Saturday, August 15, 2009

Inscribed on My Maker's Hands

Here I am, sitting and nua-ing in front of the sanctuary's computer surfing the internet. 3 more hours before Singing class commences. These few days have been pretty exhausting, thanks to consecutive late nights, long periods of contact lens wearing, and wearing myself out at the gym. Didn't help that there was worship practice this morning, where half the band was made up of last-minute backup musicians.

Have you ever been so tired that you could even fall asleep on your knees while praying? That's been happening the past few nights, with my mind wandering off into Lala-land even as I mumble through the prayers like a ritual. Then I'd end up feeling guilty, wondering why I even bothered to offer God my time and words when they're given so half-heartedly.

Temptation has been hitting hard this week. It's like the little demons you thought were exorcised months ago have decided to come back to haunt you. They leave in bulk, and they return in busloads. They departed sulking and screaming revenge, but you never thought they'd make good their vengeful declarations.

As my spiritual walk matures, the effect of sin becomes strangely clearer and more obvious. Being more conscious of sin aids in sinning less, but each and every single one committed seems to pull me apart such a huge distance from His presence. In the past, I didn't recognize His presence, and even if I did, it made little difference to me. But as I grow and I begin to acknowledge His presence, bask in His glory, take shelter in His arms, I grow more and more dependent on Him, and a level of familiarity ensures. Then sin comes, and if I fall, He's suddenly so far away. I don't feel Him anymore, it's almost like He became disappointed and walked away. The feeling can drag on for the whole day, almost putting a limit on the amount of joy I can feel regardless of whatever happens, till I come clean with Him at night. Even then, I can't be sure.

During worship practice, the empty feeling was there. Halfway, when no one was looking, I decided to steal away to the covered side aisle of the sanctuary to ask God what was going on. Worship practice resumed, thankfully much better. Some of the youths went to ice-skate after that, but with the overwhelmingly low feeling, in addition to the already worned out energy level, I decided to stay back in church to practice my singing for the class later.

One of the contemporary hits that I was fooling around with was this song by Howie Day, titled "Collide". A line from the song caught my attention.

I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind.


It stood out strangely, because it was something I identified with. Whenever I was in love (not very often but enough), I found that when my partner tells me that she couldn't stop thinking about me, it is both thrilling and scary. Thrilling because one takes it as evidence that you're in love, and it's always nice to know that someone is thinking of you, so much that it becomes an obsession. Maybe I've been pushing the right buttons; maybe I'm really that attractive; maybe she really loves me after all. But again, it can be really freaky. Not the freaky type like when you've got a stalker, or if someone you don't have any feelings for but who seems to be obsessed with you tells you how he/she feels. It's scary because you reflect and wonder: Why do I deserve to be loved by someone like her?

Of course, there are those egomaniacs who never ponder about these sort of questions (and ironically they seem to be more successful in love, especially guys), but I think for those of us who have been in a balanced relationship would have, one way or another, pondered about this question. Some people shrug it off, finding no need for an explanation, some people try doubly hard to return the perceived level of undeserved affection, and some people break it off because they don't think they'll ever match up.

Then comes the relationship with God. I find that it is mind-blowingly astonishing that He should love and remember someone like me. Someone as useless, sinful, complaining, lazy, plain, foolish and rebellious as myself. But I'm not just on His mind, God even inscribed me on the palm of His hands (Isaiah 49:16). He doesn't just remember me: "Oh Victor? You mean Victor Hui, the guy who stays somewhere in Tanjong Pagar. Yeah I remember him. Nice fellow." Instead, God has engraved me on His own body, close to His heart, where I'm never forgotten.
Lord, what is man, that You take knowledge of him? Or the son of man, that
You are mindful of him? (Psalms 144:3 NKJV)


WHAT is man, not WHO is man.

When I looked back at this verse, I found nothing in me to stop the torrent of tears that I have been holding back for so long. Oh for so so long.







God finds a need to constantly remind me that love is love simply because no reason is required for it, and thus it carries with it a characteristic: Undeservingness. -Valentino Casanova

What is man that You make so much of him, that you give him so much attention? -Job 7:17

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