loreletters-blog

[loreletters-blog]

And so castles made of sand fall into the sea, eventually.

The Dream

It was a pleasant day in late 2016, the excitement in the air was easy on the tongue; a sweet, intoxicating concoction of celebration, relief, and jubilant exclamations. It was almost tangible, the joy and congratulatory remarks from friends and loved ones, warming up the already warm weather of beloved Melbourne; sweet, sweet Melbourne.

It was Graduation Day.

And in the middle of fresh graduates who could hardly contain themselves, we find the main character of this story (or so he likes to think), perfectly contained, just barely able to force a smile that fits the bill, throwing around lukewarm hugs and thank yous to his friends and family who attended his Graduation Day. 

What is wrong with him, you might say?

Well, in his mind, a tailwind is brewing. His heart an open sail and his feet an anchor, waiting to be lifted up. His whole Bachelor’s Degree turn of events was a storm that kept him at bay, and then it was the most opportune timing. Heavy rain is turning into trickles and the wind is starting to blow in his favour.

An alluring smell of new adventures was carried by the wind; it seemingly whispers his name, seducing him with the sweet aroma of new opportunities. He wanted this all along. He is ready. 

Tired of this deserted island (or so he likes to think of Melbourne), he fashioned himself a ship worthy for seafaring, it carries the weight of his hopes and dreams, it could hardly contain itself.

“God be my compass.”, he said to himself.

“God bless this voyage; I’ll go wherever You want me to go!”, he exclaimed in silence.

Little did he know, Melbourne is where God wanted him to be all along.

The Crash

June 2017, the days were getting colder. A beached ship on the shore, a muttering sailor on the beach. 

It was a short, and uneventful voyage that carried him full circle. In a divine fashion, somehow the waves and winds carried him back to Melbourne; sweet, sweet, Melbourne.

Questions plagued his mind. “Is my ship not seaworthy?” “Was it merely a boat?” 

“Did I not involve God in everything?”

“What about my dreams of voyage?”

For those of you who have not gotten the hint; I am that man. And everything written above is more or less an approximation of what happened around the time when I graduated. 

I was tired of Melbourne and all that it had to offer during my Bachelor’s Degree studies. Studying Genetics was a parents-influenced choice that landed me in Melbourne, and let’s just say I did not quite enjoy the stay. 

I wanted to get away and music was my prime choice of escape plan. 

I’ve always loved music. I’ve always loved being in a band. The crowd, the action, the dramatic tension of musical movements in a song. I love the way the electric guitar roars, amplifying the hysteria of the crowd, carrying them to that magical space.

But in retrospect it was not that I was called to music but it was a poor attempt to escape from my parent’s expectations, a poor attempt to establish my worth, for myself, and for the people around me.

Don’t get me wrong, I love music. It’s just that I misplaced that love to supply what was missing; my worth.

Nevertheless, music and everything that entailed it was my dream; a voyage that I thought would finally settle my worth.

And upon that dream did I build my worth and my hopes upon. I let my dream become a source of my hopes and my strength; my assurance for the future!

Starting Over

It was like building upon a deceptively strong foundation. It seemed right[1], and almost a noble thing to do; to be able to dream big dreams, to be able to follow one’s heart and its constant yearnings. To be anything you want to be, to shape your world in your hands, and that you can do anything if you put your whole self into it.

But the Bible teaches us otherwise, in Jeremiah 17[2] God says that “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” and “Cursed is the one who trusts in man, who draws strength from mere flesh and whose heart turns away from the Lord.”

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him!”

And this, my friends is the hardest pill to swallow, that God tells us otherwise; don’t follow your heart, don’t rely on your own strength, “Follow Me and rely on My strength!”, says The Lord. 

This statement devastated me. As far as I am concerned, there are people who followed their hearts, who worked hard for their dreams, and they achieved what their hearts yearned for. Does God not want to see me achieve my dreams? I thought He was for me, and not against me?

Then He reminded me of this parable in the Bible, the parable of The Wise and Foolish Builder[3] , of building upon a Rock and building on sand, and that when the rain came, it will become apparent which foundation was the better foundation. Whatever I built on my foundation — my heart's yearning and my own strength; my dreams! — came tumbling down ever since then. I had to watch as God dismantled my dreams which turned out to be a castle made of sand that was built on sand.

The Aftermath

The struggle was real, my faith was tested as I stayed put in Melbourne; if I had the audacity to call Him my God, then I had to be ready to follow Him wherever He wants me to be. He deemed it well that I should stay put, to not sail. He revealed that the things that I have been building with great expectations were merely sand on top of a sandy foundation. My dreams had wrong motivations spelled all over it, it was self-glorifying and all consuming; and boy, did God deliver me from my own dreams. 

This whole staying in Melbourne thing completely changed the dynamics of my relationship with God. Walking with God turned out not to be as easy as I thought, but I got to know Him more and more throughout this whole journey. It involves a lot of trusting, to be vulnerable with God, to lay bare all my desires and letting God examine what’s really beneath all the veneer. To really live as a person who took on Christ, and to start living my life for God; exchanging my dreams for whatever God has in store for me. 

You see, dreams need a strong foundation, and ultimately a true foundation; and there is no better foundation than God Himself. He is the Rock that withstood the test of ages[4] [5], an anchor for our souls by faith[6]. I know that His plans are for my own good[7], that His ways are higher than our own[8]. He can see where my eyes cannot see[9], and He provides for my future[10]. Jesus alone is the assurance I need for my future, that wherever He puts me, it is for my own good, for HIS good; and wherever He leads me, He will never lead me astray[11], and the same facts applies to you as well.

Here is the catch; building on sand is easy, there is little to no resistance when you dig into the sand. Building upon a solid foundation requires you to dig in, break a few tools, and break a few bones before you can anchor anything onto the rock. It is almost paradoxical that building our hope on Christ is nothing but easy. It requires us to really put in the work of constantly trusting and constantly hoping and constantly pressing in to His truth and His promises, especially when what we can (or cannot) see tells us otherwise. God is good, always is. He has the best plans for you and your life, because He loves you. And I hope that this story finds you well, and encourages you to establish yourself on the right Foundation, to dream a Godly dream, to hope in God, and to find your strength in God alone.

#dreams

[loreletters-blog]

The Little Girl In The Green Swimsuit

When your dreams seem to be hurled away by the roaring waves.

I have always been drawn to the beach. It’s probably the sound of the crashing waves or the way the sand shyly greets the water that comes and goes. Or perhaps it’s how the sea beautifully reflects the sky; allowing us–who are pinned on earth–to conjure an illusion of capturing the greatness of the sky between our little fingers. 

As I was sitting down and enjoying the warm sun and sea breeze earlier this year, a little girl captured my attention. There is something so captivating about her that she rendered all I mentioned above irrelevant. 

She was tiny, with brown eyes and curly black locks. I guess she came with her dad. Every now and then she waved at him; making sure that he sees the shells that she found. She beamed at her dad whenever her eyes and her dad’s met. 

I remembered clearly that she was wearing a green swimsuit with orange flowers on it; the colours contrasted beautifully with the pinkish-orange skies and the deep yellow sun.  

But what intrigued me wasn’t the green swimsuit with the orange flowers, nor the fruit punch coloured skies, it was that particular tiny little girl playing fearlessly amidst the roaring waves. I kept on thinking, “Why isn’t she scared? The waves are much bigger than her, but why isn’t she bothered by them?” 

Then God whispered to me, “It doesn’t bother her that the waves are much bigger than her because she trusts her father to look out for her. When was the last time you had that childlike quality in your faith and trust me?”

The Theory

That subtle whisper was a slap right to my face. 

As I looked again at the little girl, I remembered the tiny little Emily who fearlessly constructs her dreams in her blue overalls and denim hat. She designs big dreams, like dreaming of being a gracious princess, or a fabulous fashion designer. Sometimes she would dream of cooking the most delicious meals in a Michelin-star restaurant or writing a best-selling novel. 

She also creates smaller, more realistic dreams that are not as far away, like aiming to be the top of her class that semester or winning the piano competition she has prepared all year long. 

But as she became older, all her big dreams slowly turn into smaller, realistic dreams. And those smaller, more realistic dreams require smaller goals that pave the path to reach that dream. After having all these sequences laid out in front of me, I was encapsulated by fear. 

This was when I realised that big dreams don’t scare me, as big dreams tend to be far away. But what scares me most are the small goals that builds the ladder for me to reach my dreams. Why? 

Because in my head, the thought of messing them up or failing in the middle of the process is equivalent to destroying that ladder, and the ‘smaller, more realistic dream’ will turn into an unrealistic plan. 

The Story

You see, I was just honoured with the title Bachelor of Design (Comm. Design) at the end of last year. I am really grateful that I got to pursue the field I am most passionate about. This means being a designer is no longer a far-fetched dream, it is only an interview away. 

But every time I opened job-search engines, or whenever I’m formulating my portfolio, or typing up my CV, there’s this fear that lurks deep in the corners of my head, scared of the uncertainties. 

“What if I fail?” 

“What if I don’t get accepted?”

“What if I can’t make my parents proud?”

All the ‘what if’-s became these roaring waves that kept on going, and I felt surrounded. I tried to conceal my fear with work. Veiling every bit of anxiety with a drawing, or poster design. Denying every single fact that I can’t mask the problem with Photoshop and Adobe cannot edit my anxieties and fears away. And I let all this happen until the noises nearly block His tender words that can actually calm the roaring waves of my mind. 

At that point I know what I needed most: I need my alone time with Him, my Creator, my Father. Right on the corner of my bed, I sat down, put my worship playlist on shuffle, and closed my eyes. Tears started pouring out of my eyes as I told Him everything, tore open my heart where I had all my fears and anxieties concealed. And just right then, Spotify played Michael W. Smith’s Surrounded,

“It may look like I’m surrounded

But I’m surrounded by You.”

These words pulled me back, made me realise that even though the waves are great, I should have the faith of that little girl in the green swimsuit with orange flowers. 

I should be still because He–who designed the magnificent skies–is also the one who knitted me in my mother’s womb. 

I should be calm because He–who orchestrated the beautiful conversation between the sand and the sea–is also the poet who will silence my fears and anxieties away. 

And most importantly–I should have faith because He, who painted the waves–is my Father who will look after me. 

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At this point, I haven’t figured out how I would reach my dreams yet. In fact, right after I finished writing this blog post, I will probably submit my CVs and portfolios to more companies. The waves of ‘what if’-s inside me are still chasing one after another. But I do know now that I got to have that childlike faith. I got to trust my Father–that He will look after me and that He has made everything beautiful and appropriate in its time (Ecclesiastes 3). 

I don’t know what dreams you have and what season you’re in. Whether the seas are calm, or the roaring waves seem to engulf you; take time to sit down, worship, and converse with Him in private. Just like that little girl who beamed at her dad whenever she sees him, you will find joy whenever you are with Him. 

Lastly, do not forget to have childlike faith, like the girl in the green swimsuit with orange flowers: no matter how daunting and deluging the waves of life may be, you face it with courage because you know full well that your Father’s voice calms even the most vigorous of storms.

  P.S. I've compiled a playlist for you to listen whenever you feel like worshipping Him (especially when the waves seem so great!) Hope this blesses you! 

#dream #faith #childlike #trust #future #waves #anxiety #fear

[loreletters-blog]

For His Love, and everything about Him knows no bounds.

How did your story begin?

Did it start happily? Full of smiles, laughter and love?

Or perhaps it started off despondently? Lacking any considerable joy and filled with bad memories?

Mine was the latter.

My life began with me being born prematurely. At birth, both my mom and I almost died due to asthma and complications. Aside from that there is also the irrefutable fact that I was born out of wedlock. I was a child my parents never really wanted. And it was because of this, among other reasons, that the upcoming physical abuse that I experienced in my life made sense –

You see, my parents are brilliant human beings. My mom spoke both English and French during University years. She had a dream to travel the world and work in hotels in foreign countries. My dad was and is a ridiculously smart human being. He had a scholarship to study civil engineering in a good university. Their future was bright. Then I came along and ruined it all for them.

So, it makes sense that they took it out on me. Having to take care of an unplanned child while having to deal with the shame from the family and not to mention the sudden financial stress it put them in; they had every reason to look at me with contempt and to treat me with anything else but love. And so, I grew up not knowing what love was. The abuse got more extreme as I aged and my efforts of escaping home were answered by fists or harsh words from bullies at school.

And it didn’t stop there. I grew up with ADHD, and one of the biggest effects of having this disorder is that it prevented me from being able to stay quiet and to just simply focus at any given task. It was hard for me to make friends and it was hard for me to achieve anything because I have always been labeled and stamped as a problematic child. It was an identity forcefully given to me that deprived me of any potential as a human being. Everyone saw me as a problem and nothing more. I was powerless to do anything. I wasn’t able to prove to my parents that I was worth their love, I was unable to prove to my teachers when all of them, one by one, gave up hope in me, and I was unable to prove to my “friends” that I was worth befriending. For as long as I can remember, the first few years of my life was nothing more than a torrent of hatred and ill treatment. In a downpour of endless fear, I was alone.

And God? God had no place in my life. I barely knew mundane love, let alone a divine one. I was never taught to surrender or have faith. God, to me back then, was a character in a fairy tale called “the bible”. I went to church because I thought it was the daycare while my parents went out to shop. As a child, the only emotion I felt towards this identity called God, was doubt. Because they tell me all about Him but where was He when my father took his rage out on me? Where was He when everyone in my life turned their back on me? Where was He when I was in pain?

Recently I’ve learned that the first seven years of a child’s life is crucial for their psychological health and will determine how they grow up to be. It then made sense to me why in my teenage years I felt like there was a gaping hole in myself that I couldn’t really fill. The construct of my very identity was built without a foundation. I was susceptible to depression, anxiety and the problems of insecurities plagued me. I went on to find acceptance and love from any other place possible but nothing seemed to fit and the void remained unfilled; sucking whatever feigned love was given to me. I blamed everything on my past. Even upon knowing God, upon serving Him in His house and singing praises and worshipping Him, my past left a mark on me that was too persistent to let go.

But while I focused too much on my beginning, God told me to look beyond it. To look far before I was even conceived.

“Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.” - Psalms 139:16

When I read that verse, the obvious became clear to me, that God and everything about Him is timeless. The extent of His love dates long before I was even formed, it weaves through the short fabric of time in which I live my brief life, and stretches long into the future where it persists even long after I perish. The sovereignty of His love became the enduring foundation of my Identity; stemming from it purpose and reason to live. The gravity of His love is so intense and passionate that it compels me to keep drawing near to Him, to love Him back.

Now, looking back, I’ve realized that though God wasn’t there in the way I wanted Him to be. Though He wasn’t there preventing my father’s fists or erasing the pain that I felt. He was present in ways I couldn’t previously fathom: He was there protecting my heart, my soul; because after all of that, notwithstanding all the nightmare and abuse that I went through, there isn’t a shred of hate that I feel towards my parents –

He expressed His sovereign Love silently, yet it was tenderly felt.

So, let me ask you again, how did your story begin? Regardless of it, know that His love precedes whatever sorrow you felt. Realize that His Love resides over your hurting heart, and have faith that It too will persevere no matter what the future holds.

God bless you!

#past #love #hope #timeless #depression #anxiety #purpose #reason #beginning #story

[loreletters-blog]

A Clay’s Decision

Who is the Potter to you? 

Have you ever blamed God? 

Have you ever felt so swamped with problems after problems that seemingly never end that you feel like drowning? Does that make you wonder why God would let you face them with no answer? 

Maybe it’s your unending work at the office with an obnoxious, over-controlling, rude boss that never give you a raise. Maybe it’s your ever unsatisfying grades at school and no matter what you do, you have not gotten that perfect score. 

Maybe it’s getting your heart broken; rejections after rejections from girls you truly fell in love with. 

Maybe, it’s having your dreams crushed because you suddenly fell ill. 

Or maybe, losing someone so dear. Or going bankrupt.

Problems after problems, constantly pressing you and draining you. 

And then you look at the news and social media. All the corruption and lies revolving around the government, the seemingly unending poverty and famine, the war, the lost, the crying children, the abused women, the dying men, and all the chaos. 

Are you wondering where is God when all of this happen? Does God care? Is God really, what we often hear? Is He really Good?  If God is good then why does all of this suffering have to happen? Why doesn’t God stop it? Why God? 

It’s really hard to believe that God is good after looking at all of these problems, right? 

Now - I can’t really say anything to you. I don’t have the answer, and no matter how hard and how long this blog post is going to be from my effort to convince you, you’d probably already have your say. Instead, I’m going to give you a choice. 

Which of the following options do you think will you help you to get through the problems you are facing right now: 

One, treating God like a tyrant that allowed the things we judged as inherently bad happening to us and leaving us to die? This image of a God who is like an ignorant being that let troubles and problems consume us as if we are powerless victims. 

Or 

Two, asking God to help you. Choosing to believe that He is for you and that He is good, that He would help you through the problems and make you strong when you feel like you cannot face the troubles any longer. Choosing to believe that your pain and misery is not out of His sight. That no tears that ran down your cheek are left unseen. 

Which one do you think will help you?  

For me, option number two has definitely helped me; and no it’s not necessarily easy. Just because I said it is easier, does not mean it is a piece of cake. The troubling questions mentioned above were real questions that I asked God too.  It takes faith, courage, and perseverance in action to get through these problems. But the comfort of knowing that the Lord Almighty is not against me and instead is on my side gives me the strength and courage to endure and eventually conquer my problems, one at a time. It brought me great peace to believe that God is still in control despite everything, that He got this and He is good. He will finish this well. 

I find it more empowering to choose to believe that God is on my team. I like to think of Him as a friend, as my Father, my counsel, and my partner. After all the burden on my shoulder, the thought of God punishing me or letting all the bad things happen just to mess with me is really not helping, instead, it would just make me bitter and angry. I remember how anger and bitterness just cause me to hurt and suffer more. 

So I leave that with you. I don’t know what you are dealing with, maybe your problem is way more than mine or anybody else. Maybe nobody knows what you are going through. But nothing goes unnoticed with God. He’d rather have you talk to Him than just blaming Him. His sovereignty is good, and so is He. Would you let Him help you? 

“But, my friend, I ask, “Who do you think you are to question God? Does the clay have the right to ask the potter why he shaped it the way he did?  Doesn’t a potter have the right to make a fancy bowl and a plain bowl out of the same lump of clay?” - Romans 9:20-21

#sovereignty #free will #god #authority

[loreletters-blog]

Is God’s sovereignty sweet to you? 

“Then Peter came to Him and asked, “Lord, how many times will my brother sin against me and I forgive him and let it go? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered him, “I say to you, not up to seven times, but seventy times seven.”” - Matthew 18:21-22 (AMP)

My mum has been feeding me with this verse ever since my parents split up. It has always been there at the back of my mind. “Seventy times seven” I repeated subconsciously every time another promise came shattering to the ground. ‘I’m doing all this to make you happy. I promise I’ll take care of everything, school finances, expenses, everything. I promise to see you every weekend. I love you’, eyes blurred by tears, heart shattered whenever these words escaped from my dad’s mouth. I know these are nothing but words to him. Fake promises. Disappointments. I thought the more I repeated the verse above, the quicker I will be able to forgive. Little did I know, I was only suppressing the hate that has been mounting up, ready to blow up any time. 

If you’ve been following this travel log so far, you’d have come across my story with my dad (Father to the Fatherless). As you know, my relationship with my dad has always been a bumpy ride. I would ask God over and over again, why am I here? Why was I put in the middle of this family? This imperfect family with such a heart-wrenching, undependable, unfaithful, and unloving dad. I could honestly say that I would rather not have known my dad at all than have a father like him. Years after years, I’ve been covering up my hatred until one day, I’ve just had enough. I couldn’t breathe. God was calling me to go forward but I was imprisoned by my hatred, by my unforgiveness. My body was wrapped in chains. I was held captive and all I wanted is to break free…

I decided one night, that I want to deal with this. I don’t want to hide it anymore. It’s slowly sucking me up like a blackhole. “Okay Lord, I want to forgive my dad. Help me as I talk to him. Please. I want to be free”, I said as I dialled my dad’s phone number. It was a good 2 hours talk and it felt...freeing. I was smiling again. The chains were broken as I release forgiveness. There I thought everything was over… but it didn’t stop there. The disappointments kept on coming…

Time goes by and I can see my relationship with my dad getting better. I’m actually getting to know him as my dad and not as this stranger. However, it didn’t really stop him from disappointing me. Over and over again I forgive. Yes, it gets easier but I still questioned, why God? Why do I have to keep hurting like this? One time my dad started texting me regularly, sending pictures and videos of my step sister asking for presents. I was a few days away from going home and meeting them. Excitement blew up in my heart as I can start to see and acknowledge the person I called dad. Not long after I met them, I went back to Melbourne and I waited… waited for him to text me… to tell stories of my step sister but all I get was read messages. Read messages.

I was extremely hurt. I didn’t understand why God would put me in this situation over and over again. I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. But God once again showed me His love and mercy. God reminded me how us, as humans, has disappointed Him over and over again but He has never taken His love away from us. God has shown us how to love. I came to the realisation that we don’t have control over people’s behaviour… we can’t change people, but what we can do is… change our perspective and response towards that.

Love keeps no record of wrongs (1 Corinthians 13:4-5)! When I look back now, I got to understand that God put me in these situations to teach me how to love unconditionally. I was extremely hurt when I tried to do things with my own strength. But we are able to truly love because we are loving from The source that is unchangeable. Disappointments and pain will come as we open our hearts to people because we are unpredictable and imperfect by nature. But, as we humble ourselves in front of our God, Jesus is giving us His power and strength to endure in the valley of darkness. We humble ourselves when we can rejoice under God’s sovereignty. Do we feel like God’s sovereignty is sweet to us? If not, have we really humbled ourselves in front of our God then? Have we really looked up to Him and let go of control?

#surrender #obedience #forgiveness #love

[loreletters-blog]

A moment for everything.

God’s Perfect Timing 

If you think about God, some people would likely think about Him as a serious, grandeur and strict Being. Although I don’t consider that view as wrong or misguided, I think it’s very one-sided. God is even more humorous than you are. After all, He is God, Creator of all (humour included). 

One thing I find super funny and cheeky is God’s sovereignty over timing. His unpredictable timing that can cue the dramatic music effect as we hold our breath in anticipation of the worst. Sometimes, we think that when we are doing our mundane activities God is bored with our lives and just left us alone to do our business. But, have you ever wondered how God protects you in every second of your life? 

Maybe that time when you miss the bus or that time when you’re too early to class? Perhaps, the time you forgot to bring your wallet, or when you dropped your phone into the toilet when you’re about to open Twitter? Every single event, big or small can happen only when God allows it to be. 

Let me tell you a story about how God’s perfect timing really is mindblowing. 

Earlier this year, my granddad fell ill for almost 3 months. He was staying at my house with my parents and my sister. Our relatives were going back and forth to visit him, and for a quite introverted family, my parents and sister were exhausted to host all the guests every single day. Meanwhile, I was working during the summer in Melbourne and didn’t go back home to Indonesia. My mum would call me at night to update granddad’s condition to me. Our family was distressed. I think deep down we knew that his time was not long, so we prayed and prayed that he would open up to Christ before he took his last breath. We prayed for his health, and we prayed that he would eventually find peace in his heart. 

One time when we were on the phone, my mum said that I need to go back home if granddad passed, but at the same time, I really want to go to our church camp this year. We were worried that he would pass on when I join the church camp and we were wondering if I should just stay and not go camping at all. 

A couple weeks later, I went to go to work as per usual. I picked up my black bag, put my water bottle inside and went to the office like it’s a normal day. My heart was so full that day, all I can think of was thanking God, the song “The War is Over” by Bethel was playing on repeat on my phone.

I planned to go to a pharmacy after work to get some vitamins, and so I did. When I was looking around at the store, I felt water dripping to my shoes. I thought it was the store aircon leaking, then someone pointed it out to me that it was actually coming from my bag; my water bottle inside the bag was leaking! I opened up my bag and found my phone completely drenched. I clicked the button and saw a message notification from my mum, granddad was gone. 

I tried calling her but failed to reach her because my phone was not responding after the spill. So I took the tram back home, but I didn’t have enough credit to pay for it and behold, the inspectors were there. Somehow, they didn’t approach me. I ran as fast as I could back home. Thankfully my roommate was there, and it’s outright ridiculous that she just bought a new phone a week before, so she lent me her old phone to use. Since I need to fly black to Indonesia (as per my parents’ request), I needed to buy tickets for the most immediate flight back to Jakarta, I couldn’t find one that is flying that night, so I decided to ask a travel agency for help.  It was 5.30, and the nearest flight agency was supposed to close at 6 PM. Somehow, we booked a ticket 5 minutes before the travelling agent office closed. 

I was ready to book a cab when God sent me my church friends, they offered to drive me to the airport, and so, I flew safely back to Indonesia. I had the chance to meet my family, be there to comfort them, and learned that before my granddad breathed his last breath, he had finally prayed in Jesus’s name!

Weeks went by until the day of our church camp arrived. Fortunately, I was able to go and finally, after years of not joining the camp, I finally got to experience it with my church family. During the sessions, I got reminded of how God was so good to me for the past year, especially after a season of hurting and disappointment (check out our post Inflated Balloon for more details!). I have been reminded of how faithful and patient He is with me and my family. The fact that my granddad finally prayed in the last minute of his life, makes me think of really proclaiming my faith in the symbolical form of baptism. My Pastor has offered to baptise me on multiple occasions, and I constantly refused. Not that because I didn’t want to commit, I just think that the symbolism can wait. Plus, I really wanted to wait for the perfect time (which in my mind was the day when I can go to the Jordan River). But one night in camp, I got an impression that God doesn’t want me to wait anymore, the time has come. He said it doesn’t matter where I do it. Instead, He said, it’s time. Seems like, God doesn’t want me to wait for a huge and fancy wedding reception but one that is intimate and simple for just me and Him; for the two of us to celebrate. And so I made the decision that it is time to get baptised, here in Melbourne, with my local Pastor. For so long, I wanted my baptism to be ‘special’, hence, I was aiming big like Jordan River. But God knows how to make it special despite the humble ceremony. I got baptised on the day I turned 21, the age which supposedly marks adulthood, with my mum and sister beside me, as they were able to visit. 

How crazy is that? From the spilled water bottle, the broken phone, not getting inspected, having my roommate at home, her having 2 phones, being able to book a ticket before the office close, to finally getting baptised? 

For some people, it may seem like that whole whirlwind was just a series of coincidences. I believe it’s God’s work. He knew exactly what I needed. He knew I’ve been praying for my granddad, so he comforted me with a song. He knew I wouldn’t check my phone until I got back home, so He grabbed my attention with my water bottle dripping to my shoes. He prepared a spare phone for me in exchange. He knew that if I didn’t check my phone soon enough, I couldn’t book the tickets with that particular travel agent, and would probably go home on the next day. He knew I needed comfort, so He made my friends available for me. He knew that when I join the camp, my life would change for the better. 

How crazy intricate is God’s perfect timing!? It is down to the tee, to every millisecond. I believe God never left, He’s never bored with our lives. He’s never bored of your office job, he’s never bored of you when you’re doing your assignments, and He will never leave in the middle of every processes and season that you are going through; He’s right there, working hard, and He made everything beautiful in His perfect time. 

He can open doors that used to be closed, He could give you a job after months or years of waiting, and He would help you graduate in the perfect time. Whatever it is, He is in charge. 

There is always a time for everything. And He knows when! 

“There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.” 

Ecclesiastes 3:3-8

#sovereign #power #time #process

[loreletters-blog]

What is your anchor?

If you, yes you, the readers of this blog, have been following us since day one, you’d remember how this blog is supposed to be a travel log. Between fellow sailors about our encounters with the one True North; how He reminded us, spoke to us, directed us and lead us on our journey. Well, this time, I’d love to share about how I experienced Him in the storm, though not as a compass through which I found a way out, but as an anchor, that kept me steadfast; and prevented me from sinking amidst the stormy seas.

It all started four years ago, when I was entrusted to be a youth community leader at a local church. I was 15 years young and had no prior experience, nor did I have the qualifications to be one. At that time, I chose to accept the responsibility simply because it satisfied my ego. Because it means I was in a higher position than most, that I got to be superior. I could get acknowledged, I could act all self-righteous and pretentious, I could sit there on my high horse and just “lead”. Little did I know that this signifies a journey of maturity, humility and dependence. 

For the first few years I had my way, I got that acknowledgment as the youngest community leader around. I walked around with this sense of pride, as if I deserved respect. My group grew larger and larger in numbers, a feat I took pride in. I had the biggest group at that time, I gathered so many new members that the weekly meeting was always full. But not only was my group plenty, they were also stagnant. None of them found peace in the community, none of them established a relationship with God; and so, they left as fast as they came. I couldn’t care less about those who left, as long as people kept on coming, and I was still allowed to be the leader. 

And then my own sister, one of the members of the community, said this to me “If I had known any better, I wouldn’t have chosen you as my leader, you’re useless, and you don’t have what it takes.”

That isn’t, by any means, an encouraging criticism and I do not endorse that kind of critique. But she did have a point. After that I started reflecting on things; on everything, to be exact. That’s when it hit me: God has entrusted me with all these people and all I’m doing, is misleading them.

That thought ravaged my mind. It lurked on every corner, every second of the day. I felt like a failure. Before I knew it, I was drowning in shame. The idea of resigning plagued me, and I thought maybe this isn’t for me. I was stuck amidst a storm of my own doing, of my own thoughts, tossed around to and fro by the winds and feral waves:

my sails were tattered, I’ve departed from my course and I have lost sight of where the North is.

  Nonetheless, that’s when I heard it; His voice, indistinct. Yet when I close my eyes, the sound of the crashing waves and the howling wind were all I hear. But they slowly faded, as they grew less and less insignificant.

What started as a whisper, began to sound like a faint voice, an utterance of a Truth I’ve forgotten: “Your strength is in Me”

He took me back to the time I faced harsher storms and all the times He’s given me strength. “What’s different now?”

He reminded me of the time He chose me and every second after it that He stood by His unchanging decision: “Do you doubt my decision?”

He pointed at the storm and reminded me that He is greater than any storm: “I am Jehovah Jireh, your provider, have you forgotten?

 All those voices in my head that said I didn’t have what it takes, well, they were right. The thoughts that said I was unworthy and a failure, they were right too. But the storm ravaged only because I give it power to: By relying on myself, by basing my confidence and capabilities on myself, I allow myself to be tossed around. But if we learn to just surrender in everything we do, to give Him the wheels and trust in wherever He plans on bringing us, then no kind of storm will ever have power over you, no kind of waves will shatter you, and no kind of wind will tatter your sails; for He keeps you safe, His faithfulness keeps us steadfast and His unchanging identity is the one thing that can anchor us.

This was a story of the time the identity of my God itself, gave me strength and became an anchor. How He allowed me to keep going, without looking back, without regret and without shame. Yes, when the storm ended I was destroyed, worn out and my ship could barely sail. Maybe that’s what has to happen for us to let go of our control and hand it over to God. For it was only then, at that moment of surrender to God that I could start anew, retrace my steps and setting the sails with a new sense of hope, a renewed faith and complete confidence in the right place. 

"You did not choose Me but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and that your fruit would remain, so that whatever you ask of the Father in My name He may give to you.” - John 16:15

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” - Hebrews 6:19 

#anchor #hope #sail #ship #storm #tempest #confidence

[loreletters-blog]

Have you ever talked about depression?

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I...I don’t know… I feel empty...I think people are better off without me”, mouth stuttering, eyes watering as I answered.

“Why?”

“I haven’t figure out why. I just am”, face down. 

“That doesn’t make any sense”

Brows furrowed as I draw back, shutting myself down, as once again I’ve tried to open up and seek help but the topic of depression itself is poison. 

Very often I came across people disgusted or unmoved when the topic of depression pops up in the room. It’s either we don’t want to deal with it or just don’t know how to respond to it. Either way, depression so often becomes the elephant in the room. Us, as human beings, I assume have experienced living in a depressed state - may it be for a day, a week, or a whole month - depression is inevitable. However, the stigma imposed on depression, especially for Christians, makes it harder for us to talk about it. What about our church community? Won’t they understand? The example above is a real-life personal experience of when I tried to talk about my depression to one of my church friends. 

We have this notion, as Christians, that depression is a myth; It’s a sign of unbelief; mental illness is a sin. These beliefs are commonly imposed on church leaders. Leaders are often pressured to be perfect, to be happy all the time. It is extremely hard for people in general to come forward about their depression due to stigma; the notion of being a happy Christian makes it harder for church leaders. Thus, hiding their depression becomes the normal thing to do. Not being able to rationalise their own state makes it harder for people to identify their feelings, let alone for the church to do it. Reports have been going around how church leaders are committing suicide due to depression and how they weren’t able to talk about it. 

The newest case is the case of Pastor Andrew Stoecklein who decided to take his life. His story was posted on facebook and the comments blew up, commenting how mental illness is a sin, how pastors aren’t supposed to feel that way, and how thoughts of suicide or depression is the ultimate evidence of rejection towards our God. It became so bad and so apparent that they decided to take the post down. 

Pastors, leaders, Christians, or people in general are not perfect human beings. There are many arguments on this - how depression comes from the devil attacking our weakest point (this was one of the negative comments on Ps. Andrew Stoecklein’s case), but depression is very real and is inevitable. Depression is very complex. It is a feeling of low mood that could be experienced for over a week or more, which leads to demotivation, loss of appetite, insomnia, irritable mood, loss of ability to work, and many more. It is very different for every individual and research shows how Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT) - a type of therapy that tackles the root of unhealthy thinking, feeling and behaviours by talking it out - and antidepressants can help regulate depressed moods. Just like any other illnesses (e.g. Parkinson’s disease, cardiovascular diseases, influenza, etc), these illnesses could lead to the loss of lives - may it be through suicide or others. With that being said, depression is very much real and the attention it needed is understated. 

It is true that personal faith helps ease depression, but to deny the need to seek help when one is suffering depression is the same as denying the need to get medication when one is suffering with physical illness. With the fact that it’s a person’s life on the line, it depicts how serious every illness is - may it be mentally or physically. 

I was unable to talk about my depression and self-harming behaviours to my peers. I tried a few times, but the normal response I would get is, “Oh you should pray more”, “oh you’re lacking faith”, “you should be more grateful”. People would often use Bible verses to convince a person that they’re not obeying God. Adding to the fact that I wasn’t able to breathe, or just to be; that would only throw me further down the hill. 

I was hurt. It was very hard for me to come and seek help in the first place, but there was too much stigma attached to it so I withdrew from opening up. As I look back and think about this issue, I believe our God taught us to love unconditionally and to give words of encouragement. The Lord reminded me, “Worry weighs a person down; an encouraging word cheers a person up.” (Proverbs 12:25) and “So encourage each other and build each other up, just as you are already doing” (1 Thessalonians 5:11). 

Just as the Lord has showed us an example of how to love (John 13:15; John 13:34), I believe that as a church we are called to work together as the Body of Christ to love and encourage one another. Healing comes from a loving community where there is no judgement; a community who is always willing to lend a shoulder and listen. Let’s tackle this problem by making sure depression is a normal topic to talk about and address mental illness with love and grace! 

#depression #mental health #christians #stigma #illness

[loreletters-blog]

What do you see when you look at yourself in the mirror?

Eyes fixed on someone, gaze travelled from head to toe, examining every single curve that this particular person has. ‘How is it even possible? She looks so thin yet so curvy! Man, how unfair’, I thought,as I look down at my flabby belly. As dramatic as it may sound (HAHA! It is very dramatic though), the thought is very much true to me. I would get caught up in observing and pointing out every single detail in a person’s body whilst comparing it with mine. I know how creepy it sounds, but this act is not so much about objectifying others, but more towards objectifying my own body. 

I believe everyone has dealt with the issue of body image in one way or another. If you haven’t...I’m giving you a high five and a huge hug! Great for you man! But for those who have dealt with body image issue, I got ya!

Looking at myself in the mirror was never easy. My ‘food-baby’ tummy, slightly long limbs, crooked fingers, stubby toes, small squinty eyes, chubby cheeks, every part of my body that I can think of never reflect the definition of beauty. But how did I even get to this point; this state of not feeling safe in my own skin?

I believe it all started in high school, where everyone is hitting puberty, developing into a beautiful butterfly, while here I am, standing in the corner looking like an old stubby potato. “Teen mom” is one of the labels imposed on me by my peers. No one would notice me for who I am. Simply put, my worth was on my body weight. And sadly, I was carried away in this whirlpool of unworthiness. My face oozed an expression of disgust and shame whenever I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in public. Whenever I’m home, I would undress myself and examine every details that are painted on my skin. ‘Too chubby. Too many flabs. Too thick. Too round. Where’s your thigh gap?’ ; these were the things that would escape my mouth everytime I examine myself. 

This feeling of unworthiness and not being beautiful enough in the eyes of society made me feel guilty whenever I ate. I would force my fingers down my throat, making sure anything that goes in, goes out immediately. That washed up the guilt and I got caught up in it for a month or two. I stopped as it didn’t do me much justice; it led me to have a little bit of control over my body, but not much, so I stopped. The gym was my next escape. And this time, it works. It did me wonders! Clothing size shrinks, bones started showing, no more double-chin! Oh how I strive to look like those models in the magazines! However, it never satisfied me. Being unworthy was my truth, my identity. I will never be good enough, nor will I ever be beautiful enough. 

People would start noticing me as an actual person now that I am a little less chubbier. Boys would give me the attention that I never got. As satisfied as I was with all the attention, I wasn’t happy. My biggest fear then was that slightest increase on the scale. I would exercise and restrict my calorie intake to the point of starvation to avoid regressing to my old chubby self. Afraid of losing my worth as a person, I was extremely insecure of how my body looked. My mom asked me once, ‘why do you worry so much about how you look to the point of not loving yourself? I notice this ever since you got a boyfriend!’ The truth behind it really hurts me. What does that really say about my trust towards my Creator? The fact that He has created us in the image of His own (Genesis 1:26-27). If this Creator has made the bright blue sky, the marvelous cosmic glory, the crashing waves that I adore, why couldn’t I believe in His ability to paint myself beautifully?

I got reminded of what has become the root of my problem - it’s my source of security. My pastor once said, “Our comparison mentality made us feel more insecure in losing the thing that made us feel secure.” In my case, it was my body weight. 

I came to the realisation of this truth as I grow into a relationship with Jesus. When you step into a relationship with Him, only then can you understand the truth about His ability in making things beautiful. Little by little, I started to rebuild my then-shaky-foundation; my sense of security, from my weight to His beauty. His truth started to satisfy me. Jesus loves us, no matter how many flabs we have in our tummy, no matter how chubby our cheeks are, no matter how many folds our chin has, no matter what others say about our own body, Jesus loves us. Jesus is a mirrored image of our own self and boy, is He beautiful! I couldn’t help but grow to love my own self, feeling safe in my own skin when I know the wonderful ability my Creator has. Just as we are overwhelmed with the wonder of the galaxy, He is in awe whenever He looks at our smiles. With that truth, I am satisfied. 

“Compared to all this cosmic glory, why would You bother with puny, mortal man or be infatuated with Adam’s sons? Yet what honor You have given to men, created only a little lower than Elohim, crowned like kings and queens with glory and magnificence” 

Psalms 8:4-5 (TPT)

#body image #mental health #security #beautiful

[loreletters-blog]

Fight or flight or still?

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the sky is bright and blue. It is a good day. Then, all of a sudden time seems to slow down, the world seems to spin, your heart beats faster and you feel suffocated, you are breathing heavily, your vision blurred, mouths dry, knees weak, and all you want to do is to lay down. Your thoughts are racing, am I dying? What’s going on? HELP!! 

That is what a panic attack feels like. 

A panic attack is intense. I remembered my first panic attack like it happened yesterday. The experience was so vivid. 

The worst one I had was 3 years ago. I was having lunch with my friends, joking and having fun when all of a sudden I could not find my newly purchased textbook. I did not know someone took the book as a prank. So, the panic rushed in an instance, I was trying to calm myself down but it intensified out of my control. To top it off, it all happened in public. Everyone was looking at me and my friends were unprepared, worriedly trying to calm me down. I felt my heart being constricted, beating faster and I kneeled down when my knees were weak and my headlight. The friend who took the book gave it back to calm me down, but my body was still in shock. If you think the attack was bad, having all eyes on you, witnessing you being a mess was worse. 

I had a couple of milder panic attack episodes during my high school years up to the second year of University. Thankfully, I have never felt a panic attack as intense as that one ever since. However, like many other, I still battle with anxiety and fear. There are days when I got so caught up with bad thoughts, I ended up feeling anxious the whole day. I thought about my future, my assignments, my appointments with friends and wonder how can I manage to do all that? I often think about what should I do next? Am I a good person? Do people feel like my presence is annoying? And so it continues. 

Panic attack is a large dose of fear rushing through your body and mind at the same time within a brief period. It is what I like to picture as a roller coaster ride. Normally, after you have had a panic attack experience, denying the fear and the bodily symptoms is a reasonable coping mechanism. But research has found that avoidance of panic attacks, when it is occurring, could lead to more severe anxiety and panic disorder. 

Research has shown that avoidance strategy in coping with panic attacks would lead to higher intensity of the next attack. In cognitive behaviour therapy, clients are encouraged to ‘let the fear wash away’ without fighting it. All you need to do is keep breathing, be still and take your time. The more you try to run away, the worse the upcoming wave would be. 

I find this solution very interesting because the Bible brought up the word “be still” a couple times, and usually, it is when someone is feeling fearful or anxious. For example, Exodus 14:13 “ And Moses said to the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will accomplish for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall see again no more forever.” In this context, Moses was telling the people of Israel who just fled from the Egyptians and was about to cross the Red Sea to calm down, after they saw the Pharaoh catching up to them. Can you imagine the panic? They were literally on edge. In front of them was the Red Sea, which makes an attempt to cross it over with millions of people (and their babies, food, camels, and ancient luggage) impossible. On the other, the bad guys were catching up to them, ready to slaughter and bring Israelites back to slavery. We often feel constricted when we fear something. Facing limitations could cause you to respond hastily and ended up with a bad decision. This verse reminds me that God wants you to consult and listen, to be still and let Him guide to what is best for you. When you cannot see what is available around, you need to look up!

Another example is Psalm 107: 29 “He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.” Your panic attack is a wave of fear, it might even feel like a tsunami of fear. But, if He can make a raging ocean calm, with no single ripple at all, He can definitely calm your body and your thoughts. Your panic attack is not meant to stay, it will go away. Moreover, if you still face anxiety and fear from time to time, take your time to reflect upon His love. His love would not want you to let fear consumes you. 

In an age where being assertive and taking control is very much endorsed, sometimes we forget that there are times where we should just be still. When things are not in order (e.g. panic attacks), we tend to want to control it as soon as possible or to take control in an effective way. The funny thing about trying to control things that are out of our capacity is, it almost never ends well. The answer is not avoiding it, or to bottle it up with all your might, but to close your eyes, take your time and be still. 

#mental health #panic #peace #still

[loreletters-blog]

When home isn’t anymore just a place

You see, no one really knows what’s going on behind a closed door. Everything might seem peaceful. There could be a family having a daily dinner time together, or there could be a silent house where no one ever really talks to one another. There could be children laughing around as they share a movie with their parents, or they might be in their rooms, in tears, hiding from their parents. But one thing is for sure, in whatever shape your home might be, it shapes you; for the better or for the worse.

In my case, it was for the worse.

I can fairly say that I never really had a home. The same statement can be said towards my parents; they were simply benefactors who gave me food and shelter; nothing more. Here’s why: I would be laying down in my bed, playing with my numerous collections of Hotwheel cars, tracing the metallic automobile and its tires on my pillow, when suddenly the door to my room would slam open. Behind it would be a figure standing in the hallway, tall and muscular; his face would be red and his fists clenched. The overwhelming stench of alcohol would fill the room; it has become all too familiar. What’s about to happen is the exact same thing that happened the night before. And the night before that. And any given night at any given date of the year. He would come closer and pull me out of the bed. At times he’d drag me down the stairs. Other times he takes pleasure in doing it in my room. It would start small, with a hard slap across my face; his large rough hands would leave a red print on my cheeks. Then he’d start using his fists–

Oh, I’ve heard of all the stories. Of how he’d beat up those who threaten him. How he’d punch his way through masses and crowds during riots. Or how those who would dare take a glimpse at his lover would come to regret it, I’ve heard it all –

But this time that same fist finds its way to the stomach of a five-year-old kid, his five-year-old kid. I would cough and puke, or both at the same time. I would cry and scream, but that didn’t matter; he didn’t care, not now that he’s under the influence of alcohol, and not when he’s sober. He would say absolutely nothing, staying silent as his fists did the talking. And so, every night was like that. I would constantly look at the door, desperately praying to God that it wouldn’t open up.

God knows how many times I’ve missed school just because my face was too deformed. In the mornings after, he’d smoke his cigarette on the terrace, while he reads the paper. Sometimes, he’d call my sister and me to accompany him, but the situation was never far from awkward. He would start telling us stories about his past, how he came to the city with just 300.000 Rupiah (30$) in his pockets.

“You’d remember this,” He said while pointing at me, “we were poor, we didn’t have a house, a cardboard and sheets of blankets were our safe haven.” He continued.

He said it all as if it was so bad, but he was right. I remembered that. I remembered those times as being the most peaceful times of my life, where there was no abuse. My father would exhale the smoke from his lungs before changing topics, discussing other things that would make it seem as if he was a broken man. Perhaps he was, I understand that now. But then, all I saw was a poor effort of justification for his vile actions towards his kids.

Other mornings, my sister and I would wake up to the sound of my parents shouting at each other. It would last for hours before they’d come out as if nothing had happened. When he was at work, mom would take us out for a drive. We’d go shopping, or we’d rent a DVD and watch it the whole day, get some of the local meatballs and traditional soup we all love. We’d spend hours binge-watching “Friends” and we’d laugh together, just the three of us.

But at the end of the day, he’d come home, with a new reason to be angry about and the same old familiar stench of alcohol.

That was my definition of home. A place to fear, to dread, to hate. A place of pain, nightmares, and tears.

At that time, I prayed and prayed. To a God that I never knew, a God I didn’t believe in. I prayed for Him to change my dad, believing that finally having a proper father would make it as though I’d feel at home. I didn’t do it because I had faith. I did it because I had nothing left to do. It was the last resort, a whim, a faithless wishful thought. And funny enough, amazingly, God, not only heard it, but He made it happen!

I was laying down in my bed, playing with my numerous collections of Hotwheel cars. Tracing the metallic automobile and its tires on my pillow, when suddenly the door to my room slammed open. Behind it was a figure standing in the hallway, tall and muscular, his face red and his fists clenched. It was my father, again. Now, if you’ve lived your entire life experiencing this, no matter how many times it occurs, you’d be afraid. Only this time, something was different. He was in tears. And the smell of alcohol was nothing other than a fading vestige of the past. He raised his arms, and I braced for the punch, but then he put his arms around me and rested his head on my shoulder. He whispered to me, that he was sorry, out of breath as if he was trying to hold back more tears. He had found God!

Ever since then, my memory of “home” had taken a turn. It’s a place where my father and I share so much laughter. Where my sister would sing as she jumps around the hallways. Where my mother would brew her morning coffee and cook us delicious meals. It’s where we would make so many amazing memories, as the old painful ones start to become less and less significant.

My dad and I would sit on the couch and talk about the verses in the bible, how it taught us and what the lessons were. He would tell me stories of his past, only this time it wasn’t any form of justification, it was a deterrent; from a loving father who only wished his son would never turn out to be like him. My mom and I would lay around the bed to watch TV. She would ask about my university and she would always make sure I have my life on track. My sister would annoy the brains out of me but I know that she did it out of love.

And I can never ever forget how amazing my God is, to have changed that for me; my definition of home. Because home is now a place to yearn for, belong to, and come back to. A memory, a place, an emotion; that is love. And I have learned that home isn’t just a story about that time when my family changed. It isn’t just about inner peace, it isn’t just about comfort, and it isn’t just about what happens behind the closed doors. What truly makes a home what it is, is when God resides in those living in it.

“Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. 25 Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse because it is built on bedrock. 26 But anyone who hears my teaching and doesn’t obey it is foolish, like a person who builds a house on sand. 27 When the rains and floods come and the winds beat against that house, it will collapse with a mighty crash.”- MATTHEW 7 24:27

#home #family #father #change #abuse #comfort #love

[loreletters-blog]

A Father to the Fatherless

Childlike

“Imagine yourself as a little kid who was brought to the park for the very first time”, the teacher said. I looked around as I watched my fellow colleagues ran around in the drama class. Laughter filled the air and the room was filled with everyone’s childlike wonder...

Except for mine. 

“Why can’t I feel what they feel?

Why can’t I remember what it feels like to play like a little fellow?”

In a family of four where two of the oldest siblings were overseas and whose parents had just split up, a 10-year-old kid was forced to be the ‘oldest’ one in the house. Growing up, this kid never learned how to laugh and play freely like any normal little humans would do. She left behind her relationship with God as she had her eyes set on doing things right. Traumatised after witnessing how love breaks, she grew up to be an independent individual whilst leaving behind the innocence, trust, and the childlike awe and wonder she once held dear. 

This little kid was me. 

I don’t have any recollection of what my childhood was like. No happy thoughts. All I can remember are those memories that would sting every bit of me if it comes to mind. I remembered every single fights and arguments that ensued, every shouts and cries that echoed throughout the room, and every rivers of tears that flowed and raged. My 7-years-old brother and I would hide under the blankets everytime we heard shouts from the distance. “Hey, it’s going to be okay”, was the lie I would always say to my brother under the blankets. Hatred towards my dad started to blow up in my heart out of witnessing how my mom lay lifeless on the floor, soaked in tears, having no energy left to even mutter the word help. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you was an automatic thought every time I saw my dad. I hate him not only because of what he did to my mom, but because of what he didn’t get to be - a good father to his daughter. And yes, I was disappointed. Disappointed out of all the fake promises he made; out of all the fake love he gave. 

  Home for me was supposed to be this happy place where we can embrace our most childlike behaviours; where love was born. I spent 7 dark years of my life trying to find a sense of home. I spent 7 dark years of my life feeling homesick, trying hard to find the missing piece that would cover up this black hole that is sucking up every bit of joy away from me. That missing piece was love. I found myself adrift in the world trying to find a place where I can get my childlike spirit back. I fell into a vicious cycle. I found myself having a soft spot for guys who gave me the tiniest sliver of love. I fell for the wonderful act guys would pull in front of me, the ones that made me feel safe and loved. The only place where I can act and feel like a child was when I was with a guy. I thought I could receive that sense of ‘home’ I so longed for that I would sacrifice myself to keep guys from leaving me; like my dad did. I lost myself. But still, it didn’t stop people from deserting me. 

I was broken. I didn’t know how to feel. Didn’t know my worth. Didn’t know myself. 

I grew tired out of pursuing love, that I just stopped believing in it. For me, love was just an illusion out of a sick and cruel world. I shut myself out from the world and live in this comfortable little bubble of mine. Walls were built as high as the sky. No one could break in. Ever. I don’t need anymore disappointments from mere humans so I forced myself to be independent. I don’t need anyone. I’m all that I need. 

God always seems like He is standing at a respectable distance from me, as if He is a mere bystander, ignoring all my pleas and cries for help. I couldn’t believe in His love. I used to think that God hated every bit of me that He would allow me to suffer like this. So yeah, no love there, nope. I don’t get it, really. I HATED Him. He was simply another cover up story the world made for me. But He never grew tired of chasing me down. 

Going to church out of habit, I never really expected anything out of it. Like I said, it was all an illusion for me. But on one worship night, my pastor approached me, put his hands on both side of my head. I rolled my eyes, anticipating another lie. 

“You don’t have to strive for love. When you think you have lost a father, look up, you have a Heavenly Father who loves you very much. You have received the Father’s love from Heaven. That is what you need to fill up that brokenness and emptiness inside you.”

I fell to my knees. Cheeks drenched in tears. I tried to brush it off but I couldn’t. The line “the Father’s love from Heaven” kept on resonating in my head. 

I felt this urge to speak.

To speak to something (or Someone) that I know nothing of, I took a leap of faith:

“Jesus I need you”, I whispered towards the heavens for the first time since forever. 

“JESUS I NEED YOU”, a little louder this time.

And in that instance, I felt heaven came down upon me, His grace and mercy fell upon me, crushing that darkness inside of me. God revealed to me that He is indeed there. Every second. Every moment. I was just too blinded to see. 

As I trace back my steps, I realised I had abandoned the home I yearn for - the loving arms of our loving God. The fullness of this Fatherly love has begun to make me feel whole again. God reminded me of what it’s like to be like a child. He gave me, gave us, permission to trust without suspicion, to be ourselves anywhere, to bring our burdens and lay them down at the feet of our Father. He gave me permission to rest like the child I was never allowed to be. God chased after me and called me as a child of the living God (Luke 15:3-7; Romans 9:25-26). I regained my spirit back, laughing with true joy for I have been found again. 

Declaring His grace over me, He restored that childlike awe and wonder. I am whole and finally home.

‘The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: 

“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness. I will build you up again, and you, Virgin Israel, will be rebuilt. Again you will take up your timbrels and go out to dance with the joyful.’” - Jeremiah 31:3-4 (NIV)

#love #home #father #grace

[loreletters-blog]

Where you come from.

What does “home” mean to you? 

I notice there are various answers to this this question, so I took the liberty to Google it and stumble upon a website where there is a post about people having their say on what home means to them. Some said, home is a stable foundation, some say home is security and their comfort zone, and one of my personal favourite; “Home is the base where everything begins”.  

When I prayed for this post, I was reminded about flaws and imperfections. Now, you might wonder why I’m bringing up flaws and imperfections when I’m talking about home (or maybe you already have a clue), but I want to share about accepting the imperfection and flaws of our home.  

The Humble Beginnings 

Everyone’s life starts from somewhere. Be it from their parents’ wedding night, after a prolonged season of waiting, or from a stolen kiss at the backseat of a Honda. Someone’s life can start in a more ‘ideal’ way or a non-planned, unideal way. Regardless of the case on how we came to be, it happened and now we are here. 

Then the story begins - some grew up in a family that loves them or mistreats them, or maybe their story didn’t even start with a family. Regardless, the book that is our life thickens and increases in chapters, numbers, and words that describe all the good and all the bad that happened in our life. 

Sometimes, the starting point of our life isn’t great. It may seem like an imperfect, unsteady, unideal foundation to start living. 

It is great if you were born in luxury and a perfect family which has no problem in expressing love and affection. But it would be a different case if you are exposed to only hurt and fear ever since you were little. Would you consider your family as a home, where security and comfort supposedly originate? I doubt it. Would you hope that the world can be hopeful and that there are good people to help you when your house is filled with unending terror of fights and chaos? Our knee-jerk reaction to these circumstances is mostly, to run away. To flee from “home”. To escape this place and run as fast as you can. 

But, is this what we’re supposed to do? 

I, for once believe that  the setting of our story: where, when, and how it starts, and the people who are involved in our life has a purpose; much bigger than what we can understand. It falls under the big question of “why?” Everyone has their own story, with differences here and there. Although confusing (and might seem unfair), I believe there is something more than what meets the eye, working behind the curtains. Your foundation might seem imperfect, but God has divine purpose with it. We might not know what that purpose might be now, but it sure is not insignificant. 

My mum always says this to me, “No matter how imperfect your family is, that’s where you come from.” You cannot just erase it from your life, it is a part of your life; a part of you. Accepting them and learning to forgive them is one way to start building a better foundation that was once crumbly and weak. It is without a doubt a hard work. For some, it might even seem like an impossible challenge. Learning to forgive and loving what seems unforgivable and looking past the scars and wounds are easier said than done. 

But, when you decide that you want to fix the broken foundation and plant a new, stronger root in your family, you can always ask God for His favour. He’ll help you to forgive, He’ll help to mend the broken bonds, He’ll open hearts and eyes and ears. He makes your new foundation stronger and better; if you let Jesus take control. 

Homecoming 

I just graduated high school and I was finally able to live on my own. I was so excited and got caught up with independence, that it slowly distracted me from my family, friends, and God’s words. Soon, freedom turned to isolation. I remember those days when I filled my days studying so intensively and being so distant with my family and my close friends. I found myself in an empty room with a tiny single bed, sobbing horrifically from loneliness. Praying to God and asking Him to take the loneliness away seemed so pointless. I took a break from it and tried to fill the void with anything else, something quick and easy (e.g., social media - this can be very dangerous my friends). 

Needless to say, they were all extremely exhausting and a waste of time. It also led me into addiction and corrupt ideas about myself and the world. I need to be like this, I have to live like that, I have to say these things, do that, all to make me feel better about myself. I gained knowledge about the world, but at the expense of neglecting the Word of God; it is a downward spiraling path that consumes me faster by the second. I was soon more lost than where I began with, I was lonelier and became even more depressed. I crave comfort and love, but I didn’t know how to get back home, so I wonder should I even try? 

If you recall the story of a father who had two sons, you would remember that the young son ran away from home, got bankrupt, and went to his father’s home, with nothing but shame and regret. You might also remember that when that father saw the lost son, he RAN to him, kissed him and then threw him a huge homecoming party. (If you don’t know the story, check it on the Bible, Luke 15:11-32). 

That my friend, is what going home is. When you see yourself as sinful, full of shame and regret, or just undeniably worthless, that you are not pretty enough or smart enough, that you don’t deserve kindness, your Father looks at you as His precious sons and daughters, He longed to welcome you home, to kiss you, to hold you, and to celebrate you. 

Often, when we can’t accept ourselves or our circumstances (i.e., your parents, your home, etc.) and “ran away from home” , often we got hurt and find ourselves in the lost son’s shoes. Maybe you find it hard to accept your broken beginnings, or you thought that your broken beginnings would hinder people from accepting you. Maybe, in the middle of your struggle to escape, you find yourself hurting more than ever before. Worsen the damage of your brokenness. 

But, God never saw us as imperfect beings! 1 In Psalm 139:13 , it says, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” You are so special, honey! All of your goodness, all of your badness, your sin, your shame, your triumph, your smile, your tears, your happy, your sad, He knows them all, and He loves it. 

He loves you, despite of all that. 

Jesus sees you as one of a kind. He thought of you worthy of His suffering and died on the cross for you. How fond is He of you? How beautifully made are you that our God put His Son on the line?  

If you in any degree could relate to the lost son at all - regretful, confused, and just plain tired, then please, don’t ever feel unworthy to go home to your Father’s arms. There’s a homecoming party for you! Dance your night away with praises and worship, it sure is a fiesta! 

Luke 12:7-  Even the hairs on your head are counted. So don't be afraid! You are worth much more than many sparrows

#acceptance #home #peace #comfort

[loreletters-blog]

To be created by love, makes to love one of our greatest purpose.

A Little Background

When I first came to Melbourne I didn’t really know what to expect. I was looking forward to living by myself, to making my own choices and being in university. The idea of living independently was just exciting. For me, Melbourne was a fresh start, where I could establish a new social life with all sorts of new people and new friends in a new environment. I’ve always been an introvert, but at the same time, I’ve always been interested in getting to know people; their perspectives in life, and how their minds work. So, this was something that I looked forward to so much.

I planned it all out; I had five prospect churches that I was going to visit. To check out which of these communities would be the best fit for me. My parents have always emphasized on the importance of having a church community, that looking for a good one is probably one of the most important things to do, and that the people we surround ourselves with would be reflected in our own personality; so, I did.

Upon my search, there was one moment that I could and never will forget:

It was on a Friday night, we were just worshipping and I decided to open my eyes for a while. It was then that I saw how everyone around me was so delved into the moment, so in love with our God and so passionate about Him. That His presence vividly filled the place, and I felt only one thing: peace. This was the exact moment when God spoke to me, saying “Stay, this is where you belong.”

Soon After

After that moment I started going to the church every Sunday for the weekly services, every Tuesday for their prayer night and every Friday for the cell group meetings. I hung out with people from the church almost every day, I have most of my meals with them and most of my conversations with them. They helped me settle in, not only in the city, but in their community as well.

Even though everyone was so kind to me and I seemed to fit in perfectly well, even though God assured me that this was where I was supposed to be, there was this thought in my head: “Hey is this really the community for me though?”

I’m not entirely sure where that thought came from; it might’ve come from absolutely nowhere, it could have been a random thought in the shower, but it was there. And it bothered me. Because it made me question my surroundings, my relationships and the newly-built friendships with everyone. Then more of these thoughts started rushing in:

“If you wanna leave, now is the perfect time, no attachments yet.”

“Are you sure this church is where you want to commit yourself to?”

And even though I meet these people daily, these thoughts pestered me constantly. In addition to that, I had football matches every Sunday, so the time was just perfect to reconsider where I want to be in and whether or not this was the right place for me.

If I have to explain why, I can only give you a vague explanation: maybe it’s because I fear commitment. And looking back, all the times I’ve felt lonely is because there aren’t really people I commit myself fully to; except of course, my family. I’ve always grazed the surface of a relationship with my friends and I am afraid to go in deeper. Because I hate being in a position where I am vulnerable; and opening yourself up puts you exactly in that spot. So, I leave before I get the chance to really know people, I leave before they get a chance to know me and hurt me. That became a sort of a habit for me and I was ready to do it all again.

 Pop Goes the Bone

In the same week when I had these thoughts, I chose to play football over going to church. I figured it was the first game of the season and I had to go. I remember praying before I left for the match, asking for providence and provision. And during game, the same one for which I prayed protection for, an opposing defender tackled me harshly while I was sprinting. I somersaulted in the air, and fell awkwardly. As I landed, I felt a pop on my left shoulder. I ran my hand across my neck and felt something sticking out; that’s when I was told that my collarbone was broken; into three pieces, to be precise. Though my teammates brought me to the hospital, when they left, I didn’t really have anyone. I had to deal with the pain, all by myself.

But then one of my friends came and she was there for me. And throughout the weeks to come, everyone was there for me, ready to help me in whatever way they can. The boys took turns in sleeping over to make sure that I was fine throughout the night. The girls brought me food whenever they were free. And looking back, I don’t think I would have made it without them.

It was incredible really. How God used this unfortunate event to cement my relationship with these people. Because it was then that I saw how much they cared for me; as if they had accepted me fully as one of their own. I think it was then, that I started believing what God said about belonging here. It was then that I saw and felt their love.

Now

I’ve always found it funny (and incredible at the same time) how God waited until I was in an unfamiliar city, filled with strangers, to teach me how to trust and start opening up to people; especially to those that He placed around me. I learned to trust without worry and to love without expecting anything in return. All the fear of getting hurt pales in comparison, as vulnerability turns to comfort with the people you trust. Six months in Melbourne and I cannot imagine what my life would be like without them. They always have my back, for better or for worse. They constantly remind me to be better, push me to grow in Christ. They showed me, that if I delved deeper, friendship could go a long way.

If ever you worry about opening up to people, and for the longest time, like me, you feel like people just let you down and you have no reason to trust anyone, stop. Just stop whatever you’re doing right now, take a moment to look around. Because I believe with all my heart, that God has placed people in our lives, through which He works, after all, He who is love is within all good things. Take it from me, I should’ve believed Him when God told me to stay; because really, surrounded by these amazing people He placed around me, there is no other place I’d rather be.

#fear #insecurity #love #commitment #loneliness #friends #family

[loreletters-blog]

When your mask starts to crumble down.

I used to dream of playing in a theatre. Not just those high-school art-project plays, but real ones, abroad. With a lead actor, supporting roles, villains, anti-heroes and of course, the audience. I, of course, dreamt to become the lead actor; the protagonist and the center of it all. Speaking, acting, taking the center stage under the spotlight, making sure all eyes were fixed on me. And I would pretend to use masks, props, improvisations, and cheesy lines. All of this because I reckoned if I was an actor, I would do everything in my power to captivate the audience.

Ah, yes. The audience. I used to stand on my sofa as if I just finished a play, and I would spread my arms like wings, take a huge bow as the audience roar, and give their standing ovations. I mean what is a play without the audience, am I right? They are the life of the play: They’d laugh, they’d cry, and they’d clap. They were the sole reason for every single action that the actors do, and what the actors say.

 Now, I may not have become a well-renowned actor, but I did in a sense fulfil my dream; not in a good way though. I mean, isn’t that how we live our lives most of the time? At least that’s how I did. I would do everything, and I mean everything, to seek validation from those around me. To get a hint of applause from people who most likely don’t even care and aren’t even watching. The worst thing about it is that it is highly addictive.

To be praised, acclaimed and cheered by people. It gets me to want more, strives for even more. 

Looking back, I could only scoff and laugh in pity at myself.

I’m not sure if it was because I never really got any recognition from my parents as a kid. Or if it was because I have always been looked down upon by everyone around me. Because I remember clearly how they said to me divining words like those of an oracle: That I would never become anyone significant and that anything that I do would be vain. So, to be dramatic, ever since then, I’ve always wanted to prove them wrong, to show everyone that I will become someone and that no matter what it takes, I just want to be regarded highly. I suppose that was where all this thirst for acknowledgement started.

But the thing about living your life as if it’s one big play is that when you take away all the attention and applause, I’m left with nothing. 

And eventually, it becomes tiring. To constantly put on various costumes and masks, timelessly lying to everyone around me and ultimately, I’m only lying to myself. But just like how the audience know that the person on stage is acting, so do all the people around me. They all know that it’s just an act, they see through me: It’s just that I never wanted to admit it.

The saddest thing though was that I went to church and brought with me all of my lies. Not just to the faces of my church community, but I brought the lies straight up to God. I prayed to say that I need Him, that I genuinely cannot do it on my own. But that too was a lie. Because depending completely on Him would mean taking off my masks and getting off the stage, and that wasn’t something I could do. Or rather, something I didn’t want to do. Because that would mean showing all of my insecurities, fears and weaknesses.

Not only that, but there was this kind of fear lurking around; the fear of not finding any sense of identity whatsoever. The fear that no one would truly accept or love me. The real me. So, I kept them on, and I worshipped Him, but all the while seeking to be worshipped. And sang His praises, while I wished to be praised. 

But you know? God reprimanded me and said to me: I don’t want your fake praises and worships, you know what I want? You, the real you.

It was as if God called me out in front of everyone, He stripped me bare of my veneers and veils of lies to reveal that I am no one, if not for Him. That no matter how full the seats are and how many people are watching me, no kind of validation will ever be enough and thus my striving will never end; it doesn’t matter how loud their applause is, it would never give me that sense of “self worth”. They would never be enough to give me contentment and it would never allow me to have peace within myself. 

That’s where it hit me, nothing could ever really fill me with peace and acceptance the way He can. 

And what He gives, He gave freely; there was absolutely no need for me to act, say, and most importantly, lie about. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? 

So many times, we find comfort within our pretenses and that comfort is the very thing that prevents us from seeing that He has given us everything we need, that He is everything we need.

I realized that what I do, isn’t supposed to be done for people, let alone my own self-fulfilment. Everything that  I do should be done for Christ, for He has done it all for me. So, if like me, you’ve lived your life on a stage, under a spotlight, seeking for validation from people, I tell you now what He told me: That you’re looking in the wrong place.

And I will tell you now what I’ve experienced: Somewhere in there, amidst the claps, within the brightness of the spotlights, God is speaking to you and is inviting you, alluring you back to Him. It’s been too long, He misses you, the real you, the way He missed me and has called me back.

So take off your mask, get off the stage; let us come back to Him!

  Galatians 1:10

“Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.

Hosea 2:14-15a

“Therefore I am now going to allure her, I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her.”

#Coping with Social and Peer Pressure #Identity #Insecurity #Fear

[loreletters-blog]

Its okay to say no.

How often did the word ‘yes’ slip through our tongues when our hearts clearly says otherwise? 

How often did we choose to conform when our belief says otherwise?

If you don’t resonate to any of these questions, this post is not for you…

Lol jks!

But please give yourself a pat on the back because I know most of us had experienced this once or twice in our lives. Me? I was trapped in these situations for almost half of my life. 

I still do sometimes. 

There were countless times where I find myself in the middle of the wilderness dragged by a skulk of foxes just because I was afraid of being bitten. Afraid of being a ‘party pooper’. Afraid of being left out. 

And little did we know that we were indeed sacrificing our innocence to the fools. 

You obey what you fear

Conformity is such a big thing among Millennials. A lot of psychological studies has proven that most of us are more inclined to conform rather than staying true to our beliefs. 

But why?

Because we are afraid of rejection, disapproval, and mockery. afraid. afraid. afraid. 

I was verbally bullied back at school - because I didn’t resonate to society’s beauty standard (A.K.A chubbs) - and that scar penetrates deep into the root of my identity. I grew up, craving that sense of approval and belonging. That fear of not being accepted, not feeling secure and comfortable leads me to ascribe authority to external sources. I find my ‘yes’ as an automatic response to social demands. I was trapped. I don’t care if the things I’m doing is not parallel to my convictions as long as I look ‘cool’; as long as I ‘fit in’. 

The Bible calls this the Fear of man.

Our fear drives our behaviour. Our fear drives our thoughts. Our fear leads to the violation of our conscience. Our fear determines who/what we obey (Romans 6:16).

Let’s consider this:

“Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD is kept safe.” (Proverbs 29:25)

The word snare brings to mind a picture of an animal being caught in a trap. A vulnerable innocent animal hunted down and caught to be eaten. 

This is what we so often feel: vulnerable. 

Our fear of man often made us feel vulnerable when standing true to our convictions. Our fear of man leads us to the belief that saying ‘no’ is a “sin” to our society. 

But one thing I learnt from getting to know my Heavenly Father is that the word ‘no’ is never a harmful thing. 

The greatest example of all

Ever wondered why there were so many people who were against Jesus during His time? 

Ever wondered why Jesus was and is so famous?

I’m sure most of you know this but let me just state this one more time: 

HE REFUSED TO CONFORM!

Throughout Jesus’ life, He teaches us (amongst other things) that it is okay to say no. 

It is okay to stay true to His truth. In fact, it is MORE THAN OKAY.

The Pharisees were so often seen to be bullying and harassing Jesus because He refused to obey men. But throughout all that constant bullying, He remained unshaken. 

He chose to obey His loving Father. He chose to heal a lame man despite it being against the Sabbath rules (John 5:16) as He knows it’s the right thing to do. He stood out in the crowd because He is not afraid of saying no to the society’s rules. 

Every step that He made He submitted His ways to the Father. 

He stood His ground. 

He knew He was standing for the truth.

He knew He was doing what the Father wants Him to do.

He got enough validation; not from people, but from The Great Almighty. 

Sometimes we just need that, don’t we? That validation, that affirmation that it is OKAY to stay true to our beliefs. And here’s the greatest thing that I know to be true: 

We have gotten all the validation and approval that we need - God’s words. 

The thoughts are theirs, but the life is ours. 

People think what they want to think. People say what they want to say. We have absolutely no control over what they choose to think of us. 

But, here’s the deal breaker:

We do have control over what we do in OUR lives.  It’s our decision whether we want to confide in His truth or set that aside to live up to society’s standards which are often untrue, or even damaging to our conscience! We are the one who decides if we want to find safety in His words or be caught up in the snare. 

Sometimes we don’t know who or what to listen to. Sometimes we don’t know what to do in those situations where we are caught up between our beliefs and what society demands of us. But the Lord has laid such a beautiful foundation where we can lay our heads on and be secure in as a beloved heir to His kingdom!

We are called NOT to conform. 

Let’s keep this passage as a reminder for our everyday decision: 

“I, yes I, am the one who comforts you.

So why are you afraid of mere humans,

Who withers like the grass and disappear?

Yet you have forgotten the LORD, your Creator, 

The one who stretched out the sky like a canopy

And laid the foundations of the earth.

Will you remain in constant dread of human oppressors?

Will you continue to fear the anger of your enemies?

Where is their fury and anger now?

It is gone!” 

Isaiah 51:12-13

Fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge (Proverbs 1:7) and there is safety when we listen to the voice of our Loving Father. 

Needless to say, the moment I got this revelation...I am freed. 

#Coping With Social and Peer Pressure #Conformity #Truth #Fear

[loreletters-blog]

Pop goes the ego!

#Coping with Social and Peer Pressure #Identity #Pride #Ego