Off-Centre. (edited)

"Find centre first or else everything after will be wrong. First step very important."

I was at the potter's house, and those were the words my teacher emphasized over and over. Because it was so hard to place the clay at dead centre of the wheel, he often had to do it for me.

The past week has been one of turmoil. Listless, cranky, and irritable for days without knowing why, the distance between God and myself felt immeasurable in spite of my desperation. Scared, frustrated and lonely, it felt like I was walking in the wilderness, on a fruitless search for water.

Having God point to you the fissures in your life can be most overwhelming, dismantling almost. As the curtain was unveiled before my eyes, I found myself astonished, shocked at how, in so many unconsious ways, I had placed myself, my pleasures, my false securities, instead of Him at the centre of my own wheel. He is the Potter, and we the clay. Yet, for the first time, I saw how I had put myself in the centre of own world and usurped His place.

It's never easy to admit you're in centre of your world. We all want to be known as someone who puts others or God before ourselves, as the centre of our worlds. Nobody likes to be known as one who thinks the world revolves around them.

Yet, as my eyes were opened, I saw how the clay of my life had been marred because it was in the wrong centre, off-centre. In so many ways, I appeared what I am not inside. And instead of being in the centre of God's will by letting God be the centre of my life, I had placed myself in the centre of eveything.

The clay was Off-centre. Hence, marred.

How the knowledge of that scared me. It petrified me. Every thing which I had found enjoyment in- writing, running, cycling, medicine, missions, life... became ugly to me as I saw how I had pushed God to the sidelines, in insidious, subtle ways. I had worshipped what I ought to have used, and used, for my own gains, what I ought to have worshipped. Torn, grieved and bitter, yet relieved also at the epiphany, I became desperate to find my True centre again.

"Find centre first or else everything after will be wrong. First step very important."

Why do I write, paint, play. Why do I run, cycle, swim. Why do I dance, sing, make? Why do I treasure the opinions of some and desire their approval so earnestly? Why do I want to do medical missions? Why am I so deeply torn- between the fear of joining a race and falling into the pit of pride again, and yet the desperate desire to face it head-on to overcome my fear and gain total liberty? What has been my approach to all these things?

The answers scared me- for they reflected, to different extents, a selfish, prideful preoccupation with myself. But perhaps, what petrified me the most- was realising how even thinking I had a call to medical missions had its centre, to a large extent, around myself, too. And it immobilised me to entertain the thought that maybe I had heard wrong, that maybe that's not God's will... and that perhaps, I had put that ideal instead of God in the centre of my own wheel.

It was His will against my wheel. And somewhere in that tension, a false idol was erected, and God was displaced.

As silly as it sounds, it shook the foundation of my faith. The past week has been painful- painful now still. When I had entertained the thought that perhaps missions (this ideal which I had shaped my whole new life on) may not be part of God's plan for me, and I may have to yield to whatever the Potter's hand commands, I crumbled as I saw how that too, instead of God, had been put in the centre of my life.

Does it scare us to know that what we place in the centre of our wheels may be temporal, uncertain, changing? Does it comfort you to know that God is the only constant? And does it completely boggle you to know that God is bigger than our dreams, our desires?

And just when I had wanted to give up, a friend reminded me of the refining fire God puts us through to purify our thoughts and intents, so we may be moulded into greater vessels of honour for greater purposes. I thought I had been moulded into shape and ready for the furnace, but now I found a knife put to my side to sharpen my ends and smoothen my rough edges.

Tis a painful position to be in, to have a knife to your side. Utterly discomforting.

And it takes a heart of faith to know that it will not be for nothing. For it's better to be in the centre, in pain and refined, than off-centre, pain-free and marred. Through pain, and having our motives, intents and thoughts purified, sharpened and refined, we become more useful vessels. Sometimes, maybe it's not about whether we end up pursuing those interests after all- but how our attitudes towards them, ourselves and God change.

So even though I'm not in a comfortable place, even though the knife hurts, I'm going to stay on this wheel.

The crafting is not over.

Search me O God, and know my heart,

test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting.

Psalm 139:23-24

Romantic Place in Tanjung Bungah

I hope you guys have noticed the minor changes that I have made to my blog. Hopefully it gives a new fresh look! If not damn! What the hell was i doing the entire weeekend??Anyway...

Yesterday, I went out with a friend to a pretty decent romantic place in tanjung bungah.

The kind of place with flowing water much like a waterfall that makes it difficult for anyone to look outside from inside the restaurant even if a Ferrari was parked outisde. Hence, for people who always fails in their attempt to impress a girl on the first date should come to such a place as she has no other choice but to continue concentrating on you.


Its the kind of place that you could bring a girl, wait not any girl, a waitress that earns RM5 below an hour to impress her and still not burn a hole in your pocket.



And when i say impress, I mean going in for the kill, much like a hunter in the Sahara desert.


If the food had not impressed her enough (i mean hell, she would have to work hours before even having such a meal and not having any savings left), the environment would.

This is the very important part to remember before going to such a place and thinking you could go in for the kill. It is important that she is a waitress, not a model or mid to upper class women ok!! Waitresses are more likely to be impressed with such meals rather than a model who enjoys such luxuries most of the time, thus only impressions like closing an entire retail shoe outlet for her to only shop would work.

This would include Malaysian Dream Girls ok. Girls who dreams as well are not included as I wouldn't put it as a romantic place that you'd find fantasy romance.



Sadly, I went there with a guy friend and we were not there for the dinner, but for drinks just to check the place out.

Being single guys, we can only think of all the wonderful places we could bring our future mates which never materializes. So, date people like us if you wanna find out more about this place. Imagination simply builds with age but our confidence level drops as well.




I would like to continue further guys but I need to get back to work. To be continued...Until then...

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS ENTIRE CRAP! Getting my blog going for you dear readers. hopefully I have not gotten rusty! I could not take any pictures for you all to see sadly. However if you'd like to know more / interested, i'm sure somewhere between the lines of what i have just said would mean something.

Alabaster Jars.

When I expressed interest to learn pottery during my time in Nepal, I received mixed responses- raised eyebrows, laughter and bewilderment. Of all things, why pottery?

" 'Arise, and go down to the potter's house,

and there I will cause you to hear my words.'

-Jeremiah 18:2

So I went, in seeming foolishness and stupidity, at the break of dawn each frosty morning, with a shawl wrapped around my frazzled hair to a potter's house at the outskirts of the city. An interminably long walk, an unpredictable ride on a rickety public bus and a frantic yelp to be let down when I caught sight of the place.

For four days I spent time at the potter's house, learning the ancient art handed down by family tradition in a freezing basement. My teacher was the son of the master potter, and all day we would fashion clay, paint and drink tea. He would talk, and I would listen intently to what he had to say about the art of pottery, and epiphanies would hit me as the clay became moulded in the spinning wheel.

"To be a good potter," he said, "you must know nature of clay. Nature of clay is very important- how much water you need to add, when it will break... all this Good Potter will know."

He put his hands into a huge lump of clay at a corner of the run-down factory and beckoned me to do the same. "You must slap clay like this," he said, "Slap hard, so no air bubbles inside. Or else, pot will break. You must know clay's nature." I smiled, for I thought- If God is our master potter as described in the bible, then how true was what he said, for God, the good potter, knows our natures, inside and out. And as promised, He never gives us more than what we can bear. (1 Cor 10:13)

"To make nice pot, before you start, your clay must be in centre of wheel. Must be centre, exactly, or else no good. Pot no good if not in centre," he said. And then with great dexterity and brute strength, he slapped the mound of clay on the rapidly spinning wheel, moulding it into a hill.

It wasn't easy to adjust the clay to be dead centre of the wheel. When it was even slightly out of place, the clay would spin out of control, and its shape turned out ugly, deformed. It was the first and most pertinent step. Nonetheless, how many of us are able to trust God with what He has in store for us? How many of us reply against our maker, and, looking in envy at others, rail against the way He has made us- in discontentment and anger?

"Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God?

Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?

Hath not the potter power over the clay,

of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?"

-Romans 9:20-21

Likewise, unless we allow ourselves to be in the dead centre of God's will, to trust Him to fashion us into whatever He has in mind for us, how else can we be made beautiful in due time?

Because clay is so soft and malleable, the art of pottery isn't the least bit easy. Many times, I had to throw away the deformed clay as the clay spun out of control at the last moment. Discouragement set in, but not before I was reminded of the importance of yielding to God instead of resisting and to recognise the power and love He has over and for us. For He destroys only because He wishes to refine us to be perfect and useful.

"And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter:

so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it.

'Can I not do with you as this potter?' said God. 'Behold, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are you in my hand..."

Jeremiah 18:4-6

Later, my teacher brought me to his shop upstairs, where the finished ceramic products stood proud, awaiting to be delivered to various countries. From the same lump of clay came different jars, cups, plates, mugs, candleholders and pots. Each one was hand-made, unique, and incomparable. Yet, how often do we wish we were made another kind of vessel, one that was more useful than what we are now? Perhaps we forget, that though there are various vessels of different uses in a house, it is our humility which makes us worthy to be of great use by our master, as we yield ourselves to Him for the very function we were purposed for.

"But who are you, O man, to talk back to God?

Shall what is formed say to him who formed it, 'Why did you make me like this?'

Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?"

-Romans 9:20-21

Sometimes, even I too find it hard to believe, that we are all so different, incomparable, made for different purposes.

"They're beautiful," I said. "What did you do to make them so beautiful?"

" Ah. After moulding, you leave clay to harden in air for few weeks. Then put in biscuit-furnace to fire for 8 hours at 800 degrees Celsius. Take out to cool, paint colour, then put in colour-furnace for many hours again. Final step us put pot into glaze-furnace. Very very hot, but necessary step, you know."

It was a long process, time-consuming and very tedious. One afternoon as we sat in the warm sun to paint, I picked up a saucer which had been put into the kiln. As soon as I touched it, it broke. "Uh oh, why?" I asked.

"Fire not hot enough," said my teacher. "Halfway electricity got cut off, and oven no fire. Not hot enough, so it break."

When I returned to the orphanage to see the children that evening, I shared with them what I had learnt. It was a profound lesson for me- sometimes we just can't understand why God would put us through trials, why a being so good would toss us into the fire at such high heat. What we don't know is that the higher the heat, the stronger we become. Every trial we go through has a purpose, shaping our character in the deepest of ways.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds,

because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance."

-James 1:2

I know it's been a long time since I last wrote. I took time off from writing to go into my Father's house to listen to Him. For too long I've been taking His clay into my own hands, trying to make something of my own image, my own idols for myself. This trip to Nepal to the potter's house revealed to me so much of my own idolatry and the ways in which I had unconsciously displaced God from my life. Even Kitesong and this space had become idols of their own, clay which I had taken into my own hands. I nearly shut this space down. Every thing which I had thought was pleasing to God I realised was really but an altar unto myself. Every day I learn something of myself which needs to be released to God. Every day I find myself smashing false altars. Today, especially, was rough. Sometimes, you feel like utterly useless clay.

But God has been gracious and quick to forgive. And as I release to Him more and more of my life, refusing to question why He has made me such and such and instead, learning to be content, grateful and secure, I find myself becoming clay, closer and closer to the dead centre of the master potter's wheel, closer and closer to fulfilling the purpose of my life.

Nobody likes to be clay. Nobody likes to be slapped about, thrown in the centre of a crazily spinning wheel and thrown into the furnace. Everybody wants to be the potter. But we forget, only good potters understand perfectly the nature of clay- just like how only our Creator knows us completely. The moulding process, for us, is fraught with uncertainty; the firing process, filled with pain and suffering. Nonetheless, how beautiful it is when we see ourselves as but earthen vessels, filled with the treasure of the excellency of God, willing to be broken to be poured out as pure nard at His feet. (Matthew 26:7-13)

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels,

that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us."

- 2 Corinthians 4:7

So that's where I've been, to the Potter's house.

" 'Arise, and go down to the potter's house,
and there I will cause you to hear my words.' "
-Jeremiah 18:2

Celebrated Earth Hour already

Note: This is a post for my friends who were with me from the start of Earth Hour till the end two nights ago on 15th March 2009 as they should understand.

While some people will be celebrating Earth Hour in a weeks time (28th March), I on the other hand celebrated it early (which I will share it with you soon).






For those of you who don't know, Earth Hour is for people who believes that one hour of saving electricity would actually save the world from destruction



and hoping that our children will still be able to breathe fresh natural air like normal human beings instead of buying oxygen.



Forget about Water!



Saving water has nothing to do with saving Earth or Earth Hour celebration for that matter! Because Earth will drastically change within that one hour non-usage of electricity. So use water during Earth Hour if you have nothing to do in that one hour of boringness. Maybe hold a songkran festival or something.



Now, celebrating Earth Hour is not really an easy task.

I mean hell, that means no TV.

That means no computer (meaning don't leave it on to download movies through torrents, yeah YOU!!)

And well, most importantly, you should be turning off your lights. That means your surrounding should be totally dark and not even a trace of light should be seen anywhere around you and if you do see somebody's lights on, make sure you smash those lights off for him in the most appealing way.



So basically, Earth Hour is most felt when everywhere is pitch darkness.



There is just so much that could possibly happen within that one hour. Nothing too dangerous.

So two nights ago during the wee hours of the morning, when nobody could see me, I voluntarily decided to celebrate Earth Hour. Celebrating it for the first time, I never knew how dark things became.

I lost contact with my friends who were having drinks in gurney drive by the way.

I could not get to my car.

I could not get to my house.

I did not know somebody called me.

I did not know where I was, so I lied on the floor.

So, things did not seem too good. Celebrating Earth Hour at such a time was not easy. Things became blank to me because I wasn't used to the pitch darkness.

Before I knew it, I woke up the very next day to find that, celebrating Earth Hour for one FREAKING hour really cost me alot.

I lost my glasses. (Had to buy another pair)

I lost one whole working day. (Which means cut in pay)

I had to postpone my driving to KL (Had to drive at night, only to arrive in KL at 2am)

My white shirt is pretty much painted with red color.

Strange smell in my living room.

And last but not least, the Coat that I wore to celebrate Earth Hour was somehow mysteriously switched with another friends one.

So, guys, I dont' know about you, but i'm definitely not going to celebrate Earth Hour next time.

Here's a food for thought though, don't drink too much wine.

Gratitude.

You just can't quite see things the same way again.

They don't have enough water because they have no rain. They can't buy water like Singapore does because they're too poor. They're too poor because the government is corrupted and none of this is the people's fault.

One girl at the orphanage came to tell me, "Didi (big sister) Wai Jia, children from another orphanage at school came and told they cannot bring waterbottle or brush teeth anymore because no more water at their home!"

There are no smooth roads. There is no clean air in the city. People dig random holes along the roads in desperate hope of finding water. There are so many orphans, mostly girls, because nobody wants them. Whatever sewage system they have in place obviously does not work. There is no light at night. Their main foods are rice, achar (chilli paste) and dhal (bean soup). Many children don't have the chance to attend school.

Village children

Whatever we take for granted, they don't even have. We go into their worlds, to understand what ours really means. How can I complain about city traffic when there are smooth roads to drive on and street lamps at night? How can I complain about work when I have the privilege to study? How could I complain about petty family issues when I have the privilege of having domestic help at home, or when the girls don't even have parents?

"Didi Wai Jia, did you come from a Home (orphanage) too?" a little one asked. And how her countenance fell when I replied, "No darling, I live with my mummy and daddy."

How the missionaries have spent the last decade serving the poor and needy there, will always make me wonder in awe at the love God has worked through them. "We live a day at a time."

And so we spent ten days together, laughing, eating, sleeping, playing and praying. We admired the mountains, basked in the warm sunshine on the wintry rooftop, played with funny toy spectacles which tickled you all so much, washed dirty clothes together and sang the songs you still remember, those I taught you a whole three years ago. And then we went crazy running about in the open fields, running and running against the cold, frosty wind, with the wind in my crazy hair and you shouting and chasing one another, sometimes cheating ha, running wild till the skies changed their hues, till I surrendered because I was shivering in the cold.

Running crazy in open fields

And when the time finally came to bid farewell, a timely bout of food poisoning hit me before I left you but I was so grateful because of the time we spent together. And though it was really terrible trying to get my luggage around and trying hard not to puke, I knew every bit of it was worth it.

"Didi Wai Jia, you coming again next year?"

I never make promises to children because I hate to break them. But I had signed up for a medical elective (internship) at a good mission hospital in Nepal sometime next year- so this time I said with a twinkle in my eye, "You pray okay? And I will too."

Thank you for teaching me how to be grateful. For God, for my country, for food, for friends and family.

"Be joyful always; pray continually;

give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

- 1 Thess 5:18

Comfort.

It was when I was asked this question on the first day of my stay in Nepal by one of the missionary’s children that I was stunned a little. “Didi (big sister) Wai Jia, what’s your purpose of coming to Nepal this time?”

It stunned me for a moment. I wish I could have said I was there for a useful-sounding purpose- to teach the children, to help out in the factory employing destitute women or to avail myself for service. But I couldn’t- for I am here for too short a time (that’s all my school break allows for). The missionaries invited me over simply to visit the children, see the new building the children would finally shift into from the funds raised, and simply, to have my own retreat and personal time with God.

I felt a great sense of peace that God had led me back to this place. He revealed much to me about my own pride- that it is entirely by His grace and not my capability, that I got to be involved with this ministry, that I am merely a tiny, tiny jigsaw piece in His great plan.

Since a month ago, I felt God teaching me deep lessons about the biblical analogy of Him being our Potter, and us, Clay. This time, He brought me to a potter near the outskirts of Nepal who is teaching me the craft, and I am struck by epiphanies as I learn, for myself, this ancient and profoundly spiritual art which is used time and again in the bible to illustrate the relationship between God and us.

Yet in the middle of the night one night as I lay awake shivering from the cold, facing difficulty adjusting to life here again, I couldn’t help but ask myself too- why am I here?

I was still adjusting to the biting cold, the thick clouds of black dust which slapped into one’s face in juicy whorls whenever one stepped out of the house, the dusty, rocky roads everywhere, the sudden blackouts in the dark evenings, and having to use candles instead of light to read. Electricity comes on at odd times, sometimes only from midnight till 8am, at a time you don’t need it, and you can only bathe in the afternoons when the water is heated up by the sun, unless you don’t mind freezing in winter.

One never quite gets used to the trash and black choking smoke everywhere. It is so polluted here even a short walk outside leaves you feeling drained. Impossible it is to return home without smelling like soot-even the Nepali people are falling ill from the pollution of the city. No one will tell you taking public transport isn’t a nightmare- it involves shoving, bumping, shouting and squeezing into a tin can of a bus, and unpredictability. A ride often ends up being interminably long (think a half-hour ride stretched into hours) because of a wedding procession or some crowd-attracting mishap. People usually walk- a place “very, very nearby” isn’t five minutes away but a good half-hour. It is a hard, rocky land, the air is thin due to the altitude. Its citizens are a hardy people.

Yet, at the end of a long, dusty day, one is grateful for this time spent here with the missionaries, who come from well-to-do families and developed cities but have chosen to spend the last decade in this difficult land to make a difference to the lives of underprivileged children and people in need.

“It gets into you sometimes. Even after ten years,” said the missionary to me yesterday, when the light went out suddenly over a simple home-cooked meal and we were smothered in pitch black darkness.

Then all at once I remembered why I was here in the first place, why it was that the missionaries welcomed me back with open arms- “just for a visit”, why it was I was so eager to come. For even just being here, living with them, watching them work, eat, live was a huge encouragement and education in itself, preparing me for this life ahead should God continue to call me into this future. It scares and comforts me all at once- to see how challenging yet possible this is.

One thinks the call will eventually be so great someday that one will be willing to count all things loss to do this sort of work. To a certain extent, I suppose it is true. Yet, aren’t we all human- vulnerable and frail, and the realities of living in a hard land can be unimaginably challenging. No way could one ever go for a morning jog, a swim, or a leisurely cycle in this place. No way could one ever enjoy the beach (there isn’t one), or easily obtain the foods one is used to. Because of the terrain and pollution, running an errand a day becomes an ordeal in itself.

“ When I see the children and the people here, I feel very, very blessed,” the missionary I am staying with said. “ It is not easy, but God gives us strength. And it is also good that you get out of your comfort zone, Wai Jia- don’t limit what God can do through you because of your city desires for comfort, cleanliness or convenience.”

It made me see things in a different way. I realize the new dimension this adds to my life back home in Singapore. Physical training becomes purposeful- I find pushing oneself within healthy limits incredible training for one’s discipline, fitness and threshold for discomfort. One missionary doctor told me, “Live your life now the way you think God will call you to live when you get to the mission field.”

It is challenging, impossible maybe, but it certainly adds a different light to all we do, every day.

So I remembered the days I was fed up with living comfortably back home, when I would feel sick with surfeit… and then all at once (though I really really missed my bike and wished I were cycling on the beach) became happy and contented again to be here in this land, if only for a while, to have the privilege of seeing, living, learning.

Then, shivering still, I fell asleep.

People living next to the missionary's home where I'm staying at

“I would rather die now than to live a life of oblivious ease in so sick a world.”
- Nate Saint, 1923-56, Ecuador

Using the old highway to Ipoh from KL

It seems like I never got back from my last trip back to Penang.

Luckilly, i did.

Because, two weeks ago, instead of using the express highway that I normally use to travel in-between Penang and KL just like any Ferrari's or Bugatti's would ONLY use,



I decided to travel on an alternative route.

That's right guys, there is an alternative route. An Old Road formally used before the new express highway was built.

Now I would have never seen the day when I would branch off from the highway to visit places called Bedong, or Kepong, or Gopah or *gosh I'm trying really hard to remember*, thinking that I would somehow get lost into the wilderness and surrounded by mystical cannibalistic creatures


just like the movie Wrong Turn.


I mean hell, everytime I travel down to KL, I just ignore all these little town that branches off from the highway. I guess if there were any time in this life time of mine that I would check out these places, I chose that day.

So, Bedong is a nice place. (just forget that places like KL even exist and set yourself back by 20 years)



You can say that recession or no recession, these people are barely efffected. I mean hell, they don't even know what the hell is going on in the world I suppose.

They sell plants with special breeds hoping for some dumb city-folk to buy them and grow it in their expensive landscaped garden.


They are well known for their Jambu.(well really too bad if you don't eat jambu because that's the only real thing you see being sold everywhere by the road side.)



You can say that, girls here are less demanding and definitely not branded but don't expect anything close to a Michelle Yeoh since the town of Ipoh is relatively near.



There are no fancy restaurants for you to go too, and so I headed on to a famous coffee-shop here.



Now, I have been told before arriving here that the coffee-shop



was famous for its wan tan mee which comes together with a bowl of delicious wan tan soup.





Just as I thought that, things here would be rather cheap in a small town called Bedong, my meal was not cheap at all. A plate of wan tan mee was RM 5.40. Could you believe it for a small town called BEDONG??I mean gosh, I was expecting like RM2 or something.

and just when my plate of mee came, my drink came costing me RM1.60.RM 1.60!!


I mean whats wrong with this place. They can't expect KL pricing in a small measly town which looked like it will be abandoned anytime soon as the young would no longer choose to stay there. A poor man like myself came here for a decent and affordable meal not get slaughtered. Things should be cheaper with all the economic problems going around the world. Not expensive!!

After being done with licking up the entire plate to make sure its all worth the money I paid for, I left Bedong by using the old highway.

Now the difference between the old highway and the new highway is that the road is narrow and lots of bends here and there.



Lots of things to see and its just amazing with a little amount of time before you bump into another god-foresaken town called Kepong.



And then, you end up in another god-foresaken city called Gopah. And then, Simpang Pulai.



And then you just get all sick about the little adventure with houses that is simply similar to going down Penang Road and simply branch back out to the new express highway.

One of the nicest things though is knowing what all this places look like along the way but the BESTEST AND NICEST THING OF ALL,

You pay less toll. I don't really remember how much, but its just enough to go back to Bedong and buy yourself another wan tan noodle.