e·phem·er·al

e·phem·er·al

I am but a flicker
But burning bright in Your eyes

Am I
The virtuous spark which ignites
Your first flame
the reason for morning light

Or a fresh fire in an old wood in the deep green
like a new dew, though daily
rekindles like creation at first word

..


mem·o·ry

Is like dandelion in winds too soft
Or an epigram you told me
A line after another like strings of a piano without damper
Like you, like me

Selah..

softly, she walks through the open field,
a canvas of crystal and sun.
she draws deep a breath to her lungs -- 
and delights in her Maker, her Lord.

nearby the water stills its rapids;
a reservoir of quiet and calm.
she lies beside the silent stream -- 
and feels her soul restored.

and with her hand raised to her King
she follows the righteous path.
while in the house of the Lord she finds 
an eternal love that lasts.

though death and darkness steal the light
she presses on towards Day.
the Shepherd's staff protects and she
feels comfort and peace -- Brave. 

when in her Father's house she sits
at a glorious table of feasts.
the guests of honor are present to witness
His favor upon her head.

and when she rises up there trails
behind her, goodness and grace
to bless and follow her always,
a gift from God above.

softly, she walks through the open field
and listens to Heaven's bells.
she sets her mind and eyes on the Lord -- 
and makes her heart His home.

Surrender to Love

"We are not a changed people merely by doing the right things. We are a changed people when we surrender to the God who is love, allowing His love to take up residence in us."
-Mike DeVries

Breeze

Breeze
Is tired after a day's work of moving past vehicles and annoyingly flipping newspaper pages of men in suits to prove its existence
So it stopped and did what it like best

Moving through the sliding young girl's happy hair dancing down the slide
Pushing & teasing little hydrogens bumping each other in red balloons
Playing catch with the wagging tongue of the dog out the car window
And hugging the old widow sitting alone in the fading garden

And after the long day's gone
It turns back into wind, sweeps clean the streets of its dead leaves
Terrorises the dark, closes the windows of forgetful minds
and lulls little children to sleep
with its gentle lullaby.

The Curator and the baker's son (rewrite) 01

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in a small town. This is an old town full of old and beautiful buildings, and many people would come by the bakery, large library and famous art museum.  Everyday, something special will happen in this small town. And everyday, only one special thing will happen, be it a hot air balloon carnival, town parade, bakery day, or something so special that it only happens to a small group of people, or just between two persons.

Today, I am telling you a story of something really special that happens to two persons, between a young boy and an old man. This young boy is the baker's son, a young nine year-old, blond-haired boy, slightly taller than two long French loaves stacked up together, but much fatter. The boy is so well-mannered with a gentle voice, but don't be fooled, he is very, very naughty. This old man is very, very old. He is so old that when he coughs, he make loud whizzing coughs that would frighten the birds sleeping in the tree. And he walks with a very, very old wooden walking stick which makes a "thump... thump" sound wherever he goes. Don't be surprised that every people in this small old town knows him, because he is the curator of the famous museum.

So why is this museum famous? It is a large museum with so many things that it would take days just to finish seeing it, but that is not why it is famous. I would love to tell you but there are so many other long stories to it, but let me give you a hint - It is a magical museum.

Flame of God - prayer

From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the Crucified
From all that dims Thy Calvary
O Lamb of God, deliver me.

Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire;
Let me not sink to be a clod;
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God

-Amy Carmichael

Soon

"Though I have not seen Him, my heart knows Him well."

the story will continue very soon..

The curator and I - Note books (1 of 2)

..

If I were to distribute a little note book to everyone, and let them write down their thoughts. After a couple of weeks, I would collect them back, admire how in different shapes and sizes they were returned, and pass it on to the curator.

He will start putting together the notes that were torn apart, read through line by line, smile and laugh, or wipe his eyes with an old, reddish handkerchief. I felt as if years has passed while he was doing this, and he would hand me each note book after reading thoroughly, and I will release it while it flew high and hung in midair, like a gentle cloud, in the exhibition hall.

It seemed like a thousand year's worth of thoughts in seconds filled the ceiling. "Light them up", said the curator. So I picked up the strings of light bulb laying by the side of the hall, laid it over my shoulders and summoned gently, the floating ladder.

I was sweating when I have climbed the last step. The ladder extends itself so high to reach the top. Finally I can do my job now, slowly without awakening each bulb, I hold each string to my mouth and blew the light bulbs with long, soft breaths; and like a lazy yawn, they detach from the string and find its rest in each note book.

Light bulbs are very light and sleepy little creatures, but if there is any love found in the place where they nest in, they will wake up, and light up. But even as all the note books has a bulb nested in by now, the grand exhibition hall stayed very, very dark.

I feel weird, weirder than a stomachache. Because my heart feels a little painful, and big drops of salty tears began rolling down my cheeks. The curator said to me that it is a normal thing and wiped it off with his red handkerchief.

"I have an idea to make it brighter", the curator said, with a sudden big grin. =)

(to be continued..)




       

光

Have you ever run your fingers in a sunset light.

It rained

It rained,
It rained.

My tiredness seeps away into the cold drain.

I stand myself in the middle of it all,
this humble symphony of awe.

Stretch your hand into the little hope,
And the liquid chill drips into you.

The dancing trees, waves of circles.
Shadow in the light of you.

Flash and low roar.
Comfort, comfort, in your roar. Gentleness.

The melody droning, like a father's bedtime song.


Sweep me away..



Can't feel the light kiss on forehead,
It rained,
It rained.

Being odd

"A real Christian is an odd number anyway. He feels supreme love for one whom he has never seen. He talks familiarly every day to someone he cannot see, expects to go to heaven on the virtue of another, empties himself in order that he might be full, admits he is wrong so he can be declared right, goes down in order to get up. He is strongest when he is weakest, richest when he is poorest, and happiest when he feels worst. He dies so he can live, forsakes in order to have, gives away so he can keep, sees the invisible, hears the inaudible, and knows that which passeth knowledge.”

~A.W. Tozer

Love like fire

Place me like a seal over your heart,    
    like a seal on your arm;
for love is as strong as death,    
    its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire 
    like a mighty flame.

(Song of Songs 8:6)

“Like a Weaned Child is My Soul”

“Weaned from what? Self sufficiency, self will, self seeking. From creatures and the things of the world—not; indeed, as to their use, but as to any dependence upon them for his happiness and portion…Yet this experience is no easy attainment. The very form of expression — “I have behaved and quieted myself”, reminds us of some risings which were with difficulty subdued. There is a difference here between Christ and Christians. In him the exercise of grace encountered no adverse principles; but in them it meets with constant opposition. The flesh lusteth against the spirit, and when we would do good evil is present with us; hence the warfare within.

So it is with “the child that is weaned.” The task to the mother is trying and troublesome. The infant cries, and seems to sob out his heart. He thinks it very hard in her, and knows not what she means by her seeming cruelty, and the mother’s fondness renders all her firmness necessary to keep her at the process; and sometimes she also weeps at the importunity of his dear looks, and big tears, and stretched out hands. But it must be done, and therefore, though she pities, she perseveres; and after a while he is soothed and satisfied, forgets the breast, and no longer feels even a hankering after his former pleasure. But how is the weaning of the child accomplished? By embittering the member to his lips; by the removal of the object in the absence and concealment of the mother; by the substitution of other food; by the influence of time.

So it is with us. We love the world, and it deceives us. We depend on creatures, and they fail us, and pierce us through with many sorrows. We enter forbidden paths, and follow after our lovers; and our way is hedged up with thorns; and we then say, “Return unto thy rest, O my soul; and now, Lord, what wait I for? My hope is in thee.” The enjoyment of a greater good subdues the relish of a less. What are the indulgences of sin, or the dissipations of the world to one who is abundantly satisfied with the goodness of God’s house, and is made to drink of the river of his pleasures?”

William Jay [1769-1853], in “Evening Exercises for the Closet”

Blue jays, you fly by,

Pick me a branch, or silver lining,

Like the warm fabrics flapping against the wind,

Hung across lines and lines of sunshine.

Orange red rays, you flashed by,

Pick me your memory, or time,

Like your mother's warmth against the universe of darkness,

Breaking through my mind.

------

I put up the bunting, you coloured, and You hung up the skies.

-----------

Flying to heaven

Thought #1

During the flight to Taipei, when the plane makes a big turn to land, maybe due to turbulence, sometimes the plane will drop suddenly like a roller-coaster, fell low enough that a few female passengers gave out short, light screams. A few times the plane gave us the weightless feel. How did it really feel like, like a thrill to me,  but it felt like a great fear to my sis, and for some others in the plane, it felt a little closer to death.

So what would you do if it is really to the inevitable death, or to put it in another way, to the inevitable transformation to the realm of eternity. Do you remember your first flight experience, we've heard so much of the grandeur of flying, the unimaginably practical way of shooting above the clouds. And we finally experienced it. One day, we will get our first & only experience of this unimaginably practical way of transitioning through the realms, leaving our physical bodies, transcending to our eternal homes. How would it feel like, maybe like a thrill to some, or for some others, like a great fear. For most, it felt like death. But it is only an unexpected metamorphosis. This is life assured.

By the way, faith always land well.

Home

It's time to go home after 9 days of traveling in Taiwan. Such a colorful trip involving hiking mountain, passing through caves n risking rock fall; enjoying the train rides pass east coast beaches, rivers and towns; experiencing typhoon rain n winds in a mountainous area; talking n receiving hospitality from the locals, walking city streets n yumming night markets, watching cool night basketball matches with DJ music n live commentary; and finally, witnessing Jeremy Lin running across the street full of fans, attending to a press conference.

Home..

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity 
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen

-Reinhold Niebuhr

Say

Step by step he goes
Down the valley of stairs
Sewing dots of memory & wishes
Sayings of old aunties & warm dishes

宇圓, 魚丸, 微笑
颱, 小尖叫, 打烊, 微笑

Has he heard
The saying of winds, like gentle fog
Hiking the mountains

A forgotten story remembered
Covering the piers

A tear has fallen in the rain
豪雨落淚了，累。

你聽到了嗎
悲情城市淒然淚下後之笑容

Beauty in brokenness,
Made new.

記憶九份..

Memories..

Moonlight eyes

(writing this just before sleeping)

Pure is the moonlight eyes as it dances across the colours.

I stand amazed.

Conversations

Since getting a smarter phone a few months back, it really helps tremendously in contacting friends and family, especially in talking to my bro in ang-mo land. And surprisingly it can used as a great tool in counseling & encouraging cg members too.

A few random thoughts before I prepare for exam on the 13th again.

Heaven

It occurred to me that when all of us meet there, it is also a great reunion of people right from the beginning of mankind history. Adam & Moses, when I get to chat with them, might have no idea about my career, my life, my gadgets, my traveling & ministry experiences, the modern society - all of its conveniences & struggles. But they can relate to 2 things..

My family & my walk with God.   

Dreams

After the P&W nite in English Saturday service, this message came clear: 

"Fulfill the promises that you have made to God, and don't give up on the promises that He has made to you".

Goodness, it brought me back to this story at 21 years old.

If You are the God that fulfills the dreams that You have put in us, I will learn to trust this aspect of You.

Sky

As simple as this 3-letter word sounds, I still haven't known words to describe the painting of it on a beautiful day. Why would I be amazed at it and think of You, and the day we would meet face to face. For You have placed eternity in our hearts.

Time

 It's so fast...


Heart

I persuaded a friend to read some poetry, and candidly said that if words form a house, poems are the windows which allow the light and birds into.

He is not convinced.
hahaha..


Surprisingly heart remains the same, but a little older. There is a heartbeat, some could hear it.

Music of the quiet

It's a night of the lone cricket, whirling fan, warm light, shadows, and heart.

It beats, it yearns, seeks, asks, knows, and it's still. You silenced our noise and brought forth a new song in our hearts.

Blessed assurance.

Your love never fails..

Matt Redman, LZ7's 'Twenty Seven Million' to Awaken Church on Human Trafficking

 http://www.thea21campaign.org

When Beth Redman learned that an estimated 27 million people were currently trapped as modern-day slaves, with less than 2 percent actually rescued, she wept to the point where she was almost sick. She knew something had to be done.

Gathering some of her musician friends together along with her widely respected songwriting husband, Matt Redman – creator of classic Christian songs including "Heart of Worship" and "Let Everything That Has Breath" – Beth helped develop "Twenty Seven Million."

"Twenty Seven Million" is a new single about a real life girl from Eastern Europe trafficked into London's sex trade. The track, also written and sung by husband and wife Lindz and Lucy West of LZ7, as well as Willie Weeks and Jorge Mhondera, looks to raise awareness for the anti-human trafficking movement, with the aim to abolish modern day slavery.

More:

http://www.christianpost.com/news/matt-redman-lz7s-twenty-seven-million-to-awaken-church-on-human-trafficking-71108/

Creation has always been poised, ready to delight God. And in worship we are kept in constant remembrance of the unchanging, ever holy nature of God. Every single life submitted to this influence is changed.

-Darlene Zschech

resist

resisting the urge to write poetry & sleep early...

It's no longer the world of the feather & butterfly, for they have already fluttered and flew away. Fled and faded away. In comes behind me, always have been, a surge of light so graceful it shines the soul n shows the way. Who knows, who knows. Out of the frozen seed, sprung life.

Meredith Andrews - You're Not Alone

Ginny, happy Bday =)

Ginny, happy Bday :)  thanks for all these years of sincere vocals, lyrics and melodies that touched many hearts....  :)  :)  :)  :)  :) iHeart



If You Want Me To
by Ginny Owens


The pathway is broken
And the signs are unclear
And I don't know the reason why You brought me here
But just because You love me the way that You do
I'm gonna walk through the valley
If You want me to

No I'm not who I was
When I took my first step
And I'm clinging to the promise You're not through with me yet
So if all of these trials bring me closer to You
Then I will walk through the fire
If You want me to

It may not be the way I would have chosen
When You lead me through a world that's not my home
But You never said it would be easy
You only said I'll never go alone

So when the whole world turns against me
And I'm all by myself
And I can't hear You answer my cries for help
I'll remember the sufferin' Your love put You through
And I will walk through the darkness
If You want me to

'Cause when I cross over Jordan, I'm gonna sing, gonna shout
Gonna look into your eyes and see you never let me down
So take me on the pathway that leads me home to you
And I will walk through the valley if you want me to

Yes, I will walk through the valley if you want me to



"Let the King be enthralled by your beauty.."
-Ps 45:11a

How Great

Hope is the thing with feathers

Emily, you're still the best :)

Hope is the thing with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

Matters of the heart

Is it true that past brokenness help us minister to present needs? I still wonder when people come asking for advice. Why ask me? I am only once a very broken person, at first thought.

Apparently, He uses the weak.

Let me be your song

A peaceful night, writing when everyone's asleep. Putting down the hustle long weekend in Subang, playing the drums and encouraging the musicians, working along with great people. Enjoyed great food and ministered by sincere hearts. Hurrying back with a satisfied & blessed heart, working through the first 2 working weekdays and lastly saying bye to the 3 fast friends from KL, UK & Paris. Meeting my indian good friend, celebrating his tremendous increment & bonus over seri alam's new briyani restaurant, chatting & laughing over old stories of ex-colleagues, encouraged him to look at the bright side. A devout Hindu he is, traveling to Batu Caves tomorrow. Just a 1-day public holiday, mid-week. Someday I will let him know my story.

Putting it down, the events and experiences that runs swiftly through real life and in the mind. Laying it aside. A peaceful night. I hear you in my heart, this is my silent prayer. Be forever, my treasure. This song plays.

"Let me be your instrument, let me be your voice, let me be the reservoir where thirsty hearts rejoice, let me be the hand that wipe the tears away. O Lord, if it be your will, let me be your song."

-Corrinne May

晚餐

有点感动，因为妈妈煮了以前她小时候婆婆煮的菜。真的很好吃，还拍了照寄给哥哥和妹妹。感谢天父，把我留在新山，陪着父母过日子。

the condition of Hope

It is one of those rare times when I don't have to prepare something to say for cg, and Aaron shared about emotions and its link to goals. And it dawn upon me the source of my constant sadness :

the condition of hope.

So I asked myself again, not what is my hope, or how is it, but who is my hope. Because I have come to a place of desolation to fully acknowledge that you are my only hope.

Servant

..whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

Matt 20:26-28

:)

in today's devotion:

Sadly, many people never recognize that the key to greatness lies not in the amount of money they make, the prestige of their career, or how many times they show up in a Google search. True greatness is not limited to the most popular, the most outgoing, the smartest, or the most gifted. Rather, it is available to each of us and is found in the simple, and often quiet, role of servanthood.

Location

In times like this when you were asked about the intended location, the minds runs so wildly.

My world, Your world

In a perfect, self-absorbed world, I would be a photojournalist, painter, poet, drummer & designer.

In Your world, I find myself in You, first.

It's getting clearer.

Dorothea Lange

Dorothea Lange was a natural photographer in the truest sense because she lived, in her words, "a visual life." She could look at something: a line of laundry flapping in the wind, a pair of old, wrinkled, work-worn hands, a bread-line, a crowd of people in a bus station, and find it beautiful. Her eye was a camera lens and her camera--as she put it--an "appendage of the body." During her last illness, as a friend sat near her bed, she suddenly said to him "I've just photographed you." Lange had engaged in this camera-less sort of photography for decades, from the time she was a young girl, and it served as both the foundation of her art education and her first apprenticeship.

Bored and disillusioned with school, she would often cut class and go walking through her neighborhood, the lower-east side of New York. She would make herself as unobtrusive as possible, and look at things and people. Down-and-outs of the Bowery, bustling marketplaces, the Jewish ladies in their schechtels, or black wigs.

Thanks Dorothea, I always thought I had a weird brain, now I know it's normal. =)

For once

The life you've been living as if you're setting yourself up for mid-life crisis. Please Victor, when you're free, do something that you're somewhat good at & happy doing. Write some poetry, enjoy nature, take some pictures, care for others more, n drum a little.

Help me believe

It was nine when I leave the office, stepping out into the cold night, walking towards the car and remembered the tears. Wiped off the after rain mist and drifted into dreams. The seven year old drove the newly twenty seven year old car home, with wrinkled hands of sea salt he steers gently off the end of road into the sea, changes into the 3rd shift and lifts his wings slowly, steadily towards the sky. High up as the night grows dimmer it gets less lonely as the other cars stopped and looked and laughed, a kind of hearty happy growl you would expect from a car engine as they knew it's time. Time to open their doors as their drivers' hearts light up in the chilly wind. The light flickers and flutters, it grew into a warm flow of lightness and lifts its master like a flower seed following the music of the steady wind.

All i see now is dozens of light lines flowing like streams just below the moon, just below the belly of the second sky.

Take me back to the time
When I was maybe eight or nine
And I believed
When Jesus walked on waters blue
And if He helped me, I could too
If I believed

Before rationale, analysis and systematic thinking
Robbed me of a sweet simplicity
When wonders and when mysteries
Were far less often silly dreams
And childhood fantasies

Help me believe
'Cause I don't want to miss any miracles
Maybe I'd see much better by closing my eyes
And I would shed this grownup skin I'm in
To touch an angel's wing
And I would be free
Help me believe

Tell me again

Tell me again how much do you love me, how much do you dance over me. Tell me what were you thinking when I was formed. Tell me that I am worth it. Tell me that I am created for your very purpose.

Photo emotion

This photo is taken at dusk at one of the stops along the highway. I never expect it to be that nice, "cos i no have DSLR" and it's not a must-see site, it's a place where people stop by to go to the toilet before continuing their way home.

I should always take notice of the beauty in the ordinary. What we make of life, every smile, every gesture; doesn't matter if we possess the skill and advantage of a "DSLR", not about what we lack; but in our current circumstances, in saying thanks to our maker and letting Him know what our heart whispers, and experiencing His peace.

Prayer

Prayer is the bridge between our conscious and unconscious lives...to pray is to connect these two sides of our lives by going to the place where God dwells. Prayer is ‘soul work’ because our souls are those sacred centers where all is one and where God is with us in the most intimate way. - Henri Nouwen (Bread for the Journey)

Just the way i am

Just the way I am

The tired eyes, silly smile..

For where the waters run deep, its silver light glides like a gentle breeze through the snow. pure, white snow.

I run its flicker like dreams in a childhood mind, but I dropped a single tear, because i lost its smile.

Where is the illuminating eyes I see

Ones I were, is and always thinks I'll be

You are strong as a thunder, quiet as a still shadow curtain in my room

Behind the curtain, of fear.

And I hear you clear in the rain, even when every drops I see afar seems so near.. so near my senses reeks of its familiarity. the warm companion above my cold conditions, the whisperer whispers.

dark dew meets morning sun

累

Titus

It's been ages since i read Titus..

Titus 2

⁶ Similarly, encourage the young men to be self-controlled. ⁷ In everything set them an example by doing what is good. In your teaching show integrity, seriousness ⁸ and soundness of speech that cannot be condemned, so that those who oppose you may be ashamed because they have nothing bad to say about us.

¹¹ For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. ¹² It teaches us to say “No” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age