In another "freak" weather event which must have brought the Singapore national water agency (ie. the PUB) officers close to cardiac arrest, there was an unexpected storm at about 4.30 pm yesterday, followed by floods which affected several areas of Singapore including my backyard, which is Eunos.

Then, after about an hour, the rain eased up, and one or more rainbows appeared over Singapore. 

We don’t often get rainbows in Singapore (though I won’t be able to say it occurs more frequently than the international average), and soon every other Singaporean that was outdoors was snapping photos of the rainbow(s) and uploading it onto Facebook (including me).  This prompting one of my Facebook friends to comment, amusingly -

"Gosh! I’ve just seen three postings on rainbows in Singapore, each one right after the other! Perhaps 2012 shall be a great year after all!"

Maybe because rainbows appear after a rain, we associate rainbows with the hope that things will get better.  So in addition to being a breathtaking display of nature / creation, rainbows have been used to represent a multitude of issues or movements such as LGBT rights, mysticism, and new age spiritualism, in which people look for something better.  For hope. 

And I think that such hope is not entirely misplaced.

In Genesis 6 to 9 of the Bible is an account - familiar to most Christians and maybe non-Christians as well - of a great flood.  All but Noah and his family and the animals which get into a huge boat, referred to as "the ark", are destroyed by the flood.  A rainbow appears after the waters subside, and God tells Noah that the rainbow will be a sign of His promise never to bring about such a massive flood in judgement of evil again.

This is, interestingly, a unilateral promise. 

When we think of religion we often think of an exchange of promises - a "contract" maybe - between man and god.  For example, that if I am good and / or if I obey what the religion directs, I’ll receive a divine reward or avoid divine punishment.

But here, in conduct untypical of what we expect of God, there is no exchange of promises.  There is no demand that man do anything or conduct himself in any particular way.  Rather, notwithstanding that "every inclination of [ man's ] heart is evil from childhood" (Genesis 8:9), God unilaterally promises that there will not be total destruction through flood again. 

I see in this the first of a consistently recurring theme in the Bible, grace.  Of God unilaterally extending forgiveness and friendship to man (ultimately through Jesus Christ), because there is nothing a person can do on his own to overcome imperfection, and earn such fellowship with God. 

Not that humans are like animals or pets, but if I may draw a poor analogy - if you have a pet dog or cat, there is nothing the pet can do to deserve your care and affection.  There can be no "contract" or exchange of promises between a human and an animal to speak of, because humans and animals exist at two entirely different levels.  The only way an animal can meaningfully relate to a human, is for the human to unilaterally initiate that relationship.

And it is in such grace, unilaterally provided by God, that I see hope.

I think that -

 who we admire, and the qualities in the person that we admire,

 who we select as our role models, and the qualities in the person that we seek to model in our lives,

reflect what we value in life.

So I was somewhat impressed by a friend who said that in the field of international relations, he idolised Dag Hammerskjold, the Second Secretary-General of the United Nations, as someone who remained humble despite his achievements and exemplified what a public servant should be.

(And, as a sweeping comment partly in jest, if you do not believe in role models but in burning your own trail in life, it may be that you are just an over-inflated narcissist).

In Philippians 2, the apostle Paul calls on the Christians in Philippi to imitate Jesus Christ’s humility.  But it struck me, on reading Philippians 2 and Henri Nouwen, et al’s Compassion recently, how un-valued and counter-intuitive humility appears to be in this day and age.

I recall that one advice dispensed to me shortly before I left my previous job, was that I should not under-estimate my capacity to do a good job, or be afraid to take credit for a job done well.  To me this demonstrates the value that the workplace ascribes to personal ambition and self-promotion (which, to clarify, I think is not improper if there is no dishonesty, backstabbing or other unethical conduct involved).  Humility, on the other hand, is not regarded as a particularly meaningful virtue, at best to be admired from a distance.

Consequently, while many of us admire humble people, we are less likely to hear a person say that he / she would like to imitate the humility of a humble person.

So while we may admire Mother Theresa for her humility in working with the poor and sick in India, and while we may even aspire to have a similar impact on society (not necessarily through the same means because Mother Theresa’s methods were unfortunately somewhat controversial), few of us would aspire to imitate her humility, in how she lived and worked amongst the people that she served.

I have also heard many positive things about opposition politician Chen Show Mao.  One of the things that Singaporeans admire about him, is the humility which he demonstrates by taking public transport and eating at coffeeshops, proving his ability to connect with the common man.  Now while many of us may even aspire to imitate his dedication to political service, do we also aspire to imitate his humility in taking public transport and eating simply ?  Or would we rather drive a nice car and eat extravagantly ?

Perhaps humility, for most of us, is a by-product of something else that we seek to achieve, and never an end in itself.

If charity or social work requires that we humble ourselves in order to achieve a particular charitable objective such as cleaning up a polluted beach or taking care of a disabled person for a day, we will roll up our sleeves to do that, for that day.

If a political objective requires that we humble ourselves to understand the issues faced by the common man or to show that we can relate to the common man, we will roll up our sleeves, for that purpose.

But to give up a relatively comfortable position in life and do something humble, for no other purpose than to perhaps identify with the struggles of the person whom we are serving, seems almost unthinkable (at least to me).

Which is why I find the humility of Jesus Christ as described in Philippians 2, and the apostle Paul’s exhortation to imitate that humility, so radical. 

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
   did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
   by taking the very nature of a servant,
   being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
   he humbled himself
   by becoming obedient to death—
      even death on a cross!

When Jesus took the form of a human person, He was not performing a day’s worth of charitable work or going on a two week mission trip .  He chose an option which did not allow Him to turn back in His earthly lifetime - He was born as a baby and progressed from childhood through adolescence to adulthood to death as we do, and experienced poverty, hunger, sickness, suffering, pain and death as we do. 

He chose to immerse Himself in the full gamut of human experience. 

On the one hand, this seems to be about "humility" in the sense of Jesus refusing to equate Himself with God (although Jesus is God), and taking a form that would appear relevant to our human experience. 

The foregoing need not mean that Jesus should have reduced Himself to "nothing", become a "servant", and died a cruel death on the cross. 

But Jesus did.  At a deeper level, therefore, I see this as a radical "humility" in the sense of Jesus reducing Himself to "nothing", becoming a "servant", accepting a cruel death on the cross —- standing and identifying with us in our human experience.

The radical humility of Jesus, therefore, was an end in itself.  It was not a by-product of a process by which He demonstrated His relevance to our experience, so that we would listen to Him.  It was Jesus bringing Himself down and serving at our level, for the purpose of standing and identifying with us in our human experience in itself.

So what does this mean for Christians ?  It is 2 am in the morning and this is the best that the mind and spirit can muster …

… I think that Christians need to place a greater value on humility, than society does.

… I do not think humility means that everyone will have to sell everything that they have, give it to the poor, and then live as a poor person amongst the poor in order to identify with the poor (though some of us may well be called to do that).

… I think humility means having to go beyond superficially giving in to each other in disputes, or superficial acts of charity, to trying to understand and identify with what a person or community is going through.  Sometimes this may allow us to offer solutions, and at other times it may be for no other purpose than walking with someone for a part of the journey of life.

… other than that, I have to say, I do not (yet) know.

The apostle Paul was a fiery intellectual and no-nonsense go-getter.  When the early Christians first got in his way, he had them arrested and executed.  This included the execution of the Stephen (Acts 7).  Then, after a life changing encounter with Jesus (Acts 9), he converts to Christianity, undertakes three missionary journeys in which he preaches and establishes numerous churches throughout the Roman empire, including the first church in Europe, at the city of Philippi.  In the process, Paul writes half of the New Testament (13 out of 27 books), publicly rebukes with Peter (yes, the first "Pope" no less, in Galatians 2), and dumps a young protege (John Mark) and a friend (Barnabas) who wanted to give Mark a second chance, when Paul deems John Mark unreliable (Acts 15).

Strong-headed, ambitious, self-confident, impatient, disciplined, hot-tempered and intellectually brilliant, the apostle Paul was someone who would take control and take a bull by the horns, and someone not to be trifled with.

"Tender" is therefore the last word I would use to describe the apostle Paul.  But on reading Paul’s letter to the church at Philippi (ie. Philippians) again recently, I notice - unusually perhaps - a tenderness to Paul’s tone.  Unlike the harsher exhortations in epistles like Romans or Corinthians, parts of Philippians read to me like a deep sigh.

*** ***

Philippi, interestingly, was the city where Paul miraculously "escaped" from prison after an earthquake broke open all prison doors and chains (Acts 16).

At the time Paul wrote Philippians, Paul was again in prison (or possibly house arrest) for his faith, this time for anything above 4 years since his arrest in Jerusalem (Acts 21).  If Paul was expecting another miracle to lead to his release from prison, it had not materialised.  (In fact it never did, and Paul would be executed in Rome a few years later).

The man who once used to go wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted, and preach to whoever he wanted, had his freedom frustratingly restrained.

Paul was also old.  Probably above 50 by this time, his physical body was battered from the multiple times that he had been abused, beaten up, and imprisoned for his faith.  Paul was no longer as young, strong or energetic as he once was.

In this backdrop, Paul is told that the church he helped establish in Philippi was not doing too well.  The early excitement of the faith had faded.  In the absence of strong leadership, disunity and materialism crept in.  Paul’s long absence had caused some believers to doubt his sincerity.  Other believers, discouraged by Paul’s imprisonment and the opposition from outside the church, questioned if God was in control.

It is in this context that Paul wrote with unsual tenderness to the church, the words which I have distilled below (amongst many others).

(1)  Don’t Know

Have you ever heard someone say, out of frustration or depression, "I am so tired I feel like dying" ?  Well, Paul the super-apostle says it here, though not in quite as negative a way.

"For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.  If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labour for me.  Yet what shall I choose?  I do not know!  I am  torn between the two …".  (Philippians 1 : 21, 21 - 23, emphasis mine).

In his letter, Paul exposes with unusual candour a vulnerable side of him, and says "I’m tired, and I don’t feel like living anymore".  (The difference between Paul and a more typical depressed person, however, is that Paul is looking forward to an eternity of rest in Christ after death, whereas the typical depressed person may simply be seeking to escape from his current situation).

And just as we often feel that we are not in control of the situation around us, Paul goes on to admit that he is not as much in control of life as he would like to be.  I want to visit all of you again, but I don’t know I will have a chance to.  "Whatever happens [ to me ]", Paul writes in Philippians 1 : 27 as if he is about to die soon, keep pressing on.

(2)  Don’t Know how to Quit You

In Philippians, Paul also affirms his love and friendship for the believers in Philippi.  I have not forgotten and have not quit you, he says. 

"I thank my God every time I remember you.  In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy … my brothers, you whom I love and long you, my joy and my crown …".  (Philippians 1 : 3, 4 and 4 : 1).

And more importantly, Paul tells the believers that God has not forgotten and would never quit them.

I am confident of this, Paul writes, that God who began a good work in your life, and see it through until it is completed when Christ returns (Philippians 1 : 6).

(3)  Don’t Look Back, Don’t Stop Loving and Don’t Give Up !

Especially at the turn of the year, it is typically human to look at the past — what has happened and what we have achieved (or not) — and find ourselves held back by past, no-longer-existing glories, or past, painful experiences, or past habits.

But Paul tells the believers at Philippi, now that you know Jesus Christ and have confidence in the future, don’t look back!

"Whatever [ in my past ] was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ … forgetting what is behind and straining to what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  (Philippians 3 : 7, 13 and 14).

Because we have hope and encouragement in Jesus Christ, Paul also writes, continue to love one another, in the same way that Jesus loved you. (Philippians 2 : 1 - 11)

And because we can look forward to the transcedent, our "citizenship in heaven", Paul encourages us to press on.

"… I [ Paul ] press on to take hold of that which Christ Jesus took hold for me … forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus … join with others in following my example … and take note of those who live according to the pattern you gave you".  (Philippians 3 : 12 - 17).

*** ***

It is currently the seventh day of 2012.  The year is still young, but the future is uncertain given the economic crisis in Europe, the tensions in the Middle East and the Korean peninsula, and the upcoming elections in major world players such as the United States.  We are not in any more control of our lives and future today, than the church was at the time Paul wrote his letter to the church at Philippi.  But regardless of our present circumstances, regardless of our past (whether shameful or honourable), and regardless of the uncertain future, God promises that He will not give up on us, that the good work He has started in our lives, He will finish.  With this confidence and hope, we press on, fulfilling hopefully our call as individual Christians and collectively to "shine like stars in the universe" (Philippians 4 : 15) in these hard times.

I found some time today to finish two chapters of a new book, "Compassion" by Henri Nouwen, Donald McNeill and Douglas Morrison.  Although written in 1982, its words are still amazingly refreshing.

The authors first suggest that compassion is more than general kindness or tenderheartedness; it means "to suffer with".  It means

"going to where it hurts, to enter into places of pain, to share in brokeness, fear, confusion, and anguish … to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears … to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, powerless with the powerless.  Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human".

Reflecting on one of Jesus’ names, "Immanuel" or "God with us" (Matthew 1 : 23) — something which should be fresh on most of our minds given that Christmas has just only passed — the authors say

"God is a compassionate God.  This means, first of all, that our God has chosen to be God-with-us. …

When do we receive real comfort and consolation?  Is it when someone teaches us how to think or act?  Is it when we receive advice about where to go or what to do?  Is it when we hear words of reassurance and hope?  Sometimes, perhaps.  But what really counts is that in moments of pain and suffering someone stays with us.  More important than any particular action or word of advice is the simple presence of someone who cares.  When someone says to us in a midst of a crisis, ‘I do not know what to say or what to do, but I want you to realise that I am with you, that I will not leave you alone,’ we have a friend through whom we can find consolation and comfort. …

… [ so ] when we say that God is a God-with-us [ we mean ] a God who came to share our lives in solidarity.  It does not mean that God solves our problems, shows us the way out of our confusion, or offers answers for our many questions.  God might do all that, but the solidarity of God consists in the fact that God is willing to enter with us into our problems, confusions, and questions.  That is the good news of God’s taking human flesh [ in the person of Jesus Christ or ' Immanuel', God-with-us ]."

I think as Christians we sometimes feel disappointment with God because we live with the expectation that God will intervene supernaturally, to change our lives, the people around us, or our difficult circumstances, but God does not. 

However, the opening chapters of this book remind me that God is a personal God, more interested in walking in compassionate companionship with us, rather than solving immediate physical problems while leaving the human heart calloused and unchanged.  When Jesus was physically present on earth, He did not heal every sick person, or eradicate hunger and poverty, or overthrow unjust rulers.  Rather He lived and walked amongst the people as a common and humble citizen of Jewish society under a Roman government, interacting and teaching and healing people at a mostly individual or small group level.  His most expansive miracle, in fact, was to multiply food to feed 7,000 hungry people who had listened to Him teach till it was too late for dismiss them so that they could get their own dinners.  But that hardly came close to eradicating hunger and poverty throughout the Roman empire.

It is this personal, compassionate God which Christians must seek and seek to emulate in their lives, and not the more popular but somewhat distorted idea of an instant noodles type, just-add-water god and naive religious faith.

I confess to playing Bejewelled Blitz somewhat obsessively on my iPad for the past few nights.  It is an obssession with trying to obtain a perfect score in a computer game. 

Yet definitely on the first night that I played the game, it was also frustration at an imperfect life, and an attempt to make perfect in the virtual world that which I have not been able to achieve in real life.  I got up the next morning with an epiphany of sorts — that I was seeking to obtain a perfect score that I could not achieve on my own.

And that, I think, pretty much sums up my 2011.  (No, not playing computer games, but falling far short of perfection).

*** ***

In hematopoietic stem cell therapy — and doctor-readers please pardon any inaccuracies in what I write — a patient’s (diseased) bone marrow tissue is first eradicated through chemotherapy, before it is infused with new (non-diseased) stem cells.  What follows is a period of waiting for the non-diseased stem cells to engraft to the bone marrow.  The treatment is painful, and the recovery process long.  No patient willingly undergoes hematopoietic stem cell therapy.

The journey of faith feels like that sometimes — a spiritual equivalent of hematopoietic stem cell therapy — where we are faced with a loss of things which are diseased but which we hold dear.  And after we reach the end of ourselves there is a sometimes (if not often) long, painful and frustrating period of waiting, for the spiritual stem cells to regenerate, for the replacement heart of flesh to stabilise and beat according to its intended rhythm.

*** ***

I started 2011 with my moral compass pointing to Luke 9 : 23.  I end with the sense that I have deviated far from the intended direction. 

I enter 2012 with trepidation, aware that there are lifestyle changes and sacrifices which will have to be made.  Amongst other things, Jed will start primary school, while I will be assigned additional responsibilities at work (without additional pay, of course).

The theme for 2011, Luke 9 : 23, was to do something — deny yourself, take up the cross daily, follow Me.

Bankrupt and bruised, the theme for 2012 appears to be Matthew 12 : 20 - 21, that Jesus protects, nurtures and restores where human effort falters and fails.

"A bruised reed He [ Jesus ] will not break,
and a smouldering wick He will not snuff out …
… In His name, the nations will put their hope."

This Christmas is probably the busiest that I have ever been - from work and not partying or shopping or other celebratory activities unfortunately - and since my last post on the meaning of Christmas, I have found little other time to pause and reflect on its meaning.

There is one passage in the Bible though, which has been on my mind.  In response to a friend’s comments on discrimination, I made the passing remark that "the ideal society is one which does not break its bruised reeds or snuff out its smouldering wicks".  That is to say, a society which does not break its fragile plants or put out its flickering candles, which does not oppress or further marginalise its already weak or marginalised.

It was a strictly "secular" comment, in the sense that I did not intend to associate it with the Christian faith (well, at least not overtly).  However, it was also imagery which I had consciously borrowed from the Bible (more for its beautiful imagery rather than its religious meaning), because in Matthew 12, it is said of Jesus that -

"A bruised reed He will not break, and a smouldering wick He will not snuff out".

I have never paid close attention to this passage until the passing remark which I made on discrimination prompted me to read and think more about it.  It is not a journey I regret, and I quote from one of the commentaries which I read (Barnes Notes) -

"A bruised, broken reed is an emblem of the poor and oppressed. It means that [ Jesus ] would not oppress the feeble and poor …. It is also an expressive emblem of the soul broken and contrite …. [ Jesus ] will not break it; that is, he will not be severe, unforgiving, and cruel. He will heal … pardon … give it strength …

…

[ The smouldering wick refers to the ] wick of a lamp when the oil is exhausted - the dying, flickering flame and smoke that hang over it.  It is an emblem, also, of feebleness and infirmity. [ Jesus ] would not further oppress those who had a little strength; he would not put out hope and life when it seemed to be almost extinct."

And so I find in this, in the busyness of life and the weariness of my soul, a reminder of the grace that Jesus stands for, a little more hope for Christmas in the person of Jesus Christ.  Merry Christmas everyone !

"A bruised reed He [ Jesus ] will not break,
and a smouldering wick He will not snuff out …
… In His name, the nations will put their hope." (Matthew 12 : 20, 21)

As with the year-end in previous years, I’ve been trying to find time to pause and reflect on what Christmas means to me, and to distill that into an e-card which I send to selected friends.

A few days ago I picked "The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus" up from my bookshelf, a book which I’ve been reluctant to open again because I found the Peter Gome’s writing style somewhat dry (he’s critically acclaimed by others though, so this means that I’m just shallow).  And one of the first paragraphs I read (flipping through the pages at random) was -

"It may be an urban legend, but psychologists and psychiatrists tell us that this [ season, Christmas ] is the season of the most mental distress and depression."

Which reminded me in turn of what a social worker friend told me some years ago - that Christmas (and other festive occasions) is when the number of suicides in Singapore peak, because that is when people feel the most lonely and depressed.

The sad irony of that was lost on me when I first heard it from my friend.  But now it struck me how terrible it is that a time of the year when arguably the most people are celebrating a year of accomplishments, expressing appreciation for family and friends, (over)eating, drinking, exchanging gifts, and attending church, is also the period of time that some other people feel the most hopelessness and despair.

Does this change the message of Christmas (for Christians)?  No, I do not think it does.  But it has made me see a harsh reality and urgency that I had not perceived before.

I believe Christmas continues to be about hope.

The question for Christians is whether Christmas, both in and outside of church and annual traditional church services, is being celebrated in a way which is relevant to people who are really need that love and hope.

At a recent corporate teambuilding event, we were asked to tell a colleague something about ourselves that no one else knew about.  So to my partner (as in teambuilding partner) I said that I was a "closet" — as I paused for dramatic effect and observed with amusement the awkward silence coupled with a look discomfort on my partner’s face that followed — "unconventional", meaning that while externally conventional I am, I think, someone with some rather unconventional personal views.

My partner was visibly relieved, and said later that she thought I was going to come out of the closet.

I’ve discovered as I grow older, that people become more imperfect as they age (I’m not talking about physical wrinkles) and have more skeletons to hide in their closets.  And I’ve noticed that the way people deal with this in the workplace, is to sometimes pretend that a person in question does not have a dubious personal life, and at other times to whisper, giggle and gossip behind that person’s back.

Anyway my point, or rather question, is — how do Christians view such apparent "imperfection" ?  Christians are known for their association with the quote about "loving the sinner, but hating the sin" (which I would clarify, to non-Chrstian readers, is not a quote from the Bible).  But, if confronted face-to-face with a person who comes out of the closet to say that he / she is an alcoholic, adulterer, unwed mother, drug or porn addict or gay, would the response be as "loving" as the quote suggests ?  Unfortunately in Singapore, Christians may be better remembered for the intransigence exhibited by the short-lived Christian executive committee of AWARE, than otherwise.

If the church appears in deed to be more condemning than loving, why would anyone (other than someone who thinks he is perfect, which I think would require quite a measure of self-inflated nonsense) step into a church ?  Or if I am already in a church but struggling with "imperfection", why would I open up about my personal issues and risk overwhelming condemnation ?

*** *** ***

One night about 15 years ago, when I was still serving my full time national service, I had booked out of camp to attend a prayer meeting.  While a short distance away from church I was stopped by a middle-aged man who asked for the time.  Somehow we engaged in further conversation, and it emerged that he was a pimp, and he tried to get me to follow him and check out his girls.  I confess to being tempted to do so, but somehow we both ended up in the church building where I, highly relieved, dumped him on the church leaders (or maybe, I dumped the church leaders on him). 

However, I was shortly overcome with guilt and panic, out of fear that I had exposed my church leaders to temptation.

I do not know what transpired next, other than that the prayer meeting proceeded as usual.  My assumption is that the pimp did not become more pious, and the church leaders did not engage in anything impious.

My reaction 15 years ago was that I should not have invited or let the pimp into the church.  Looking back, I think a church which is able to attract and which does not drive away pimps, prostitutes and all sorts of other "imperfect" people through self-righteous grandstanding deserves some congratulation.  Such a church would I think be a truthful reflection of the love of Christ, just as Jesus was often found in the company of "tax collectors and sinners" (Luke 15 : 1).

"This man [ Jesus ] welcomes sinners and eats with them," sneered the self-righteous religious leaders in Luke 15.  But that is where I think the church needs and should try to be.

In response to a friend’s comment that the significance accorded to 11.11.11 bordered on the irrational, I commented that -

"Humans are sentimental creatures, sometimes at the expense of what is considered rationality.  To take cynicism to its extreme, why should birthdays, and wedding and death anniversaries be remembered / commemorated / celebrated ?  Is the married couple not a couple on other days ?  Am I not alive on non-birth days ?  Is the deceased alive on non-death anniversary days ?  Should the terrors of war not be remembered on non-Armistice Day days ?  Certains days and dates, and rituals, which we remember / commemorate / celebrate appear more silly than others (eg. horoscope), and some are more costly than others (eg. Valentines).  I think that all this is a search for a meaning greater than today, a search for a significance greater than what we can see in ourselves, a longing to be affirmed by people whom we think matter to us."

(The reference to Armistice Day has to do with the fact that 11 November is celebrated in many countries including Singapore (though not as a public holiday), as the day that hostilities in World War I ended).

My basis for writing the above lies partly in Ecclesiates 3 : 11, which states that God has "set eternity in the hearts of men".  I understand this to mean that humans are hardwired to look beyond the immediate - to "eternity" - for a greater meaning and significance in life.

On this note, one of the passages in the Bible which has stuck to my mind since I was a youth is Jeremiah 2 : 13, in which the prophet warns the Jews against digging "their own cisterns, cisterns which cannot hold water".  It conveys to my mind the image of people desperately pouring water into broken containers which leak water, a warning that we can try to find meaning and significance in things which do not bring lasting satisfaction, or a true sense of significance.

If we are indeed born with an impulse to search for significance, to look for a meaning beyond the immediate, then the challenge for us is to find to find meaning and significance in things which are true and which bring lasting satisfaction.  To this challenge, the Bible offers an answer using again the imagery of water, and in John 4 : 14 Jesus says -

"… whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.  Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."

Some time ago I met a friend who asked if I could sing any of those extravagent songs in church proclaiming a deep and undying love for God.  I confessed that I could not.

I think that, for a variety of reasons, I have stopped doing so for some time.  It is not that I don’t care for God; I think and hope that I do.  But with a slightly better understanding of God’s grace (which comes as youthful impetuousness gives way to age), I have found myself unable to measure up to the Infinite, that whatever righteousness I may have - to borrow from the dramatic imagery in Isaiah 64 : 6 - is like filthy rags.

And so many times I have found more meaningful instead, those songs which remind me of God’s unconditional love, and my need to rely on God.

Like this Mandarin worship song which was playing during my drive home today.  Those who know me, will know that Mandarin is not one of my strengths, to say the least about my linguistic ability or lack thereof.  So while I could roughly make out it’s meaning, credit goes to the Beloved who helped me decipher it’s meaning more completely.

"One step by one step, this is the road of grace,
Your love, Your hand,
Holding me tightly to You.

One step by one step, this is the road of hope,
Your love, Your hand,
Guiding me through life’s journey."

It sounds a lot more elegant in Mandarin, of course.