Little by Little

A lot of times, as busyness has become a major part of my day, I tend to forget the main purposes of life. The initial passion for others died down while my selfishness increased. How pride and self-pitiness are the perfect mixture of a soul's destruction!

I've been inwardly suffering from the mentally paralyzed state. Before I came up to work at Compassion, I seemed to be one of the "key" people who was trusted to be involved in critical matters. I was there to help others, not to be helped. Somehow God has recently flipped my script upside down.

It's been very frustrating to me that I'm not in the place where I can do things as conveniently as I used to. As a matter of fact, I feel like I'm partly paralyzed. Everyday as I watch my professional co-workers perform their tasks, I can't help but feeling envious. Though it seems forever to me, it has been nothing but a month and a half since my first day with this organization. While other people are harvesting, I'm just beginning to learn how to plant.

Sigh.

God has His ways to discipline His children. Beloved we are, yet He'd rather choose the hard way. Undoubtedly, that is an act of love. My friend, Heidi Peters, and I used to choose the way to express our love by slapping each other on the back. Sillyness? Yes. But every time we did that, I always walked away feeling happy, and more importantly, loved. Maybe this isn't the best analogy of all, but I think our Father doesn't neglect this strategy either.

Sometimes we need a good "slapping-on-the-back" from God in our daily life so that we may not forget who we are and what we are here for. Some of us may aggressively pursue achievement in the fast-pacing world whereas to some time may have stopped long ago and they just doggedly labor only to feed their empty stomach day by day.

What would life matter then if we let ourselves be consumed by the ways of the world? He really had a big slap for me this past week. And though I don't claim that I'm enlightened, my eyes seem to glimpse the revealing motive more.

I'm pushing myself too hard.

There's no need to be able to run while you are still tumbling.I guess it's in my very own nature. Mom told me that when I wasn't even a year old, as soon as I could stand up, I'd just shoot off to the other side of the room and ran hard into the wall. It was too soon. Look at babies, they don't stand right up and race. Naturally, they take their time as infants learning how to sit, crawl, stand and walk. It's very foolish of me to think that I'd be able to run as fast as everyone now when I can barely plant my feet firmly on this ground.

It's a lesson of humbleness and perserverance. Step by step. Little by little. Day by day.

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
Whose confidence is in Him."

Jeremiah 17:7

Beauty

This morning, while I was sitting in church listening to the soft wind whispering outside (I know that I was supposed to pay attention to sermon...but...), my eyes came to behold the beauty of the arranged flowers in a basket. They were of orange, red, pink and yellow colors and of different shapes and styles. Laying aside the bouquet was a plate of grape-wine cups with 3 violet orchid flowers as a "decoration". As the congregation started singing, I couldn't shift my gaze anywhere.

Simple they were, the beauty of the Most High were gracefully displayed to the eyes of a sinner like me.

Though disoriented and out of place, His assurance to me will always be the same, "I AM in control". Though the earth may crumble or the sun be darkened, the same Voice that called me 5 years ago will always say, "You are My beloved, My creation. I will always love you because I do."

Third Week

The longer I'm here, the more I realized how weak I am. Let me just start with this story from Mark Hanlon, the senior vice president of sponsor and donor development of Compassion.:: I Shall Not Be In Want:: From the book, "Blessings of the Poor"

"I'd seen lots of poor kids living in squalid conditions, and this was to be just another one. But a home visit in Haiti in 1995 left me unhinged.

An eleven- or twelve-year-old sponsored girl showed us through her home, which was not unlike many others I'd seen. It was a typical Haitian hut. The yard was decorated with rocks, there was no vegetation of which to speak, and the house was made of dung and mud sandwiched roughly between bamboo poles.

The dwelling had four tiny rooms. I remember that the walls were decorated with colourful magazine ads. There were no personal pictures to speak of. The ads were for plain things like soap, hair care products and the like. There was nothing thematic about the decorations; they were colourful and filled a space in the absence of anything better.

An open fire burned in the kitchen. The home was clean- spotless, to be precise. The beds were mattresses on the floor but they were made and not disshevelled. The clothes were hung or neatly folded.

I remember the little girl moving the dirt and collecting the odd leaf and piece of trash. She took great pride and joy in our visit. Amidst the poverty were pride and dignity, and a kidness and contentment that belied the harsh circumstances of their existence. It was an honour for us to be with them.

We asked her to share her favourite Bible verse. It was Psalm 23. I only heard the firsr verse, 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want', before I began to cry. A mix of shame and anger welled up from somewhere. How could she not be in want? How was there not that huge desire to want more?

My constant and persisten though would be to get out, or get up, or get better. Not to say she didn't have aspirations, but she was content. She had a skirt and blouse and scuffed shoes. I had everything I could ever want or need.

The poor are so much stronger than I am or could ever hope to be. I visit the poor for a day or a week, returning each night to a nice hotel, clean shirts, a hot shower and safe food. They don't leave.

Just becasue they are poor doesn't make them less important. Their economic situation doesn't make them weak as people.

We don't say it, but sometimes we think they should be impressed to have us in their home. All I know is that I was blessed, and this little girl's home was holy ground."

Little did I know how my life could change as I accepted this book from my friend's hand. Never before had I paid much thought and attention to the word "poverty". All I knew was that if I had no money, I was poor. Worry would cloud my heart, and make it inaccessible for Jesus to perform His miracle. I'd try in every way I could to get what I wanted. Seemingly, I won...but in such worldly way.

Since I began my work at Compassion, the organization's core strategy rings in my mind everyday, "Releasing Children from Poverty in Jesus' Name". My first reaction to the statement was "how?". What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to take action? I didn't even know what poverty meant. I imagined myself as a giver, a wealth-bearer, a stronger and more important person. It was always the subject "I" with an "active" sense. Yet as each day passed by, God started to reveal to me...It is actually I who are a receiver, poor and weak.

Living by myself with no support from family or church leaves me with ONLY one thing - God. Each day I find my soul crushed to the ground, crying out for love and mercy. Fear and loneliness tower over me with its vast shadows. Satan is mockingly laughing at me as I'm trembingly cowed under its wings. Slowly, softly came the whispering in the wind, "Call to Me and I will answer you..." (Jeremiah 33:3).

Jesus is the ONLY source of strength, hope, wisdom, love and all that I could ask for. It's the moment when I'm stripped bare...exposed to the glaring eyes of the world that I realize I need to make a choice: either to doggedly labor myself in the bitterness of the world - the realm of Satan, and believe its lie that I'm a frail and insignificant no-one or to have my pride and dignity as God's beloved back by calling out His name, and be set free.

The Lord uses poverty as a strategy to bend the back of those who are prideful. I always question God why did He often bring judgments on nations (whether Israel or others) by destroying them, putting them in ruin. Now I seem to understand a little better. As Paul O'Rourke shared in his story on worship from the same book, "In a materialistic sense, the poor do not have a whole lot of tangible reasons to worship, but they choose to worship anyway. They have taught me that worship is an attitude of the heart and not an emotional response to the right stimuli - an airconditioned auditorium with soft seats and plush carpet; a veritable orchestra and cast of thousands on the platform; good health; a full stomach."

I, we, have too often numb our bodies, minds and spirits with worldly objects that are unquenchable to our thirst.

God strips us bare, leaves us with nothing, so we can turn to Him where there is everything. His desire is for us to solely rely on Him as a child in his father's arm.

May we come to our sense, and know who we actually are.

Mink

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." - Matthew 5:3