The Gospel Stops "The Game"

It's been an extremely busy week with work, ministry and errands to run so I'm really glad that it's the weekend (although the weekend looks like it's filling up pretty quickly too)!

I've just arrived at the half-way mark in Tullian Tchividjian's "Jesus + Nothing = Everything", and it's given me so much to ponder, while transforming my mind to comprehend and marvel at the brilliant truth and beauty of the gospel. I've had to unlearn some wrong ideas in my Christian walk, repent of those sins and turn to Christ as my all-sufficient source of grace and power in my life. As the Holy Spirit has guided and brought me to those moments of conviction and change, I've felt free of those shackles and chains that burden the mind and heart.

As an example, in a section of Chapter 7 subtitled "Foolish or Free", Tullian wrote the following words that I found quite personally relevant and convicting:

    "God hates legalism. That message sounds throughout the Bible, and it's certainly a major theme of Paul's, especially in his letter to the Galatians. Legalism insists that my ongoing relationship with God is based on my ability to do good. That approach is always inconsistent with the gospel, and Paul shoots it down in every letter he writes - both through the way he structures those letters and in their content...In his letter to the Galatians, especially in chapter 1, Paul uses the strongest terms possible in exhorting believers to go back to the gospel as the one and only basis for their Christian lives....Paul goes on to declare, 'For freedom Christ has set us free;' and that must include letting go of the burden of having to 'become a better you.'" [1]

It was during December 2010 that I went through a time of some painful realizations and processing of memories and scars from my childhood years. This led to a four-part series of posts as I processed some of my childhood hurts, heroes, and realizations about both:

• Infliction: Childhood Wounds
• Adoration: Childhood Heroes
• Conviction: I'm Not Iron Man
• Salvation: The Guardian

In the marvelous providence and timing of God, while working through similarly painful convictions brought to my attention by Tullian's book, I came across a video recently that told a similar story told in the life of my friend, Hannah. I have known Hannah now for about two years since she came to serve as a staff member for Campus for Christ in the metro Vancouver area. I had always known her as a conversationally witty, easy-going and laid-back woman who is committed to her faith and purpose in life and able to hold her own in a discussion. But as I watched this video, it struck me how little one might be aware of the deep scars of the heart that may lie below a friend's exterior, or their struggles. But as in my own painful episode of two years ago when God gently hammered away at my pseudo-armor and brought down my walls, Hannah's story also reminded of the deep love of Jesus and the tremendous power of His gospel to free us from our enslavement to sin. Here is Hannah on YouTube, recounting her journey in answering the question "Would you rather play and always lose or never play at all?"

Hannah Lee: "Would You Rather Play and Always Lose or Never Play At All?"

Thanks for reading. See you in the next post, which will be carrying some very exciting news! Until then, grace and peace to you.

- The Wisdom Seeker

REFERENCES:

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[1] Tullian Tchividjian, Jesus + Nothing = Everything, Crossway, Wheaton IL, Pgs. 101 - 102

Trustworthy And True

My yellowed and tattered old Bible - the Word of the only true and trustworthy God I know

    While I was writing my last post on the pain of loss, a phrase in one of the verses that I referenced caught my eye: "...these words are trustworthy and true" (Revelation 21:5). They've been in my head for the last three days, even as I've been trying to keep up with change as my life undergoes major transition.

    It has occurred to me that anything that is presented to me in the form of a statement, fact or person, also carries with it an associated appeal to believe in those things or people. In essence, I'm being asked to trust that what is being presented to me is true. Relationships, conversation, family, friendships, advertising, buying/selling, work...in the kind of world in which we live, this happens incessantly in every aspect of life - "Great dollar value! Save up to 50% off!"; "Satisfaction guaranteed!"; "We'll do what's best for you!"; "Trust us to take care of your money!"; "Good job! You're awesome!"; "I'll get the job done";  "You're incredibly beautiful"; "You mean everything to me"; "I love you with all my heart"; and perhaps that most used and abused sentence of appeal for trust in one's trustworthiness:

    "I, so-and-so, take you, so-and-so, to be my my lawfully-wedded husband/wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part."

    With the cacophony of voices that call out to me every day, from every side, it becomes increasingly difficult to figure out who to believe, in what they say. I believe that this is the case for the rest of society too. Isn't it interesting that the more we desire trustworthiness and truthfulness in people, the more we find that it becomes nearly impossible to enforce? Our laws become longer and more complex. Giving one's word is useless now, we must sign reams of paper. It isn't enough to state things simply either - the fine print of clauses and conditions at the bottom of agreements grows ever larger. We can't trust anyone to keep their mouth shut, so we create non-disclosure and confidentiality agreements. It's not enough to keep doors closed; they have to be locked, bolted and security systems with cameras installed to keep people out. Even the hallowed wedding vows aren't spared, for pre-nuptial agreements must become a necessity in case people decide to jump ship. Evidently, 'until death do us part' doesn't mean much anymore.

    Truth is that which best describes things as they really are. The credibility or truthfulness of anything said to me is only as good as the trustworthiness of the person uttering it. And the trustworthiness of the person is only as good as their fundamental strength of character.

    And that is why I can and will believe in Jesus so much, with all the issues of the heart that I've been writing about on this blog, especially that which I've been thinking about in the last month. What He says is credible because He is trustworthy, and He is trustworthy because He has more than strong character; He is truth itself. That is why John, His beloved Apostle, describes Christ as "...glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth." (John 1:14, ESV) in the opening verses of his Gospel. That is also why John, in the book of Revelation, introduces Him as "...Jesus Christ the faithful witness" (Revelation 1:5, ESV). He is faithful because He is trustworthy, and He is trustworthy because He is truth. That is why Christ can say of Himself, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father, except through me" (John 14:6, ESV). The evil behind a lie isn't some damage done against some person, society or nation's laws. It is the violation of the person of God, because He is truth and a lie is everything that He is not. Evil is more than an abstract term for hypothetical discussion around tables or fireplaces; it is that which rises up from within the human heart with the desire to be the God of God, and in the process turns a person into everything that God is not.

    The words of John 3:16 say that "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life." Christ did more than say "I love you." He proved the truthfulness of His Words with action - by dying on His Cross for the curse of my sin and resurrecting from His grave three days later, to break the curse of death that would have been my fate. My dear friend, may you find His forgiveness for your sin, His companionship in your loneliness, His fellowship in your suffering, His joy in your sorrow, His strength in your weakness, His transformation of your character and His promise of new and eternal life by the power of His Word and Spirit.

    I love my Christ because of who He is. Matthew Henry expressed it brilliantly when he said: "The greatest and best man in the world must say, By the grace of God I am what I am, but God says absolutely....I AM THAT I AM." God bless. See you soon.

- The Wisdom Seeker

Help, God. It Hurts.

"The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger shares its joy." (Proverbs 14:10)

    It's been a week since my last post, after searching for the reassurance of God's presence and comfort in "Is He There? Does He Care?". In the midst of significant changes in my own life, I learned some personal information about my friend Yeswanth's death that shook me. It profoundly altered my perspective on the grief of someone he has left behind, who is trying to come to terms with the fact that he is gone. It also brought my writing on this blog to a standstill as I tried to digest the implications of what I had heard and reflected on the crushing weight of this person's sorrow. I cannot even begin to comprehend what this individual has been feeling. It's been one of those bittersweet weeks where the words of Proverbs 14:13 became very much a reality: "Even in laughter the heart may ache, and the end of joy may be grief."

    There is something about the devastation of hopes and dreams that hits the heart unlike any other. That crushing sense of shock, tightness in the chest and accompanying dizziness in the head that feels as if everything is spinning. Or that sickening sensation in the stomach that feels like being in an elevator in free fall. Gone. Over. No Hope. Irreparable. Incurable. Terminal. Destroyed. Shattered. Finished. None of us want to face words like that when it comes to the deep desires and dreams that reside in our hearts - love, relationships, marriage, children, career, education, family, finances, projects, even ministry.

    Unrequited love. A relationship ended. A child that must be buried. A spouse betrayed and marriage devastated. Love's labour lost. Or perhaps a promising career or venture brought to a sudden end. The feeling always seems to be the same - something missing or permanently lost. A vacuum or hole in the heart and mind, and the accompanying grief in realizing that it is gone. Perhaps even regret at all the effort that went into the dream that is now reduced to ruins, being signed away on divorce papers, lying on a hospital bed, being lowered into a grave or burned on a funeral pyre. It all comes with very tangible sense of despair and inability to hope in the light of all that is happening at the moment. At times when that which we have loved and desired is being burned to the ground, it's not just that we can't grope for some measure of hope; it seems as if we don't even want to. As inevitable defeat seems to stare us in the face, the instinct is to crawl under the covers, lie down and die.

    As much as we like to think and pretend otherwise, the truth of the matter is that the human heart is extremely fragile and sensitive.

    Like those who hurt over his passing, I find myself deluged with questions on the matter. Why did this happen, God? I know that You have a purpose in everything You do, but situations like this are so hard to explain. Why did his time come when circumstances in his life were so promising? How will his family find hope? How will the person who longs for him pick up the pieces and keep moving on with life? Can You do something about their pain, God? Help, God. It hurts. Please heal their broken hearts. Please console and comfort them. Please save them. Please.

       It is in the midst of all these questions that I find my own heart turning to the Word of the only wise and true God, Who has carried me through my own moments of personal hurt and sorrow. I was reminded of chapter 25 in the book of Isaiah, titled "God Will Swallow Up Death Forever." Verses 6 to 9 read as follows:

    "On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined. And He will swallow up on this mountain the covering that is cast over all peoples, the veil that is spread over all nations. He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of His people He will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken. It will be said on that day, 'Behold this is our God; we have waited for Him, that He might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for Him; let us be glad and rejoice in His salvation.'" (Isaiah 25:6-8, ESV)

    This prophesied defeat of the curse of death that hangs as a covering and veil over all people and nations was fulfilled 740-odd years after the life of Isaiah, in the crucified body of the Son of God that hung on His blood-drenched cross, and His resurrection three days later. In the final book of the Bible known as 'Revelation', John the Apostle is given a vision of the resurrected Christ such as He has never seen - hair white like wool or snow, eyes burning like fire, feet gleaming like polished bronze, a voice with a roar louder than an angry ocean, and a face "like the sun shining in full strength." (Revelation 1:13-16, ESV). Yet of all the opening lines that this terrifying persona could have chosen, I find it deeply moving that Christ speaks words of comfort to His beloved Apostle, of life on the other side of death: "Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades."

    Time and again throughout the Bible, God promises an appointed time to come when death will be no more, when this fallen and dying world will pass away and the creation of a "new heaven and a new earth" (Revelation 21:1). I find it interesting that in the entire Bible, there are only two places where life is recorded to be perfect. The opening two chapters of Genesis, the first book, record the beginning of time with creation and life with God before mankind sins through disobedience and is separated from Him; the final two chapters of Revelation, the last book, record the end of time with the 're-creation' of a new heaven and earth, and the words of God Himself in His promise of new life:

    "And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, no pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.' And He who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.' Also He said, 'Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.'" (Revelation 21:3-5, ESV).

    It is no gamble to put my trust in the only God who promises life and light on the other side of darkness. If you are sorrowing today, may you experience His powerful and comforting presence and put your faith in His promise of new life for you. See you in the next post.

- The Wisdom Seeker

    "For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in Him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day." (John 6:40, ESV)

    "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?" (John 11:25. ESV)

    "Because I live, you also will live." (John 14:19, ESV)

Is He There? Does He Care?

    There hasn't been a day that's gone by since I wrote "He's Dead. What Does That Mean?" that I don't think about my friend and what has become of him. I have thought about his family and the emotional devastation that follows when one's hopes and dreams die in fiery flames and one is powerless to intervene. I remembered the funeral of a little boy I had attended in India 6 years ago, and the sight of his mother sobbing her heart out in uncontained grief. And as I write this, I feel the twinge in my own heart as well.

    I had ended the last post contemplating the thread that ran through all the expressions of condolence, grief and sorrow - the implicit cry to God for answers, hope and comfort in all that people say and feel at such times. That's who I've turned to in the pages of my Bible, believing that He will answer. And it's been strange how events have come together over the last few days to help me write this post.

    I've thought a lot about Jesus during this time. The more I learn about this shattering personality that emerges from the pages of the Bible, of the God that walked among us clothed in humanity, the more I realize how little I have really known Him. One of the most frequent phrases used of Jesus is that of His compassion on the shattered lives that come pleading for help. Time and again, stories are recorded of Jesus' encounter with the blind, lame, deaf, mute, lonely, opressed, diseased and even the dead. And each time, there is a phrase along the lines "Jesus had compassion" (Matt. 9:36, 14:14, 15:32, Mark 1:41, 6:34, 8:2, Luke 7:13). In the English translation of the Bible, the word 'compassion' originates from the Latin stem 'compati', meaning 'to suffer with, to feel pity'. In the sense in which it is used of Jesus, it  means so much more than just supercharged sympathy that accompanies the tearful melodrama of tragedy, or maudlin emotion. It refers to a pity born of deep love that compels one to do something about the situation. In essence, the compassion of the Christ is the kind that says: "This is not right. And I'm going to do something about it." And there is one potent story that I turned to at this time. 

    In the book of John is recorded the story of Lazarus,  a friend whom Jesus raises from the dead (John 11:1-44). Listening to a sermon on this incident titled "Befriended" and delivered at my church in 2005, I was struck by the fact that Lazarus was dead by the time Jesus set out to go to him, that it was a four day walk (~150 km) for Jesus to get there. I reflected on the God that never gives up, who waits till the seemingly irreversible has happened, and then set out on the long, dusty walk through the Judean wilderness toward the one He loved and called 'friend'. The God who created the known universe by the words of his mouth (Psalm 33:6), but patiently endured the limitations of the human frame as He put one tired foot in front of the other for four days, even as the dust seeped through His sandals. The God who "spoke and it came to be", but showed the depths of His compassion in enduring the frustrations of walking speed, even as the friend He loved disintegrated in his tomb. The God in whose presence angels fall down and worship, and demons shiver, yet who "...was deeply moved in His spirit and greatly troubled" as He witnessed the grief and sorrow of inconsolable friends and family. The uncreated, self-sufficient God who needs nothing from anyone, yet of whom it is written "Jesus wept", as He who is infinite in power and multiplied in capacity was moved with emotion. The God who undertook this long journey to confront Death and shout at the top of His lungs: "Lazarus, come out!". And it is recorded that the undefeated terror that stalks all of humanity bowed in the presence of its Master, and gave Him back His friend.

    While roomates on campus in our second year of undergrad, Yeswanth and I had many conversations about God, karma, fate, destiny and many more. Somehow, as things went, we never got around to the topic of Jesus. I believe the Christ I follow is present in the midst of the sorrow and grief of those who are trying to come to terms with his passing.

Yes, I believe that He is there. And that He cares.

    I'm going to talk about why I believe that Christ offers hope that none else can in the next post. I have so much to write, but I'm going to stop here. To those who read this and weep because of the searing anguish in the heart that forces the tears out at the thought of a loved one that is gone: may you feel the presence of the God of all comfort. He does not need to undertake a four-day journey through wilderness to reach you. He is already there. He cares. See you soon.

- The Wisdom Seeker

He's Dead. What Does That Mean?

       Since my initial response to my friend Yeswanth's death in my last post "Death Came Calling...And Took My Friend", I've been thinking about the fact that he's gone. It was moving to read the expression of sorrow and loss from so many people on his Facebook wall, as I waded through my own thoughts on the matter. I suppose it was the sentiment expressed on Facebook that made me want to write about the implications of the feelings that hit us in the aftermath of death, on these occasions where we are suddenly confronted with the fragility of our bodies and the fleeting nature of our existence.

    There is a sense of incompleteness, a sudden void that seems to appear both in our sense of the little social bubble that we construct for ourselves and our hearts when someone we know is no longer there. It's especially felt when that person is someone we were very close to, as if a hole has been made in the wall or roof of a cozy "house" that we live in, and we suddenly feel the discomfort of not being sheltered from the uncertainties of the outside world. And I think that's why we experience the feeling of missing someone when they die - because they're the part of our carefully constructed "house" that's been damaged or taken away, and it's no longer a secure house anymore. I've never really thought of it like this before, but the sense came through so clearly as I read post after post on Yeswanth's wall that read along the lines of "I am at a loss for words and will miss you so badly...". I think there is a legitimate reason behind this feeling that hits us. I am convinced that it is God's gentle reminder to us that this world and life are transient and fleeting; as much as we crave constancy and security, we will never be able to construct a secure and lasting enough bubble for ourselves, as hard as we try.

    But there are also so many, many implications that follow once this realization sinks in, and I saw that expressed on his wall too. There is the sense of fear as the gap in our house reminds us of our own mortality, that we may at any minute encounter the event that stops our heartbeat, the breath in our lungs and hurl us into pitch darkness from which we will never return. There is the sense of finality, as we watch the body of the person taken to the crematorium or the burial ground. But even in the midst of this, we long for true peace and a place that we can truly call 'home', where there is real security. Why else do we write things like "RIP", "I'll see you on the other side", "Hope you're seeing this from Heaven", "You have reached your destination", etc? Once again, this reminds me of the post "Where Is Home?" that I wrote in 2009.

    Isn't it strange how the idea of a Godless, random world that arose by pure chance and completely explained by science doesn't seem all that appealing at times like this? I find no consolation in explanations of how Yeswanth will be broken down and recycled into the planet's cycles for organic matter. Or comfort in mourning the loss of his DNA from the gene pool of humanity, and the resulting impact on the variety and survivability of the human species. Atheism has no consolation to offer; for all our indulgence of Richard Dawkins' 'The God Delusion', The Selfish Gene' and the like, their explanations as to where Yeswanth is now, why friends miss him and his family is devastated are hollow and unsatisfying.

    What do I see in the words on his Facebook wall? That we recognize and value the individuality and intrinsic worth of the person called Yeswanth. That there must be something more to a human being than Carbon, Hydrogen, Oxygen and Nitrogen - a spirit, a soul. In the process, we implicitly admit that this was given to him by a source greater than ourselves and our world where change is the only constant. That's the only reason why people write about their prayers for him and his family. Ultimately in moments like this when the rubber meets the road, as much as we may sincerely mean words of condolence, it eventually boils down to only one word that offers any possible answer. The one word that offers consolation and hope of real security, the only word that keeps emerging from the background of everything that everyone is trying to say in all their shock and sorrow:

GOD.

    I believe that is who my friend is standing in front of and looking at now. But can God offer hope? What response can He give to all that we say and feel? I'm going to stop here for now and think about that for the next post. May you find your comfort in Him. God bless you.

- The Wisdom Seeker

"I Wish None Of This Had Happened."

Frodo and The Ring of Power (The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring)

     I don't know why circumstances in life keep reminding or bringing me back to my favourite movie. I guess there is so much in The Lord of The Rings that God uses to speak to me in a profound and powerful manner. With the train of thought that I've been developing since the beginning of the year, recalling something relevant from LOTR that spoke to me was inevitable. The brilliant soundtrack composed by Howard Shore that plays as I write this definitely adds fuel to the fire of inspiration!

    Among the many memorable moments in the first part of the trilogy, The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring, there was one in particular that riveted my attention the very first time I saw it in the theatres. It continues to do so every year at Christmas time, as I watch the trilogy as part of my annual tradition. Mind you, I watch only the Extended Edition!

    The approximate half-way mark finds Frodo, Sam, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Merry and Pippin trapped underground in the dark of the massive dwarf mine of Moria. Since discovering the true nature of the Ring towards the beginning of the story, Frodo has found himself running from the Shire with his friends, chased by the Ringwraiths first to Bree, and from there, all the way to Rivendell. Along the way, for the first time in his life he is thrust into a wild and unfamilar world fraught with danger, stabbed, endured cold, hunger, fear, sleepless nights and much more. The jouney has become only harder after leaving Rivendell, where he had assumed responsibility for the Ring as the Ringbearer, and begins to increasingly feel its weight on his spirit and the allure of its power. Now, chased into the dark of Moria and trapped in its terrifying gloom and silence with the rest of the Fellowship, Frodo sits next to Gandalf and begins to cry. And in that context comes this very potent scene.

The Fellowship of The Ring: Gandalf in the Dwarf mine of Moria

    "I wish the Ring had never come to me," says Frodo. "I wish that none of this had happened." There is a pause as Gandalf turns to look at him, his eyes filled with compassion and understanding of the burden that he would never have had the little Hobbit carry. "So do all who live to see such times", he says. "But that is not given to them to decide. What we must decide, is what we will do with the time that is given to us."

    That tiny exchange of two sentences is significant; it will return to influence Frodo's decision at a critical and pivotal moment towards the end of The Fellowship of The Ring, when both the quest and the Fellowship are on the verge of collapse. Time and again, as I watch the movie or in moments of reflection, it speaks volumes to me too.

    Like Frodo, I have a long list of "I wish" moments as I look back on my life. And I'm sure we all do - I wish I'd done better in school; I wish I'd studied harder; I wish I'd achieved more; I wish I'd listened to this advice, and hadn't listened to that advice; I wish I'd used my time better; I wish this friend had not hurt me; I wish that person had not abandoned me; I wish that painful moment had not happened; I wish someone loved me; I wish someone wanted me; I wish someone would take notice of all that I do; I wish people would treat me better; I wish I had treated people better; I wish I had been a better son/daughter/husband/wife/father/mother; I wish I had told that person I loved them; I wish I hadn't; I wish I hadn't said those hurtful words to that person; I wish I had trusted this person; I wish I hadn't trusted that person; I wish I wasn't a fool; I wish I had made this choice, or not made that choice; I wish...

    But time and again, in those rueful moments of regret, disappointment, sorrow and a myriad other sentiments, I am reminded of the transforming perspective of my God and Father, who would have me see differently. I am reminded that my life and times are in His hand, where in the words of His Apostle, "..that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28, ESV). I am reminded that through all my moments of regret, He works for my good and His glory, transforming me into the image of His Son and my Christ as He weaves the threads together into a brilliant tapestry that will outweigh all the tears and heartbreak that have gone into its making. I am reminded of His constant and abiding companionship through it all, brilliantly expressed by Psalm 139 and the writer of Hebrews: "I will never leave you nor forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5). I am reminded that He will comfort me in painful moments involving people and circumstances (2 Corinthians 1:3-4, Psalm 9:9). I am reminded that I will have courage inspite of my doubts, when I look at Him (Romans 10:17, 2 Corinthians 5:7, Hebrews 11:1). I am reminded that He will help me deal with my failures (Psalm 37:23-24, Proverbs 3:5-6) and through disappointments (Phillipians 4:6-7, Galatians 6:9). I am reminded of His consolation in times of heartbreak (1 Peter 5:6-7, Isaiah 43:2). There is not one wistful "I wish.." occasion of this life that is not transformed in perspective as we come to know the great God who bids us call Him "Father."

    Above all else, I am reminded through His Word and moments such as this, that He has given me a unique capacity as a human being - the power of choice. And as a child foreknown, predestined, called, justified, glorified (Romans 8:29) and guided by His Spirit, to use that choice wisely and differently, to decide what I will do with the time given to me by my Father. The power to choose love in the light of the sinner that I am, and sinful human beings whom I have hurt and hurt me in turn, in a fallen and broken world. The power to choose eternity, knowing my true Home waiting on the other side of death, "...looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God" (Hebrews 11:10). The power to choose the use of my time to tell the dying world around me that there is life offered to them freely, if only they will accept.

    I have to stop now. It's hard to believe so much came out of a little two-sentence exchange in a massive three-hour movie. It makes me feel like I have to watch it now, but I'll have to control myself until Christmastime comes again in...11 months. I guess the soundtrack will have to do until then. But for those reading, do take time to watch this awesome story. There will never ever be a movie made to equal them, in my opinion! That said, I want to leave you with this thought:

    It is not given to us to choose the difficult "I wish none of this had happened" moments of our lives. What will we do with the time that is given to us?

- The Wisdom Seeker

Can't Feel At Home Anymore

   Sometimes, a song expresses what needs to be said more than elegant prose ever can. After posting the thoughts of "From the Land of The Dying to the Land of The Living", the words and tune of a song that my parents used to play at home while I was a child came back to me. It had been so many years since I had heard Jim Reeves' deep and comforting  voice that God had blessed him with, singing the words of "This World Is Not My Home." I found a posting on Youtube with wonderful audio quality and thought I'd share it along with the lyrics here:

Lyrics:

This world is not my home, I'm just a' passing through
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue
The angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Chorus:
Oh Lord, You know I have no friend like You
If Heaven's not my home, then Lord what will I do?
The angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

I have a loving mother just over in Gloryland
And I don't expect to stop until I shake her hand
She's waiting now for me in Heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Just over in Gloryland, we'll live eternally
The saints on every hand are shouting "Victory!"
Their songs of sweetest praise drift back from heaven's shore
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

   Listening to this song has only reinforced my decision to run as hard as I possibly can, for the sake of my Christ and His Kingdom with the short time I have left in this world. I'm just passing through on my way Home, and I have no friend like Him. It reminds me of a post I wrote in 2009 titled "Where is Home?", after a UBC C4C event.

I want to hear the songs that they're singing there now. I have to get Home. I must!

   If you're reading this, if you haven't made Heaven the place that you call "Home" and if you don't know Jesus as the Friend unlike any you have ever had, may I encourage you to invite Him into your life? You can't get Home without Him.

- The Wisdom Seeker

From the Land of The Dying to the Land of The Living

 I thought I'd launch my New Year with a powerful idea that hit me last year. It happened a few days before my Master's thesis defense in late April. Looking at my hand one morning, a thought struck me:

I'm dying.

   The words of 2 Corinthians 4:16 came almost immediately to mind: "So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day." A few days before that realisation, I had listened to a sermon from 2004 by John Neufeld, Senior Pastor at Willingdon Church where I attend. Titled "The Precious Event of A Believer's Death," it covered the death of Abraham's wife Sarah in Genesis 23. Contemplating his sermon, it finally sank in with more than an intellectual understanding - this world really isn't the Land of the Living; it's the Land of the Dying. From the moment of my conception, the clock ticks away and I'm only growing older, not younger, till the time of my death. For all our social, scientific and technological advancement, the reality of our mortality cannot be we smoothed away by any amount of anti-aging cream. Pastor John went on to point out that The Land of the Living is occupied by those believers who have taken the final journey through death, welcomed with rejoicing by God and all who have gone on before.

  Contemplating that, I followed it to its conclusion:

    If this is the Land of The Dying, I'm not going to be around for very long.

   That made a lot of sense. Even if I made it through another 50 or 60 years, that's still insignificant in comparison to eternity that is waiting on the other side. I had read plenty in the Bible about the fleeting nature of this life and heard it preached from the pulpit, but I think the implications still remained somewhat intellectual and vague until I heard that sermon. Having it finally sink in, I was left with a question:

What do I want to do with my time here?

    I thought long and hard about the lat 5 years, and all the grand plans and swelling ambitions that I had constructed for myself after having finished my undergraduate degree. So much had changed along the way after starting out with an almighty roar in hot pursuit of high achievement. God had redirected my obsession with Aerospace Engineering to do a graduate research program that I accepted as a last resort, at a university that was my last choice, in a city that I did not have any plans to move to. Along the way, I have met so many wonderful people, had my perspectives changed, assumptions devastated, grown and changed tremendously, experienced trial and heartbreak...

   So what do I want to do? I know what I don't want to happen. In my final moments before I take the road that exits this life, I don't want to look back and just see a diligent student who did well in school, got a high GPA and academic accomplishments to boot. I don't want my life to become about a great professional who always put the project first. I don't want to just see an hard-working engineer who wrote great code and built impressive systems; no one will remember either of them. I won't want to see my possessions, certificates or accolades that only accumulate ever thicker layers of dust; none of them will give me any comfort at that time. An impressive resume will become meaningless, for no one will ever use it to make a hiring decision ever again. Any money (or lack of it) that I accumulate will have an exchange rate of zero on the other side of this life.

   I want to pour my life out to the very last drop for that which will bring life to people's hearts. I want to tell them about the Living One, the Christ without whom there is no Land of The Living. Loving people has become very important to me. I want to love those around me with all the risks that come with it, even if I get hurt in the process; the hurt won't matter anymore on the other side of this life. What good is it being a stingy miser with my words, affection and actions? Who am I saving all my capacity for love, anyway? Am I planning to hoard it carefully and spend it all on those whom I meet when I cross over into the Land of The Living? That's so stupid!

   I have come to the conclusion that as great as it is that we are able to develop innovative technology, building better systems of any kind will not ultimately change the condition of the human heart, out of which all things flow. Neither will the approach of taking power out of the hands of the few and putting it into the hands of the people; it is pointless if the heart doesn't recognize the One who possesses and bestows all power, understand what true power is, and how to wield it. Without bringing people to the knowledge of the Living One, the Giver of Life, I have come to the belief that every other accomplishment in my life is ultimately meaningless.

   I want to shine the light of the Living One in the Land of the Dying, so that those who are dead will see His light and come along with me on my journey with Him to the Land of the Living. If I die in the process, I'll get there all the faster.

  This post is dedicated to my dear friend Julia, who brought her grandmother and grandfather to know and accept Christ, shortly before her grandmother passed on a few days ago.

- The Wisdom Seeker

Salvation: The Guardian

"For the Lord God is a sun and shield..." (Ps. 84:11)

  After letting the impact of the last post settle in over the last two days, I have been contemplating a rather difficult and unsettling conclusion:

   The more I walk with God, the more I realise how little I really know or understand about Him.

   Why is this such a big issue? It follows from my foolishness in looking to impotent superheroes who never got off their comic book pages or animated series to come to my rescue when I needed them. I believe there is much to be said about my misplaced admiration of the celluloid and paper heroes concocted by man's imagination than the love, potency, and protective ability of the One to whom all power belongs. I've been infuriatingly slow to see the truth that's been staring me in the face all along:

   "El", The Powerful God, is the only One capable of being 
The Guardian that I have been searching for.

   I wonder why it has taken me so long to see all this - the greatness of God and the impotency of all that my mind and heart has sought for protection. Emulating the armour of my most admired superhero did nothing to protect me, as hard as I tried. Superman did not swoop down to be the "Man of Steel, Man of Speed, Man of Strength", rescue me from danger and deflect the proverbial "sticks and stones". Optimus Prime from Transformers, for all his size, powerful voice and grand words of leadership had nothing to show or say when he was needed. Wolverine slashed his way through countless enemies both in the comics and on screen; there was not a single claw mark to be seen in defense of the innocent in real life. Michael Knight sallied forth with K.I.T.T  in Knight Rider as "a young loner on a crusade to champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the powerless in a world of criminals that operate above the norm". Neither was to be seen anywhere. I could write reams upon reams about the concoctions of the mind and heart of man both in creating and looking to heroes that are evanescent shadows at best, ultimately failing to meet the expectations of those who hold on to them.

   How immeasurably different from any man is the heart of the warrior God of the Bible who stands and fights on my behalf!

   Cain, son of the very first family, has no inclination to love and protect his brother Abel; he murders him instead. When asked by God where his brother is, he answers with the words "I do not know; am I my brother's keeper?" (Genesis 4:9, ESV). How different is the promise of the Lord of hosts of whom it is written in Psalm 121: "The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand...The Lord will keep you from all evil; He will keep your life"! History testifies time and again that fallen man, with all his grandiose promises of stopping oppression, lifting the downtrodden, executing justice and bringing peace has proven himself unable to be the hero that follows through. It is thrilling to realize that no human leader of any kind will ever claim, or be able to wield, the kind of power attributed to God in the words of Psalm 91 or anywhere else in the Bible. And He demonstrated His desire to love and protect in the ultimate exercise of power through the Person of Jesus.

   "And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age," said Jesus in Matthew 28:20. The writer of Hebrews echoed this fact with the promise of God in the Old Testament: "I will never leave you nor forsake you" (Joshua 1:5, ESV). I am only now beginning to comprehend the magnitude of God's protective nature in the Person of Christ. Any superhero conjured into existence by imaginative writers and artists looks pathetically silly in contrast to John's description of His vision of the risen Jesus in Revelation 1:12-16. Any heroic words that writers put into the mouths of heroes and superheroes of comics and books pales in comparison to the assertion of Christ: "Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades" (Revelation 1:17, ESV) Though I gave my life to Christ in serious commitment 15 years ago, it saddens me to contemplate that it has taken me so long to internalize this deep truth of His person:

  Christ is the Guardian who protects my heart and mind, not through emotional barriers, but through the active, living, invincible armour of His Holy Spirit within me who wraps Himself around me tighter than any man-made armour ever could.

   Even as I write this post, my mind is struggling to digest the implications of all that has hit me. I'm going to stop here and go and process all of this for a bit. See you in the next post!

- The Wisdom Seeker

Conviction: I'm Not Iron Man

"It's not the armour that makes the hero, but the man inside." (Copyright Marvel Studios)

"I am Iron Man" - Tony Stark, "Iron Man" (2008)

To say that the last 24 hours since the "Adoration: Childhood Heroes" post have been a little unnerving would be a bit of an understatement. As if the realisations of the last several posts since "Broken Love" weren't painful enough, God clobbered me with some more as I was finishing the last one and followed it up over the next several hours for good measure. Though I like the wording of the poem "When God Wants To Drill A Man", I can't say I really look forward to these intense beatings between His hammer and anvil; they're not much fun when they're actually happening.

I've been dimly aware of something related to the barriers around my heart for some weeks now. But reflecting on what I'd written about my search for a 'Guardian' amongst non-existent "superheroes" who never came to the rescue, God hammered the first convicting blow home:

No matter how hard and thick I try to make the armour, the "arrows" inevitably get through.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me!". Like most people, I learned that limerick of pseudo-bravery in school. But as everyone who memorised it will testify through experience, this asinine hallucination is about as true as believing in horoscopes, UFOs and bent spoons. The imbecile who composed this line obviously didn't bother to read what the Bible has to say about the tongue and its capacity for devastation (James 3:6-9). In any case, I had to face the hard reality that my approach of adding thicker armour, more barriers and hardening the heart hadn't stopped it from getting hurt.

God delivered the second blow as I was reading 'The Knowledge of The Holy' by A. W. Tozer, given to me on my birthday by my friend Julia. In a chapter dealing with the nature and implications of God's love, Tozer wrote:

"Fear is the painful emotion that arises at the thought that we may be harmed or made to suffer. This fear persists while we are subject to the will of someone who does not desire our well-being. The moment we come under the protection of one of good will, fear is cast out...The effort to conquer fear without removing the causes is altogether futile...As long as we are in the hands of chance, as long as we look for hope to the law of averages, as long as we must trust for survival to our ability to outhink or outmaneuver the enemy, we have every good reason to be afraid. And fear hath torment. To know that love is of God and to enter into the secret place leaning upon the arm of the Beloved - this and only this can cast out fear. Let a man become convinced that nothing can harm him and instantly for him all fear goes out of the universe. The nervous reflex, the natural revulsion to physical pain may be felt sometimes, but the deep torment of fear is gone forever. God is love and God is sovereign. His love disposes Him to desire our everlasting welfare and His sovereignty enables Him to secure it. Nothing can hurt a good man."

There was a stunned silence in my soul as the bombshell in those paragraphs impacted hard. In the aftermath of the explosion, the wheels in my head began turning, the tough questions began to erupt and the weight of conviction by the Holy Spirit began to press down: "What was your core motivation behind building all those walls? Has it all been based on conquering fear without facing the cause? Yes it has. Don't deny it, Kevin. Stop running away. It's all been based on trust in your own ability. You've been playing the part of your own bodyguard. Have you ever really, deeply believed that God loves you? Do you comprehend the implications of His loving nature? I don't think so. You don't really believe that He is powerful enough to protect your heart, do you? Or that he even wants to protect you? You've concluded during childhood that He deserted you when you were getting beaten up or hurt, haven't you? Deep down, you believed that like everyone else, He abandonded you to the wolves because He didn't love or want you. You've just never admitted it. Good grief, I'm such a horrible sinner..."

In the end, it boiled down to two painful realisations:

• Deep down, I've never truly believed that I'm lovable to anyone, including God

• I've never really believed that God is powerful enough to protect my heart, or that He wanted to

The third blow came later in the evening, as I was at Sam Chua's place for a Christmas and caroling party. A book on his shelf titled 'Humility: True Greatness' caught my eye and I sat down in a corner to read. The second chapter defined and talked about why God hates pride with the words: "Pride is when sinful human beings aspire to the status and position of God and refuse to acknowledge their dependence on Him."

 

With this final impact, the linchpin tying everything together that God was clobbering me with, fell into place:

In its search for the 'Guardian' and adoration of non-existent superheroes who never showed up when I needed them, my heart in its pride did not believe that God loved me enough, was powerful enough and was faithful enough to be the Bodyguard that it was looking for, or that He even wanted to be there for me.  

After so many years, I finally have to admit that I'm not "Iron Man", though I badly want to be. It seems God is getting me to slowly take off the armour and dismantle the barriers, one piece at a time. Could we please take a break from the 'hammer and anvil procedure' now, God? I'm feeling really sore. Ouch.

"My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline, or be weary of his reproof, for the Lord reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights." (Prov. 3 : 11-12)

- The Wisdom Seeker

Adoration: Childhood Heroes

Iron Man poster, copyright of Marvel studios

It's been a little difficult figuring out what direction to take next after writing "Affliction: Childhood Wounds". That post took quite a bit out of me mentally and emotionally.

I think recounting the story of the "heroes" that I began to look up to is the right place for me to visit next.

Sometime during the years in elementary school in the midst of all that was happening to me, I think my mind latched on to the idea of a 'Guardian' or 'Protector' as its defense mechanism. Looking back, I guess what that 10-year old boy longed for was a bodyguard, someone powerful who would step in between him and the world, and stop anyone who would hurt him in future. In any case, my heart responded with a passionate search for someone who would fulfill that craving.

This search for the 'Guardian' figure became a very important 'lens' that filtered all that I subsequently read or watched during my childhood and teenage years. It characterized the characters in the cartoons and television shows that I gravitated towards and still vividy remember: Bionic Six, Centurions, Dino Riders, Gundam, Iron Man, Macross, M.A.S.K, Pole Position, Transformers, Knight Rider, Airwolf, Streethawk, MacGyver, North and South, The A-Team, The Equalizer and many more. It dictated the kinds of comic books that I occasionally flipped through at a supermarket or bookstore - Iron Man, Transformers, and occasionally, Batman. It most definitely had a powerful influence on the kinds of toys that I liked and wanted to played with, most of which were related to the television shows that I watched.

However, most of the imaginary heroes that I looked up to eventually could not satisfy what I was looking for; there always seemed to be something missing, or disappointing in each character that resulted in dissatisfaction. Thus, I moved on from one to another, in a fruitless search. Of all these non-existent people that my heart was enamoured by, there was one in particular that was the most important to me.

I first met Iron Man around the age of 8, while flipping through an ancient Marvel Annual storybook from the 1950's that belonged to my mother. Of all the superheroes featured in their individual stories, I was instantly mesmerized by that of Anthony Edward Stark and his armoured alter ego. I vividly remember the admiration I felt for the first time, looking at an illustration of Iron Man with bullets deflecting off his shining red and gold armour; it seemed to be an instant recognition of all that my heart had been looking for.

In retrospect, I am convinced that I fell in love with Iron Man not primarily because of Tony Stark's brilliant engineering or debonair personality, but because of the Iron Man armour itself. My eight-year old self fell in love with the armour, for that was what I wanted to do with my heart:

I wanted armour for my heart, believing that

it would protect me against pain inflicted by other people.

Iron Man render for the first Iron Man movie

But there's more. Two days ago, it occurred to me that my resonance with the Iron Man story occurs on an even deeper level that I'd never seen before. Because at its core, the story of Tony Stark and Iron Man is really that of a man with a damaged and broken heart. The entire Iron Man story begins with Tony building the armour to keep his shrapnel-ridden heart alive, and to escape from the enemies around him. Even as a child, I immediately grasped the metaphor of the story and instinctively aligned it with my personal pain and hurt, though it's only now that I'm actually cognizant of it and able to verbalize it properly. I suppose it's no accident that one of the most powerful lines that I remember from all the Iron Man comic books that I've ever read, are Tony's concluding words as he sits at a window and looks at snow falling outside:

"I wish I had a heart."

For the next two decades, Iron Man would become my definitive "superhero", because of these two powerful components that riveted my attention and I identified with so strongly - Tony Stark's damaged heart, and the armour that he built to protect it and keep him alive. But Tony Stark and Iron Man could not meet the need that I was looking for, though I badly wanted it; they only became the symbol of what was going on inside me. Even as I write this now, God is bringing me to some new realizations. But I will reserve those for the next post. See you then!

- The Wisdom Seeker

Infliction: Childhood Wounds

I've been sitting on the fence after the thoughts of "Old Spice Can't Help You", and the posts prior to that, especially "Broken Love". In the midst of all my realization of the sinfulness and brokenness of my own heart, I find myself looking back at what I've written, and hesitating. Hesitating, because things have been converging to this for some time, and I didn't realize it. Hesitating, because it forces me to get personal and frank, and I really don't want to. Hesitating, because the rubber of my theology must meet the road of reality and I'm suddenly recalling a quote from my favourite movie:

"Remember what Bilbo used to say: "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

- Frodo Baggins, The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring

I think I'll step out onto the road, and trust God to guide my thoughts for the next few posts.

In the cognizance of all that I've been running from, I've had to acknowledge the hurtful experiences of childhood and see their effects through new lenses. In some cases, I've needed to admit that they happened, that it mattered, and that neither could be conveniently swept under the rug.

A lot of the wounds I've had to process are from school. Being the youngest in my class, I was 'different' in many ways that I couldn't really explain. I guess I still am. For other reasons that I've never understood, the bullying began after I shifted classes in Grade 6 - first verbal and then the physical beating. This went on for years, all the way to my final year of high school.

Writing this now and feeling a familiar sharp pain coming on, I suddenly feel like shrugging it off, saying it wasn't a big deal, didn't matter and changing the subject. I mean, everyone gets beaten in school, right? So what? '"Stiff upper lip, be tough and take it like a man!", I feel like telling myself, just as I did as a child. But there was the problem in trying to "be tough" - I took it all silently and said nothing. Picked myself up quietly for years, after getting ganged up on, insulted, pushed around and beaten up, and went back to class after lunch recess, or home after school as if nothing had happened. I suppressed the pain of abandonment and rejection because I wanted to be "strong", and vowed never to cry. And so I did, proceeding to build walls around my heart and layering on the "emotional armor". Even though I accepted Christ as my Saviour in 9th grade, I didn't know how to deal with the underlying hurt and anguish. The wounds festered under the surface and during high school, led to another unconscious vow:

No one would ever be allowed to hurt me or lay a finger on me again.

Initially, that translated into picking fights with the same people who had started the bullying years ago in sixth grade. But after high school, things proceeded on a different front with silently shutting people out in different ways for the next 11 years, trying to keep people from getting emotionally close enough to figure out where to "aim the arrow". When they did hurt me, it became an immense battle to forget; a close friend of mine recently made the observation that my mind is simultaneously my greatest gift and my worst enemy. I had no problem admitting that he was absolutely right. The pattern of hurt, suppression, building emotional armor and shutting people out was one of the contributing factors culminating in the events described in my previous post, "Family Matters".

There was one glaring problem with all the emotional armor and walls that I was building:

No matter how thick the armor, how high the wall, or repeated vows to "be strong" and "never cry", the heart stubbornly rebels with all its might in the desire to be genuinely loved and keeps hammering back against the barriers, demanding to be let out.

During my time in school and for almost a decade after, that desire led my heart to some strange and curious people in search of rescue and freedom. I will keep that for the next post. Writing this one has taken the longest and been the most draining of any that I have ever written. I suppose that's what happens when the rubber meets the road in attempting to "walk the walk, not just talking the talk". It's tough to be honest and face the brokenness.

Till next time, then!

- The Wisdom Seeker

NOTE:

   This post was the first that led to a four-part series on childhood hurts, heroes, and realizations about both. The full series is listed below:

• Infliction: Childhood Wounds
• Adoration: Childhood Heroes
• Conviction: I'm Not Iron Man
• Salvation: The Guardian

"Old Spice" Can't Help You

"Smell Like A Man, Man" - The advertisement for Old Spice Bodywash

Three days after the reflections of We All Want To Believe, I'm still haunted by "Beauty and The Beast". I think I need to see the whole movie and absorb its full impact; it's been ages since I last saw it. It's hard to swallow the fact that it's taken God more than 11 years to break through to me with the power behind its message. And with it, He's also blown all the wounds and submerged hurt of more than a decade to the surface in one mighty eruption. As I'm confronted with the "Beast" in the mirror, I'm crushed under the realization of the gaping hole in me that needs change and healing. God's ability to torpedo my world with one animated fairy tale is shocking; this year seems to have been an unending series of such assumption-devastating events.

So what does Old Spice have to do with it?

"The man your man could smell like!" was the punchline of the recent spate of advertisements from Old Spice, implying increased manliness if men would use their bath product instead of "ladies-scented bodywash". I don't question the wit and humor of their marketing strategy (only surpassed by a friend of mine named Wanda). But in the light of the pressure and affliction that other men and I struggle with, this Old Spice advertisement reeks of pure superficiality.

"Old Spice" has become my metaphor for all the falsehood that men are coerced to use in demonstrating masculinity, ultimately as bogus as the love underpinning the marriages surveyed in TIME Magazine's report. I refer to all the posturing and masquerading that we are encouraged to undertake in hiding behind looks, physique, money, clothing, education, career, power, prestige, rebellion, the pseudo machismo attitude, fake spirituality....I could go on and on.

What good is it being "the man your man could smell like" if there's a hole in his soul the size of a bomb crater? Or "an oyster with two tickets to that thing you love" if he has emotional barriers that could stop artillery shells? Or overflowing diamonds if he has gambled away his soul? Or being able to "bake a gourmet cake in the dream kitchen he built for you with his own hands" if he burns down a relationship because he refuses to admit his wounds? Or taking a "swan dive!" if his emotional and spritual depth can be measured with a ruler?

We are beyond the help of "Old Spice" if such is our condition,. I believe this is beautifully illustrated in the prologue of "Beauty and The Beast". My problem, similar to the predicament of the prince in the video below, had some variations. More in upcoming posts. Until then, have a good weekend!

- The Wisdom Seeker

DISCLAIMER:

I wish to admit that I have used Old Spice aftershave, not because of clever marketing, but because my maternal grandfather uses it and I admired him for many reasons as a child. I copied him when I first started shaving. I still use it not because I want to be the man her man could smell like, but because I don't like irritated skin and skin infections after shaving.

I highly recommend it for this purpose :)

We All Want To Believe

Disney's Beauty and The Beast (1991)

   The concluding question of my last post has stayed with me the last few days. It's become less about TIME Magazine's article, and more about what it all means to me personally. I suppose I just want to believe. Despite my own brokenness as a sinful human being. Despite what I've experienced, read, seen and heard. Despite the circus acts that play out around me in the name of 'love'. Deep down, I still want to believe. I think we all do - even if we're battered, bruised and crawling on the ground. But it's so hard.

   And an awesome, timeless tale came back to me:

   Disney's 'Beauty and the Beast' fascinated me when I first watched it. Not initially because of the romance or the great love story, though I've come to love that too. My attention was riveted by the Beast, because I saw myself in him. Time and again as I have watched this movie, I have followed his face, his eyes and his expression - even in the scene above. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I still can't.

   The Beast reminds me of myself, in times past and present. Rather than the spell of an enchantress, I see my wounds of childhood years that turned the heart that could have been into the heart that is. I remember my heart that resorted to building layers of "emotional armor", finally shutting everyone out in some form or the other for the past 11 years or more. I am saddened as I remember the many ways in which it hurt and pushed away those who cared about me . I reflect on how it was driven like a wounded animal into wilderness, following a broken road that finally led it into the loving arms of Jesus. But scars and memories still remain, and I often see the Beast looking back at me in the mirror, wishing the transformation would happen faster or sooner.

   But as much as I am spellbound by the Beast, I cannot shut out Belle either. I must admit her pivotal role in the story that brings upon the Beast the crushing realization of all that resides in him. Without her, he cannot look at himself and recognize what he has become. I believe that this provides an essential clue that differentiates true love, romance and marriage from the bad comedy in North America that TIME Magazine has reported on.

   I am convinced that a truly, truly beautiful woman shaped by God has this effect on a man whom God is molding, when He brings her in front of him. I believe that her "Belle" is contrasted by God to show him the "Beast" that still exists within, desperately wanting transformation. I also believe that God uses the Beast to transform her "Belle". And that only propels both closer to God in search of that change within. When that happens in the context of a relationship where there is genuine love and romance, no one will ask the question: "Who Needs Marriage?"

 We all want to believe in this. Somehow, we must. Can we?

   I wish my Beast would transform.

- The Wisdom Seeker.

Broken Love

How We Love, by Milan & Kay Yerkovich

"Namaste, I am Sushmita Sen from India, where love is the essence of life!"

   Sushmita Sen, who won the Miss Universe title in 1994, introduced herself during the first round of the competition with those words. I remember this line from a magazine article that I read a few months later featuring both her and Aishwarya Rai, who won the Miss World competition the same year in South Africa.

   It was, the latter half of that statement that made an impression on me - "...from India, where love is the essence of life!". That phrase was dredged from the depths of my memory by the TIME Magazine article that I mentioned in my last post, "Marriage Gets Mangled". Given the current state of affairs outlined by the TIME/Pew report, it doesn't seem that love is the "essence of life" anywhere.

   And that's the point I want to start off with:

Love is broken. And I'm broken too.

   I came to this realisation in early summer, through the book "How We Love". One of the "family" had been reading it, and recognized first himself and then me in a chapter covering one of the five damaged love styles or imprints - Avoider, Pleaser, Vacillator, Controller and Victim. "That's totally Kevin!", he said, pointing it out to my room mate. They both had to push through my usual obstinacy in order to coax me to read it, but when I finally did, it was a bombshell. The chapter described me with unnerving accuracy - childhood experiences, molding, adult mindset, core nature, thought processes, reactions and much more. I had been searching for these answers for more than a decade, but never expected them to be laid out with such lucidity. That book got passed around our "family" circle; I believe the reaction was pretty much the same as we each recognized ourselves described in there.

   After my initial shock wore off, the after-effect was pain and consternation; I contemplated anew the depth of my brokenness and all that needed healing. With so many answers crystallizing at once, I saw myself as never before. "Mirror, Mirror on the wall..." conjured up a shattered and fragmented visage reflecting a deluge of memories of abandonment, neglect, bullying, insults, submerged anxiety, anger, and much more.

   The realisation, when it hit, was like an arrow:

I don't know how to love.

   The next shaft was aimed by the Bible and struck even deeper: "We love because He first loved us." (1 John 4:19, ESV)

   As conviction sunk in, I was transfixed by implications of the 'because' straddling that sentence.

   Because I didn't know how to really love, but God did. Because He loved me first with real love. Because His love warmed a cold, hard soul. Because His love showed me the genuine from the forgery. Because I love people with His love, not my own. Because I'm incapable of loving anyone without knowing the deep, deep love of Jesus first. Because without this, anything that we claim to be 'loving' is a farcical sham. Because bogus love destroys relationships and marriages, sinking the ships of hopes and dreams.

   I am convinced that TIME Magazine asked the wrong question: "But if marriage is no longer obligatory or even - in certain cases - helpful, then what is it for? It's impossible to address that question without first answering another: Who is marriage for?" I believe the right question to ask, sung by The Black Eyed Peas is:

   Where Is The Love?

   It seems that "love" in North America has now become the proverbial dead horse under the flogging of bogus marriage. More reflections in upcoming posts.

               

- The Wisdom Seeker

REFERENCES:

[1] Sushmita Sen

[2] Aishwarya Rai

[3] How We Love

[4] The Black Eyed Peas

Marriage Gets Mangled

TIME Magazine - November 29, 2009

   This is my significant post of today, and also this blog's 25th posting! Curious that it should be on this subject, though. 

   The above issue of TIME Magazine caught my eye while grocery shopping at Price Smart, so I had bought it on Monday and had a cursory look. Done in association with the Pew Research Center, it looks at the seismic shifts in American society's view of and attitude toward marriage, family and "evolving notions of what constitutes family in our society". Given the magnitude of osmotic influence that our southern neighbour exerts on Canadian economy and culture, I believe it is quite safe to assume that the shifts described will be seen in our society as well, if not already underway.

   Given what I've seen and read so far, it's quite an explosive article.

   The caption on the 'Contents' page reads "The marriage conundrum: We don't really need it for procreation or security, so why do we love it?". From there to the observations and statistics in the main article, the assertions and implications run the gamut from incisive and brilliant to ludicrous and asinine. It is equally noteworthy that my own emotions and reactions have been simultaneously and proportionally driven from shock and disillusionment to provocation and fury.

   So in addition to the posts that will be appearing this month, I intend to devote quite a bit of thinking and real estate in the coming weeks both to this article and the related issues that surround the whole sorry state of affairs. It got me thinking about a related blog post that I put up earlier last year, titled "To Hold Someone's Heart". I don't think I'll ever forget what I was feeling while writing that.

   This, on the other hand, is too much.

- The Wisdom Seeker

REFERENCES:

[1] Who Needs Marriage? A Changing Institution

[2] The Decline of Marriage And Rise of New Families