#fridayflash: Imago dei

Sheril glared at her reflection: short, dumpy, too-dark skin, flat hair, eyes just a little too far apart.

“Hah! Who looks like god? Not me, certainly,” she grumbled aloud, certain that the comforting words the preacher had said this morning in church was just another miasma of religious pretension. “You can’t fill this lacuna with your empty words. Empty is empty and empty fills nothing.”

Mama would think her crazy to be talking to her reflection, but sometimes she thought Mama was crazy to believe in a god who would leave her in this hellhole with a missing Papa who could not even spell Cheryl right, stupid Latino.

“I certainly do not want to look like you either,” a voice said, startling her. “No, do not oscitate. I understand there has been a glitch in the spacetime continuum that has brought me here right at this moment, which has proven to be quite synchronistic, don’t you think?

Sheril stared at the bearded man reflected behind her left shoulder.

“Ah, all sorted out now,” he said, smiling.

“Who are you and what do you do in my room?” Sheril asked, turning to look behind her.

There was no one there.

---

Prompt: the second campaigner challenge.

Write a blog post in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should:

• include the word "imago" in the title [check]
• include the following 4 random words: "miasma," "lacuna," "oscitate," "synchronicity," [check]

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional and included in the word count), make reference to a mirror in your post. [check]

For those who want an even greater challenge (optional), make your post 200 words EXACTLY! [check]

The 200 words was hard, this time. It kept getting either too long or too short. Like my post on rachael's blog (see link above) if you like it! It's number 167. :)

#bookreview: The White Road by Lynn Flewelling (goodreads crosspost)

The White Road by Lynn Flewelling
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Saddled with Sebrahn, a magical creature who can heal, kill and raise the dead, Seregil and Alec set off on a journey back to Plenimar, where an alchemist had created Sebrahn out of Alec’s blood, to find a way to prevent it from ever happening again. For exactly the same reason, they are hunted by Alec’s long-lost kin, intent on capturing him and Sebrahn before anymore tayan’gils are created out of Alec’s blood. Also hot on their tail is Seregil’s old nemesis who desires Sebrahn for his healing power.

I only picked up The White Road because it was on 50% discount and it had a Legolas-looking persona on the cover (not that I like Legolas, but I like elves and elvish stuff in general). I had browsed the blurb and found it to be about two heroes searching for “the truth about this living homunculus - a journey that can only lead to danger… or death”. I mean, what could go wrong with a fantasy with elves (she calls them faie, but anyone with a decent background in reading fantasy would know the words are interchangeable) and magic and dangerous adventure? I did take the precaution of reading the list of “also by Lynn Flewelling” to find out if it was part of a series, but didn’t find any indication. No “So and so series” with list of books or “book #XX of the something-or-other chronicles!”

Boy, was I wrong. After the first chapter, I started thinking that there was too much back story to the book for it to be a stand alone. Then again, The White Road was written as a complete novel in itself - whilst I wondered if there were prior books (maybe one of the also-bys) to the series, I didn’t find it difficult to follow the story. A quick google search later informed me that this was book 5 of the Nightrunner series.

It was altogether a tantalising read, one of those books that just don’t let you put it down. I mean, it took altogether about 5 hours, on a working night, up until 2AM to for me to release that final sigh of relief, so go figure.

Note:
I went back to the bookshop a few days later but couldn’t find any of the other books. I suppose Flewelling’s not popular enough to be high on the list of imports. On the other hand, I’ve only ever found the Ender series (Orson Scott Card) during warehouse sales, and you hardly see any Eddings on the shelves anymore, so maybe it’s the poor reception of fantasy books in Malaysia that’s causing the problem. A third deterrent could be the fact that the two main protagonists are in a homosexual relationship. Um, yeah, way to go, censorship board.

View all my reviews

#Fridayflash: An uneasy love

This is a short story I started working on for the Writer's Digest short story competition. As usual, I bit off a little more than I could chew in my choice of topic... so I may or may not finish it, depending on whether I figure out where they're going (or rather, whether they figure out who they really are and define the relationship [the one thing I ever learnt from Boundless was DTR, not that I ever had a chance to use it], if that makes sense). More notes after the story, because you may or may not agree with where I'm coming from. Don't read it if you're a bigot.
---

pre post camp post,

if that even makes sense.
I wanted to do a long post about camp. But I've been terribly busy at work trying to clear the backlog, and then I spent forever writing up (or rather editing) a travel advisory for the GCF delegates coming for the planning meeting for EAGC 2013 and my eyes can't stay open a moment longer. [Evangel asked me, don't you ever sleep? You sent me this at 2 AM and I see you online now (that was about 10AM on Tuesday morning).]
But I'll just leave you with a thought I've been mulling over since the session on discernment: what would you do different if you were to really know who and whose you were?

The other thing I have been mulling over would be to come up with some kind of blogging and/or writing schedule.
This would generally look something like this (with reference my past blogging trends):
Sundays (or sometimes Monday nights) - some deep reflective post and/or rant involving church, worship, cell group and God.
Fridays (or sometimes Saturday mornings) - #fridayflash
I should probably add in a day for updates on writing progress (hah! What progress?) which could possibly on Wednesdays, just to even it up.
We'll see how it goes. (This normally means that nothing will happen because I get too busy and/or lazy)

#Fridayflash: Now was forever

The door swung open; the aisle stretched endlessly before her. She smiled blankly, instinctively. The music swelling in her ears was overshadowed by the pounding of her heart. The first day of the rest of her life, and she stood there, like a fool, with an empty stomach. At least there was nothing to throw up.

How did I get here? The pink roses trembled, the baby buds she had asked for suddenly seeming alien in her freshly manicured hands. A steady arm held her, a familiar voice whispered in her ear, “Ready, my little princess?” Twenty-six years of being the baby of the family would be changed in the next hour; had in reality been changed yesterday at the Registrar’s office by the signatures of five people. What have I done?

It had seemed so simple, so magical, a year ago. He had asked, she had answered. And now, now was forever. Now was…

She was aware of the smiling face bobbing by the altar, so comforting and yet so unreal. She took the first step toward him, almost tripping on her dress and in her wobbly heels.

Her wedding train trailed behind her; the door swung shut.

---

Prompt: The first campaigner challenge!

Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “The door swung open” These four words will be included in the word count.[check]

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), use the same beginning words and end with the words: "the door swung shut." (also included in the word count)[check]

For those who want an even greater challenge, make your story 200 words EXACTLY![check - according to Scrivener, at least]

This was quite fun. Also, rather inspired by my cousin's wedding and the recent spate of engagements. People, can you stop getting engaged and married already? Or at least find me one so I can join in the fun! Haha.
On writing matters, I find that I'm using commas a lot. Please let me know if it feels too disjointed or truncated. I'm not sure if it really works. 

How He Loves Us.

Awesomest.

And yet, so forgettable, in the midst of the hustle and bustle and the rush and the buzz. But at the core, oh, how he loves us.

Haggai 1:7-9

Thus says the Lord of hosts, "Consider your ways! Go up to the mountains, bring wood and rebuild the temple, that I may be pleased with it and be glorified," says the Lord. "You look for much, but behold, it comes to little; when you bring it home, I blow it away. Why?" declares the Lord of hosts, "Because of My house which lies desolate, while each of you runs to his own house."

When things seem pointless, a timely point to consider.

Working on my weekend worship set now. :)

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