Pausing

Two steps forward, three steps back. The thing is, you’re still moving.

These days I feel like I’m caught between time moving too fast and time just stopping. There is that part of me that is so tired from the thesis that submission date cannot come soon enough. Yet when I think about the limited number of days to finish up, hand it in, then revise, revise, revise, and wait for the viva, I think ‘it’s not nearly enough’. How can one document be the culmination of a person’s four-year journey? How can it encapsulate all the moments of elation, despair, heart making and heart breaking? I have seen many friends reach this stage where they realise that their dissertation will never be the magnum opus they once imagined it to be. Yet a part of me cannot help but think that these 80,000 words are supposed to be more than what they are.

There is another ‘it’s not nearly enough’. It is that ‘not nearly enough time’ to face whatever I’m supposed to face at the end of this journey. It’s not nearly enough time to prepare for that fork-in-the-road moment. This time, this year, no high flying dreams and no contingency plans. It’s been an extremely humbling year. Just me and God (with the blessing of family and friends), walking along this dusty path. Tonight I thought about savouring this period of pause, of in-between, and then looking up.

Peaceful passings

One day the storm of life stilled. Silences were no longer unspoken words of punishment, gestures of neglect or annoyance; empty inboxes were no longer pregnant with meaning; missed phone calls were merely that – missed; and an answer that things were ‘fine’ really meant that they were, indeed, fine.

You never know when life will turn. Sometimes for the more tumultuous, other times for the more peaceful. Hopefully as we grow up, we gain greater perception, not only into ourselves but into those around us. This Christmas was about observing the different personalities, roles, and energies in my family and in my community. It was about accepting all the wonderful differences that define each of us and thinking about how they can be used to edify others. What one person ‘lacks’, another can ‘give’; that’s the beauty of community. One best friend is a mom and is effortless in her love; another is a wife and an emerging pillar in her community; still another is this uplifting energy of joy and excitement, breathing fresh life wherever she goes. Somewhere, somehow, we managed to slip into 25. And here the waters are still.

Life windows

A lot of things in life are about timing. Being at the right place and time, recognising the opportunity, but most of all being ready for that opportunity. It is this last component that is the most difficult to grasp because it is probably the only thing which we have some control over and for which we are actually responsible.

My dad and I have been talking a lot about seasons lately. Seasons has of course become a recurring and sustaining theme over this past year, but there is an especially important element which speaks to a certain amount of self-perception. ‘When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me’ (1 Cor 13:11). We want different things in different stages in our life. We give weight to different things depending on our circumstances. What was admirable or valuable in your early twenties no longer holds when you are in your fifties. Certain things give way to other things. And success is, in part, measured by how able you are in aligning your desires with the season that you are in. It is also determined by a certain amount of foresight.

Earlier this fall, I saw a season pass. For its pain, I understood that something had ended and another thing was to be begin. What I hadn’t anticipated was the change in heart and values that it would eventually entail. That is why this Christmas has been hard; any real change must be wrought. But God has been so good in laying out the tools for such changes. If you allow yourself to be changed, then you just might see how certain experiences, feelings, and actions no longer apply to you now. The question is are you willing? are you ready? Last night was the first night I was able to see the past as the past and understand that certain desires belonged in that particular chapter. It made me grateful and happy that there was such a colourful chapter. I also saw chapters that I didn’t have (the American collegiate life has always eluded me). But seeing and understanding how such desires were now obsolete and ‘not wanting’ for the first time signaled that perhaps – just perhaps – it was step forward.

Christmas 2010

I didn’t know how emotionally-laden December would be for me this year until I stepped into the airport to fly home. Whatever healing I thought I had received while in Cambridge, whatever lessons that I had been able to claim over this past term with dissertation chapters and job applications, fell apart in the face of the rush of memories which have over the past year attached themselves to the familiar sights and sounds of people flying to and coming from. In particular, this season is so charged because it represented a climax in my life last year.

I don’t know what God expects of me this season. So far, He has upheld me as I stumble through, and I have also learned that His grace is much wider than I could possibly imagine. This season, my best friend’s baby will be playing baby Jesus. I don’t know why but that concept to me is so poignant and beautiful. I want God to reclaim this season for me, as a time of family and friends and this warm home I am in right now.

Friday, 6 November 2009

Tonight I had a small cry with my best friend in the fifteen or so minutes we were able to come together. I can’t explain it but it was a different kind of crying. I felt loved. And after I had my cry, I was – okay *small smile

Am learning that being okay is a state of the soul. It can’t be contingent upon the waves of this world. Too risky, too unstable. Now the music is on and I’m listening with open eyes and an open heart. Today is Friday. Many more days ahead to go…

New beginnings

 

Come to think of it, ‘new beginnings’ might be a tautology. But no matter because tonight is about starting again. It’s the most unlikely of dates – a Wednesday, the fourth of November – but sometimes new starts, just like old endings, appear when you least expect it. It might be like falling in love; or falling out of it. It just happens. I’m trying to organise all of the academic information I trawled through earlier today when I should have been writing the conclusion to my redraft of chapter two or reworking the proposal I wanted to send out tonight. But I learned a lot. I learned that the world is far bigger than you might imagine. That there is far more information than you can ever contain. But I think I’m going to try – send my little dingey out into the vast ocean of jobs and the unknown – and see what comes of it. My father reminded me of a good point last night: as Christians, we have nothing to fear. As Christians, we are risk takers. It’s a long way from the sea shore when you step out into the water. But I think there’s a certainty out there. A hope on hope. ‘Perhaps’ in the words of Jonathan, son of Saul, man of faith. Here’s to a night of new beginnings. No tautology. Only emphasis.

Learning

and re-learning.

Within that famous verse

The famous verse is so:

⁴Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

It is not insignificant that what comes first, before kindness, hope and perseverance, is patience. It is funny how God answers prayers.

In a recent sermon series on the life of David, our assistant pastor spoke about discerning God’s will. We seek, he noted, the path of least resistance, the path that most coincides with what we want; and that we take as God’s will. Should all factors align with what we want, then that must be His will. Our problem lies in that gross oversight – that His will for us is to become more Christ-like (1 Thessalonians 4; Romans 8:28). Thus our prayers are for the most part answered through spiritual challenges, not through secular affirmations. For even when we are the beneficiaries of such worldly privileges, and things just seem to ‘fall into place’, we must be mindful of the second half of that often misappropriated verse: ‘we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose’ (28), and that purpose is sanctification.

In application, I prayed a few weeks ago that God would teach me how to love. I buttressed this with a prayer for the other side too; that this lesson would be reciprocal. But already there marked the first problem for love ‘is not self-seeking’. How scary it is to pray for oneself, knowing that prayers are answered through challenges and spiritual disciplines; and so I added a safety clutch. Do not get me wrong; I believe we can pray for others and for their growth but such prayers should never be for one’s own security, to make one’s own lessons in the Lord that much easier; it is always easier to respond to love by being loved, to love having felt it being lavished upon oneself.

Without hesitation, God’s answer has come full force. Not only in one relationship, but in many. And what is common to all is that component of waiting, and while waiting, trusting. Waiting entails perseverance and so much hope. Love is a very strong word which I don’t use lightly and cannot use just yet. You also cannot just use it suddenly. But you can use it one day when you have learned what it entails, and have practiced as such. It is an action; it is a choice. In the context of 1 Corinthians (which speaks about the Christian community and brotherhood) I do not think its opposite is Hate. No, instead it is Selfishness. Here, Love is defined in relation to the other party; it is about putting the other person first, regardless of whatever losses you may accept – large or small. It is not self-referential.

My best friend came to visit last weekend with her husband, and as we sat side by side sharing our lives on the floor of my room, she told me that she heard a pastor say that it takes nine years for a spouse to make a decision unselfishly, without thinking of the ramifications to oneself. Such a love, such ability to love, is applicable in many relationships/friendships, if not ultimately in a marriage. But this act of love is forged not overnight but through small steps in doing just that, and realising that at once you have. In a concrete context, my best friends and I, being best friends now from 9-13 years have realised most of our lessons in the past few years. It is as if all the little lessons in our selfish acts of love are beginning to give way to a deeper love, where our choices are not based within ourselves but rather are born out of an incredible act of compassion and empathy. It is about loving someone even when they are at their worst.

New and Old

I was on the tube this morning listening to the Fray, and as I walked down the steps and through the archway into the large foyer of the British Library; as I walked down to the cloakroom and placed my things into locker 368, placed my belongings into plastic bags and came up to the rare books room, I thought: WE are creatures of habit. It is intriguing how quickly we as people fall into patterns, how we seek to make things familiar. This is necessary for efficiency, for navigating through life – knowing where to place your things, where to go; small things which are taken care of and made automatic so you can learn/focus on new and larger things. It was amazing to me how easily I felt at home after only one day. It surprised me how familiar and comforting it was walking through the gallery of people on those black leather couches, sturdy and equipped with desks and lamps for studying. Just past 10:00 am on a Saturday and they were already hard at work, deep in concentration (save the snuggling couple on the love-seat : a double seater study couch that intrigues me).

This reading room is beautiful: the green and (antique) gold are tastefully matched. Everything appropriately silent and respectful. The epithet outside the library is: ‘the world’s knowledge’. Pretensious maybe, but for some reason, on this street (Euston) where there are so many incredible collections  and being here in this room today, I feel like it is true. Walking through the stacks of the Wellcome Collection yesterday, fingering works from the 1520s; all of it – touching history and being a part of its unearthing – just takes your breath away. My friend reminded me in her breakfast nook this morning:

And what a privilege.

On Freedom

‘You’re unique and I’m complex so why would we be like anyone else?’

Paradigm shifts are sudden; and the penny drops after a culmination of little shoves in the right direction. The past month for me has been a huge learning curve as I’ve begun to open myself up to being a part of something but not knowing exactly how. As per my usual practice, with anything and everything, I took a survey. Not consciously; I just did. I would observe and ask and then ask some more. And whether I admitted it to myself or not, I would try to implement these models. It wasn’t about comparison – I don’t think that was my issue. Rather, it was about being scared of trying something new so I was trying to look for tested and true models, all outside of myself and us.

But what I have learned in the past month is that this relationship is unlike any other. Not because it is special by comparison but rather because of its own combination. Each relationship is unique in the combination of two very different individuals. And I am learning. I am learning to carve out new rules, to find new places, develop new models, and experience something that is entirely its own and entirely beautiful and – freeing. For the first time in my life I am discovering a freedom that I didn’t know existed. God is the author of an infinite number of stories; and all are wonderful in their singularity.