Love Came Down At Christmas

There's a startling sense in the way Christians look around the world and lament at the status quo of secular Christmas celebration. I think it's startling because we think we've got it when sometimes we really haven't. The truth is, the focus and essence of the saving work of Christ still eludes the understanding of many today. At its worst, this kind of misunderstanding can become idolatrous. So really, it is a startling and grave matter.

Let me show you how this is the case from just one aspect - music and lyrics - my little 'niche' as it were. Take for instance these two songs that are commonly sung during Christmas - Above All written by Paul Baloche and Lenny LeBlanc, and We Are The Reason written by David Meece. One or two lines from each song should be able to sufficiently bring across my point.

"You took the fall and thought of me above all."

~Above All

"We are the reason that He gave His life, we are the reason that He suffered and died."

~We Are The Reason

As you might observe, the problem with the focus and essence of the saving work of Christ that has been suggested by the titular verses of these two songs is this: In terms of focus, we - Man - serve as the ultimate, decisive cause and objective for the atoning death of Christ; in terms of essence, the divine attribute that these songs logically gravitate toward is love.

The superlative expression 'above all' in the first song firmly establishes us as the ultimate focus of the Messiah's consciousness as He bled and died. Similarly, the definite article 'the' in the phrase 'we are the reason' cleanly excludes the main God-exalting purpose of Christ's propitiatory sacrifice.

Is this wrong? Biblically, yes. And it is sad that in this spirit of Man-centredness we often go about rejoicing during the festivity of Christmas. It can even become idolatrous.

So on one hand, let us remember the unwavering love of God for His sheep. But on the other, let us relinquish all attention from ourselves. Let us restore the focus of Christ's atoning death to God by seeing it as the vindication of His righteousness. And let us know that the essence of Christ's saving work is foremost a matter of God's glory, which thus encompasses His love.

To see what I mean, read carefully the following passages of Scripture:

"(...) the redemption which is in Christ Jesus, whom God displayed publicly as a propitiation in His blood through faith. This was to demonstrate His righteousness, because in the forbearance of God He passed over sins previously committed; for the demonstration, I say, so that He would be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus."

~Romans 3:24c-26

"Therefore, accept one another, just as Christ also accepted us to the glory of God. For I say that Christ has become a servant to the circumcision on behalf of the truth of God to confirm the promises given to the fathers, and for the Gentiles to glorify God for His mercy."

~Romans 15:7-9

"In love He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace."

~Ephesians 1:5-6a

Lastly, there is one important thing for us to understand when we talk about the love of God in the saving work of Jesus. Remember, God's love for us is never in that He makes much of us. Rather, it is when God, at great cost to Himself through the death of His son, so inclines our hearts to make much of Him. And in doing so, He is glorified in giving us everlasting joy and satisfaction in Him alone.

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. (...) This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent."

~John 3:16, 17:3

"More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ."

~Philippians 3:8

So truly, love came down at Christmas, love to help us find the treasure divine.

Back To School

Almost froze to death like a popsicle in ACJC while taking SAT II this morning. Thank God that all three subject tests were totally manageable. For the past week, the kids below, plus more of them from Sunday School, have afforded me absolutely zero time to study for this paper (which actually doesn't really matter because US is currently second choice, haha).

Anyways, I'm having early nostalgia by observing that until now, I've attended every Kids' Camp with dread, and then dreaded not having to mark their attendance on the morning of the fourth day. I've always left feeling younger somehow, yet more acutely aware of how much innocence has since been lost from when I was in their place no more than 7 years ago.

A couple of photos to share:

Class PG4! See if you can pick out the ingenious symbolisms in this photoframe design. *grin*

Teachers' banner for war games on Day 3, forged by Small Zebra, Duck II, Duck III and myself in less than 2 hours (enter the Caretaker).

Make Me A Melody

It's hard to write a meaningful, agenda-specified and publicly singable song.

So far, I've written four separate tunes for the upcoming Youth Camp. After I completed each one, I remember I felt quite content, confident that that was going to be it. But it was naively so. Each song was a song on one day and a mongrel of cheesy intervals and pretentious lyrics the following week.

I think I'm beginning to empathise with a fraction of how these guys felt. Not to make much of my plain efforts to create affecting music, but I think the tension between being simultaneously creative and logical can become really hard to resolve. It becomes even more difficult with the gravitas that accompanies the expression of spiritual truths. The good thing is that it certainly fuels more experimentation.

Maybe I should hang out with the Maestro more often and hope something rubs off somehow, linguistically and musically. But I'll be writing this one in English anyways. I must have been out of my mind to have tried and presented otherwise in previous years!

Come to think of it, perhaps the latest song just needs refining. The main problem with it is that it's particularly hard to sing, I think. Haha. Ah, but who knows what I'll have to say about again tomorrow. I've really been humbled by this task.

Lord, make me a melody for me to use. Make me a melody for You to use.

Plastered

Three Nights Ago

The moon was low. Cabbies scouted the main thoroughfare outside Central mall. We flailed for transport like moths to their cadmium headlights. Well, it'd been a fun night.

I got in alone, murmured my address and the engine started. The usual stench of midnight surcharge wasn't that eye-watering. Rather, I was more occupied with how I was going to make it to school at 9am, and have the energy not to break my limbs while carrying gear back to the room with the real stench - the price of being small-time 'rock-stars', as it were.

Still, falling asleep wasn't the easiest thing to do. The driver took to my observation quite quickly. He was hunched, slightly rotund and clearly working against his years. His seatbelt was unfastened and his wrinkled digits clasped themselves tightly over the steering wheel. I thought there was a slight, intermittent quivering of muscle in the grip. The passing streetlights cast a motion of lustre and shadows on the car like sprinting zebras. His age spots faded in and out eerily under the dominoes of silhouettes. I buckled my seatbelt quickly.

It was after a red light that we both realised he'd forgotten to start the meter for the fare. He clicked it on with a soft chortle, and I wondered if he knew that we were both in the dark on this. I hoped he did and decided not to comment.

We were soon passing by the place where I had to be in a few hours for menial labour. It was a relief that home wasn't too far away from Clarke Quay. Then he missed a turn.

And as soon as I informed him meekly, the car decelerated to a nervous halt right in the middle of the naked road. I caught my breath. Jolted, I instinctively turned behind for a glance, then back ahead - no cars. We were all alone in the dead of the night with blunder for awkward company.

Then I heard his hoarse voice again, apologising this time, not profusely but sincerely. I judged that it was really no cause for panic, and quickly reassured him of the situation. It felt embarrassing to do so, but I told him that he could still make a right and a left after taking the next turn and still get me back home. It was perfectly remediable, and he agreed quickly.

The warm sound of the engine echoed encouragingly. We were soon at my drop-off point under the shelter of my estate's roundabout. It totalled up to a decent $11.10. I handed him $12, and intended to tell him he could keep the change since he triggered the meter late. But something else caught my eye first.

As he rummaged through the coin compartment, his sleeve receded slightly in the movement, revealing a small cotton bandage plastered on his mottled skin across a visible, glaucous vein, which was embedded like a dying snake in the desert sand. The dressing on his arm was the the kind you could only get from the hospital. I recognised it from a previous experience. Now the implications were building up unrestrainedly - the time of day, the seatbelt, the wrinkles, the mannerisms. And as I contemplated, he gently handed me a single coin, the size from which I estimated it to be 20 cents. It wasn't exactly what I'd intended, but good enough for charity's sake not to be further pursued.

Then he said, politely and unassumingly, “谢谢你的支持。”

Later, it punctured my soul to discover that he actually gave me a dollar coin. I felt the weight of excess woven into the fabric of my velvet blazer. This man had a family to feed, and it seemed that he was the only person from the household capable of doing so, at whatever cost necessary.

Keeping Time

Moving 100++kg of equipment across half the country for a 10-15 minute gig is energy consuming, cash consuming and time consuming. Well, I guess all great bands start out like that. Got chance, got chance. Haha.

Time after time, we've led people to raise their hands and sing out their hearts on Monday mornings. Neither have we the voice of an angel, nor have we for virtuosity sold our souls to the devil. But we just hope that our music will duly electrify the ambience as our contemporaries are slow dancing in the Marriott chill.

We'll be doing without proper percussion this time, that is, by performing a four-man acoustic set. So keeping tempo is really the crux in creating impression that we really know what we're doing, and that we're doing it well. We have suggested accentuating the bass slap, listening for the delay effects, which should be constant by virtue of its preset tap tempo, and even sleeping with the metronome. Clearly, all these tactics are pretty viable except for the last one. I'm just afraid of waking up to a day wherein my eyes are blinking uncontrollably at 70bpm.

On a (not so) separate note, the literal idea of keeping time has resurfaced in my mind recently. It is an otherworldly idea, but imagine if you could cache your free time in a bottle, then invoke its passage whenever you just needed a little more sleep.

Perhaps it's due to the sheer number of tasks that I currently have at hand. In contrast, after the third week of November, the idea of 'work' has lost all definition for most friends and slaves of the college. I'm not complaining though, just amused at the kind of expressions I get when they hear me say that I have to leave to finish some work. These expressions range from blank faces resulting from a complete breakdown of understanding, to scary and violent methods.

For me, I'm just thankful that I'm being played regularly as an instrument for a score that's been sovereignly orchestrated, much like how I will be fingering and fingerpicking the Red One tomorrow night.

Room Restoration Day

Just spent the last couple of hours packing my room. It was a feat. It was a record. I really deserve a prize.

You see, for the past couple of weeks my room has been as unsightly as a horse's shiny chocolate behind sticking out of a lorry transporting a herd of them to the racetrack. Not a common sight in Singapore, but you might catch a glimpse of one of these if you've been on the highway long enough. {Not that I have. [I don't even drive. So I guess I got (un)lucky.]}

Anyways, it's interesting how one thing leads to another. At first I was only looking for my USB wireless-mouse-detector-thing to begin re-exploring photoshop. I found it quite quickly actually. But in the search I'd created a couple new stacks of dusty papyrus and blurred out even more right angles. So now it looked like two shiny chocolate behinds instead of one shiny chocolate behind. Well, enough was enough.

So I started with the table first. Because everything was on the table, pretty much like this old meme, if you can remember it. I found a couple of things I thought I'd lost for good - a trusty plectrum, and the Hendon camp letter that actually makes people feel thankful, happy and all those other positive emotions for regular BMT. They really know how to play with your mind. I still think a red beret looks cool. See?

Then I sifted through two stacks of files and papers towering like the Petronases right below my window. This was a memorable excursion, whence I re-promised myself to buy three huge ring folders to get them all organised for a less frustrating life. That's because most of them were either Dom7th's anthem scores from the past couple of years, or that of our worship band rehearsals. I suspect there are a lot more in my guitar bag, that music shell-scrape. But with the dust in the wind, the find that really put a smile to my sneezes were the 领唱 scores. Many of them were filled with scribbles, mostly in Shorts' handwriting, occasionally in Muscle Girl's, who didn't like to bother, and my own. Haha, those were the torturer's torturous days. Definitely worth keeping.

Finally I tore down the sheets of white paper that were white-tack-ed to the back of my glass cupboard to reveal my vibrant encyclopaedia plus action figurine collection. You see, I'd converted the cupboard into a makeshift whiteboard for the exam period; one of my newer studying methods. I guess I'll find out in January if it really works.

Of course, all of this was done with both ears pointing toward my speakers, which were playing Hello Hurricane. Goodness that album is so brilliant it deserves another post all by itself. Go get it even if you're broke. Besides, at least you get free food in jail.

Well, we're spick and span now. Two full dustbins of two years in black, white and assorted colours.

Now if only the other things in life were that easy to throw away.

Today is the day...

...that the Roman Emperor Vespasian was born, in 9 AD that is. According to a few scholarly sources, the claim that he converted to Christianity during his reign is becoming increasingly credible. Interestingly, he afforded the Apostles and Jews relatively more peace in comparison to his predecessor Nero, who accused the Christians of the Great Fire of Rome, or his successor Titus, who besieged Jerusalem and destroyed the Second Temple. Hmm...at 9 AD, Jesus was probably around 12 years old, and so should have just visited the Temple Himself. A snowball of revolutionary phenomena crescendoing slowly in His little adolescent mind.

...that Mary I of England died, in 1558. She was also known as "Bloody Mary", an underestimated misnomer for the patron apparition of frequent forward-this-message-to-72384-people-or-die-at-12-midnight chain emails. She earned the name for orchestrating the Marian persecutions, in which about 300 protestants were burned at the stake and hundreds more were exiled.

...that the Suez Canal was opened, in 1869. The waterway of today is not to be taken lightly. It has survived as the landscape and the reason for two bloody conflicts of the 20th century - the Suez Crisis and the Arab-Israeli wars. Inextricable from the friction and from the Suez would be the country of Egypt, the other amazing land of biblical wonder. Accordingly, it is said to have seen three major religions, but I would argue five. First, Egyptian paganism (excluding Ham, son of Noah); second, Judaism from the Mosaic era; third, Roman paganism from Roman conquest; fourth, Christianity under Roman shelter; and fifth, Islam from the Ottomans.

...that the world continues to be a crucible of faiths. One religion can be voraciously eager, while another can deny that it is in fact a religion. Some people can believe in one and tune out the rest, while others can tune in to everything and start writing books about why what they're tuning in to are really hallucinations. There are yet others who believe in the absolute golden rule that you shouldn't stop someone from believing what he believes, unless he believes in stopping someone from believing what he doesn't believe. Now that's a pretty shaky belief.

The generic, man-centred purpose of any religion is to answer two questions: 'How did we begin?' and 'How will we end?' In simple words: What happened first and what's going to happen eventually?

So the real question is this: What's going to happen when we breathe our last and fall over the precipice of eternity?

Well, in the end, all of us will find out in at least one of two ways. If the scholars are right, some of us will be asking Vespasian, and some of us will be asking Bloody Mary.

...that we should all start thinking about these things, while we've still got the time.

Goodbye IB, Hello Hurricane.

There can be manacles

when you believe.

03/11/09 - 1pm: Chemistry HL P1; 3pm: Chemistry HL P2

04/11/09 - 8am: Chemistry HL P3

05/11/09 - 1pm: Mathematics SL P1

06/11/09 - 8am: Mathematics SL P2; 7:30pm: Choir Practice

07/11/09 - 9am: Discipleship Class; 4:00pm: Choir Practice; 7:00pm: SAT

08/11/09 - 10am: Cell Leading; 11:30am: November Anthem

09/11/09 - 1pm: History SL P1; 3pm: History SL P2

10/11/09 - 1pm: Biology HL P1; 3pm: Biology HL P2

11/11/09 - 8am: Biology HL P3; 1pm: English HL P1

12/11/09 - 8am: English HL P2; 8pm: Youth Worship Committee Meeting

But there can be miracles

when you have faith

(which is already one in and of itself).

Chemical Neussense

I'm currently hours away from my first IB paper (second, actually; CLB last year) but I'm already getting bored, somehow. It's an ambiguous sign, but it explains why I'm here.

Anyways, two days of hardcore chemistry revision has helped me to realise something quite irrelevant to my syllabus. Ironically, this was done through reading Geoffrey Neuss' Chemistry Course Companion, which was specifically written for the IBDP. Apart from Iron Man's notes, Neuss' book is one of the most comprehensive texts that I've ever read in my life. But that's not all.

It is an understatement to say that the way in which the book has written epitomises the inter-disciplinary nature of the IBDP. No, it is the very embodiment of the IB ideology. And yes, that I noticed with a great sense of comedy, but not without appreciation. So how is this the case? Well, let's just say that the book is littered with...riveting anecdotes that I'm sure would placate any IB student who is on the brink of getting 3 points for HL Chemistry. Here are three examples.

First, on page 87, Neuss discusses the molecular orbital theory of hybridisation from a 'biological perspective'. Have you ever heard of what a dzo is? Well, what better place to find out than in an IB chemistry textbook! Neuss writes "By crossing a yak with a cow a new hybrid animal called a dzo is produced, which combines the docility of a cow with the load-carrying capacity of a yak." And then he goes on to make the link, "this concept of hybridisation has been extended to atomic orbitals..." Oh, but male dzos, unfortunately, can't mate. They're sterile. It's a result of heterosis. Poor animals. Now I wonder how that might extended into orbital theory.

Second, on page 223, Neuss talks about condensation polymerisation with the example of nylon, whose repeating unit is formed by alternating diamine and dioyl dichloride monomers. He then discusses the economic importance of condensation reactions. And as if to add the final touch, he includes an epic black and white picture of two mountain climbers against a snowy backdrop, one of whom is holding on to a dark, thin and taut rope, both of whom are smiling blissfully at the camera. The caption says "Two IB teachers roped together with nylon climbing rope on the summit of the Wilde Spritze in the Austrian Alps (photo by Geoff Neuss)." I nod my head in agreement.

The third one is actually pretty cool. On page 27, Neuss talks about C-14 dating. He raises a historical example, namely, the "Shroud of Turin". He wrote "People have claimed that this shroud, kept in Turin cathedral in Italy, was used to wrap the body of Jesus Christ after his crucifixion in the first century CE, and shows an imprint of his face. Carbon dating has dated the shroud as no earlier than 1260 CE." The picture is quite compelling, actually. And Neuss was clearly trying to maintain a neutral stand.

Well, I can conclude at least one thing from this. If the IB system does in fact manage to inculcate all of its values into an arbitrary student, that student should grow up and write textbooks to proliferate the influence. *grin*

Girl Power

Just bought two albums last Saturday - Introducing Joss Stone by Joss Stone and Brand New Eyes by Paramore.

They belong to slightly different genres in comparison to the ones I usually listen to. But I thought, why not widen my palate? And I had good reason to take the risk.

You see, there's currently so much male voice in my library that I've almost forgotten about the beauty of melodies in the next octave (with the exception of Adam Lambert). Clearly a legit craving for a new kind of feistiness and style.

It's also interesting to note that in music, the male and female voice is in no purport dichotomous, which would restrict the listener to one of two opposing landscapes. Admittedly, it is more often than not an either or. But even so, what might be ridiculously suggested is that listeners have at least a 2^n number of choices, where n equals to the number of existing genres. And we haven't yet taken into account choral music and instrumental music, or gone into specific artists and collaborations.

That's why I took such a long time sifting through the iTunes store before I decided on Joss Stone and Hayley Williams, the lead singer of Paramore.

Joss is R&B; something that I took to quite quickly because of my existing niche in the blues. More importantly, her vocals are as luscious as her looks, if not more. And uniquely, she's a British soulstress capable of owning American music. Yes, she owns; I mean it in that sense.

Paramore is more pop punk and emo rock, which isn't my usual cup of tea. So I got it almost only because of Hayley's voice, which is really outstanding, especially for a genre in which guys rule the roost. Far better than bands who write songs that have fifteen-word-long titles, heh. They should just fall out of business.

Also, it's hard to believe that Joss and Hayley are only 22 and 21 respectively.

So as of now, I'm still listening to the two records, and I'm quite pleased with both so far. Check out the two videos below if you're interested to find out how talented Joss and Hayley really are. Also, just to stand up for the guys a little here, be sure to check this out - "the world's greatest band on the world's largest stage", live yesterday on YouTube. Absolutely brilliant. I was unable to work for a couple of hours after the catching the live stream.

Finally, a list of upcoming albums I'm intensely looking forward to:

27/10 Full Circle by Creed

02/11 Colour Me Free! by Joss Stone

03/11 Play On by Carrie Underwood

10/11 Hello Hurricane by Switchfoot

17/11 The Fall by Norah Jones

17/11 Battle Studies by John Mayer

23/11 For Your Entertainment by Adam Lambert

01:25

Behold! Behold! The Bridegroom comes!

A scurry of sleepy devotion, a handful of dazed

Shrieks - panic from nether dreams,

Incubi make their last claims tonight.

Come out to meet him!

Trim the wick

Clean the soot

Pupils widen

Light the glim!

A quintet of

Eager souls in

Groaning flesh, anticipate a coruscant countenance that penetrates

Into the dark

Oh how the maidens have

Waited for

Heavenly consummation!

Pour for us a portion of your oil, for ours shall run out too quickly!

The prudent refuse, for the wick is

Sealed

By Elijah's Spirit,

Whose blessings overfloweth - their lamps runneth over from within,

Whose covenant endureth for eternity,

Whose radiance reacheth from everlasting to everlasting.

He comes at this very moment.

Go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.

They depart for eternity's sake.

Incubi act. Dreams precipitate. Doors shut.

The moon is gone but

Darkness remains,

The heart of the earthly present unclothed by grace,

Feeble shadows in motion, cast by lamps that are wasting

Away all over again.

Lord, Lord, open up for us!

Fair knuckles bleed against gristly wood.

I know you not, verily I say.

For many are called, but few are saved.

~tc

Re-recipe

It dawned on me earlier this evening at the Lake, where I was preparing cheesecake with Duck III, Loveapple and Shorts, that the satirical origins of Methodism should be dismissed with lesser confidence today.

As tradition has it, John Wesley and the Holy Club were derisively called "Methodists" by fellow Oxford scholars because of the methodical way in which they operated. As modernity has it, Wesley saw no shame in adopting the name; the sheer number of 70 million global adherents testify to this public truth decade after decade.

However, it is not as if being overscrupulous has proved to be a good thing. I think the sense of being rigid and methodical has not been kept insofar as to uphold biblical values or sustain effectiveness, but rather for the sake of honouring a feature that defines the denomination, almost purely for existential reasons.

It is difficult for me not to say this. Imagine being asked for your opinion when the issue of concern has already been exhaustively decided upon. Imagine being asked for dimensions so that a wooden box can be constructed to prevent a thief without a lockpick from stealing an article half his weight. Imagine being required to sew together a severed carcass every week, each belonging to a different animal, but all of which have been methodically spliced into four sections of equal volume (or so we are told).

Of course, I speak with a bias in at least two ways. Number one, I grew up in a Methodist church. Number two, I grew up in a Methodist church. In that sense, I face the dangers of both over-generalising and over-specifying. But either way, I say what I see and hope that change will come to be.

It is also interesting to note that Methodism differs from other protestant denominations by the what and the why of its name. Baptists are so called because of their subscription to the doctrine of Believer's Baptism, as opposed to that of Infant Baptism. Presbyterians are so called because of their subscription to the doctrine of the Presbytery, or the Eldership, as developed by Paul in his first letter to Timothy. Charismatics are so called because of their subscription to a doctrine that emphasises the physical manifestations of the Holy Spirit (Gr. kharis, meaning favour or grace; in modern theology relating to gifts of the Holy Spirit). So etymologically per se, what doctrinal or biblical position is Methodism then associated with?

You may say that it is an unfair comparison, and I don't doubt that it is in some ways. But when a void of Bible-centredness begins to surface, it is hard to resist drawing the connection.

My point is simply that a new generation requires a new recipe. The template remains the same inasmuch as is laid out biblically. Otherwise, sticking to what worked in the past, attempting to tackle the new with antiquated experiences and wielding unbiblical authority can only dishonour God. Accordingly, quenching the spontaneity of the Holy Spirit (1 Thes 5:19) is not something to be trifled with.

At the end, the cherry syrup on the cheesecake turned out a little too sweet for me. The older cooks who used to prepare it batch after batch already have their tastebuds numb to the stinging saccharine flavour. The younger customers have hence decided to frequent other confectionaries. The few of us fight with our lives for the chance to bake.

There Must Always Be Something To Learn

I was having a bath this morning when it occurred to me that the term "morning showers" could be read as a triple-entendre. And then, as if to satisfy the thought by some way of divine humour, a light drizzle was immediately commissioned to descend upon my estate as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom. Thankfully, it left as quick as it came, otherwise it'd have probably made me later than I already was for discipleship class.

But my precipitation of thought didn't stop with that of the clouds. Two things came to mind.

First, I recalled that some months ago, I was entertaining the idea of 'coincidence or consequence?', and I was looking for a biblical answer. This was the bone of contention:

Arbitrarily, is it possible that because you didn't do your nightly devotions consistently this week, God has decided to punish you by inducing some measure of insomnia for the next few days ahead?

I was trying to be cautious with such a question because it did have a sense of credibility. It seemed to be a logically deserving punishment.

Providentially (and that's saying another thing about coincidence), I had Muscle Mentor clarify my misconceptions a few weeks ago. I say providentially because I was really asking him an entirely different question. In passing, he said that with regard to children of God, the Father does not act or react punitively or punishingly toward them, if they truly believe in Christ. As the propitiatory sacrifice, Christ has paid the price for all our sins; past, present and future. The verse that supports this can be found in Hebrews 10:10, where it says "By this will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once and for all."[Italics added]

Therefore, all events in our lives that produce joy, angst, sorrow or misery, are never penal consequences but relational chastisements, like how a father would discipline his child. The verse for this is found in Hebrews 12:6, where Paul quotes Job 3:12, "For those whom the Lord loves He disciplines, and He scourges every son whom He receives."

In addition, by the phrase 'all events', I really mean all events. This form of discipline is the essence of sanctification, and pervades all aspects of christian living. It is a process propelled by the Holy Spirit, who sovereignly conforms all who are justified to the image of Christ. This doctrine is clearly stated in Romans 8:28, where it says "And we know that God causes all things to work together for the good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose." [Italics added] The 'good' in verse 28 refers to the conformation to the image of Christ, which is propounded subsequently in verse 29.

In a nutshell, the nature of occurrences in christian living is neither a matter of mere coincidence nor penal consequence.

The second thing the raindrops brought to mind is considerably shorter. It is a point, or rather a quote that Marvin Olasky raised during his lecture on The Secular Script in the Theater of God: Calvin wrote, "If God does nothing random, there must always be something to learn."

So I guess that makes this post pretty much self-authenticating. A glorious truth, I say.

Belief Effects

While answering the TOK survey this morning, I was prompted to write down the most important thing I'd learnt over the past two years of doing the course. Curiously, there was no immediate answer.

Well, actually there was one - smoking. But that's not entirely new, so I didn't want to count that. It's a skill that's been polished and refined over the ages ever since I acquired it during my first day in the institution. But I digress.

Upon grueling reflection, I realised that the no-answer was the answer. Don't be mistaken, I don't mean that I haven't learnt anything from the course; far from it. Rather, I think it was more a matter of learning what the subject couldn't help me with, rather than what it could. It's what I might call 'negative knowledge'.

Essentially, it is the idea that epistemology simply breaks down when we try to get past certain boundaries. I might be being overly simplistic, but I would suppose this to be true of all branches of philosophies as well. For example, the definition of a belief under an epistemological framework still eludes me after two years of crazy thinking. It is peculiar that people can debate viciously at length to validate of their definition of such a thing, when the issue at hand relates to the very nature of the convictions behind the debate itself. And as you probe further, you realise there is an infinite loop. As far as we're concerned in TOK, we don't want to take axiomatic principles for granted. But what shall we do in this case?

So at these junctures, I feel compelled to agree with Alien regarding the limitations of the subject. But I won't be too quick to put it down. It's clearly offered me valuable chances to occupy crossroads, and opportunities to trade, sell and bargain in the marketplace of ideas. Also, as mentioned above, it has surely taught me how to smoke more convincingly and sophisticatedly - an essential life skill. Plus, it's helped me to write this post.

I guess it is also a good thing that the web of TOK extends into other subjects, as it was designed to do. I enjoy it. Teachers allude to philosophical complications in their areas of expertise once in a while, but usually such knowledge is quickly (or perhaps wisely) cast aside by students. Again, as simple as it sounds, moderation is the key. Spend too much time thinking, and changing the world gradually equates to changing your mind. Spend too much time doing and die a tired dog.

Which is probably why it just struck me, quite amazingly, that genuinely holding to conservative theology automatically results in radical living.

The Doctor

'Ah,' you may say, 'now you have said that tongues are all right.' I'm sure many are already thinking that . You wait a minute; I shall deal with the question of gifts when it comes at the right place. You do not start with that. That comes towards the end of the treatment. But that is how the devil gets us to bypass the Scriptures in the interests of our particular point of view, whichever of the two extremes it may chance to be.

Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Joy Unspeakable

Already you get the sense that this is no ordinary writer.

I'm currently reading Joy Unspeakable by Lloyd-Jones alongside number9dream, the remaining pages of which are quickly thinning out. But the focus today is on the former.

I was with Charcoal at Tecman on Saturday afternoon when I chanced upon this book. It was something that I'd been looking for for a long, long time - a reformed understanding of pneumatology. Now that we live in the Grace Era, the Book of Acts clearly testifies that work of the Holy Spirit is vitally important. Hence, it's ironic that we today know the least about the third person of our Triune God. It is true. And whatever (lack of) knowledge we do have is mostly derived from esoteric and dubious phenomena displayed by churches whose pastors have distanced the Bible from the pulpit.

That is why Joy Unspeakable is such a gem. In a sentence, I think it aims to correctively unite the conservative and the charismatic with conscientious biblical exposition from a Calvinistic perspective.

As should be apparent from the citation at the top, Lloyd-Jones has placed the Word of God at the heart of the issue, and of in fact any issue, if you read more of his works. I'm only finished with the first chapter of the book, but I've already for him weaved a string of adjectives. On one hand, he is authoritative, logical, compelling, witty and exegetically sound. On the other, he writes in such a way that is so pastoral, humble, loving, perceptive and clear. And I really cannot over-emphasise how simple but yet crystal clear his arguments have been thus far, and will be, I believe. It's incredible; I would kill to be able to write like that.

Perhaps this is one reason his contemporaries have affectionately called him 'The Doctor'. It is one thing to make spiritual diagnoses, but quite another to provide the cure. The perspicuity and Bible-centredness of Lloyd-Jones' preaching rightly lends him that affable nickname.

However, insofar as we're concerned with the glory of His grace in the world today, we might observe that Jesus performs the healing but doctors claim the fees. Nevertheless, I don't believe that this was the case with Lloyd-Jones. I think he knew that he had always been more of a patient himself than a physician.

Mother Tongue and Child Speak

The word 'child' is derived from the Old English word 'cild' or 'childe', which referred to a 'youth of gentle birth'. The word 'gentle' in this case comes from 'gentil', an Old French word that denoted nobility and aristocracy. So it seems that in those days, the word was really meant to describe something quite specific.

Of course, we use 'children' today in a much broader sense. But I think how we got to the word is quite interesting. In the 10th century, they pluralised the word with two variants, namely, 'cildra' and 'cildru'. Then in the 12th century, they re-pluralised it as 'children', which is what we use today. So it's actually a pretty old word for its denotations of youth and innocence.

The interesting part is that the 12th century re-pluralisation - children - actually gave the word a double plural; 'cildr-', which already carried the sense of plurality, had it's existing grammatical property accentuated with an 'en'. Well, no one really knows why. But then again, no one really knows what happened during the Dark Ages. However, it's not as if the plural 'cildre' has completely disappeared. It survives in what is known today as Lancastershire dialect in the word 'childer', and more popularly in the word 'Childermas', which refers to the Festival of the Holy Innocents (that is, December 28, which commemorates Herod's massacre of all male infants in Bethlehem after the birth of Christ).

What's even more interesting is that the word has a further derivation. The Old English word 'cild' had earlier origins in Proto-Germanic language. The P.Gmc word we're concerned with is 'kiltham', probably an adjective of some sort, closely derived from 'kilþei', which meant 'womb' in the same language.

This literally brings to mind the fact that the English language, that is, what we commonly use today and what I'm using right now, is also a child of sorts, and has its mother(s). It's not a new idea, and there are certainly historical reasons for suggesting so. The English language has been called a bastard language, or a pirate language. That's because it's really a mix of the earlier forms of many Indo-European tongues that are still widely spoken today, including French, German and even Greek. Something like an illegitimate child. Loveapple could probably tell you much more about it, but that's if you know her. You could also look here if you want a closer acquaintance with your word of interest.

Otherwise, this is one child that I can and do love, and also that I can handle with much liberty and possible mistreatment without being charged for paedophilia.

So Happy Children's Day!

Uncovering Geneva

So far, I've watched two lectures from the DG conference. And it's been astronomically rewarding - feels like I've been brought closer to heaven.

The first lecture is entitled At Work and Worship in the Theater of God, in which one Dr. Julius Kim briefly discusses Calvin's life and his main convictions. The second is entitled The Sacred Script in the Theater of God, in which Doug Wilson discusses the centrality of the Holy Scriptures in Calvin's teaching and preaching.

Kim's message on Calvin's background and philosophy was, in a word, holistic, testament to his belief in Calvin's integrative approach to understanding God's Word and God's world. To my surprise, it was so powerfully heartwarming. Perhaps it was because he ran a parallel modern-day story to the historical drama that he was helping his listeners unfold as he spoke. It may not sound like much, but it tugged, very passionately. Just like how Calvin was eventually précised as a student, scholar, shepherd and servant armed with "a singular passion to know God and to make Him known".

Wilson's message on the centrality and authority of Scripture was a little tougher, expectedly. Tough, but witty and very smart. It was not until he exposed a great irony in the postmodern treatment of Scripture that I was jostled into scribbling a bit more. In comparing the Word to the Sun, he showed that Calvin preached heliocentrically. So then, the problem with today's view of the Bible is that the concern isn't so much with its place, but rather its purity. Yet, what good is a perfect Sun if it orbits around an imperfect Earth?

I have to say, all these things struck me very hard, even in the mad rush of intense scribbling - "Calvin did not want to create Calvinists." "Calvin taught more on prayer than he did on predestination." "The Scriptures do not take tests of rationality. The Scriptures administer the tests." The luscious list of handwriting goes on.

So, check it out. Be on the qui vive though, the lectures are not for the faint-hearted. Each one is about an hour long, not taking into account all the intermittent pauses you'll have to make for legible scribbling. Ha, but if you can get past that, be ready for sheer glory.

For me, I've got five more videos to go I think, including a one hour panel discussion that I'm really looking forward too. But that'll only come after two more lectures in the series. As of now, it just rocks my world to have each day begin with the pleasure of lifting my eyes to the blue that displays the glory of His absolute sovereignty.

New Moon

No, I'm not talking about the second installment in the Twilight 'movie saga', as they so call it. I'm referring to something much closer to home - a local brand known for abalone, chicken's essence and charming bus stop advertisements.

I'm sure you've seen those delectable depictions. A typical one consists of a blown up profile of a boy or girl, sometimes shot in pairs, each of whom having attained the title of 'top scorer' of the PSLE, 'O' level examinations, 'A' level examinations or IBDP. The bottle of elixir will be perched elegantly on the model (student)'s right hand, while his countenance will display a strange tipsy radiance, as if his immortality depended on the stuff. Accordingly, I think we're supposed to make the connection between drinking the stew left behind after a whole chicken has been boiled using very high temperature and pressure, and getting straight As.

As difficult as it seems for that to click in my mind (maybe because I'm not drinking enough of the thing), the advertisements push me toward making a simpler connection, one between institution and distinction. Credit has to be given for their removing of school badges from the uniforms. But when we have girls in white blouses and blue pinafores, or boys in white shirts wearing red, blue and gold-streaked ties, it's a bit hard ignore the other factors that may have contributed to their achievements, apart from the undeniable magical powers of the bird juice of course.

It's all very amusing. Yet in a sense, it's perhaps publicity at best and elitism at worst.

But anyways, speaking of moons, the Mid-Autumn Festival, otherwise known as the Mooncake Festival is coming up! Hurrah, for it is now our turn to play with fire after a month of generously thinning out the ozone layer. I think the group of us will be headed to either the Barrage or the Chinese Garden this Friday. I prefer the latter for absolutely no good reason. Definitely something to look forward to.

Lastly, I must say I'm really grateful for this entire week of no-school - rounding up of the last few papers followed by marking days. And no, I don't think I'll be quite unoccupied. Just bought two novels while we were at Kinokuniya earlier, namely, number9dream by David Mitchell and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon. Been wanting to savour them for a very long time. Plus, I think I'll also be watching the video uploads from With Calvin in the Theater of God, the DG conference that's been going on for the past three days in Minneapolis. I guess it's a well-deserved break, a short rest before I get tired all over again.

Of Memoirs and Memories

Almost finished with Ondaatje's The English Patient. It's a hypnotic book in at least two senses. One, it's attempts (very successfully) to talk about history by talking about history, if you get my drift. It is set in the eventide of WWII in Italy, and is clearly a work of historical metafiction. Two, Ondaatje's style is just so restrainedly mesmerising, like the charisma of a voluptuous nun. His simple use of tense and paragraphing effectively ferries the reader between past and present, and brings flashback to a new level.

Specifically, it was not a cunning plot that compelled me to read on. It was a simple matter of falling in love with Hana, Caravaggio, Kip and the English patient, and wanting to know the scars and joys that marked their lives prior to the villa. Because the book's momentum is driven by an uncovering of each character's memories, there is an intriguing sense in which we are invited to relish in the suspense of the past, and not worry so much about their interactions in the postbellum ruins. But both are mutually significant and masterfully connected. For example, the English patient's persistent fascination with histogeography eventually helps the rest of the characters discover who he is - an eminent Hungarian explorer who sold his nationality to the deserts, and thence saw no betrayal in aiding German intelligence.

Well, all this reminds me of something I once said to a couple of friends - memories are like jewellery. I think that the most valuable memories we possess are those of depth, whether it be intense joy, anger or sadness. Some of them may not be the most pleasant, but all of them are equally priceless. And when that past emotion is evoked somehow, even those who hardly know us will notice that we look different. Otherwise, they are safely tucked away in drawers on most days.

Perhaps that is why I'm still reluctant to throw away my primary school textbooks, or give away clothes that I don't fit into anymore. Perhaps that is why I'm here recording the thoughts that count.

Moving Beyond The Music

We resort to all kinds of means and ways just to get to know our favourite artists better. We join fanclubs and buy decals, we copy his hairstyle or her make-up, we follow them on twitter. We also receive them at the airport, forgo sleep for an autograph or two and hold up the rest of the line for a photograph. Yet, there is a dire sense in which so many people are missing the point.

To authentically know the heart of the singer or band you admire, you need only to look at their art in entirety. This you will never find on a fansite, nor on a sticker, nor with a felt-tip pen. Musicians are not gods. They are like us, except with a gift to think their thoughts more beautifully, vernacularise their vicissitudes more elegantly and sing their struggles more passionately.

Each song is a painting of its writer's psychological landscape. Each lyric is a fragment of his consciousness. Each note adds colour to it, and is meant to bring your eyes closer to his than your imagination could ever afford. Unfortunately, most of us pay more attention to the colouring than to that which is being coloured. Which is why we don't really know these singers even though we know so much about them.

You see, musicians echo the world. They echo you and me. Some of them are on the search. "Trapped in God's program / Oh I can't escape / Who are we?" - Muse in Exogenesis: Symphony Part 1 from The Resistance. Some of them get by with scarred souls. "So for those of you falling in love / Keep it kind, keep it good, keep it right / Throw yourself in the midst of danger / But keep one eye open at night." - Rachael Yamagata in Elephants from Elephants...Teeth Sinking Into Heart. Some of them believe that they have found hope. "I've got a plan to lose it all / I've got a contract pending on eternity." - Switchfoot in Loser from The Beautiful Letdown.

Perhaps, when we learn to appreciate this, we will realise that a particular singer or band is in fact too naïve or shallow for our liking. Perhaps we will realise that a particular singer or band actually had so much to tell us about the world and about themselves, but we just never bothered to move beyond the music.

So when we finally bring ourselves to see the connection between sound and substance, the fourth wall of showbiz and plastic covers will truly be demolished. And then we can start to experience genuine eargasms.

On Food Ethics

A few days ago, my dad kindly turned away a plate of leftover food offered by my neighbour from his seventh month sacrifice. I was hesitating to react while having my fill at the dining table; I didn't in the end. But after re-reading Paul's argument in 1 Corinthians 6, I was confidently thankful that he did the biblical thing to do.

Anyways, I am currently intrigued about how religious or simply moral beliefs are always accompanied by some sort of puzzling dietary burden.

Some people believe that some animals are not good to eat. There are two reasons for this. One, the animal(s) is 'unclean' to some extent. Two, the animal is venerated beyond measure. It's funny how two entirely different notions can inspire the creation of identical boundaries. But surely pluralism would then proceed to classify all these animals under the same league? Oops...

Some people believe that all animals are not good to eat. It has been argued that animals should be treated fairly, like we are, and killing them for food is just gravely unethical. I certainly disagree with the use of unnecessary violence; thankfully we have the SPCA and the WWF. But I think that animals kill each other in the wild for food too, correct me if I'm wrong. They also seem to consider the use of sharp objects, deadly poison and elaborate traps as legitimate and ethical ways of catching prey. Well, this leads me to conclude that it is not really the means of death with which we're concerned when we consider animal protection. It's actually a matter of who were are - a race above all other races, with a power above all other natural powers, exercising a right to give all other creatures rights. Eh, but that's so ideologically unethical!

Finally, some people believe that all animals are good to eat. Incidentally, some of these people also believe in the spiritual concept of reincarnation. I say, this is too serious to be considered hilariously - how do you know that the next piece of chicken you consume didn't use to contain the soul of your expired great-grandmother? Insofar as hens are being industrially trapped in conveyor belts to lay eggs and die, they are to remain constantly demoted in the spiritual realm because of their lack of opportunity, in this cycle of suffering, to donate some measure of grain to the poor chicken across the road. I guess their male counterparts would be known as reprobate roosters. It's a trembling thought in many ways.

My conclusion: Aiyah, just eat lah.

I would entitle this 'Histobiography', but (un)fortunately I don't take Geog.

What a merciless exam timetable - Biology Paper 2 and History Paper 2 on the same morning. I mean honestly, what on earth were they thinking? So effectively, I was reading and memorising Mao and Wars from 4 to 9 yesterday after the afternoon paper, and then reading and memorising DNA and Human Physio from 9 to 4. Then it's like I blinked once and had to go to school.

Oh, but maybe I'll end up getting 7 points for both. You see after all, 49 is 7-squared, or 7 x 7 - which is two sevens! Haha!

What rubbish. Clearly I haven't the foggiest idea what I'm saying.

Though I do have a good feeling about the History paper. I think I conquered the Wars question. The SPS one was unusual - I actually enjoyed attempting a question for which I didn't quite have all the necessary knowledge, plus time was running out on me. My last sentence ended up missing a . Also had to smoke a little here and there. Maybe that's why I enjoyed it - the gamble of imperfection.

Well, now that all that's said and done, my right hand feels like pillow. Soft and limp.

TULIP (Part 3)

The third and final in the series; look no further.

'Perhaps eternal life is a bed of tulips.'

TULIP (Part 2)

A vase of petals light and bold

Is moist for Man's depravity

A torch of coral, truth be told

By one man's search for Majesty.

A noble stalk unwavering

That stands for total sovereignty

And promises the still believing

Binding pertinacity.

It drew their gaze, the dulcet dew

A flowing of the zephyr's grace

Though wrought are many, saved are few

The choice befits His righteous face.

A crimson petal carved with thought

A stream of blood for those foreknown

A doctrine over centuries fought

A flower that blooms where'er it's blown.

TULIP (Part 1)

Understanding the five tenets of tulipism is like opening your eyes to a new sunrise. It's a sunrise that is infinitely sovereign, infinitely loving, infinitely powerful and infinitely gracious. Then it blinds you and heals your sight in an infinite loop of your discovering how infinitely glorious the sun himself really is.

'Morning hair'

Free Will in Salvation: Incoherent Theology And An Unloving And Unjust God

By simple definition, free will in salvation (or Arminian free will) refers to the ultimate self-determining power of humans to choose God and in turn get saved, or choose otherwise and be condemned forever. No matter how many times Wesleyans can say that all has been provided for by virtue of prevenient grace (which is a doctrine that has alarmingly weak biblical foundations), they can and will never deny that human volition is the decisive factor in controlling whether or not an individual is saved. Prevenient grace supposedly restores free will to all men, hence its being described 'universal'. If that is the case, it is only logical that everything boils down to that one human choice.

Here is a brief analogy. Free will in terms of the Arminian understanding works like the slow step, or the rate-determining step of a chemical reaction. For those of us who are getting quite acquainted with reaction kinetics and the like in preparation for upcoming examinations, this should make quite a bit of sense.

The problem I have with this understanding of free will is that it espouses a theology that is incoherent, and reflects a God who is seemingly unjust and unloving. Nevertheless, I think it is relatively easy to explain how and why.

The bulk of arguments that propose the necessity of free will are largely philosophical and psychological; not biblical, shockingly. Thankfully, both perspectives are easy to repudiate in their own terms.

Firstly, it seems that for Arminian free will to work, all humans must have an equal degree of exposure to the gospel, if any, prior to possible conversion. This is so that everyone has an equal chance of exercising his/her free will in response to what s/he has heard. After all, what is the point of having free will but never having had the chance to make the life-changing choice? It would be gravely unfair wouldn't it? And so it is! Clearly not everyone is blessed with a Christian family from whom to learn about Jesus since young. Not everyone exists in a multi-religious society that allows Christianity to flourish with minimal persecution. Many of the heathen in Africa and South America live and die without having even heard about Christ. I don't quite know of a means to quantify dogmatic exposure, but even without it I think anyone would sense enormous discrepancies. Is God unjust?

Secondly, it is said that God has given us free will because He loves us and does not want to force us to love Him back. The psychological appeal in this argument is so strong that it proves to be such a huge stumbling block for many believers today. Yet, according to the Arminian reasoning, what it really does prove is that God is more unloving than anything. Why would God, knowing that the gospel would be unevenly circulated around the world, ordain for a means of salvation whose fairness depends on an egalitarian knowledge of Christ? Unless He didn't intend for it to be possible that all men be saved, but had unconditionally chosen the people from whom He would lift the scales of unbelief...all of which is incoherent with the Arminian doctrine of conditional election.

It is perhaps divine irony that the contradictions of unbiblical theology unravel upon their own mechanisms, insofar as close logical analysis is implemented to expose the faulty, incongruous components. Subsequently, I would also willingly point us to a more biblical explanation of Christian soteriology, so as to not leave this thread a-hanging like some run-of-the-mill notion. But I reckon that would be too much for one post. Maybe in the next (next next next...) one.

So in times like these, perhaps it is only fitting that we sit back and marvel at the sheer beauty of His creation, and see what really points to the glory of God.

A Few Days Late

"Insignificantly enough, we both have significant others."

~Anberlin

Inadequately OverCome

CORDELIA
How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?

KING LEAR
You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave:
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like moulten lead.

CORDELIA
Sir, do you know me?

KING LEAR
You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?

CORDELIA
Still, still, far wide!

GENTLEMAN
He's scarce awake: let him alone awhile.

KING LEAR
Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity,
To see another thus. I know not what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands: let's see;
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured
Of my condition!

CORDELIA
O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:
No, sir, you must not kneel.

KING LEAR
Pray, do not mock me:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.

CORDELIA
And so I am, I am.

KING LEAR
Be your tears wet? yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not:
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
You have some cause, they have not.

CORDELIA
No cause, no cause.

KING LEAR
Am I in France?

KENT
In your own kingdom, sir.

KING LEAR
Do not abuse me.

_____________________________________________________

But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

2 Corinthians 12:9

Mrs Goh was all smiles.

So was I. At least in the end.

Wonderful Worship, But Not Without Woes

The youth worship committee never fails to make me smile and warm my heart. Thank you guys so much for staying back so late. I pray that the Spirit takes full control tomorrow. And interestingly, I thought our virgin attempt at liturgy felt flexibly structured, somehow.

Also, the moment in which Uncle Matthew barged into the basement while we were babyishly posing away will be quite an unforgettable scene - a medley of comedy, shock and embarrassment. Even though we didn't manage to get the photo there and then, I'm pretty certain that that memory has found its place in my mind as an indelible snapshot of sweet sepia. Besides, he was surprisingly patronising by later helping us take a(nother) photo at the lobby, after we'd ascended from the depths of overtime. Kudos Red Ranger. Your request was a daring one.

On the other hand, God help me with IOC. There's still so much to cover.

Visions Of Rapture

Currently at the mercy of my SGC, Bio PSOW, History SPS essay, 风铃 article, 敬拜方式 II, all of which I must fulfill with quality before my IOC, which is in less than five days. And I thought the worst nights had come to pass. Progress is slow. This is desperately worrisome. About 20 more extracts to go. Not writing in complete sentences. One big fat paragraph of disconnected prose. Just heard the thunder reverberate - twice in five minutes. It is oddly comforting, probably because an impending rain is really the least of my vexations now. I hope it purges the air of the rancid smoke which has been just singeing my sclera and sandpapering my throat over the past seven hours or so. That's one good it can do. The joy of the Lord is my _________. Not that easy to fill in the blank now, eh?

Telephone Conversation

I came home half an hour ago to find both Mum and Dad talking on the phone. No, not to each other. I guess it's a rare sight that doesn't really have a significance to its rarity. But it did evoke some interesting memories.

When I was young, I enjoyed indulging in pranks to the fullest extent, as some of you would know. I think it was probably a way of getting the attention, and to some extent, the recognition that I needed, being the only child. Perhaps it was to waive off the loneliness. Naturally, my parents were constant (and patronising) victims. And unlike how I was able to formulate more intricate and tactical stunts in church with the help of accomplices including Duck I and Duck II, the home hoaxes were more of solo, espionage kind of missions. They were all exciting in their own ways.

So one of my favourite pranks was this - I would call Mum and tell her, "Mummy, Daddy's looking for you!" Then I would go to Dad and tell him, "Daddy, Mummy's looking for you!" I would then hide behind a small niche in the wall next to the living room, and observe the comedy unfold. It was very entertaining, and I don't think I ever got sick of that prank. It had to be done periodically though, because I saw that it could get quite irritating. Interestingly, it seems that I was pragmatic enough to think about how to maximise fun-profit by minimising the chances of getting a rap over the knuckles, which was not really fun. I still earned a fair amount of chiding though. Sigh, I think I miss the Paddy in me.

I was also reminded of this, which I must know inside out by the 25th, amongst 23 other extracts across 2 plays, 1 novel plus 5 more poems. This is an examinable conversation. No laughing matter.

The Price of Flowers

Often,

The big things are not the things that flood and pierce the heart.

No, it is too careless for that.

It is like

A vase - Large, round, smooth, humbly brown

Save a collection of cracks and crevasses that line its surface

Like tributaries, like tall tempting trees

Entrenched in clay.

His words, her actions

His silence, her neglect,

His formality, her normalcy

Collect in a deathly moat, a sanguine pool of regret, mainly.

And it seeps through the cracks, slowly.

The heart at hand is big, thick, but not any less

Hollow or fissured.

It takes longer than most people

But the liquid rises and eventually over-

flows

A blossom of tears and voices in the head.

~tc

The Dungeon Flamed With Light

I was very moved by the afternoon worship session during the worship ministry's retreat today. And Can It Be brought tears to my eyes, although no one was quite quick enough to catch it. It was a humbling surprise, loaded with Wesleyan warmth against the frosty air-conditioning of the worship hall. Interestingly, I later realised that it was a moment I had once anticipated.

I recall scrutinising the lyrics of the hymn and acquiring a perfectly rational amazement about it not so long ago - I thought it was hard to imagine a worshipper devoid of emotional response toward the elegant presentation of such majestic truths. You can see the irony of the notion. So there I was, feeling quite useless about my newfound understanding. And I prayed to be enkindled, not just enlightened.

Let's put it this way. There is a reason why non-bible-believing bible scholars simply don't get the bible right. In the spirit of Babel, they start producing bilge like Higher Criticism, and in the process create even more gobbledygook. I believe God must be glorified inasmuch as truth must be analysed.

So today, I got what I wanted, owing to the grace of God and the ministry of the Holy Spirit. There is an overshadowing power about the gospel that makes tomorrow's Hendon Camp assessment (dis)appear like a vapour in the face of a solar wind. It is that powerful.

No condemnation now I dread;
Jesus, and all in Him, is mine;
Alive in Him, my living Head,
And clothed in righteousness divine,
Bold I approach th’eternal throne,
And claim the crown, through Christ my own.
Bold I approach th’eternal throne,
And claim the crown, through Christ my own.

Black, Red and White

I was quietly excited after receiving Gramophone's call yesterday afternoon. Lungs by Florence + The Machine was finally in stock. I think the expressions I wore when I first heard it on the iTunes store must have appeared quite comical. Really, the digital album's 30-second previews were the first pieces of good music I had tasted in a long time. But that is quite understandable, I think. One reason would be how recent focus on coursework has been noticeably denying my ears of their privileges. Another reason would be how paying $20 dollars for a pack of empty DVD-rewritables would actually give you better music compared to the pop-junk that sit on the shelves these days. So I went down to collect it this morning after Discipleship class. And finally, on the train ride to Bugis, I got my chance to start reading I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. Which is really the point of this post.

I don't know if it's just me, but I just couldn't quite appreciate Angelou's writing. The physical novel is roughly the same size as that of Paddy Clarke, same font, same thickness of cover - same publisher, but clearly has a completely different appeal altogether. I was honestly quite disappointed, but I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I was unconsciously looking forward to reading it somehow.

Actually, a better reason would be how I've been quite smothered by black literature (or just novels concerning black culture) this year. On top of Caged Bird, I have to soak up the genius behind the famous Huck Finn, and the infamous Color Purple. In a nutshell, one could say that all three books create an impression of black culture intended to rectify culturally-biased misconceptions, especially with regard to black savagery in the form of illiteracy from a lack of formal education. Huck Finn and Color Purple are honest and touching. Caged Bird, at least as what it appears to me currently, is a little pretentious and ethnocentric. There is a hint of egoism about the way Angelou exploits her accomplished literacy to create expressions that are as varied as possible, such as by inserting parentheses here and there to elevate the complexity of the mind of a six-year-old girl.

Well, I admit that this was probably why it was so successful when it was published in the 1960s. It was very timely. It would have been unexpected and shocking for Angelou's target audience, the immodest white readership. But is this arrogance for arrogance?

Whatever it is, it doesn't quite work for me. Angelou was one of a kind, but at that time, the rest of her people were quite far from her measure of accomplishment. Diachronically, Huck Finn was true to its context, The Color Purple was true its context. Caged Bird...I just don't feel obliged to swallow the cup of White pride on the table, no matter how fired up Angelou must have felt during composition. Ain't intended for me anyways. And in my wrestling with that, I guess my appreciation of the text is inevitably compromised along the way, unfortunately. The great irony is that among the students studying these three texts, many of them are beginning to have sentiments that are similar to those that these books had originally intended to subvert. It's probably out of stress and ennui.

Nevertheless, I still hope I can finish the book by Wednesday, then start working on the key passages. 3 out of 24 IOC extracts come from the book, and I want to be ready for Murphy's law.

That aside, I must say that I quite enjoyed the Hitler-Boenhoeffer discussion with the choir earlier this afternoon. It was one the few times where the issue at hand was neither too complex nor too simple. It was edifyingly manageable. And I hope the reading material at the end was helpful.

Finally, given that I'll be attending a party tomorrow night, I have a feeling that my hands will be quite occupied with food, entertainment and the like at 8:22pm. Is that...wrong?

It is finished.

Admittedly, this is partially about showing off. It is also partially about victory, stress-relief, catharsis, short-lived happiness and the like, you name it. In chronological order of submission:

SL Mathematics Portfolio 1 - 700 words

English A1 Individual Oral Presentation - 15 min

HL Chemistry Design IA - 700 words

SL Mathematics Portfolio 2 - 3500 words

HL Chemistry IA: 100 Readings - 2000 words

HL Chemistry IA: Faraday's Constant - 2500 words

TOK Oral Presentation - 20 min

SL History IA - 2000 words + not so many drafts

HL Chemistry Design IA - 1000 words

TOK Formal Essay - 1600 words + numerous drafts

HL Biology IA: Practical 27 - 6000 words

Extended Essay - 4000 words + numerous drafts

HL Biology IA: Practical 31 - 7000 words

HL Chemistry Design IA - 1000 words

World Literature Assignment 1 - 1500 words + not so many drafts

World Literature Assignment 2 - 1500 words + not so many drafts

I say, it's been a formidable list. But I'm DONE. Believe it baby.

Things I've learnt in the process:

1. How to type faster

2. How to fight panic effectively

3. How to pull an all-nighter and laugh about it in the morning

4. How to fall sick in a timely manner

5. How to draw encouragement from others by comparing backlog

6. Why I should press Ctrl-S every second

7. Why I shouldn't procrastinate (so much)

Just one more - IOC on the 25th. Arguably the scariest method of assessment IB has ever invented. Then it's back to papers, like it has always been for my luckier-than-thou Cambridge counterparts.

This came into my mind as I was typing.

"When Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, 'It is finished,' and He bowed His head and gave up His spirit."

John 19:30

It's quite amazing. All my blood, sweat, tears and dreams, and even more, were shed at Gethsemane. Something unimaginable was achieved because of that. And today, none of my achievements really matter except my being part of that something unimaginable, which was always never quite an achievement on my part. Along the same lines, I feel irresistibly compelled to tell you why. So I will, next time, if That which controls it permits.

I could really use a Robin

About five years ago, Batman Wannabe scolded me for disrespect because he misunderstood what I was trying to say. It happened on a Sunday after Second Service, sometime during the middle of the year. That time, we were at the Old Market ordering dumpling noodles at for the Dom7th girls. Duck II was also there with us, and he was equally shocked at Batman Wannabe's violent reaction. Like me, he didn't know what Batman Wannabe was thinking.

Of course, Batman Wannabe soon realised his own (momentary) dopiness and started apologising profusely. It must have occurred to him that two totally innocent junior tenors under his charge now had of him some kind of undeserved negative impression. He even treated the guys to an extremely large serving of carrot cake to atone for his needless rage. It was humorously embarrassing. Batman Wannabe was 18 years old then.

Currently, Batman Wannabe is doing very well in Chicago. Thank God for that.

I know what it feels like now. I'm certain that at that time, my misunderstood remark was simply a drop of water - okay maybe a bucket - in the flood of emotions that fractured his dam of composure. It was not easy to be Batman Wannabe at 18 years old. Education at Bishan Junior College and selfless service to the Eternal Kingdom is understandably beleaguering. Yet, I look at myself now and I'm somewhat convinced that I really have more on my hands than he did at that time. Probably more than the average above average youth today. But surely this is by no means any justification for a drowning man not to cling on to a nearby life buoy. I think Batman Wannabe knew his limits, and therein lies our difference, which may be to my detriment at the end of the day. May be.

Many eternal and not-so-eternal things depend on this year. I don't know how they shall be resolved in the future. Occasionally, even the distinction between the two is not clear to me. As of now, I'm counting on my passions. I trust that God didn't put specific convictions into my heart for no reason.

Batman is special. He's certainly a superhero. But at the same time, he knows that he is totally human. And he works with that.

Surely God Deserves Better

I just read an article entitled "Decoding God's Changing Moods" written by Robert Wright in the June 15, 2009 issue of TIME. I must say that I am quite bemused and disappointed. At the bottom line, the article is an implicit but searing indictment on the sovereignty and perfection of God, and the divine authenticity of His Word. But that is not really the cause for disappointment. If it was, I might just have to live off Prozac for the rest of my life because such phenomena are ubiquitous today.

The cause for disappointment is that it presents a series of the weakest, most unfounded revisionist arguments I have ever encountered in quite a long time. In my opinion, it is a complete and utter shame that the article has actually found itself a place in the pages of a globally esteemed issuance. Of course, there are many other publications of this nature out there in the world. But given the time I have on my hands, I guess I can only touch on them one by one.

The main thesis of the article is that from the chronicles of Israel's monarchic history in the Tanakh/Old Testament, and from the expositions of the prophet Muhammad in the Koran, it can be observed that a "perception of non-zero-sumness underlies religious tolerance". Accordingly, it is this pragmatic socio-politico-economic stimulus that incentivises the unseen "pattern" of God's "random mood fluctuations" to approve or disapprove of the coexistence of monotheistic and polytheistic faith. The article continues to say that "if we read this [the pattern] correctly, there may be hope for reconciliation and religious harmony".

To begin with, the idea of 'reconciliation and religious harmony' as the primary objective of Wright's thesis may just be the single most ridiculous idea in the article. Today, it is absolutely clear that all three Abrahamic religions have no intention to support any form of trilateral ecumenism at all. Even religious tolerance in the world is hitherto a million stone throws away. On one hand, yes, many in today's chaos of a zeitgeist fight for pluralistic relativism. It brings (temporary) peace. Laypeople accept this. On the other hand, I think it is most unwise and ignorant to attempt harmonising the Big Three by means of calumniating the divine, infallible character of Yahweh and Allah, and debasing the integrity of the holy scriptures, in a subscription patronised by over 3 million people around the world.

So how does Wright do this?

What I have to offer are simple rebuttals and observations that I believe any attentive, educated Christian should be able to identify. It is fairly obvious that I am totally not equipped to provide an exhaustive exegetical or historical argument for Judaism, Islam and Christianity. Unfortunately, to the casual reader, the deceptive air of pseudo-historicism and lack of biblical context in the article can be too odourless to be detected. So here are just some alarming details I noticed from a Christian's point of view:

First, it would be the lackadaisical way in which the Word is being treated in the article. Sure, there is a profusion of references to the Bible and the Koran. Yet, the books, chapters, verses, and versions of the translations are never stated. Not even once. From the perspective of a trained academic, this would be construed as a shameful case of substandard referencing. Even worse, a number of scriptural quotations consists of merely isolated phrases, or simply individual words inserted into sentences of Wright's own authorship. Clearly, there is a very misleading, de-contextualising quality about the way the scriptures are being used to support his arguments.

Aside from that, the basic assumption in the use of any evidence to substantiate a proposition is that it must hold some truth that is coherent with the context from which it was retrieved. It does not necessarily have to correspond to reality, because the purpose of Wright's argument is not to validate hypotheses vis-à-vis empirical data. For example, an agnostic can know and argue convincingly about the Christian doctrine of Justification without actually believing that it is true. Similarly, in describing the polytheistic influence over Solomon that his wives possessed, Wright asserts that the "Bible has the logic backward". It doesn't matter what his reasoning was regarding the ostensible illogicality of this issue. What matters is that the authenticity of the evidence from which he has derived many of his arguments has been severely undermined by his own criticism. From an epistemological viewpoint, Wright has unknowingly shot himself in the foot.

Second, 'random mood fluctuations' and 'vacillations between belligerence and tolerance' is a gross misunderstanding of Yahweh's communicative style toward the people of Israel. We must be very clear with the axiom of God's eternal nature, as stated in Hebrews 13:8 "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever." For Wright to presuppose the existence of any deity, in this case the Christian God being one of three referenced, it is necessary for him to get the nature of God's existence right before trying to fit the implications of historical events into His character. Wright didn't, of course; he did it the other way round. In doing so, he creates the false impression of a god who is not unchanging, not decisive, not omniscient, not omnipotent, not sovereign over all things, and the list goes on.

The logic is simple:

1. God created time, space and matter.

2. To do so, God must exist outside of time, space and matter.

3. Scientifically, time is a measure of changes.

4. Therefore God is eternal and unchanging.

(This also means that God is omnipresent because He isn't limited by space, and that He is immaterial because He isn't composed of matter.) And yes, to most, Step 1 is a huge assumption in itself. You don't have to accept the logic like I do, but you must assume it if you want to properly understand the scriptures, which again doesn't necessarily entail believing it. So how have scholars proposed that such "vacillation", "mood fluctuations" and 'mind-changing' fit in with the nature of God?

There are two explanations, and they co-substantiate. Number one, it is biblical anthropomorphism (Gr. prosopopoeia) that enables the cognizantly limited and causally wired human mind to communicate with an infinite, eternal and unchanging God. We should realise that the very intention of anthropomorphic passages in scripture is to distinguish Yahweh from idols and false gods:

"Their idols are of silver and gold,

the work of human hands.

They have mouths, but do not speak;

eyes, but do not see.

They have ears, but do not hear;

noses but do not smell.

They have hands but do not feel;

feet, but do not walk;

and they do not make a sound in their throat."

Psalm 115:4-7

Anthropomorphic passages show that unlike these false gods, Yahweh can do all of the above par excellence.

Number two, God has sovereignly ordained the God-human emotional exchange to be the very means by which whole tribes repent and get saved, or rebel and get destroyed. Therefore, Open Theism is heresy; God does not make mistakes.

A well-known example would be Jonah and Nineveh. In John Piper's words: "What we are saying is that one solution to this apparent mistake on God's part is to treat it the way most commentators treat God's prophecy over Nineveh: "Yet forty days and Nineveh will be overthrown" (Jonah 3:4). But Nineveh repented and was not overthrown. The solution here is that God implicitly intended the condition: "Nineveh will be overthrown, unless she repents."

Third, I admit that religious tolerance in the Old Testament may have been tied to zero-sum or non-zero-sum socio-politico-economic gains as a means by which God graciously sustained the kingdom of Israel despite their chronic disobedience. But to obstinately fixate one's perspective on Man-centred (socio-politico-economic) factors like what Wright has done is highly dangerous, especially in the study of the history of Israel. To overlook theological implications, whether or not one subscribes to them, is to ignore the historical fact that Israel did evolve (or deteriorate) from a theocracy to become a monarchy. Moreover, the monarchy possessed immediate divine guidance through priests and prophets. Again, this is historically undeniable.

More importantly, occasions of so-called religious tolerance was a testing of Israel's devotion and their obedience of faith to Yahweh.

"These are the nations: the five lords of the Philistines and all the Canaanites and the Sidonians and the Hivites who lived on Mount Lebanon, from Mount Baal-hermon as far as Lebo-hamath. They were for the testing of Israel, to know whether Israel would obey the commandments of the Lord, which He commanded their fathers by the hand of Moses. So the people of Israel lived among the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. And their daughters they took to themselves for wives, and their own daughters they gave to their sons, and they served their gods. And the people of Israel did what was evil in the sight of the Lord. They forgot the Lord their God and served the Baals and the Asheroth. Therefore the anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel, and he sold them into the hand of Cushan-rishathaim king of Mesopotamia. And the people of Israel served Cushan-rishathaim eight years."

Judges 3:3-9

Recalling the intention for anthropomorphism in scripture, this passage is not meant to affirm the existence of lesser gods at all.

Ultimately, in relation to the 'vacillation of tolerance and belligerence', God pours out His righteous wrath to all who have sinned against Him. And that includes Israel.

"Surely this [the Chaldeans, Syrians, Ammonites and Moabites] came upon Judah at the command of the Lord, to remove them out of His sight, for the sins of Manasseh, according to all that he had done."

2 Kings 24:3

"Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah the son of Amittai, saying, 'Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and call out against it, for their evil has come up before me.'"

Jonah 1:1-2

"For our fathers have been unfaithful and have done what was evil in the sight of the Lord our God. They have forsaken him and have turned away their faces from the habitation of the Lord and turned their backs. They also shut the doors of the vestibule and put out the lamps and have not burned incense or offered burnt offerings in the Holy Place to the God of Israel. Therefore the wrath of the Lord came on Judah and Jerusalem, and he has made them an object of horror, of astonishment, and of hissing, as you see with your own eyes."

2 Chro 29:6-9

As I have reasoned, Wright has made at least three erroneous judgments in the article. Not only are they inconsistent with each other, they appear somewhat persuasive as a deceptively connected thesis of de-contextualised facts. What I have done is to point out three huge problems that most definitely contribute to a wrong impression of Judaism and Christianity, and I feel obliged to do so because the glory of God is of growing importance to me. Many scholars all around the world - believers or unbelievers - study the Word daily. Yet, God must not only be analysed, He must be glorified.

Today, Christians like me return to the unconditional love of Christ as the only basis for religious tolerance. We cling to the hope that in days to come, God's sovereign grace will be granted to those who are blinded by the prince of the power of the air. Never has it been for any form of socio-politico-economic benefit. Today, the last shadows of imperialism that remain is the existence of monarchic figureheads, and there endures but one dictator in this world who is on the road to political self-destruction. Democracy is sound only because none but Christ can be trusted with absolute power. Ultimately, the kingdom of God is not of this world. Paul says that we of all men are most to be pitied if we have hoped in Christ only for this life. (1 Cor 15:19)

Honestly, I don't know who reads this, but Wright is wrong, and Jesus is coming soon.