that difference. And then you may forget that the ends do not always justify the means.

And seriously, Twitter is no place to even attempt a debate.

All an eagle would really like, is a teapot

Okay, so I said I'm giving up on payperpost, but maybe not yet. They just told me to write that (All an eagle would really like, is a teapot) to claim my blog. Erm.

I wonder what an eagle would do with a teapot, though. Maybe make a nice pot of essence of rabbit?

Yay for random word posts.

#FridayFlash: Bersih

There had been yellow flowers in her hair. It was all Daniel could remember about that day. Yellow flowers. That day; last Saturday. Had it been a week? He crushed the tin can in his hands. The remains of his beer flowed over fingers, a sticky yellowish liquid. Definitely not a - no, not kosher, that was the product of his colonial mindset; he rejected the word offhand - halal drink, but who was counting?

He picked up the yellow pamphlet from the table as he tossed the crushed can into the trash. How much of this was to be faulted? He had read it over and over and he didn’t see why it should have caused so much trouble. It was what any reasonable minded man would support; at least it appeared to be as it was printed. Who could know the intent of those behind it?

He turned his head towards Sherise. She sat on the couch watching television, twirling hair around a finger.

"Sherise..."

She jumped in her seat, giving a small shriek. He frowned. She had been jumpy ever since then.

“It’s late. Do you want to go up to bed?” he asked, trying to make his voice gentler.

“Oh, okay. Yes,” she turned off the television. Another change: she was afraid to be alone. She absolutely refused to stay alone in a dark room. Was it the dark or was it being alone that frightened her? He took her hand as they climbed up the stairs, but she drew away. Afraid to be alone and yet afraid of human contact. Maybe she was just afraid of the dark.

He settled into bed and picked up a book to read whilst she prepared herself for bed. She came out from the bathroom in pink striped pyjamas and stood at the door glaring at him.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go wash up,” he grumbled. Wives!

“Sorry, Daniel,” she said as he came out of the bathroom, his face buried in a towel. He looked up. His pillows were on the floor again along with the sleeping bag.

“I can’t. I just can’t.” Her voice quivered and her eyes swam. She huddled on the bed, the comforter wrapped around her like a shield.

“It’s alright, dear,” he answered, his heart making a hole in his belly. “Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

“No… I…”

“There’s a good doctor you could see,” he cut in as he unrolled the sleeping bag. “The lawyer said she might be able to help.”

“I’ll…”

“Just think about it, okay?”

She nodded.

“Do I get to kiss you goodnight?”

She hesitated but nodded, so he walked round to the side of the bed and planted a kiss on her forehead. He couldn’t help noticing that she had flinched. He waited until she had settled down on the bed before he switched off the lights and got into the sleeping bag.

How had it all happened? Daniel asked himself over and over again. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t add up. Sherise was the most harmless, bubble-headed woman in the world. He went over the events of that day again.

---

“I’m going shopping with the girls, Dan,” Sherise had told him early Saturday morning.

“Am I invited?”

“You could hang around if you want,” she said. “Some of the boys are coming, I think.”

“Okay.” He looked up from the newspaper. “What’s with the flowers?”

“The girls said they’re wearing yellow. I thought these would go nicely with my outfit,” she twirled in front of him, making the skirts of her yellow sun dress flare up around her.

“Very pretty. Just remember you’re mine,” he caught her in his arms and kissed her, hard. She giggled breathlessly.

They met up with the girls at Midvalley Megamall. Daniel didn’t listen much to their excited chatter. None of their boyfriends or husbands had decided to come so Daniel headed to Starbucks for a coffee. The call had come about an hour later, a frantic burst of information and then a sudden silence.

“What do you mean they have my wife?” he growled into the phone.

“Man, you do know about this whole Bersih thing, don’t you?” Azman said. “They’ve been asking everyone to wear yellow to support their rally next week, and you know how Farizah is. She’s been going on and on about it all week. I thought Sherise…”

“Sherise just said that the girls were wearing yellow to go shopping. I doubt any of the other bits filtered in through her ears. So why…”

“Don’t you read the news? The government’s gone ballistic! They’re arresting anyone wearing yellow.”

“Anyone at all?”

“Well, I suppose those they link to the campaign and… Farizah had a bunch of flyers with her… so…”

“Why hasn’t Sherise called me?”

“She might not be able...”

“And you know how?” Daniel felt rude, almost yelling into the phone. He realized that he was starting to attract attention but he couldn’t think straight anymore. No one threatens my wife! No one!

“Farizah and I have an emergency code,” Azman admitted. “If anything were to happen she just has to send a pre-written SMS to me and I would look into it.”

“How good of you to be so prepared.” He was being a jerk and he knew it. “Sorry, Azman. Where are they now?”

“They’re at the station in Bangsar. Meet you there?”

It turned out to be a long two days being led around by the nose trying to get the two wives and their two friends out of lockup. They were frustrated at every turn, even with the lawyers from Bersih attempting to help them. No one believed that Sherise didn’t have any knowledge of what was happening.

What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Daniel stormed to himself. What happened to truth and justice?

He had read over the pamphlets Azman and his friends had given him very thoroughly during the day. There had been nothing else to do except worry. So he read. And he agreed. Fair points. Anyone with sense would agree with them. Even the government would – should have – agree, he thought, even if they did not exactly practice it. Agree. And then forget about it. There were rugs enough for this to be swept under and forgotten for maybe the next five years or so. But no.

And then the four women were released; Farizah, angry and yet triumphant, Devi, glowering, Li Na, hard and sullen and Sherise… broken. She had been delicate before. Now she was just fragile. She refused to talk about anything that had happened, though the others were fairly vocal in their indignation of their treatment – of beatings and nude squats and threats and violence and the rumour of rape. No one was certain, but they had heard that one of the women had been raped. No one would confirm if it had happened to one of their party, or to some of the other women detained, but the rumour persisted. Only no one knew who it had happened to.

Was it you? Daniel couldn’t help asking. She had denied it but her persistent refusal to talk about what happened frightened him. She looked a wilted flower herself, the flowers in her hair long discarded, the sun dress disheveled and dirty. There was bruising on her arms and legs that he could see, but he hadn’t been allowed to see the rest of it. She refused to go for a checkup and insisted that he take her straight home, where she had marched into the bathroom and taken residence for at least two hours until he tentatively knocked on the door, afraid that he would find her drowned in the bath.

---

Had it only been a week? Everything seemed different now.

He ran over the details of the rally again. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would march. Even if he hadn’t believed in all they were trying to ask for, which he did, he would march. He would march because of what they had done.

And if they brought violence to his door, so be it. They had done it once and destroyed the only part of his life that held meaning. If they did it again… he shrugged in the darkness. Whatever came tomorrow, he was ready for.

***
 
The story above is fiction. Seriously. But writers reflect the emotions of their times and I can't help but be drawn in by the raw emotions and all the drama surrounding the Bersih rally.

Rejoicing in dance

You dance over me
When I am unaware
You sing all around
But I never hear the sound
[Amazed - Lincoln Brewster]


The nearest Bible reference I can get to the source of this song is this:

Zephaniah 3:17
The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.

Well, not all songs have a specific verse tied to it, though some songs are directly lifted from Biblical passages... but if there is one verse that seems to be tied to this song, it's this one. 

How does it fit, you may ask? The only thing that seems to be similar is the reference that God sings over us! Not exactly. Maybe it boils down to your individual perception of rejoicing, but I would definitively say that rejoicing over you with joy (quite a bit of emphasis on the joy part, no?) might have something to do with dancing. Because only happy people dance. Only free people dance.

And yet every time (almost) you bring up dancing, it seems to be only a presentation, only something for the people to see. It doesn't come up as a dance before the Lord, as a holy consecration of our bodies to Him. But it should be.

Probably way back when in my naturally suspicious and anti-super-spiritualistic heart (I'm still somewhat there) I was very skeptical about these dancing pastors who see angels behind every dance. But I think I've come to a realisation that there is a power in dance. There is a release. There is something deeper to it than merely movement for movement's sake, or just presentation. There is an ushering in of God's presence in the lifting of the banners, the waving of the flags, the pounding of the tambourines, the grace of the limbs.

I don't know if there are angels behind every dance. I probably don't think so. But that's not really the point.

If you talk about presenting yourself as a living sacrifice to God, then offering your body in the dance is part of it. You can't offer all of yourself without including your movement. That would be like telling God that he can only have your brain and your mind and the thoughts and the stuff you do with it... but no, you can't make me move. You can't possibly be interested in that because it's so... carnal.

But what is carnal?

What are you without your body? Without your bones and the flesh and muscles that covers it? Isn't sex carnal? Yet without it, you wouldn't have children and wouldn't be able to fulfil the command to be fruitful and multiply.

David danced before the Lord.

Maybe I have a strange kind of thinking about worship. I wouldn't know. I have strange kinds of thoughts all the time. But it's like a music that plays itself; unheard, most of the time. All we do is step into tune, taking what is already there, picking it up in our words and our music and yes, in our dance. And like a huge orchestra, if anything is missing, you feel it. It feels like there is something lacking, something not yet achieved.

One of the missing chunks right now is the whole area of dance. Maybe even the whole area of anything related to art or creative arts. Like paintings. And pictures. And sketches. And stories. And movies. And music. And dance, always dance.

I'm not really a dancer (or so I think) but somehow it always gets back to dance. Because whilst a movie or a sketch or drama or story tells things about God, tells all kinds of things about anything, really, it's often put on, contrived, made up, created. It's a representation.
Dance seems to be a more primal instinct, coming from the depths of the soul. It's not quite a representation. It is a being. A release. And twined with it, the music of heaven. 

of miscellaneous jumbled thoughts

Am I Ephesus to serve and persevere, to test the prophets and hate evil, but to forget my first love?

The funny thing is, I think I'm more afraid of the sword of Anna than of the sword of the Lord. It's kind of like I'm afraid of what I can do, if I would only let myself do it. Maybe because it comes back to the fact that most times I am afraid of what I want to do because I am afraid of what other people would say/think. Which is, frankly, stupid.

Most of the time I don't think I have a problem with what God can do. It's usually the problem of what I can do with God. And maybe the crux of this matter is that I doubt myself too much. I doubt my motives too much. There's so much second-guessing and triple-guessing that sometimes I forget how to think straight. It seems that every time I allow myself to dream, I start to worry about whether this is my dream and my goals instead of what God wants me to do. And then in a moment of clarity, the thought comes that what if this IS a God dream? Except that these moments of clarity never last long enough before I slide into a but I can't valley of depression.

I need to stop thinking church. It should be central, but not centric. It should be an anchor, but not a basis. It should be a starting point but not the ending. Because the world is out there, and there is where I should be.

Stop. Rant.

And yet, my dear, how is what you do any better or any more insightful?
You still rely on grace. You have always relied on grace.
Shouldn't it be time you offered grace as well? Without that grimace on your face? Without that half-smile, that hidden smirk?
Is it only about the songs, or about the heart behind it?
Is there depth behind any thing you say?
Is there a heart?
Or are you merely words and music?

You. Are. Good.
You have ever been.
What more is there to say?

another day, another rant

I was looking through my drafts (basically all the half-written posts that I have forgotten about) and found this:

While I was busy getting a new blister on my right foot (it's always the right, I don't know why?) I started thinking about what Christianity means in these times. Okay, it's something that I've been thinking about, writing about, deleting words on. It's nothing new. Just so you know.
But the thought was this: we're living a watered-down Christianity.
This lifestyle isn't real. This isn't what it was meant to be. If we were living the right way, I don't think we'd be so comfortable that our biggest worry is about getting a bigger building, (or getting enough people to justify a bigger building), parking lots and accessibility. We'd be getting into trouble with the law for the good things that matter: righteousness, truth and justice in a land where it's scarce.
We wouldn't be arguing about whether the 10% is meant to be gross or net income. We'd be saying we've given so much there isn't anything left to give out of. That meal at the restaurant would really be a treat - a luxury - instead of a normal occurrence.

I think I wrote that sometime in October last year. I guess it ties in with the stuff I blurbed out in my handy Mark Twain notebook during service yesterday. 

It is wrong. We move, when we should linger. We rise when we should be still. And we stop, jarringly, when we should flow. We are children pretending to know what we are doing, muddying the great flood of God's majestic river. We play in the eddies when we should plunge into the great flow, the mighty stream.
It is all wrong. It has nothing to do with our music, beautiful or not, rising to God. He doesn't need it. It is us learning to plunge into the music, the unheard music, that already surrounds us; learning to tap into His majesty and awesomeness that always surrounds us.
He sings over us. He dances over us. He spins His webs, His stories, His Words all around each and every one of us. All we need to do, is to be. Be open and receptive. To realise that He is there and to dance with Him, to His tune. Not. our. own.
We are rabbits. Frightened rabbits.
We are not even meek lambs who follow with trust and faith.
We are rabbits hiding in burrows, quivering when we should roar.
Roar! WHERE IS THE LION?
We are children of the King and our King is a mighty roaring lion, a raging fire.
So why are we rabbits in our worship?
Words are a powerful thing. Music is a powerful thing. Our God is more powerful than these for He made them to be tools.
I am tired of playing church. It is the time for the Church to rise up from its own ashes. We should be free of what people think our worship to be, but to be captured by what God wants it to be.
There is more to life than this.
There is a task to be finished.
There is work to be done.

It's a recurring theme. A deep dissatisfaction with where life is. Where life seems to be heading. And yet, at the same time, it's an acknowledgement that I don't know how to get there. Maybe I dream too big. Maybe I don't know what I'm asking for. Maybe I just don't know Him enough.
And yet. We are too tiny for our God. We think too small. We are satisfied with the comfort of church as we know it. Maybe I've been too many places. Seen to many things. Or maybe I'm still young. I don't know what it's like to be old and deaf and timid. But it just seems that in catering to the weakest, we never get anywhere.
We are stuck in the same old rut of Some people don't like it. So we shouldn't do it. ARE THE 'SOME PEOPLE' GOD? Yes, we are there to lead people into worship, and yes, that does mean that we need to take into account the type of people who are coming into the church. But you can't lead by pushing from behind. You need to lead by being out there, by entering first. By showing them the way.
I would like a valid reason for why we keep on singing tired old songs when the Bible says sing a NEW song to the Lord. I would like a valid reason for why our music must be soft and tinny (and basically high-school-band-bad) when the Psalms say SHOUT with joy to God... Make His praise GLORIOUS!
I really don't know how quiet and faded and washed out translates into AWESOME AND GLORIOUS. Yes, there are times for that hush. But with that hush should come the majesty of His presence. Not the awkwardness of the band/worship leader doesn't know what to do now.
I feel that sometimes we are dancing to a different tune from where God would take us. Or maybe I am critical because that is not what I would do. So maybe I am the problem. Maybe I am getting in the way. Acknowledging this doesn't detract from the fact that frankly, it could be much better. We are a long way from arriving.

Oh!

If you were accidentally led here while clicking on the google friend connect whilst trying to read my A to Z challenge, my challenge posts are updated here.
I just added the google friend connect to my tabulas blog and I'm not sure how it works because the follow bar thing is associated with my gmail which is associated with my blogger, which is linked to this blog. And that. And....

I hope I didn't confuse you, because I'm confused.

random

Let this be Your story
Let this be Your song
Let this be Your glory
As You build a people strong

Hello, people. Open your eyes.

I think in the end, if you ask me, it comes back down again to commitment. It comes back to the question of WHY you're in the team. All the stuff we spent so much time talking about - they're essentially non issues. This whole thing about it being tiring, dinner, sitting through the sermon multiple times, family time... I mean, how petty can you get? It's going to be the same for the whole team. Everyone who has committed to the worship team and all its supporting ministries are going to have to work through this. Everyone who has committed to serve in church is going to have to work through this - not just the worship team. Don't you think the people who usher, who tidy up the hall, who do traffic are all going to have to give up a little something as well?
If you're committing to serve in church, the question shouldn't be about how the church and the pastors/leaders are going to make it convenient for you or easy for you to serve. It should be about how YOU are going to rearrange your schedule to suit the greater needs of all the people coming to seek God. True?
I think that a lot of us still come with that 'serve us' attitude, that church should be about OUR convenience and needs, that if people want it bad enough they will come on their own. We're asking the world to come to us when Jesus has sent us TO the world.
Worship costs something. As Pastor Isaac said this weekend, most of us don't realize the deep personal cost that the old testament believers made to atone for their sins. We've taken grace so cheaply that we've lost its true value. I think it was David, who when he went to offer sacrifices to God and the owner of the land offered to give it him for free, he said, I will not offer a sacrifice to God that costs me nothing. That's something the church has lost. Our worship to God is not just the singing of the songs, not just the touted lifestyle; it's the offering of our selves in totality, including our time. Mook Chen said it right during cell today - in the past, monetary giving was the big issue. Most of the older generation just didn't have the cash to spare to give freely and that was the great sacrifice. Now, money is nothing. We've become affluent, we have learnt to give generously. Time has become the precious commodity as we struggle to juggle all the activities we are part of, all the things we do, or think we need to do.
So coming back to this:
1. The issue isn't really about the swapping. Yes, sometimes you have other commitments. But if it's happening so often, doesn't that mean some priorities are out of whack?
2. If you have committed to a service, you commit to it. You don't run off during service because 'I've heard it before'. Yes, I've heard it before too. I've heard some of my dad's sermons almost ten times over. But you STAY for the services, all of them, because you are a PART of the overall picture. You're there to support the pastor and the congregation, not to do your musical act then clear off. Each service, same sermon or not, has a different emphasis. And you can't know or sense that if you weren't there or if you were busy talking at the back. And you need to sense that because the pastor is going to call people for altar call/ministry and the TEAM has to be on the same page, not just the worship leader!
3. You have family. Fine, so do all of us. You're busy. Great, so are all of us. Your need to leave early due to xxxxx circumstances needs to be an exception to the rule - not the rule. Your children learn the true meaning of commitment, responsibility and passion from how you serve, not by what you tell them. After all, you have the other two or three weekends in a month to plan great family outings and times together. And why not initiate them into the ministry then by just having the there along with you? I've spent countless hours in church mooching around just because I have to wait for my dad to finish. It never hurt me any.
4. If dinner is THAT important to you, find a way to work around it. Don't just gripe about how tiring it is and how you really need to eat. How about fasting dinner? Have you ever thought that Pastor Isaac is preaching in all THREE services for much longer than the worship session AND HE IS NOT GRIPING ABOUT DINNER??

In conclusion, the thing I really want to say is, just grow up okay? Suck it up. You're better than that. This is bigger than you. If you wake up to that fact, it'll be much easier to adjust.

I KNOW it's going to cost. I DON'T have that time to spare either. But we gotta do what we gotta do. That's how you build worship. That's how you build the Kingdom. You are the worship TEAM not the worship solo, and this has to be done together as a team. This has got to click, to gel. We need to constantly move forward, not look back to what it used to be like. Because if we don't move, who is?

Time and unreality

Time slips away quicker and quicker each year, with an unknown urgency. Maybe it's as the verse says, that creation waits and groans for the coming of the Creator, for the setting of all things right, and it's getting nearer.
Sometimes I feel as if I'm standing just outside the slipstream. Everything is rushing onwards, people are getting caught in the flow, in the great events that are forming, clustering, speeding explosively by; and just outside, separated by a thin wall of unreality is where I stand, watching.
I know it's probably not like that, but it just feels that way. It's as if everyone is getting caught up in the great picture and I'm still muddling by, still afraid to step out of the boat, still afraid to take the plunge, still afraid to say I'll go where ever you take me. Yet at the same time, I know it's not time, I'm not ready. The place is still here, the time is still not yet. There are depths to be plunged still, if I could steel myself to it. There is more to be done HERE. So it still comes back to the crux of the matter, as it has ever been for me.

The here and now or the there and then.

If you didn't already know, I have problems living in the present. It always feel as if everything I am doing is leading up to something next, something coming. And when I reach it, I don't know how to respond. It's as if I'm walking through a haze of things that are happening around me, things that I have been waiting for, and yet am not fully a part of. It's as if in the midst of the GREAT AND ANTICIPATED EVENT I've somehow stepped out of my body and am watching everything going on, as if it's a movie. So it's happening and yet not happening, if you get what I mean.
Maybe this is why I enter major post-event depression all the time, no matter how small or large the event is. There's some random tinted glasses in my that mind blocks me from seeing the things that are happening in the midst of all the things that I had hoped would happen. There's an inability to sense the reality of the present; the mind wanders to what I am not experiencing rather than living in the moment of experiencing it. Does that even make sense?

And nothing is ever as it seems, is it?

Time is a funny thing. I feel as if I'm always living forward and looking backward, but am never where I'm supposed to be. Everything seems to be a tomorrow or a yesterday. Today doesn't exist for itself, never exists for what it's meant to be: the now, the present, the here. Today is here for tomorrow, for the things to come, for the yet-to-be. Tomorrow is here for the yesterdays, for the things that have been, to make right the things that have gone.
In the short story A Thousand Deaths by Orson Scott Card, the Russian prosecutor, after having tried to elicit a convincing confession from dissenter Jerry Crove by killing and reviving him many times (you'll have to read it to understand it), asks him, "What kind of animal are you, Crove? Can't you make up a lie and believe it?"
Crove answers, "It was my business. As a playwright. The willing suspension of disbelief."

Take from that what you will.

Faith and doubt

Sometimes, talking to her makes me doubt the veracity of my own experiences. It's as if the things that I feel regarding doubt, as strong as they may be, never registers with her because of the assumption that because I was born in a Christian family, I would never have faced the same kind of issues regarding doubt that someone coming from a non-Christian family, or someone who has faced great trials and tribulations would have faced. It's like a slap in the face to be told that I just don't understand. (Mentally I tag on the words and don't pretend that you do).

I am an Isaac. That in itself is true, and the testimony of my much-blessed life is a testimony of His faithfulness to my parent's work and prayers and diligence. It is true that I stand on the shoulders of giants, which makes reaching for God (and the stars) much easier because I am that much nearer, I have that much inheritance of strength and faith and love. It remains true that many privileges of making ministry work is because people know me and know of me through my father and they are willing to take me on that trust, at least at the initial stages. I grew up knowing many things about faith and ministry that many of my peers are just discovering now. I tend to come out of conferences going well, I knew that already where others are going woah, that's new!

Still, at the same time, there remains a dichotomy of being. There is a warring of the soul that says I believe and yet I'm not sure that I really do.
I may not be able to say that I have gone through a traumatic hospital experience, praying for loved ones to get healed and struggling with faith regarding God's power to heal. It could be something to do with my cynicism regarding the pursuit of miracle healings in the first place. I believe in realism, that you need to prepare yourself for the worst possible outcome, and yet to hope that God will do something. And whilst realism on one hand negates the faith that you think you should be having, doesn't that make the room for hope all the more?

That feeling is one that I am familiar with. The one where you know you should have faith, but you don't. The one where you think that God won't work if you don't have faith, and yet your faith falters and shatters to crystals on the floor. The one where you're going God, haven't I prayed enough? Don't you love me enough to make this happen? Or are you not powerful/loving enough? Or have I done something wrong? It's living with two realities, something that every person of the faith should be living in. It's knowing this hurts; this isn't right; and asking why God isn't doing anything about it - but it's also at the same time affirming (even if it's only with your mind) that God is all-powerful and all-sovereign and doesn't have to act the way we expect Him to, because this is coming to terms with Lordship. 

It's the ability to say I don't know if it's true even whilst you acknowledge that God has been and is working good in my life. It's being able to say I don't have all the answers, something that church has always secretly taught us not to admit. It's being able to sing Your Kindness is forever, Your goodness is forever, Your mercy is forever when nothing in your life is going right and doesn't seem like it will ever make good. It's being truthful enough to say I'm not sure I really believe whilst allowing that core of your being that does to hold you in check and declare but I have decided that I believe and I will set my sights on what I know is true and right and constant, even if I can't explain how I know it.


And sometimes faith on a string is enough.

It's just enough to be strong

In the broken places, in the broken places

It's just enough to be strong

Should the world rely on faith tonight

Faith Enough; Jars of Clay 

salt and light

We were talking about being salt and light, thinking of practical things we can do in the coming week to make an impact in the lives of our friends and family. Simple as that. We've talked about this in iBridge camp on a slightly larger scale - practical things that we can do to make a difference in the different spheres of our nation, i.e. politics, economy, health care, social works (I can't remember the other one). 

These problems seem really big. I mean, you start thinking about it, and you get frightened. It's overwhelming. You look at the forest and go woah, and what were we supposed to do again? But frankly, it isn't our job or our responsibility to change the whole world overnight. It isn't our job to overhaul the system. We can't. The system is rotten and we know it. But right now, with the resources we have, we just cannot change it.

However, what we know is this: if enough people do something about it (or even say something about it), things will change. It's not good enough to say that the system is rotten and it's not fair. We know that. The question is, what are you going to do about it? It only takes a single stone to start and avalanche (or maybe a single snow ball). It doesn't seem dangerous when it starts but it gets big pretty quickly and that really changes things.  

It really isn't any use lamenting the fact that we know that these things aren't good and fair and complaining or wondering why those with the power aren't doing anything about it. We know they aren't, and probably won't unless a miracle happens (we can pray). We know they have too much interested vested in it. It doesn't work to go, "but well, if I were the son of the MP/person in charge/person with power I would do something" because they too have a vested interest in keeping the status quo.  

But the best way to make sure that the people put in charge really do the right thing is not to sit around and complain about it. It's to go out there and give your opinion loud enough so that they have to listen. It may even be about replacing those people in charge with the right ones who will do something. 

It isn't easy and it isn't safe. But doing the right thing isn't about being safe. I can't remember who said it at camp, but he said if you're doing something right... expect to get into trouble. Why? Because all those who have interests vested in it aren't going to be happy. And they're going to try their best to shut you up. The thing is, it's never going to change if we never do anything. And if enough people do something, no matter how small, things WILL change. 

How was slavery abolished? By one guy constantly bugging the parliament and attempting to garner support in bugging the parliament. How did the Missionaries of Charity get started? By one woman doing all she could in the slums of India. It works everywhere else... why not with Malaysia?

The problem with Malaysia now... is really our mindsets. 

I guess it stood out extra clearly to me today during our discussion as one guy kept going on about how the system is rotten and how we can't do anything about the system being rotten. What we kept telling him was that yes, we know the system is rotten and we can't do anything about it now, BUT if everyone of us just starts doing the small things that we can do (for example, vote. Or even just helping out in social work, or getting involved in ministries that help the poor and the broken and the migrants) then something will start to change. Even if we can't change everything for everyone, at least that one person you are able to help will have received what he needed. Even if the other 49 still can't fish, at least there is one more person who can fish, and who can help in the work. 

He just couldn't accept that. He kept going on about how it's not his responsibility. He has done his part by paying his taxes and the government should do that bit. To each his own, and let each man decide for himself what he should do. It smacks of selfishness, but we really are selfish people. We want to have our cake and eat it. We want to complain about the state of things but expect that other people will fix it for us. We don't want to get our hands dirty. If I could generalise, I'd say that our age is an age of irresponsibility. We've learnt to pass the buck so well, that we don't know where it stops. 

Our reply to this was fine, to each his own. You decide that you can't do anything and you will not be part of the solution, then that's up to you. We believe that by just doing the little that we can, it will help be a part of the solution (erroneous or not) but we'll take up that responsibility to do that bit. 

I think what really clinched it for me today was the idea of functionality. We normally talk a lot about the analogy of salt and light; salt as a preservative, an aid to healing, a purifier, giving taste and light to show the way, drawing people and giving hope. But we hardly ever think about the fact that salt and light just has a very clear purpose. True, it's wonderful that there are so many things to say about salt and light. The fact remains that for it to just be useful, it has to be used. 

There's no point in having a lit candle if it's already in the light. No one can see it then. For the candle (torchlight for modernity's sake?) to be useful, to serve its purpose it has to be in the dark. And no matter how small or unstable it is, as long as it's there, someone can see. 

For salt to preserve or to heal wounds, or give taste, it has to be in that meat. And meat is by nature, messy and bloody. And if you cook it, it's going to be hot. 

The fact remains that perfection is never going to come in this lifetime. The question is, do you just accept that it isn't and then do NOTHING about it, or do you still do your best to at least get nearer?

Then again, this is just talk. This is just another blog post. What then will we - I - do to make the difference we are talking about? That's where the rubber hits the road, innit?