A Child Again

Help me Lord to be a child again

The one You knew before life's pain and shame
A simple child who trusts & knows no fear
Who in my smallness, rests in my Abba dear


Help me to know Your love - not just in my head, but in my heart
To be anchored deeply - amidst life's storms and valleys dark
To let go of all my fears and inhibitions and doubts;
And let you take me to new adventures and mountain tops

(inspired by Up!)

Who am I? (by Dietrich Bonhoeffer)

Who am I? They often tell me I would step from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly, like a squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They also tell me I would talk to my warders freely and friendly and clearly, as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me I would bear the days of misfortune equably, smilingly, proudly, like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of? Or am I only what I myself know of myself, restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage, struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat, yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds, thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness, trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation, tossing in expectation of great events, powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance, weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making, faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today, and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army, fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine.

The enemy within (by Carl Jung)

The acceptance of oneself is the essence of the whole moral problem and the epitome of a whole outlook on life. That I feed the hungry, that I forgive an insult, that I love my enemy in the name of Christ - all these are undoubtedly great virtues. What I do unto the least of my brethren, that I do unto Christ.

But what if I should discover that the least among them all, the poorest of all beggars, the most impudent of all the offenders, the very enemy himself - that these are within me, and that I myself stand in need of the alms of my own kindness - that I myself am the enemy who must be loved - what then? As a rule, the Christian's attitude is then reversed: there is no longer any question of love or long suffering; we say to the brother within us "Raca," and condemn and rage against ourselves. We hide it from the world; we refuse to admit ever having met this least among the lowly in ourselves.

Judas could not face his shadow; Peter could. The latter befriended the imposter within; the former raged against him (Brennan Manning).

The hardest battle

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting (ee cummings)

A Youthful Soul

I like what the late General Douglas MacArthur said - Youth is not a period of time. It is a state of mind, a result of the will, a quality of the imagination, a victory of courage over timidity, of the taste for adventure over the love of comfort. A man doesn't grow old because he has lived a certain number of years. A man grows old when he deserts his ideal. The years may wrinkle his skin, but deserting his ideal wrinkles his soul. Preoccupations, fears, doubts, and despair are the enemies which slowly bow us toward earth and turn us into dust before death. You will remain young as long as you are open to what is beautiful, good, and great; receptive to the messages of other men and women, of nature, and of God. If one day you should become bitter, pessimistic, and gnawed by despair, may God have mercy on your old man's soul.

A Decision

After weeks of taking western medication followed by Chinese medicine, I made a decision to change my diet and eat anti-histamine foods to get rid of this lingering cough. So for the next 3 months, I will bid goodbye to my favourite desserts and eat the following and see how I do:

1. Vegetables - Bell Peppers, Bok Choy, Broccoli, Brussels Sprouts, Cabbage, Cauliflower, Garlic, Green Beans, Spring Onions, Kale, Leeks, Olives, Spinach, Sweet potatoes, Tomatoes
2. Fruits - Apples, Avocados, Pineapple, Guavas, Kiwifruit, Lemons, Papaya
3. Nuts - Almonds, Flaxseed/Linseed, Hazelnuts, Sunflower Seeds, Walnuts
4. Fish - Cod, Herring, Salmon, Sardines, Snapper Fish, Striped Bass, Tuna
5. Drink - Green tea, lots of water
6. Supplements - Quercetin, Omega 3 fatty acids, Bromelain, Vitamin C
7. What to cut down on - animal protein intake, dairy, wheat and gluten products, artificial sweeteners and sugar

Prayer to the Restorer of Entombed Vitality (by Joyce Rupp)

This is a wonderful poem by Joyce Rupp (taken from Out of the Ordinary)

Awakened One
source of inner power
restorer of tombed vitality
giver of graced gusto

you who have been raised
from the cold stone of death
come and resurrect me
from my own entombment

repair what has weakened
in my spiritual endeavors
revive my mildewed
cobwebbed relationships

lift up my waning hope
when I wail with the world's pain
restore my sense of oneness
with all your creation

refresh my daily call
to embrace the sacred
to find you in every gesture
that dances with your heart

push back the stone
of self-centredness
untomb my generosity
renew my dedication

raise up my dilapidated dreams
restore my ancient union
resuscitate my burning desire
re-establish my priorities
so you become the Centre
of all I am and all I do

Nicodemus

I came at night to see the Teacher
To find out about the miracles that defied nature
Filled with fear but compelled by my question - Is this really God sanctioned?

You must be born again - I was told.
His words defied all logic known
You must be born from heaven, by the Spirit.
It's unseen, unpredictable, but you will feel it

His words awakened a deep yearning in my heart,
And dispelled the fear I had from the start.
It may cost me everything I am and have
But I will follow Him with resolution and pizzaz.

An Easter Thanksgiving

Jesus You took on all my sin;
Every wrong and pain and disfigurement within.
You paid a debt You did not owe
Not destroy this unworthy soul.
How can I ever repay You fully?
For all I am and have comes from You only....I can only say "thank you Lord" from my heart; and pledge Your words to remember and never depart.

Rewriting the pages

God made my life complete
When I placed all the pieces before him.
God rewrote the text of my life
When I opened the book of my heart to His eyes
(Psalms 18, The Message)

A clear view

This is what Mount Kinabalu looks like; we had to wait 5 days for this view. Most of the time it's hidden behind clouds and mists.
This reminds me of faith - being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see

Voice of Love

I heard the voice of the tempter say - Prove yourself!
Do something useful, powerful, sensational;
To show you are worthy of love.
So I strove to do my best;
Only to discover that -
Enough is never enough;
To prove I am worthy of love.

Then I heard a still, small voice say -
"You are My Beloved Child;
There is no need to strive;
You are chosen; pride of My life"
"It's not what you can do or say;
That makes up what you're worth.
It's how much I have loved you;
Long before Your birth."

A New Beginning

I came to this retreat,
With ashes in my hand,
Charred remains of failed attempts,
Of a contemplative stance.

I thought it would make me
More spiritual,
More transformed;
Better and wiser...
But I was wrong.

To find the One who loves my soul,
Requires that I understand -
That I am the one who's being pursued;
Drawn and embraced by His loving Hand.

Two donkeys

Two donkeys I met along the way
One Simon, one Rinda
Servants of God, I say

Who walked along with me some days
They watched and listened
And helped me find my place

At Papa's side & under His gaze
I thank You Lord for donkeys who
Are so full of Your grace!

Sheepdog

These words were inspired from a silent retreat which I attended recently over the Easter weekend at the Nest.

Make me your sheepdog Lord
Train me in Your ways
Let me hear Your every call
And see You face to face

Make me your sheepdog Lord
And help me to obey
Regardless of the circumstance
In everything You say

Make me your sheepdog Lord
O that I might be
Ever attentive and responsive
Only God to Thee

Make me your sheepdog Lord
And use me as You will
To herd the sheep You've lost
To pasture that will thrill

Make me your sheepdog Lord
As one who knows no fear
To climb the heights and plunge the depths
With the Shepherd I hold so dear

(picture of border collie taken from Wikipedia)

Pouring out of nard

I was inspired by the story of Mary pouring pure nard on Jesus in John 12:1-6

Lord I pour out my nard on you
Please take me as I am
The strong, the weak, the good, the bad
A sacrifice to the Lamb

Lord I pour out my nard on you
I don't have much to give
The whole, the broken, the Mary, the Judas
Please accept them as a gift

Lord I pour out my nard on you
I owe you a great debt
Your cross, Your tomb, the empty grave
Brought death and life resurrect

Lord I pour out my nard on you
Take these spices, make them new
The bitter, the sweet, the sour, the salt
Make me a fresh work in You

(picture of spikenard, ingredient of nard, taken from Wikipedia)

Beatrix Potter

I recently watched the movie "Miss Potter" with Renée Zellweger and Ewan McGregor and thoroughly enjoyed it! Although the movie has some historical inaccuracies, it was heartwarming and I particularly liked the animated scenes where the animal characters came alive.

Watching some of the scenes at the Lake District also made me homesick for Cumbria (I spent a year at Lancaster University and whiled away many happy weekends exploring the Lake District; a bus ticket only cost five pounds then).

I hadn't realised how accomplished Beatrix Potter was. A self-taught artist (her first book, ''The Tale of Peter Rabbit,'' was published in 1902 and sold 28,000 copies between October and Christmas that year); an astute businesswoman (she began merchandising a Peter Rabbit doll as early as 1903); a expert mycologist (she studied and drew lichens and fungi) and a sheep breeder with 14 farms covering 4,000 acres.

She bequeathed all her property to the National Trust, a charity dedicated to preserving British heritage. One of her quotes was - "Thank goodness I was never sent to school; it would have rubbed off some of the originality"

The Middle Passage

Joyce Rupp's poem resonates with me -

the persistent voice of midlife wooed and wailed, wept and whined, nagged like an endless toothache, seduced like an insistent lover, promised a guide to protect me as I turned intently toward my soul.

as I stood at the door of "Go Deeper", I heard the ego's howl of resistance, felt the shivers of my false security but knew there could be no other way. inward I travelled, down, down, drawn further into the truth than I ever intended to go.

as I moved far and deep and long, eerie things long lain hidden jeered at me with shadowy voices, while love I'd never envisioned wrapped compassionate ribbons 'round my fearful, anxious heart.

further in I sank, to the depths, past all my arrogance and confusion, through all my questions and doubts, beyond all I held to be fact.

finally I stood before a new door: the Hall of Oneness and Freedom. uncertain and wary, I slowly opened, discovering a space of welcoming light.

I entered the sacred inner room, where everything sings of Mystery. no longer could I deny or resist the decay of clenching control and the silent gasps of surrender.

there in the sacred place of my Self, Love of a lasting kind came forth, embracing me like a long beloved one, come home for the first time.

much that I thought to be "me" crept to the corners and died. in its place a Being named Peace slipped beside and softly spoke my name: "Welcome home, True Self, I've been waiting for you."

Rembrandt's Prodigal Son

I am reading Henri Nouwen's "The Return of the Prodigal Son" based on one of Rembrandt's last paintings at the Hermitage museum.

Rembrandt did not follow the literal text of the parable. What he portrayed is a half-blind old man (he painted the blind as real see-ers), dressed in a gold embroidered garment and deep red cloak, laying his large, stiffened hands on the shoulders of his returning son, in a torn undertunic covering his emaciated body and torn sandals. It's a picture of infinite compassion, unconditional love and everlasting forgiveness. Looking on is the critical older son who stands stiffly erect with both hands clasped together close to his chest.
Henri Nouwen reflects on himself as the wayward younger son, the older resentful son and finally the welcoming father. It's wonderful exposition of homecoming and reconciliation.

Retreat of Silence

Last weekend, I took part in my first silent retreat and discovered the wonderful world of contemplation and meditation.
I quote from Sue Monk Kidd's book "When the Heart Waits" - "When you are waiting, you're not doing nothing. You are doing the most important something there is. You're allowing your soul to grow up. If you can't be still and wait, you can't become what God created you to be."
"Contemplative waiting is consenting to be where we really are. People recoil from it because they don't want to be present in themselves. Such waiting causes a deep existential loneliness to surface, a feeling of being disconnected from oneself and God. At the depths, there is fear, fear of the dark chaos within ourselves."
Such a waiting can be likened to entering into a cocoon; into a process of separation, transformation and emergence [picture taken from www.naute.com].