relentless

Recently, I was reading a book on spiritual disciplines, and the book started with a chapter on desires, and it challenged the reader to be honest with our desires – the “holy” and the “not-so-holy” ones both. I took a while to sit with that and found myself conflicted with my many desires. On one hand, I want to love God and live a holy life and give Him my all. On the other, I cannot deny that there is a part of me (the Bible would call it ‘the flesh’) that just wants the easy way out: to be liked, to be safe, to be comfortable. And I just sat there, struggling with God, struggling with myself for a while.

Today, I went to therapy and we talked about the real self and the ideal self and how I’ve grown in the past few years. As a teen, I built for myself an ideal self: on track to become a pastor by the age of xx, married by the age of xx, superwoman and all. But more and more, I’m realizing that life isn’t like that, and life isn’t going to be like that. And more and more, I’m realizing that I quite like that. I embrace my flaws and my imperfections.

It’s easier to be strong than to be weak, I’m realizing. It’s easier to put up a front than to confront who you really are. It’s difficult to be vulnerable and truthful, even with myself. The hardest thing to be sometimes is to be real.

I cannot give God what I refuse to acknowledge. But when I take a good, hard look at the mirror of my soul and bring it to God, I often find grace and strength and compassion – enough to surrender my struggles to God.

So today, as I sit here with God, thinking about the past few years, about all the pain and all the change and all the good that God has brought to my life, I remember this: God can only change us as we are, not as we pretend to be.

And more importantly, God loves the person I am, not the person I want to be.

Short one; a Good Friday and Easter Sunday reflection.

I once read a quote somewhere (that I can no longer find) that said, “The cross settled His goodness once and for all.”

And if ever I doubt His goodness, all I have to do is look to the cross—because if He did nothing else for me in this lifetime, the cross itself, the saving work He did on that cross, that’s good enough for me for a lifetime. I need nothing else to prove that God is good.

So today I celebrate. Today I celebrate Jesus; today I celebrate His death, burial, and resurrection—but most of all, today, I celebrate His goodness.

March holidays just ended and I am so so so grateful. Today’s a continuation or finale(?) of my last few blog posts (first things first + give me a God-listening heart)—but this is a simple post of thanksgiving. But thanksgiving is almost as important as anything else that I can do—thanksgiving acknowledges my reliance on God and not on myself.

March hols has been crazy busy and crazy intense and I often found myself pretty stressed—but each time, God would ask me to slow down, relax, breathe, and know that the battle belongs to the Lord.

At one point I asked God if the grace for CG ministry had been lifted from my life because it’s been so hard for so many years—but this week showed me that it’s the opposite. That I made it hard, when it’s actually supposed to be this easy—when it’s supposed to feel like… it’s so not me, but it’s 1) all God and 2) done in a community where we support one another.

Because that’s what serving in the house of God should look like. It shouldn’t be a burden, shouldn’t a chore. I need to walk in the rhythms of grace, serve out of the overflow, and merely be a channel for God to work through. I also need to work in a team and learn to carry one another’s burdens—not more, and not less. Not fight battles that I’m not supposed to fight, and yet still help in carrying one another’s burdens.

March hols was crazy busy and crazy intense—but it was also so, so, so beautiful. We saw people encountering God; we saw people break into holy laughter; we saw people enjoy one another’s company; we saw new friends asking whether they could come back again for future events—and it was so encouraging and inspiring—and yet in the midst of all that, what I feel is not pride—but I am humbled. Because it was so not me. It was all God, and it was all the team that I was a part of.

God, it is an ultimate privilege and honor to serve You and Your people. It is an honor to be Your doulos—to do whatever You command, to do what I see You do every step of the way.

Jesus resumed talking to the people, but now tenderly. “The Father has given me all these things to do and say. This is a unique Father-Son operation, coming out of Father and Son intimacies and knowledge. No one knows the Son the way the Father does, nor the Father the way the Son does. But I’m not keeping it to myself; I’m ready to go over it line by line with anyone willing to listen.

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Today, God reminded me to be a person who listens, a person who’s willing to wait on the Lord. Sometimes I get so caught up with giving that I forget—that the daily Christian life can be summed up in one word: receive (Watchman Nee).

I’m a bit of a rusher. And I think that’s how God created me, and He made me the way I am. But at the same time, God has been teaching me to listen, to wait, and to receive. ’Cos when I rush, I forget to do these things.

And sometimes it can be good things, like giving God my love and devotion and praise—but in the midst of that, I forget to simply receive. 

At W555 Powerhouse today, God revealed my heart to me, and asked me, Phine, when’s the last time you just listened? And He reminded me that He’s placed in me a God-listening heart—so that I may wait, listen, and receive.

This morning, I woke up eager to start the day and get started on all the tasks I need to accomplish (read: waking up at 5am stressed and overwhelmed and panicky and anxious to finish all my work)—but I found myself reminded of Mary and Martha.

This story’s been on my mind recently, ever since I heard Pastor Bob share it in a message a while ago, and I’ve been meaning to write my revelations on it. I think this might not be a single post, but a continuing revelation that God has for me, and a journey that I will have to walk through as I grow in Christ.

So I woke up today thinking about Mary and Martha, and I found myself praying, God, I wish I were more of a Mary and less of a Martha today, as if being ‘a Mary’ was a matter of personality—almost like praying, God, can I be less Type A? Less D?

So as I asked God why I couldn’t be more of ‘a Mary’, I found Him answering: Phine, why can’t you?

41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

I don’t know what Martha and Mary’s personalities were; it’s easy to think that the difference between Mary and Martha was a difference in role or responsibilities or personality—but if we look at the verse, Jesus said, “Mary has chosen what is better”—it’s a matter of choice. It’s a matter of choosing the one thing that is needed, and that is Christ.

Pastor Bob shared this at a meeting I attended, that the problem with Martha wasn’t that she was too busy or had too much on her plate; after all, it’s a biblical principle that those who are faithful in the little will be put in charge of much (Matthew 25:21). So the problem isn’t doing too much or having too much to do—but the problem is in the heart. Martha became worried and upset about many things, instead of working in tandem with God in her service and minisry unto the Lord.

Ngl, I’ve been busy recently. And I’ve been stressed—“worried and upset about many things”. But this morning, God reminds me: Phine, you can choose to be a Mary—by choosing what is needed: Jesus. Just because you’re busy doesn’t mean that you have to be worried and stressed about what you’re busy with. And I should never, ever try to do the work of God. I am merely the vessel that God chooses to work through: I cannot heal; I cannot save; I cannot deliver. All I can do is to work with the rhythms of grace—God’s rhythm—for His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:28-30 MSG; NKJV).

Remind me, Lord, even when I forget. All I am is God’s vessel—God’s doulos. I will do only what I see the Father doing: nothing more and nothing less.

First things first, Lord, I put You before All other goals, things I've strived for I've found a love that will last You are better than all the others No, You won't leave, and I won't retreat I've found a love that will last

I haven’t blogged in months because things were so difficult for so long—but these days, I feel like I’m finding myself again. More importantly, I’m finding God again—and I’m finding faith and hope and love again.

But this one’s for the one who’s journeyed with me these past months.

Theo, I love you. People ask me how and when I knew that I loved you, but I always say that it was a process of falling deeper for you each day. Watching you, getting to know you—it wasn’t a moment of revelation. I fell deeper each day.

There are so many reasons I love you, and I’ve told you many of them already, and some I will keep between us, but as I always say to you: thank you for making me a better person and a better lover of Jesus. Theokee, you model the love of Christ to me.

There were times in the past years or months where I wasn’t sure I knew how to love anymore, whether the pain of this earth had taken away my ability to love—but you showed me how to love again.

Recently 5-year-old M asked me, “Yiyi, can we marry God?”

Honestly, I 99% botched that explanation lol. But it reminded me of one thing: that God compares the relationship between Jesus and the Church to the relationship between the groom and the bride.

And you do just that. You show me Jesus’ love. You bring me closer to God. And you do that with such grace and ease that it brings me to tears at times.

Can we marry God? You’d probably answer M better than I did—but all I know is that our relationship has brought me closer to God in ways that I thought were impossible before. For the first time, I understand why Jesus and the Church are compared to marriage—all thanks to you.

So thank you, @theokee; I love you with more than words can say.

There in the stillness right from the start You were the ember that lit the dark Over the heavens and galaxies God, You were there singing over me

There in the silence and mystery You were the constant that stayed with me Never a moment that You withdrew God, You were there when I need You

Oh, my soul sings You are faithful You are faithful To the end Let my heart sing Because You know me And You love me To the end

–– To the End (Mack Brock, Amanda Cook)

Today, I had an encounter with God—and I hesitated to call it an encounter, because I didn’t come out from it with A Rhema Word or any specific revelation. It wasn’t even a particularly emotional moment. There was no bright light, no shining moment, no tears—

It was only God and His presence.

I’ve struggled to come before God for the past day or two, because my emotions have been intense (read: PTSD flashbacks and invasive bad thoughts every time I allow myself to stop and breathe)—but God has been tugging on the strings of my heart, again and again, and tonight I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

But the moment I sat down and my fingers touched my keyboard and I began to worship, the presence of God filled the room, and my heart—oh, my heart. I don’t have the words to describe how it felt.

Tenderness. There was such a tenderness in the atmosphere—a moment between me and God. In that moment, none of the pain of my past mattered: no sin, no shame, no guilt, no struggle. No difficult emotions to process, no darkness or depression to stand in between.

Someone asked me recently, “Why is God so important to you?”

I couldn’t answer that then cos I was a lil like, “wdym why... I don’t know a world where God isn’t the most important person in my life.”

God is my Best Friend in the world. He’s the one who matters most in my life. He’s the one who brings me joy, when joy seems so out of reach. He’s my all-sufficiency. He is everything to me.

Tenderness. Tonight was about God loving me, and me loving God.

It almost felt like... God misses me. And I miss God.

There are days, in the hecticness of it all, in the familiarity of God and church and life, that I forget how precious it is to sit at His feet. There’s no other word for it besides: precious.

My flashbacks recently have been a lot about 2017 and all that happened that year, but there’s one other thing that happened that year: I came back to God.

I remember the joy of coming back to God. The pain, too. But I remember the joy. The days where I’d sit on the floor, listening to sermons, feeling so so so broken—and yet God was there, working with me through the pain and the shame. I remember not missing a single day of my Quiet Time, because I’d tell myself: what a privilege it is to even GET to enter the presence of God. Knowing that it’s grace and grace alone that brought me to this place. Knowing that it’s God alone who drew me to Him.

As Watchman Nee puts it, “The Lord's own beauty and glory draw us. His drawing power is our pursuing power.”

Sometimes, I forget that. What a privilege it is to GET to sit at Your feet, Lord Jesus. What a privilege it is to get to worship You... to be with You. To be near You, to know Your heart.

May I never take You for granted, God. May I never become overfamiliar. May my heart never be hardened to Your presence... May my life be about loving You.

I love the King & the King loves me; today, I remember that.

I was in therapy the other day and we were talking about uncomfortable emotions; one of them was fear. My therapist asked me, “What do you think about yourself when you’re anxious? How do you feel?”

We talked a bit about that, about how I didn’t like feeling anxious or needy and how I don’t like myself when I’m anxious; at some point, I made this statement, “It makes me feel like I’m not self-sufficient.”

We sat there with that for a while. Because the truth is: I’m not self-sufficient. I don’t like it, but it’s true. I’m not self-sufficient; I’m not enough; I’m not in control.

Because God is.

Life Without Lack talks about living in the fullness of Psalm 23, a life of contentment, peace, and security. The very first chapter talks about God, His name, and His nature. Most of all, it talks about the name YAHWEH: I AM THAT I AM.

In Dallas Willard’s words,

“I AM” is a statement of the nature of God as being—self-sustaining, self-sufficing, all-powerful, self-determined being … That is the being upon whom a life without lack relies.

I scribbled these words in the margins of the book: ‘I shall not lack’ is predicated on the name of YAHWEH—I am that I am.

I’ve been meditating on the words, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not lack,” for some time now. And I am coming to realise that I can only live a life without lack if I am fully confident of who God is. God’s name literally means self-sufficing; He is that He is.

In Economics, we learn about scarcity: the problem of unlimited wants and limited resources. It’s one of the basic principles of Economics; much of how we operate in this world is based on the problem of scarcity.

According to The Library of Economics and Liberty, “That you can’t have everything you want the moment you want it is a fact of life. Figuring out how [people] … handle this … is fundamental to what economics is about.”

We live in a world with so many limitations; we all know that. 11.11 just ended on Wednesday and boy, did I have unlimited wants. It was the epitome of consumerism: I bought 2 pairs of shoes, a bunch of clothes, a kneeling chair, a bag, phone accessories, and lots of food. It was lowkey problematic.

But the Bible has a vastly different stand on this matter. In Psalm 23, David says, “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not lack.” Or as other translations read, “I shall not want.”

I’ve been meditating on these words for the past week, on how we’re supposed to live a life without lack, a life full of contentment. Jesus came to give us life and life more abundantly––and He wants us to live in that life. Abundant life.

Life’s not meant to be difficult; we’re not meant to be striving all the time. We’re not meant to focus on getting and accumulating all the time. We can live in abundant life: a life full of grace and contentment and joy, where our “cup runneth over”.

I’d like to live that life.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

I am a bit of a control freak. I like being in control and I hate hate hate feeling out of control. I like it when things go my way and hate it when things don’t. I like knowing that I have a say over the things that happen in my life.

So I keep my phone on me at all times, ready to step in for anybody and everybody who needs it. I’m constantly high-strung, ready to respond to anything that comes my way. I try my best to make the world the way I want it to be.

But here’s where Sabbath comes in.

To me, the Sabbath is about relinquishing control––for one day, but also for all seven days––and giving that control to God. To me, the Sabbath is about knowing that the world goes on without me. It’s about knowing that I don’t need to be on top of things 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. To me, the Sabbath is about knowing that I don’t need to be in control all the time.

When I observe the Sabbath, I cannot stay in control. When I observe the Sabbath, I have to let go and let God. And when I observe the Sabbath, I come to the realisation that God never wanted me to take on everything for myself. God called me to be yoked to Him, and when I put all the responsibility on myself, I reject the call of the easy yoke.

I can’t do it all, and the Sabbath acknowledges that.

Observing the Sabbath gives the world and the people around me the chance to show me that I don’t need to know it all. It gives God the chance to show me that I don’t need to have it all together. I can be weak and things will be okay. I can be clueless and things will be okay. I can be at rest and things will be okay.

The article continues: “(a) learning as a process should be identified and distinguished from the behavioral results or the products of that process; (b) learning does not necessarily produce a change in behavior.”

It’s what I needed to read today. For the past few weeks, I’ve been struggling––with school, with life, with all the demands of this world. But most of all, I struggle with the question, “Have I really changed? Have I really grown?”

But today, I remember: learning is a process, and I am on this process. Even if the learning isn’t always behaviourally evident, I am still learning.

I have been overwhelmed recently, and I admit it. Life feels like too much––and it’s always difficult when that happens. But tonight God brings me back to Elijah’s story in 1 Kings 19. So here, Elijah’s life was under threat, and he did what is natural to so many: he ran. And then he falls into a deep depression, and prays to God that he might die.

I love this story. I love how real the Bible is, how even these heroes of faith struggled with the darkness and the fear and the depression that life sometimes brings. I love how God sends an angel to minister to Elijah, and He does this by giving him food, drink, and sleep. And some days, when I struggle, I know that God sends His ministering angels to me too, to give me food, drink, and sleep.

And the angel of the Lord came back the second time, and touched him, and said, “Arise and eat, because the journey is too great for you.” So he arose, and ate and drank; and he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights as far as Horeb, the mountain of God.

Today I hear the voice of God tell me: Phine, the journey is too great for you––so you can’t go at this on your own.

Like Elijah, sometimes I find myself in a place where I’m running on empty, where I feel like I have little left to give, physically or emotionally. This past week felt a lil like that.

But I’m learning: that when I have no strength left, when I realise that the journey is too great for me, that’s when God steps in. When I give up giving and allow myself to simply receive. It’s not by his strength alone that Elijah continues his journey; it’s by the food that God gave. (And the food must’ve given supernatural strength; how else could Elijah last on one meal for forty days?)

I also love that it talks about the desert (Horeb). As you all know, I’ve been trying to slow down my pace of life recently, and withdrawing with God in silence and solitude more often (key word: try). That’s another solution that God offers Elijah: the space to be still with God, the space to breathe.

So tonight, I hold on to all these things. I breathe deep, rest my soul in God. I eat, drink, and sleep.

In the words of Watchman Nee, “The daily life of the Christian can be summed up in one word: receive.”

People who keep the Sabbath live all seven days differently. — Walter Brueggemann      Author of Sabbath as Resistance: Saying No to the Culture of Now

One of my biggest revelations since keeping the Sabbath has been this: the Sabbath isn’t about changing how I live, one day a week; it’s about changing my entire way of life. When we protect our moments of rest, we also protect the moments of non-rest in our lives too.

It’s impossible to keep the Sabbath and still live a crazy hectic way of life. It’s impossible to rest on Sunday then go back to feeling overwhelmed on Monday. That’s just not how it works. Since keeping the Sabbath, I’ve begun to notice whenever I start to feel hurried; these days, I’m so much more aware of the movements of my heart. I know when I need to slow down and when I can speed up.

But more than that, I’ve come to realise that staying in a place of rest is an everyday thing. Living from a place of rest isn’t just something I do one day a week or one hour a day; even when I’m working, I need to be at rest.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

I love that Jesus talks about the easy yoke, because the yoke is an instrument of work. With Jesus, even work is to be easy.

Keeping the Sabbath has changed my life in more ways than I can say. Today is a Monday, and I find myself giving thanks for yesterday. The Sabbath helps me rest, recover, and get ready for the week ahead. It helps me set the pace that I want to live; it helps me take control of my life and the things I need to do.

This past month, I’ve been observing the Sabbath on Sundays (after reading The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, I now believe that God commands us to keep the Sabbath). Some of the things that this includes is me not using my phone at all on Sundays, not doing any work on Sundays, but most importantly, my sole focus on Sundays is REST AND WORSHIP. Before I do anything at all, I ask myself: Is this rest? Is this worship? If the answer is no, I don’t do it.

Tomorrow will be the 4th Sabbath since I started this, and it’s been quite a journey. At first, it felt strange and difficult, and I worried about the implications of taking my Sabbath. I used my phone until lateee at night on the first Saturday, because I felt the withdrawal even before I had to turn my phone off (ok I’m a full-fledged tech addict ok I feel felt like I can’t be away from my phone for long).

But 4 weeks later, I cannot put into words how relieved I am that tomorrow is Sunday. That tomorrow is a day solely devoted to rest and worship. That tomorrow is a day that is holy, sanctified––set apart.

And Jesus answered and said to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.”

Sabbath is my way of going against the pressures of society to do more and be more and achieve more. Sabbath is my way of saying STOP, I need time to breathe, time to listen to my soul and to listen to what God is saying to me. Sabbath is my way of saying no to all the things that are meaningless, and saying yes to the most important things in life.

Sabbath is my way to put God first in all that I do. Sabbath is my way to trust God. It’s still difficult: midterms and quizzes and assignments are coming, and I have one less day to do all that I need to do. But I know that when I seek first the kingdom of God, all else will be added unto me.

Dear Phine,

I was writing a 500-word Geography essay this week and I thought of you. I thought of how familiar this felt, and how many times I’ve written a 500-word essay just like this in my life. But most of all, I thought about how easy it comes these days. I finished my essay in an hour, complete with a reference list and proper citations. I thought about you, struggling to write a coherent and well-supported argument, taking weeks to finish your AAs, as you call them.

Here’s what I wish I knew then: you don’t have to know it all now. Some things will come with time, be it learning how to write essays, doing well in school, or even Bigger Things like how to live a good and fruitful life. It’s funny how the things that were so difficult back then come so much easier now.

What I’m saying is: trust the process. And if you can, enjoy the process. (That’s hard; even now, I don’t always do that.)

Look at school and at life as opportunities to grow and to learn, instead of opportunities to perform or excel. Because that’s what it’s about. It’s not about being at the destination, or showing off where you are, or comparing yourself with others—it’s about the growth that you make on a day to day level. It’s about the lessons you learn on the way to the goal.

With every essay that you write, you’re getting better at writing. With every failed grade that you get, you’re learning something from it.

You will get there; you don’t have to be there yet. You don’t have to have it all together yet. You don’t have to know how to write the perfect essay yet. All you need is to be willing to learn, and to trust that you ARE learning.

I know school is hard, and it puts a lot of pressure on you. Sometimes, I feel that they ask of 13-year-olds more than they should. But nobody expects you to excel immediately; the purpose of school is to grow and to learn.

Looking back, I’m surprised at how much I’ve learnt. I mean this academically, but also in other ways. Some things come with practice, and some things come with age.

Trust the process, and have fun with it. Learn to learn.

(And take bowling more seriously, future you will thank you for it 😂)

Instead of writing a full blog post for wspd ‘20, I think I’ll post snippets of journal entries that I’ve written over the past few years. From random dates.

It’s a bit long, and sharing this makes me feel more vulnerable than I expected, but I feel that these can be a blessing to whoever is reading this, so I’ll leave them here––for now.

I told a friend recently, “I never imagined that I’d make it to this point.” Today, I am so grateful that I hung around long enough to see this day.

People don’t talk much about turning 23, but developmental psychologists consider 23 to be the first year that an individual moves out of adolescence—this year felt like that to me. These past years, actually. Years of growing up, of maturing, of growing deeper.

When I was younger (when I was like 13), I used to think, I love God soooo much ... How can I ever love Him more?

Now, I know.

Now, my love for God is one that has been pruned, purified through the fire. My love for God has been tested in ways that I never thought possible. I have been broken, completely wrecked, time and time again, but it’s in all the brokenness that God makes something beautiful.

Last night, as I was going to sleep, I had this conversation with God:

“God, I feel so broken.” “Come to Me in your brokenness, Phine—that is where you will meet Me.” “How, God? Will You repair all my brokenness? Glue it all together, like kintsugi?” “Imagine a vase with a lamp inside. I am the light; when you are broken, that is when the light shines through.”

This past year (and the years before) have taught me exactly that.

I remember one day, back in 2017, where I saw a red sky and I asked God why He was angry. I remember His response even to this day: Phine, why is it that where I see love, you see only pain?

How I have grown since that day. Today, when I see all the pain in this world—I find myself giving thanks—for it is when I am the weakest that God is the strongest.

I am so grateful for this journey, for God, for the people who have walked with me over the years. Life has been so so beautiful, and God has been so so good.

So here’s to the end of adolescence; here’s to moving into a new phase of life; here’s to growing up (but never growing old). Here’s to maturing into childlikeness, and here’s to loving God more with every day. Here’s to life.