StandChart Singapore Marathon 2006... Outdo Yourself

Reasons for running:
1) An excuse to buy new shoes
2) To eat Snickers ice-cream... guilt-free
3) I'm a believer... Are you?
4) A gorgeous babe asked me to run with her every Sunday morning
5) 4D Sun - 6649 (His no. tag was 66491)

With different motivations.... different reasons.... from all walks of life.... nationalities.... skin colour.... people gathered to run the annual race dubbed "The Greatest Race on Earth" A seemingly familiar sight at the City Hall/Esplanade start/end point. It's kinda weird to witness so many people (a record number of 30,000 participants this time) in the wee hours of a Sunday morning assembled at a single point for a single purpose of completing a foot race. Lines formed outside the mobile toilets. Chatter. Participants doing warm-ups by the roadside. The adrenaline-pumped atmosphere was buzzing with trepidation and excitement. At the starting point, the commentators' ranted out of the loudhailers in an attempt to drum up the spirits of the crowds whom have thronged the road stretch outside the Esplanade. The air was heavy and hot. The anticipation was killing us. Then we heard the horn sounded. It's time.

Concentrate on breathing. Huff. Puff. Huff. Deep breaths. Enjoy the surroundings. Soak in the excitement. Join in the fun. Before long, I realise I was talking to myself. Well... with no mp3 player to accompany and nobody to talk to, running can be a pretty lonely and boring affair. At least, the scenery at Marina South lifted my spirits. Interesting characters like Spidey and the lady dragging a styrofoam box atop a tyre attached with a can (you can imagine the weight, the attention and noise she's causing; and for a good cause too... she's campaigning for recycling awareness) enlivened the run.

I was doing pretty okay... till the 12 km mark. Then the lactic acid buildup in the muscles began to take its toll. My leg joints, ankles and knees ached as my body signalled its protest. From 15km mark onwards, the journey markers seemed to come later and later, though they were only 1 km apart.... as a result of me slowing down. More than once, the thoughts of giving up and start walking floated. And I buried those thoughts. That's when they say... it's all 'mental' from now till the finishing line. Mind over body. C'mon! Don't give up. "No pain" and "For Jesus" are the words that resonated in my mind during those agonizing moment. I promised God I'll complete the half marathon without stopping and no drinks. I was psyching myself up by telling myself it was no pain... compared to the one my Father suffered. No pain... no gain.

Temptations were aplenty. People stopping at the drinks station and taking a breather by the side of the running route. And when you are tired... the mind start playing tricks on you. A lot of possibilities Stop and rest! Have a sip of water, you're thirsty. Your throat felt very dry and your lips are parched. You deserve a drink. And I finally succumbed to the drinks 'taunting' and took half a cup of water. Bad mistake! I had stitches within 20 mins after drinking. Drats! Still I carried on... praying that it would go away in time. And it did! Towards the end, my mind was with the full marathoners.... how did they manage to finish it... I was actually contemplating of doing the full next year. I truly hoped 2007 will be a good year to finally do it, provided with adequate, effective training and proper rest. This year at least I can say that my feet never stop running the minute the horn sounded.

The feeling of reaching the finishing line has never been that inviting and welcoming before! With jellied legs and awkward swaying posture, I plonked myself by the side of the road... catching my breath and untying to get the time chip out of my shoe. The world spun a bit and stumbling to my feet, I exchanged the chip for the runners' medal. It was a test of faith for some... a personal challenge for others. For myself, nothing is more satisfying than setting a goal and despite the difficult circumstances, achieving it... for Him. At least I know in the deep resides of my heart, I do believe... worshipping and praising with actions and not exclusively on the lips. To actually do it, you experience the pain (or part of it) and that you certainly cannot understand by watching a movie, listening to a sermon, reading the word or singing a song.

His Providence was real... so was His love.

A believer I am... Are you?

Take from an Industry Veteran

My boss, a veteran in the brokerage business and a respected man in his field (sits on several financial boards and often gave interviews to the press), gave us newbies a so-called induction speech recently... which I think is pretty truthful and humbling for anyone who wants to survive the corporate jungle out there, particularly in the sales industry. The following are essential pointers I took from his presentation:

1) You & Your Customer

- Your investing style versus that of your customer
You have to establish a rapport with your client. You need to have certain quality that your client trust and have confidence in, at least enough to put their money with. In a nutshell, you have to make your client like you. Question is: how to? You look to your left and your right. Your colleagues are certainly much uglier than you, lesser of a smooth talker than you're and definitely have a worser dress sense. You thought you know more, looks better and talks better. But strangely enough, you don't attract higher margins than the one beside you. What's wrong? You may be having the wrong bunch of clientele on hand that just doesn't click with you.

If you're the sort that likes to entertain clients in pubs or KTVs or enjoys the vibrant night life of our island city, your portfolio of clientele should comprises of such people. If you're the geek or bookworm type who loaths such places and only orders Coke or orange juice at pubs, then your clientle should ideally comprises a majority of the non-drinking groupies.

Let's face it, you can't possibly LIKE every single person on the face of the Earth. You can try faking it. But faking won't stand the trial of time. People can see through fakers. Recognize that people are attracted to specfic kinds of character that exudes a certain appeal.

- Don't make nuisance call
Take view of the market. Prepare your pitch to the client. Always do your homework. The last thing you want your client to have is an impression of a dealer dying to close a trade and making a last ditch to push up his/her quarterly sales figures. If you aren't adding value to the client, you're just another nuisance call he/she has to deal with. A bad experience is enough to make the client avoid your calls and emails from that time onwards. And forget about hearing from him/her, ever again.

- Your client pays to blame you
Things can and will go wrong. Question is: what went wrong and who's responsibility is it? Instinctively, as human beings, it's always outward-looking when it comes to the blaming game. Our mentality is: as long as someone gets the blame, we're off the hook. So in the event of something really goes wrong, you need to find something or someone to cover your ass with. Some of you may know what I'm talking about. There're people out there who are extremely good at covering their trail. For newbie trader like us, we've got the liberty to blame research reports. In the brokerage business context, when we say things go wrong, usually we're talking about losses in the monetary sense. Of course, no one complains when they make gains. The problem arises when they lose. They will blame you. They need a reason to justify their losses. And as a dealer representative, you're first to face the firing squad.

The power of money is phenomenal. It can change people. People who are personally involved in the trading of their own money get emotionally attached to the rise and fall of the market. Active investment trading has the same magical effect on people as gambling does. Greed, fear, panic and hope. A normally nice person can suddenly turn the tables against you. You're being accused of the main culprit in causing your client to lose money. They feel cheated. They take it out on you. The torrent of verbal abuse can sometimes be very personal and stinging. Just one bad incident at the office can spoil your day and leave you in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Veterans brokers have advised us not to take your work home. Leave your emotions at the workplace. Easier said than done apparently. If it's so simple to let go of your baggage, we will see road rage, depression and mental cases going down instead of skyrocketing isn't it? You can't just wave the magic wand and wish it go away.

Finger-pointing is such a common phenomenon in the working world. Just make sure that when you point your finger at someone, the 4 other fingers doesn't point back at yourself.

In short, there should be a fit between you and your client, considering the long-term win-win situation for both of you. You sub-consciously tag certain labels to your clients. He's a punter type... my kind of 'preferred' client. They come in fast and furious.... lose their pants and gone like the wind. Next. She's a just a housewife... she won't know the difference between a blue-chip and a penny stock. That old ah pek always calls and asks, "Eh... this stock... can buy or not AH?"Oh, not him again... What does he want?" when you see his name flashing on your handphone. In the end, you spent 30 mins talking to a fellow who speaks like 60 words per min and only gave you minimal commission. The implication is clear-cut. A choice is made here. You spend more time talking to people who contribute a larger portion of your pay and lesser time to those who don't. In economic lingo, it's called 'maximising returns'.

- "Show me the MONEY"
In the brokerage or any sales job, results counts. Your immediate superior may not like your face. She thinks you've got a serious attitude problem. She doesn't like your sloppiness, can't stand the way you talk over the phone, the more-than-desirable occasional M.C, etc. But as long as your customer doesn't have any problems digesting their food while hearing you present your case, you generate income for the company, your customer who pays your salary, and bonuses (mind you) are ultimately YOUR BOSS whom you serve. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter your superior likes and treats your colleague better than you. Whoever brings in the bigger dough is the winner. You take home a bigger paycheck. Yes, it's a cruel, dog-eat-dog world out there. So what if you're a nice guy, pleases the boss by licking his boots. Favoritism doesn't last in the sales industry. Your sales determine your market value. Not your boss.

2) 3 Kinds of People

-MAKE things happen
-WATCH what happens
-WONDER what has happened

We must always bear in mind to progress from 'wondering' to 'watching' and finally 'making' and not move in the reverse order.

In a jungle, you either eat or get eaten. You've got to feed to survive and at the same time, avoid becoming a meal for predators.

Guilty As Sin

I hated being accused of something I didn't do. Being accused of a mistake through no fault of yours can be the worst feeling one can get. And it always seem that a lump get stuck down your throat. It feels as though God suddenly struck you dumb. Nothing comes out and it gives the tormentor more ammunition and satisfaction to rant on and on and on... coz he feels that the reason you're keeping mum is you're wrong and he now got the right to speak his mind.

Somehow, from childhood, I always get the blame. And when I grew up, I tend to be more accomodating and tolerant towards stuffs that happen around me. Perhaps I'm slow to articulate, didn't know how to defend myself and didn't want to come forth as a confrontational person. I think it's time to stand up and say things like, "Hey, I'm no pushover. I'm not intimidated by whoever you are. You can be my senior, my boss, but status doesn't gain you respect; how you carry yourself does. I've my rights too!"

Sad to say, even in the 21st century where we're right now, the problem that plagued our ancestors still haunt us today, even with the advent of technology like Bluetooth, Skype, e-mail - miscommunication; and I believe this will go on for future generations to come. Technology can't solve everything. At least not this, from what I see, not now, not ever. I quote from a powerpoint presentation someone sent me recently, "Know that 2 persons can see the SAME thing and yet have entirely DIFFERENT interpretions." The fundamental problem of communication still baffles us even with more gadgets and infrastructure in place. This thought always comes to mind, "Did he heard wrongly or did I not make myself clear? Somehow the message got lost in space. Lost in translation" This lead to many a misunderstandling and the way people react to it may result in strained work relations.

It never fails to amaze me how people can carry grudges in their hearts for years. They remember who had wounded them. The memory is etched deep within the inner walls of their heart. And they can't let go of the hatchet. So each time they see that person, they are reminded of the old hurt till it burns. And I'm actually ashamed to say that it's not exclusive to ladies. I know a pair of my college guy classmates who didn't talk to each other for 2 whole years just because one guy stood the other up once. And they were close friends for more than 2 years before that. Thankfully, they've reconciled, but not before we graduated from college. So who's childish now, who's the big baby? Are we adults, being so-called more 'intellectually developed' worse off than our children? C'mon, grow up! Didn't we encourage those kids who got into fights in school to shake hands and be friends again? Why can't we do that for ourselves? Well, if I were first to say sorry, it would mean I admit I'm at fault right? It always boils down to that pride issue uh... I won't burge until he offers an apology. I guess that's why Christ descended with forgiveness and love. If we could save ourselves, we wouldn't need a Saviour, would we?

Jesus once set a guilty woman free from her accusers by showing that the people who were judging her were just as guilty of sin as she was. “All right, stone her,” he said to the religious leaders who were ready, with stones in hand, to deliver the judgment she indeed deserved.

“But let those who have never sinned throw the first stones!” John 8:7 NLT

This incident shows us something very important about our purpose as Christians living in a world of sinners. Our job is not to pass judgment on sinners, but to identify with them. The Pharisees and religious leaders were trying to separate themselves from this sinful woman they had found in the act of committing adultery. By judging her, they were going to be able to feel much better about themselves. Jesus put a stop to their little charade by putting them in the same boat with the woman they were accusing. They were just as guilty.

It is so tempting to think, especially after being a Christian for a while and spending a lot of time around Christians, that you are better than other people. You start to separate yourself from sinners, forgetting it was your sin that brought you to Christ in the first place. I know this because I’m so good at it.

The Gospel comes best from people who identify with the sins of others, because they have become so familiar with their own sins. It is noted in the account that as the self-righteous leaders were convicted by the presence of sin in their own lives, “they slipped away one by one, beginning with the oldest.” John 8:9 NLT

That makes sense. The oldest should be the ones most aware of their own sinfulness. There comes a time in your life when you can’t fool yourself anymore. There were probably a few young, arrogant idealists who hung on as long as possible, but even they had to finally give in to the truth about their own guilt.

The proliferation of both spoken and unspoken judgment found primarily within us, the Church, has forced many into the world, unarmed and without knowing a Christian friend and mutual sinner. We are constantly trying to separate ourselves from a world that Jesus wants us in. Not only that, he wants us to see our own sin and not make such a big fuss over everyone else’s. We seem to always use a different moral scale for ourselves and for others. We tend to be more lenient on ourselves and stricter and more harsh on other people's sins. We always think he or she is a bigger sinner than I am. That's why our prayers are sometimes focused on other people's struggles, rather than our own. We need to pray for our sins as well. Our sin is our connection with our neighbor, our salvation is our hope, and the good news of the Gospel is our message.

People can spot a mile away the hypocrisy of the Gospel of forgiveness of sin coming from someone who thinks he himself doesn’t need it. Somehow somewhere, we've lost it. The meaning and significance of His redemption, of His Coming. We think just because we are Christians, we don't need His cloak of forgiveness as much as non-believers. Ya, we're bigger than those minor sins like gambling, pornography and addiction. We have overcome those. They don't bother me anymore. Often we let our guard down. And the enemy loves to strike when we least expected. Christians need to realise that they are as vulnerable to sin as any other non-believer. Your arrogance and overconfidence may cause your downfall. You are your worst enemy. That's why we need a daily dose of His love, His Word to sustain us thorough our daily battles. Claim His victory, sound the horn, raise the banner, we are more than overcomers!

“When your words came, I ate them; they were my joy and my heart’s delight, for I bear your name, O Lord God Almighty.” Jeremiah 15:16

Anorexia and bulimia are mind-crippling diseases that only function where food is plentiful. There are way too many starving people on this Earth, but most of them can’t help it. Where they live there is not enough food to go around. It is ironically tragic that people can starve to death in the midst of plenty.

What happens in the physical world is almost always an illustration of something like it in spiritual realms. And in spiritual terms, there is nothing more tragic than to have Christians starving spiritually with an overabundance of Bibles and teachers everywhere.

I don’t know a lot about anorexia and bulimia, but I do know that they are fueled by a culture that glorifies being thin, and that those who purposely starve themselves have a false view of themselves as being overweight. They look in the mirror and see a fat person regardless of how thin they are.

The quote comes to my mind, "I'm not who you think I'm. I'm who I think you think I'm." Make sense to you? We're constantly shaped by how we think the world perceives us. Unless you live by yourself and is self-sufficient, as long as you interact with human beings, we're susceptible to imprisoning ourselves by our own assumptions and presumptions of what others think. Sometimes, we are confused as to who we really are. Identity crisis they call it. I know impressionable teenagers suffer frequently from that. Well, I did when I was that age. We all went through that phase in life. Becoming, or pretending to be someone I wasn't that is.

The spiritual implications are obvious here as well. Our culture is awash in its own shallowness. We even glory in it. Shallowness and stupidity are celebrated in many of our most popular movies. I worry that as democracies begin to flourish around the world, it seems that the lifestyle of American culture goes along with them through the power of music and entertainment. We are exporting our own emptiness. And yet when we look at ourselves in a spiritual way, we look fat with so much cultural Christianity. Never in history has a culture looked more Christian while being so spiritually dead. We are, indeed, the spiritually anorexic.

What changes this picture is a commitment to the truth of God’s Word and a constant diet of it in our spiritual lives. And you have to do this yourself. No one can save an anorexic person; each has to decide to eat. The Word of God is spiritual soul food, and if you are spiritually starved, that’s only because you are not eating. We need to get a more realistic view of ourselves. We may look fat to ourselves, but in truth, we are thin, near death, and we need to eat – and food is plentiful.

Just pick up your Bible and feed.

When Meeting for Coffee Really Just Mean Meeting for Coffee

Have you ever wondered what it's like to be in an arranged marriage? A set-up union of 2 families. It seems to only happens to our grandparents' era or in Third World countries. You feel sad that these people doesn't have a liberty of choice. They don't get to choose who they want to spend with the rest of their lives. Yet, they are happy, or so it seems. Growing old together... this term sounds really chessy in today's society context. The S'pore Department of Statistics reports the divorce rate has doubled over the last decade, and as of 2003, for every 10 marriages registered in Singapore, almost 3 ended in divorce. The dysfunctional state of marriages is, sad to say, a normaly across the globe. Could be due to numerous social factors. Could it be that we are now spoilt for choice, in contrast to previous generations that seemed more content with the mate their parents chose on their behalf. "He got a Beemer convertible." "She's a Grade 8-er and has a Masters." "He's got chiselled looks... like a Greek God and irresistable charm." "She's got model looks and those bum seems as though they were fitted with a turbo locomotive." "He's a hunk. She's a babe." I could go on forever. There's always someone better out there. Period. Point is this: how are you gonna handle the reality that your partner will probably never measure up to those out there in the marketplace will determine the amount of bitterness and pent-up frustration and eventually how the relationship going to work out? How are you gonna reconcile the differences between those eligible singles in your workplace, in your social circle with the one right beside you. Face it: He'll never be simultaneously handsome enough, rich enough and free enough to spend quality time with her. Likewise, he grows sick of her constant mumblings, nagging and insecurity, coupled with wrinkles and after 3 kids, that pear-shaped bodyline.

Have you ever felt like you're being scrutinized or even, evaluated by the opposite sex? It's a weird feeling... looks, tick... humor, somewhat ok... stable job and income, barely make it... godly, tick... sense of responsibility, cross... drives a car, bonus points! From head to toes, the eyeballs rolled up and down. The eyeball-to-eyeball stare... feels like she can almost see through my thoughts. "How can I ditch her without her feeling lousy about herself."

I hated blind dates. The mental stress and heart palpatations before the date, only to return home hopes dashed. Talk about dealing with disappointments in life. Your mind is wrestling with the fact that what you thought she would be and how she is now, standing in front of you, in flesh and blood. Voices in your head you can't shut them off. But, she sounded all right on msn and on the phone. Drats! Looking at her now, she looked like she's in her thirties. Sigh. Somehow I wished guys don't go looks. Why can't we forgo the looks department... true beauty is not found skin deep. A friend told me once a coupl of years back, "You know, it's amazing I find man obsessed with finding the perfect one.The perfect one is a myth. IT doesn't exists. Look, human skin is only 2-3mm thick. Stripped off the skin, we basically all look the same, bloodied mass of flesh. Beneath our only 2-3mm skin, we look no different from one another. Color, skin condition, hair, looks is secondary." Words of wisdom. Sure, 'the inner beauty are more important than looks' and 'charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting' sermon. I remember that. Easier said than done. Guys are visual creatures. Stimulated by what we see, rather than the unseen. That's the way we're made and programmed by the great Creator. Personally, I admired those guys whose wives or girlfriends are erm... lesser 'visual-stimulating' than they are.

Coming back to blind dates. Not to mention the part where we've got to show the fake "You aren't what I've expected to be; but heck, it's only a meal and I need to pretend I'm still interested but there isn't really a chance I'll ever see her again in my life." smile.

A zillion electric currents bolted through the neurotic nerves in the grey matter.

"Quick Frank. Think of something intelligent to sustain the conversation. Don't look like an idiot just eating your food and keeping silent. Say something! Even though there seems to be no chemistry whatsoever. C'mon, there has to be something. Dig deeper." Your mind just went blank. Mental block. Execute Plan B.

You felt like confronting God, "Why did you let this happen to me? Is he or she really 'The One'?! What did I do to deserve this? I can't possibly accept this, Father. " Cracked your brains for creative excuses to get out of the place as soon as possible. "Oh, my friend just had a car accident. I need to rush to the hospital now. See ya!" "Oops, I've forgotten, I need to return the car to my brother later tonight as he is using it for a chalet. Keep in touch. By the way, don't call me... I will call you." When you got home, you just wanna hit the sack and hope that by the next morning, you'll forget the whole nightmarish episode. Rarely happens. As Forrest Gump cited, "Life's like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get."

During dates, we often come up with a pre-date checklist that we mentally tick against to make sure that he or she is "The One" ordained by God, sealed by fate, fused together by divine circumstances and bonded by a common destiny. The ultimate question boils down to: "Is he or she marriage material? Can I see him or her being a father or mother to my children?" If the answer is no, that's the only one-to-one date you'll ever get with that guy/girl.

Recently a guy friend told me about hanging out with a single buddy, who talked at length about a woman from their church he'd been crushing on for months. "Why don't you ask her to coffee sometime?" my friend asked. The reply? "Well, I'd like to get to know her a bit more first. See if she'd say yes. And see if she really is marriage material."

I listened to my friend's story with a little bit of glee, glad that the phenomenon is equal opportunity. But I also felt dismay, thinking this is part of why there's a dating drought in Christian circles. We're paralyzed by seriousness and fear.

While the crazy-intense thinking about potential relationships—even potential dates—seems obviously over-the-top, I totally understand where it comes from. As Christians, at the end of the day—and date—we aren't looking for just a potential one-night stand or even a possible live-in love interest. As people of faith, we know the end game for dating is marriage. And that can be a lot to swallow along with that first-date latte.

In an age of casual sex and "starter marriages," it's great—not to mention, biblical—that we single Christians are taking matters of the heart so seriously. But I sometimes wonder if we're taking them a little too seriously. I have a friend who turned down a date invite because she couldn't picture the guy as the father of her children. Mind you, she'd just met him 5 minutes earlier. Surprised by how 1st impression counts. That's how important 1st impression is. And I've heard of guys who want to be completely sure a woman is their soulmate before even asking her to lunch. I hear these things and wonder how we're supposed to get into these relationships we value so highly at this rate.

I also suspect there's some fear at work here too. Fear that any step other then a slow march to the altar is outside of God's will and wrong. Fear of misleading someone and being labeled the villain of your singles group. Fear of revealing feelings and not having them returned. Fear of vulnerability, rejection, pain. But no matter how you approach them, relationships take risk.

And avoiding the risk often involves avoiding the relationship.

Below is an fascinating article by a female Christian writer I find rather amusing and insightful:

"To say my friend Jenny was excited would be an understatement.

This single sister had accepted an invite to a pre-service Starbucks gathering with a guy from her church. In anticipation of their outing, she'd gotten a manicure and a new blouse. And she'd told her mother.

As she recounted her elaborate preparations, I fought the urge to temper her enthusiasm. I was happy with her and for her, but I was a tad fearful she was getting too worked up. What if this was just a friendly get-together in the guy's mind? What if they didn't hit it off? At this rate, I knew my friend would be totally crushed. "It's not like he asked you to marry him," I wanted to say in soothing tones. "It's just coffee."

But then I remembered back several years earlier when I'd spent the better part of an afternoon in a mint-green facemask before meeting a male coworker at the dollar theater. And I may have changed clothes about five times before deciding on the just-right outfit.
Staring in the mirror while washing off the green goo, I remember telling myself to dial it down a couple notches. "It's just a casual movie outing. Relax." But at the time, it had been over a year since a guy had extended such an invite—or seemingly even noticed my existence. Finally, I'd breathed in relief after hanging up the phone from his call. And though most of me recognized that the thought was so premature it needed a whole new word other than premature, a little other part of me wondered if he could be "the one." It's just that when dating options don't come around very often, each one carries so much weight. So much pent-up hope. And so much pressure.

To make matters worse, it doesn't help that the male species can smell this 'sense of desperation' a mile away. And when they do, they run for the hills. But really, who can blame them, when on date one they sense a woman mentally picking out their China pattern and naming their future children? Unfortunately their understandable disappearance only furthers the datelessness that helped create the craziness in the first place—continuing the vicious cycle.

So in the past couple years I've focused on letting coffee be coffee. Not being cavalier with others' feelings or totally unexcited about dating prospects (I freely admit to purchasing a pair of flirty new shoes along the way). Just casualing it up a bit so there's more room to move. Not having to know a guy is my soulmate before agreeing to share mochas. Not plotting our future together on the drive to the Starbucks. Not having to know a guy is interested before sending him a breezy e-mail to test the relational waters.

The result? More male interaction—as I suspect they've sniffed out less seriousness and desperation. Less stress before these outings, and more of an ability to relax and just be myself when we're hanging out. Increasing courage to say "yes" and even to issue a few coffee shop invites of my own. And more confidence, as my "dating muscles" aren't quite as atrophied.
Just last month I met a guy for coffee. Did I deliberate a bit over what to wear? Sure. But there was no facemask and future planning. Just fun anticipation and prayers for God to guide, no matter what may start brewing along the way."

I've to agree with the writer that guys can sense the desperation in the opposite sex. Fact is: unless the urgency is a mutual feeling, it does drives men away. I realise over the years the reason for not settling down. One major fear of settling down with one is not marriage, not commitment... I was afraid I'd choose incorrectly. I was afraid I'd be wrong about the one I married. And thus, I was overly concerned about the choosing.

In a way, it's almost as if I was putting together a jigsaw puzzle and had one final space to fill—but many, many extra pieces in the box. Eagerly, I searched for that right piece. And instead of just trying them in the empty space, I held each one up for detailed analysis. Looking it over inch by inch, I checked the shape and size, and I tried to interpret the look, the markings, and the color—all to be sure it was indeed the one to even try in the space.

My prayer times also helped me realize my psycho puzzle search was keeping me from ever being content. I was just expecting too much—from myself, from God, and from the women I dated. My standards were too high. Of course, I'm not saying we should settle for just anyone—but I wasn't being realistic. By putting so much weight on every little quality of a woman—and by looking so hard for God's signs and the specific qualities I wanted—I could always find something that signaled this wasn't the right piece of the puzzle.

I also realized emotions can't always be trusted. Of course, emotions do speak to us in great ways. Regular happiness, secure comfort, or constant annoyance really do say a lot about the person creating those feelings in us. And God often speaks through how we feel. But momentary annoyance or anger or boredom isn't going to always "mean" something. Not only are emotions fleeting and unreliable, but love isn't immune from those things. My accountability partner at the time asked me, "Do you think I never get angry or annoyed with my wife? Sometimes, you'll be miserable."

What made a real difference in my mindset—and that specific dating relationship especially—was another realization. While I was too busy investigating whether this was the "right" puzzle piece, I forgot that love isn't a puzzle at all. It's not a search for one perfect piece or else all is lost. Instead, it's a mixture of following God's will, finding compatibility, and—the part I forgot—choosing to commit. Dating isn't about finding what you think may be the "right" puzzle piece and then holding your breath through the vows to see if you picked right. It's about choosing well (with an eye to compatibility, chemistry, and God's guidance) and then committing to make it work. Love says, "I'm gonna stick with this even if I'm angry at you. Even if I hate you right now. Even if I'm miserable. Even if I'm bored hanging out with you. I choose to love you."

With that realization, I felt tremendous freedom. No longer was I bound by undependable emotions or what I thought was the "right" one or not. Now, I could listen wholeheartedly to God, realistically evaluate my compatibility with the someone, and work to make our relationship the puzzle piece that fits.

Enjoy the companionship of your date. Relax, sit back, indulge in the lounge music and savour the coffee. It's just coffee, really.

Reminiscing 911

It began with an appalling image, the north tower of the World Trade Center spewing black smoke into a cloudless September sky.

The face of terror has never been so real, at least for myself, whom pre-Sept 11, finds 'terrorism' an unfamiliar phrase confined only to the boundaries of war-torn Middle Eastern nations. The triumph of human spirit coming from numerous testimonies of heroic, self-sacrificial acts has never been so real either. Survivors, victims' families, emergency workers and city officials united for a single day in history.

For millions of people alive today the most significant political event of their lifetimes will be the destruction of the World Trade Center on September 11th 2001.

It was, without question, the day the world changed... the day where henceforth, time will forever be distinguished as Pre or Post 911.

I still remembered vividly that fateful night 5 years ago... watching the horror 'live' on CNN unfold before my eyes. I was in my room at that time when the first plane hit the North Tower. My dad called me out to the living room. We stayed glued to the television set. History was made that defining day. Anyone who has watched it will be shocked at the unimaginable destruction. The sight of office workers dropping off the WTC Towers will be etched in my memory forever. Thoughts were racing, "What made these people want to end their lives like that?" Something terrible and untolerable I guess.

"It didn't seem real." said a survivor. Yet it cannot be further away from the truth. The Twin Towers became a cementary for almost 3,000 innocent souls.

CNA was broadcasting a 2-part series on 911 where the film producers collected and constructed real stories of what happened to people trapped in the WTC Towers and those who went in to save them. The unbelief, shock, panic, disorientation and fear of the office occupants of the torched, smoke-filled buildings were apparent enough. You see them trying to open jammed doors, navigating though debris, making your way crowded, dark smokey, stairways (more than 200 flights of stairs each and making phone calls to loved ones, clueless what had just taken place.

The individual agony, anguish and humanity of those involved is now brought to life through that immersive drama-documentary. Unsung heroes responded to their calling. Jan Demczur, the window cleaner who managed to save the lives of his fellow elevator passengers by unimaginable methods; and the firefighters who so bravely entered the towers, many of whom never returned. One extraordinary story that struck me involved Stanley Praimnath and Brian Park; 2 men who had never met until that day but whose friendship, faith and steely determination meant that they both survived.

"It was the first time I cried like a baby.... I've never received compassion like that before.... a total stranger." recalled Stanley Praimnath.

Tuesday, September 11, 2001, began like any other day for Bethel Assembly of God deacon and Sunday school superintendent Stanley Praimnath of Elmont, Long Island. He got up early, took a shower, prayed, got ready and headed for work. The drive was uneventful. The train ride was the same. Yet, this day he would see the hand of God spare his life. "For some particular reason, I gave the Lord a little extra of myself that morning [during prayer]," Stanley said. "I said, 'Lord, cover me and all my loved ones under your precious blood.' And even though I said that and believed it, I said it over and over and over.

Stanley worked as an assistant vice president in the Loans Operations Department, Fuji Bank Limited. That morning, Stantley went to work at his office located at WTC South Tower/Tower 2, 81st floor. He wanted to evacuate his office building when the 1st plane had hit Tower 1.
However, Stanley returned back to his office desk after the security guard told him Tower 2 was secure (talk about bad advice) after the 1st plane crashed into Tower1. He found his office phone was ringing."It was someone from Chicago calling to find out if I'm watching the news," he said.

He told the caller everything "was fine." But everything wasn't fine--far from it. As Stanley was talking, he looked up and saw American Airlines Flight 11 heading straight for him. "All I can see is this big gray plane, with red letters on the wing and on the tail, bearing down on me," said Stanley. "But this thing is happening in slow motion. The plane appeared to be like 100 yards away, I said "Lord, you take control, I can't help myself here." Stanley then dove under his desk. "My Testament [Bible] was on top of my desk," explained Stanley. "I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Lord was going to take care of me once I got there." As he curled into a fetal position under his desk, the plane tore into the side of the building and exploded. Miraculously, Stanley was unhurt. However, he could see a flaming wing of the plane in the doorway of his department. He knew he needed to get out of his office and the building fast. But, he was trapped under debris up to his shoulders. "Lord, you take control, this is your problem now," he recalled praying. "I don't know where I got this power from, but the good Lord, He gave me so much power and strength in my body that I was able to shake everything off. I felt like I was the strongest man alive." All the while, Stanley was asking to the Lord to spare his life. "I'm crying and I'm praying, 'Lord, I have things to do..., I want to see my family, Lord, help me through.' " Stanley's office resembled a battle zone--walls flattened into dusty heaps, office equipment strewn violently, flames flickering about and rubble everywhere. "Everything I'm trying to climb on [to get out] is collapsing and I'm going down," he said. "I'm getting cuts and bruises, but I'm saying, "Lord, I have to go home to my loved ones, I have to make it, You have to help me."

Suddenly Stanley saw the light of a flashlight. For a moment, it stunned him. "What were the chances of someone bringing a flashlight to this floor?," he thought. "My first gut reaction was, 'This is my guardian angel--my Lord sent somebody to save me!' " Stanley began screaming, "I see the light, I see the light." But after clawing his way through the debris, he realized that he couldn't get out--all the exits were blocked and his "guardian angel" couldn't get to him--a wall was between him and the staircase. "He can't get to me and I can't get to him, and by this time I can't breathe," Stanley said. "I don't know if it was sulfur or what [burning jet fuel, perhaps], but I can smell this thing. I got down on my knees and said, "Lord, you've got to help me. You've brought me this far, help me to get to the staircase." But then Stanley did something surprising. While praying on his knees, Stanley called out to the man behind the wall, "There's one thing I got to know, do you know Jesus?" The man replied he went to church every Sunday. Then they prayed together to enable them to break through the wall. "I got up, and I felt as if a power came over me," said Stanley. "I felt goose bumps all over my body and I'm trembling, and I said to the wall, 'You're going to be no match for me and my Lord."

Moments later, he punched his way through the wall and, with the help of the man on the other side, was able to squirm his way through the hole in the wall. "The guy held me and embraced me and he gave me a kiss and he said, 'From today, you're my brother for life.' " But the danger wasn't over. The man on the other side of the wall, who introduced himself as Brian, was an older gentleman and they still had 81 floors to walk down, with the building on fire and, unknown to them, in danger of collapse. "We hobbled our way down, and at every floor we stopped to see if anybody was there, but nobody was..., but a man was on the floor, and his back was gone, and he was covered in blood." Stanley asked to be allowed to carry the man out, but a security guard told him it would be better to send somebody up. When they finally made it down to the concourse, only firefighters were there. "They were saying, 'Run! Run! Run!', they were telling us to run out, but they were not concerned about themselves," he said. Stanley and Brian would have ran from the building, but now the concourse was surrounded with fire. Wetting themselves under the building's sprinkler system, they held hands and ran through the flames to safety to Trinity Church about two blocks away. "I wanted to go to the church to thank God," Stanley explained, "As soon as I held onto the gate of that church, the building [World Trade Center Tower Two] collapsed." Stanley and Brian made there way safely out of the danger area. Before they parted, Stanley gave his business card to Brian in hopes of contact at a later time, and said, "If I don't see you, I'll see you in heaven."

Cut and bloodied, with clothes tattered and wearing a borrowed shirt, Stanley finally made it home hours later to his wife Jennifer and his two girls, Stephanie (age 8) and Caitlin (age 4). "I held my wife and my two children and we cried," said Stanley. After thanking God for sparing his life, Stanley told God whatever he did, it will always be for His glory. "I'm so sore, but every waking moment, I say 'Lord, had you not been in control, I would not have made it.' "For some divine reason, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the good Lord's mighty hand turned the plane a fraction from where I was standing," said Stanley. "Because when it crash-landed, it was just 20 feet from me. I don't care who would rationalize--what people would say now or years from now, but I know it was the handiwork of the Lord that turned that plane.

Sept 11... the day the American Symbol was reduced to ashes... New York, Lower Manhanttan skyline was transformed... terror reared its ugly head for all to witness... Osama Bin Ladin and terrorism became synonymous and the day the world awoke from its slumber and took notice of oppressed Middle Eastern Islamic organisations and 'security' became an overused word for international event organisers and personnel of key installations. What a difference a day makes!

In an instant, fate decreed who had the opportunity to escape and who did not. Amazingly, some chose to stay behind and not leave their offices immediately after the first plane crashes. They didn't know. Sounds ridiculous? Many just thought it was an explosion in the building.

Man lives are no longer in their own hands anymore. Nothing could have prepare those men and women for what took place that day. So who decides who to live and who to die? Definitely not you or me. Can you ever imagine in your wildest dreams that on a typical Tuesday you left for work, a plane is going to hit your office, deliberately? Before Sept 11, nobody did. Can you fathom the intricacies and mysteries of life? I can't.

No insurance could compensate the loss of a grieving family. It's been 5 years... yet some families are still coming to grips with the pain and hollow left after 911. "I actually didn't want to have the service[funeral] for Dave until his body was found, but as time passed it seemed harder to explain to my son," said Fontana's (a NY firefighter) widow, Marian.

Life could end in an instant. We do not know how long we have on this earth. We could have 60 or 70 or 80 years to live... OR, only 24 hours to live.

Are you certain of the place you're heading when you depart from here? Somewhat certain? 60-70% sure? Whatever religious beliefs you have, just make sure you do.

NDP 2006

2 dudes chilling out as the curtains shut for the last time; bringing a deserved closure to an era of memories spent at the Grand Old Dame

NDP 2006

Kenneth posing amongst the dispersing crowds; biding a fonding farewell to National Stadium

NDP 2006

Crowds starting to make a move

NDP 2006

What's an NDP without fireworks... There you go... brief spectacular display... sorrie... only 1 picture taken... was enraptured by its brilliant splendor... last min then rem to take photo...

NDP 2006

The grand finale

NDP 2006

Forming up of the various marching contingents

NDP 2006

Against the backdrop of the fading sunset, the last Red Lion arrives (with the flag)

NDP 2006

A smoking gun in the sky

NDP 2006

Here comes more of the Red Lions

NDP 2006

Here comes a Red Lion soaring across the evening sky

NDP 2006

Overwhelmed by the occasion?

A wide-eyed boy with a stunned look and S'pore national flag on his face. My best shot of the day! Cheers!

NDP 2006

Clapsticks were the assigned 'weapon' that evening. Great... saved the crowd from going home with sore palms. Looks good on national television as well. Those swaying, inflated tubes...

NDP 2006

Now finally.... Here comes the crowd! The stage is set! The show is now ready to begin!

NDP 2006

Kenneth (eating!) and the man with electric fan

NDP 2006

Umbrella galore! This crowd are a seasoned bunch... meanwhile... we were being baked under the sun

NDP 2006

Manz... we were EARLY... Look at those empty seats!

NDP 2006

At the entrance of National Stadium with Kenneth.... my benefactor! I know, i know.... we are "supposed" to come in red/white to the NDP! Well.... at least my Milan jersey has some red! Duh.

NDP 2006

The coveted NDP 2006 Ticket!! In my hands.... at last.... I thot I've lost the last chance to say goodbye to the Grand Old Dame of S'pore at its farewell party. But.... somehow.... the Blue Sector it is.... Can't contain the excitement. Thank God!

Views on Da Vinci Code

Caught the movie on 19th May 2006, here's my 2 cents worth of it. Well, I've read the Dan Brown's novel and so I may be abit biased in my opinions vis-a-vis one who haven't read the book, have no idea about the storyline and are watching it for the 1st time. Laying my hands on the book about 1-year-and-a-half ago, DVC had me hooked! Towards the last pages, I couldn't bear to finish reading it coz each page left you thirsting for more of the rollercoaster ride that can leave readers breathless.

The movie has received mostly negative reviews from movie critics. I couldn't agree with more. I approach the movie with somewhat high expectations with all the hype surrounding the A-list stars and director making this film, and I was a tad disappointed with the end product.

For one who already is aware of the plot (as the 60.5 million and still counting, people worldwide who read the book), the sequence and intensity of the movie fails to impress. DVC doesn't capture my attention as much. Except for the occasional wit of Sir Leigh Teabing (played by Ian McKellan) Watching the movie isn't as satisfying, tantalizing and heart-racing as reading the book. The adrenaline rush I expected wasn't there. To be honest, towards the end, I just couldn't wait to get out of the theatre. The main problem is the pace, which suffers when the director, who wanted to stick as closely as possible to the Dan Brown's original script, attempts to squeeze in 359 pages (UK hardback version) worth of dialogue and storyline into a 2-and-a-half-hour film. The thrill of wanting to discover more as the plot thickens dissipated as the movie drags on. Some audience simply gave up mid-way and snoozed throughout.

However, to give due credit to the director Ron Howard, he stayed unbelievably true and accurate to the original novel nonetheless. There was simply just too much dialogue. The dash of mystery that have gripped millions of Dan Brown's readers flipping the novel till the last page was regretfully missing. The built-up to the finale is an agonising 2.5 hours wait. We grew restless as the movie dragged on to two and a half hours and spun a long sequence of anticlimactic revelations that instead of satisfying the palate, left a much less-desired bitter aftertaste.

A film critic at the Cannes Film Festival likened it to the Energizer Bunny who just kept going, and going, and going... and not in a good sense. Perhaps some bestsellers do indeed make poor screenplays.

A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby

Baby close your eyes and listen to the music
Drifting through a summer breeze
It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it
Come along with me and put your mind at ease
A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby

Come on baby I'm tired of talking
Grab your coat and let's start walking
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Come on, come on
Don't procrastinate, don't articulate
Girl it's getting late, gettin' upset waitin' around

A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby

'A Little Less Conversation' by Elvis Presley

An Extraordinary Man

"Failure is the greatest opportunity I have to know who I really am."

John Killinger

Was watching a documentary today on CNA about an American named Gregory Burns. Born 1957. Accomplished Artist, Athlete, Writer and Internationally acclaimed Motivational Speaker. They were showing clips of his paintings, his books, his speeches. This guy's have it all. He looks like every successful man out there with his strong phsyique, endearing bright smile and chiselled good looks. I was getting bored with the lengthy How-I-did-it speech and was ready to switch channels. I'm glad I didn't. When the camera zooms out, I realise, hey, wait a minute, what's the pair of clutches doing beside this suave gentleman sitting on a bench. It seems Greg needs walking aid. Looks interesting. So this isn't an ordinary, typical rags-to-riches story after all.

You see, this guy's disabled. Having contracted polio in Jerusalem as an 8-month old infant, Greg relies on a pair of leg braces and forearm crutches to move around since then.

Later, the camera followed him swimming. As Greg removes his pants, there you see it. Those scrawny, shrivelled, pale pair of legs. Looks more like 2 wooden poles to me. Lifeless. Weak. Unable to even support his own weight. And he swam laps using solely his upper body strength. Yes, I mean laps. Amazing. I mean, I know some people can't even swim with both healthy feet intact. He's a Paralympian, a member of the USA Disabled Swim Team. Competing in the 1992 Barcelona, 1996 Atlanta and 2000 Sydney Paralympics, Greg set four world records and captured half a dozen medals. He's also an avid hiker and mountaineer, having scaled the world's most impressive peaks, a certified PADI scuba-diver, body-boarder. In 1983, Gregg hopped the Honolulu Marathon and came in dead last. He crossed the finish line 16 hours after the start of the race .

"Arguably, due to a disability that constantly motivates me to scale new mountains both literally and metaphorically, I border on being an overachiever. Perhaps it all started when, petrified at the age of four, I would ride the roller coaster simply because my older brother wouldn't. In time, I graduated to climbing mountains, competing internationally as a swimmer and backpacking overland throughout Asia for 16 months at a stretch. No doubt part of it is comes for a need to overcompensate or a need to prove myself. I've never been sure of how much is too much as I have never had any role models. But more importantly, I've just done the things I wanted to do."

Gregory Burns

Greg’s physical disability has never limited his winning attitude, persistence and team spirit which have all combined to make him a consistent champion and gold medal winner at numerous international athletic events in the past 23 years. His medical condition and achievements have made him a unique source of inspiration and motivation for people to maximize their potential and creativity while overcoming life's challenges.

Greg has never let his disability stop him from achieving and becoming the person he wanted to be. He has a winning mentality that's nurtured from a young age when his parents refused to treat him as a 'disabled' person, and sent him to 'normal' schools with normal kids. And Greg adapted his abilities to the different sports that were exposed to him. He never limited himself to the boundaries that a disabled person can do. His mind was always open, always exploring, always determined to succeed and ready to prove others wrong. Instead of giving up on himself, Greg has pursued a passionate life of painting, traveling, trekking, swimming, scuba diving, producing documentaries, addressing large audiences as a motivational speaker and working as a regional Marketing/PR manager for PepsiCo Restaurants International. We must learn to harness the setbacks in our lives which are what push us forward and bring us inner strength.

Greg has a lesson for us. Never let logical thinking or what others say restrict what you can be. Circumstances have not stopped Greg from living out his dreams. We must learn to harness the setbacks in our lives which are what push us forward and bring us inner strength. Everyone has his/her own race to run. Some burst in front when the gun fires. Some are slow to react to the gunshot and lag behing others. Some stumble along the way. Some develop cramps and struggle to carry on, but finish it nevertheless. Doesn't matter how you start the race. Life's not a 100-metre dash but like running a marathon. It's how you finish that matters. When life deals you a bad hand of cards, stop whining about it and play it the best you could.

"I asked God what is His purpose for me. I realise from a young age that I wasn't like the other kids. I've learnt that when one door shuts, another opens. God took away my legs, and He gave me something else. When God takes something away from you, He always gives something back in return. "

Gregory Burns

Get Out

A humbling interview on Fri where I was asked to "get out" not once... but twice... Utterly humiliated. Honestly speaking, I was rather shaken by the experience. I was fuming with anger as I walked back to my office. I couldn't stand the bad attitude of the director. I didn't deserved to be treated like this. My ego was deflated. Certainly, it ruined my day. Now why was I angry? What stirred my frustration? I narrowed it down to one word. Rejection. The interviewer had rejected me. He didn't accept me.

Genesis 4:4-5 says, " The Lord accepted Abel and his gift, but he did not accept Cain and his gift. So Cain became very angry and felt rejected." This is the first guest appearance of 'Anger' in the Bible... which will then pop up 400 more times. Both Abel and Cain had heard God's instructions. And when Abel brought the best parts of a firstborn from his flock, he did so out of obedience to what he had heard. And when Cain brought "some food" from the ground, he was acting out of disobedience and defiance. Surely he had heard what Abel had heard. He knew what Abel knew. But still he was angry that God returned his sacrifice unopened. God warned him to be careful of his anger. God asked Cain," Why are you angry? Why do you look so unhappy? If you do things well, I will accept you, but if you do not do them well, sin is ready to attack you. Sin wants you, but you must rule over it." But Cain had other plans. He told to Abel to go out into the fields. While they were out in the fields, Cain attacked his brother, Abel and killed him." (Gen 4:3-8)
Cain gave up. He gave up on God and submitted to himself to sin. And he took it out on Abel.

So if rejection causes hurt and anger, wouldn't acceptance cure it? If rejection by heaven makes you mad at others, wouldn't acceptance from heaven stir your love for them? Luke 7:47 tells us, "He who is forgiven little loves little." We see another biblical character Paul whose attitude took a 360 degree turnabout after he personally met with Christ. Before that encounter, Paul 'destroy the church' ... 'going from house to house, he dragged men and women and put them in prison.'(Acts 8:2), habouring a deep hatred for anyone who preached Christ. A No.1 enemy of God turned out to be one of the greatest evangelist and church-builders the world has ever seen. He's the one who gives us the timeless definition of love. "It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." (1 Cor 13:7-8). His heart contains only love. Even for his enemies. People who hated him wished he was dead. His accusers beat him, stoned him, jailed him and mocked him. But can you find one occasion when he responded in kind? One anger outburst? One complaint? This is a different man. His anger is gone. His passion is unquenchable. His dedication is unquestioned. Rash flare-ups of rage? A thing of the past. What made the difference? He encountered Christ.

"You life is now hidden with Christ in God." (Col 3:3). Whenever the Father looks down on you, what does he see? He sees his Son, the perfect Lamb of God, hiding you. Through Christ, God has accepted you and I. Think for a moment what this means. You cannot keep people from rejecting you. But you can keep rejections from enraging you. How? By letting His acceptance reimburse for their rejection.

Think of it this way. By the window sill of your office, you kept a single, bright yellow lily. You love lilies. You took it out of the sun and displayed it proudly atop your cubicle in the office for others to admire its beauty. This morning, your boss summoned you to her office. A mistake in the report you submitted last week. You're given an earful. Must be that Rosie who altered the formulae on my Excel spreadsheet. Not your fault right? Petal picked. You're blamed for someone else's error. Not exactly the best way to start a Monday. 4 petals left. Someone gossiped about you having a fling with a colleague from another department. 3 petals. During lunch, someone accidentally stepped on your foot while queueing for food. 2 petals. After lunch, your boss informed you that Rosie was chosen over you to go to London to pitch to those high net-worth clients you've been wanting to solicit. A trip you so badly wanted to go. By the end of the day, you are down to one. Bad hair day uh? An understatement definitely. You're only one petal away from a major blowup.

What if the scenario was changed slightly? You've a neighbour who owns a florist shop just across the street where you lived. Every night on the way home, he stops at your place and gives you a fresh, undeserved and irrresistable bouquet of your favorite lillies. These aren't leftover flowers that he can't sell. They're the top breed. You don't know why he thinks so highly of you but you aren't complaining. It's free, isn't it? Your apartment is now filled with the sweet fragrance of lillies. Your pot of liliy at the office is messed up. Never mind that. You've got a whole bunch to replace it! The difference is enormous. Do you think God can and will heal your angry heart? God will hand-deliver you a bouquet of flowers to your doorstep every day. Take it! It's yours to keep. When rejections come, you won't be left short-petaled. Anger does nothing, but robs you of the joy of living.

Do what Terry did. Years ago, a very stressful job stirred up within him daily bouts of frustration and anger. He had a tree at his driveway. It used to be tall. Then it lost a few limbs. And after some time, it was nothing but a stump. "That was me." Terry explained. "I took my anger on the tree. I kicked it. Took an axe and chopped at it. I didn't want to come home mad, so I left my anger at the tree." His family didn't recalled any outburst of rage during those years.

Take the flowers. Take out your anger at the tree on the hill of Calvary. Receive from him so that you can love or at least put up with the imperfect people of this world we live in. He's not frowning. He loves you from the day you are in your mother's womb. I've already forgiven the one who wounds me. Haven't you done the same yet? Take a long drink from His well of limitless love... and simmer down.

How Long must I put up with You?

Someone asked me, "What questions do you have for God."

Oh gosh, there were so many... too many.

I wanted to ask Him what's going on in his mind in the Calvary as he faced head-on the brutality of the very people he loves so much and came to save. Being betrayed and disowned by his closest disciples and rejected by the people he once delivered. The mental and emotional torment is unimaginable. He could have given up. Imagine the change He has to make, the distance He has to travel. What would it be like to become flesh?

You would have thought God Himself would make a more spectacular entry into the world He created. Even the invading aliens from "War of the Worlds" could have done better. Freak lightning storms. Strong gusts of wind. Clouds twirling above... swirling around a single spot above. Meteor shower. Shooting stars. EMPs. Time stopped... literally. Earthquakes. Bolts of lighting striking the ground. Trumpets of angels echoed. Chorus of joyous singing in the background. Heavens open. And in a flash of blinding, white light. Behold! God Almighty has arrived! In style too... But as things turn out, when He came, hardly anyone noticed. Bethlehem held no parade, no celebration. No... nothing like that sort. Of all places... a dirty, stinky stable?? A poor, small-time carpenter Joseph for father? You would have expect someone with more clout... richer, smarter and powerful. Joseph can't even afford a hotel room, for goodness 's sake.

One evening, an army of ants has invaded my dinner table. "Must be the remnants of mossels of last night's supper," I thought. Leaning down to make sure they could hear me, "Hey, ants! Shoo! Let me have my meal in peace." No reply. No one looked in my direction. Then I realized, "I don't speak their language. They won't understand what I'm trying to tell them." On hindsight, I must have looked pretty silly trying to communicate to a group of ants. So what could I do to reach them, to pass them the message instead of just killing them in one stamp of the hand? Only 1 thing. I needed to become an ant. To become one of them. Go from 1.70 metres to a teeny-weeny. From 64kg to a millionth of a milligram. Swap my big world for their tiny one. Give up eating burgers to eating leftover mossels and trash. "No thanks! No way I'm going to give up what I have now to be an ANT!" I said.

How does it feels like to bear the weight of sins of all Mankind on His shoulders? To be wrongfully accused and persecuted of crimes He never commit. To be punished when He is innocent. To be mocked and beaten publicly as He paraded half-naked or naked(which some historians believe) along the streets. Streets lined with people on both sides, ridiculing and sneering. "Let Him save Himself if He's Christ, the Chosen One." Just Him and His Cross. 3 times He stumbled and fell, under its sheer weight. Weak. Groggy. Battered. Blood streaming down His face from the crown of thorns. Blurred vision. Parched lips. Gory back. Cold, clammy sweat from shock. Dehydrated. Exhausted. Bloodied body broken, mutilated and barely recognizable as a man. Flesh ripped to shreds. Hands and feet impaled to the Cross. Mouth agape. Gasping for breath. Struggling to hold on as long as He can. Despised and rejected by the world He created, He pressed on. Using every ounce of energy left in that disfigured body, each breath He drawn is labored. A wheezing noise from the lungs. Life's ebbing out of His body. Those eyes... half-shut, lifeless, sorrowful, yet a sense of quiet determination to complete what He is born to do. God trapped in a human body. Fragile. Helpless. Dying. Surely, Jesus can simply walk away from all that. At any step along the way he could have called it quits. But he didn't. "He was in the world, and though the world was made through Him, the world did not recognize Him. He came to that which was His own, but His own did not receive Him." (John 1:10-11) The suffering of Christ was portrayed in all of its horror. It began with him praying in the garden and his humble “thy will be done.” In the midst of pain and sorrow, his thoughts were about others.

Jagged nails... splintered wood... furrowed wounds... fractured body... cause of death: asphyxiation. Unimaginable pain He suffered. But none hurt as much as the indifference and rejection of Man. Doors slammed in His face, backs turned on Him, backstabbed by whom He called "friends", blows after blows rained upon His heart that day. That is where the hurt is. That is what pained Him the most.

How disappointed is Jesus when those that verbally accepted Him as Christ, listened to His preachings, saw His miracles, simply turned a blind eye and walked away when He is prosecuted on the Calvary. In the distance, the women who had followed His teachings from Galilee, watched as the humiliation and punishment were administered. One by one they came, they gathered, they watched, they witnessed as the drama unfolded before them. But not one... no... not a single soul dare to come forward and testified Jesus is the Son of Man. Jesus is not ashamed of them... but they are ashamed of Christ. How did Jesus endure treatment like that? At any point, he could have said, "I quit. I've had enough." Why didn't He? What kept him from giving up? The fact is... He didn't. He refused to turn and leave. Why? Becoz His love for His children was greater than the pain of the journey. His love conquers all that belies His destiny. He came to pull you out. That's why He came. You were dead, mired in sin. That's why He came. He loves you. That's why He came. His Destiny is the Cross.

How Jesus can accept the undecisiveness and fickle-mindedness of Man? One minute they say, "I love you Lord. You're first in my life, before anything else. I'm willing to do anything for you." Yet, at the slightest challenge, the heart falters. Man hesitates to make a stand for God. They don't turn up to meet God. They made Him wait. They fail in their promises. Unlike Jesus, Man always has difficulty in grasping the true meaning of what they say and profess.

Even Jesus Himself has said in Mark 9:19 "How long must I put up with you?" Jesus's actions later on will answer his own question.

Long enough to be called crazy by my brothers and a liar by my neighbors. Long enough to be chased out of my own town and Temple. Long enough to be laughed at, cursed, sweared, slapped, beaten, flogged, blindfolded and mocked. Long enough to feel the warm spit and thorned whips ripped my flesh off and see my own blood puddle at my feet.

How long? "Until the rooster sings and the sweat stings and the mallet rings and a group of demons smirk at a dying God of Most High."

How long? "Long enough for every sin to so soak my sinless soul that heaven will turn in horror until my swollen lips pronounce the final transaction: 'It is finished.'"

How long? "Until it kills me."

Love... bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor 13:4-7)

Jesus did all that. Every single one. That's what true love is and embodies. He has come down from His throne in the Kingdom to lowly earth and shown us how love become the centre His life. Even in His death, love is demonstrated. The precious Lamb of God has personified love. He bore sins, yours and mine too. The standard has been set by the God who says, "He IS love" (1 John 4:16).

Adapted from Max Lucado, A Love Worth Giving. Modified by me

The Gardener who Believes

Alex was a poor Syrian farmer. All right, he's just officially become one. You see, he's recently inherited from their father a piece of land. As a youngster, along with his 2 brothers, he used to help his father during the busy summer harvest period. However, when it comes to real farming, he's really an amateur still. But Alex's determined to be a good farmer, just like his dad. "Son, you can do it! You shall be a greater farmer than I ever was." was his father's last words. One day, this flashback came upon him and he bought a packet of wheat seeds from the market.

Then, Alex went out to the fields to plant the seeds. He's never sow seeds before. A thought raced to his mind, "How difficult can this be anyway? It's just seeds." As he scattered it across his fields, some seeds fell on a footpath, and the birds came and ate it. Other seeds fell on shallow soil with underlying rock. The plant sprang up quickly, but it soon wilted beneath the hot sun and died because the roots had no nourishment in the shallow soil. Other seeds fell among thorns that shot up and choked out the tender blades so that it produced no grain. Still other seeds fell on fertile soil and produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted.

Unlike animals, plants are limited in their ability to seek out favorable conditions for life and growth. Consequently, plants have evolved many ways to disperse and spread the population through their seeds. A seed must somehow "arrive" at a location and be there at a time favorable for germination and growth. Those properties or attributes that promote the movement of the next generation away from the parent plant may involve the fruit more so than the seeds themselves. The function of a seed typically is one of serving as a delaying mechanism: a way for the new generation to suspend its growth and allow time for dispersal to occur or to survive harsh, unfavorable conditions of cold or dryness or both. In many if not most cases each plant species achieves success in finding ideal locations for placement of its seeds through the basic approach of producing numerous seeds.

The farmer I talked about is a courier who brings God's message to others. The seed that fell on the hard path represents those who hear the message, but then Satan comes at once and takes it away from them. The rocky soil represents those who hear the message and receive it with joy. But like young plants in such soil, their roots don't go very deep. At first they get along fine, but they wilt as soon as they have problems or are persecuted because they believe the word. The thorny ground represents those who hear and accept the Good News, but all too quickly the message is crowded out by the cares of this life, the lure of wealth, and the desire for nice things, so no crop is produced. But the good soil represents those who hear and accept God's message and produce a huge harvest – thirty, sixty, or even a hundred times as much as had been planted.

Seed signifies the beginning of life. Ask a couple who has been trying to conceive for years what a seed means to them. HOPE. Simple as that.
PURPOSE:
to disperse and spread the population of the plant
KEY FACTORS:
ground/soil conditon, the amount of seeds scattered (dispersal method) and the care administered by the farmers.

As seen from the above parable from Mark 4:1-20, there are many, many obstacles (eg. birds and thorns) blocking or hindering the growth of the seed planted in the soil. Young plants whose roots doesn’t go very deep into the ground may also wilter and die under harsh conditions, of which the saplings have yet developed the ability to withstand.

Similarly, we are like “gardeners”, tending the plot of land scattered with seeds of Christ. We need to clear the weeds and chase away the rodents and pests that disrupt and eat away the life of the young saplings. The plot of land is huge… one cannot do this alone. Hence, by working in a team, a group of gardeners can give full atttention, tender, loving care of the growing crops. Alex and his brothers toil in the fields daily. When it’s time to reap what they have sowed, the farmers’ visages glowed with pride. Their sweat and efforts aren’t wasted. Behold! A handsome reward spreads out in the slanting rays of the setting sun in the horizon. They looked at the glorious, shimmering field of ripen grains in the sunset and they rejoiced. "Man, they looked like gold" Alex thought. Indeed, the fields of wheat seemed to be adorned in golden robes that evening.

At the end of the next few weeks of milling and threshing the raw wheat into chaffs and grains. Staring at the bales of wheat stalks and sacks of grains, hands on his hips, for the 1st time in his life, Alex beamed with tremendous satisfaction. The countless quarrels and conflicts they had at the dinner table and sleepless nights worrying over the growth of the crops, eg. the brand of pesticide used, fertilizers to nourish the plants, way to irrigate the crops, which and how much machinery to hire to thresh and pound the wheat, no. of workers to hire during the harvest period, the sellers at the market who will want to buy their grains, the early struggles to wake-up in the wee hours of the morning, the endless ploughing with the ox under the scorching sun, sweltering heat etc… ALL they’ve forgotten. WHY??

“Because the harvest has come….” (Mark 4:29) Alex believes a bountiful harvest awaits him. For the weather-beaten farmers, the result is worth everything more than the process. Even if their harvest fail to meet his expectations, if you asked them if he would start all over again next season. Without a hint of hesitation, “Yes I will try again.” came the prompt reply. Even if the success rate is 0.000001%, Alex will be willing to invest the long, tiring hours and start the whole process all over again. WHY? Becoz Alex believes what his father told him.

Someone once planted a seed in you. All because of one seed. All because someone believed in you. Wouldn’t you have done the same for someone else? God believes in you. There is such power in belief. You may save someone's life. Believe in them as God has believed in you. Could you take that belief that he has in you and pass it to someone else? Could you believe in someone? Well, you should. Coz someone else once did.

Punchinello & The Most Marvellous Gift

The whole town is bustling to get ready for Maker Day. Hans is baking his seven-layer Chocolate Cherry Truffle Cake with Double Butter-cream Frosting. Violet is putting the finishing touches on her mountainous bouquet. Lucia is warming up for her solo, featuring the amazing Dr. Marvel and his Marvelaphony-organoni. And Punchinello is just baffled. He has nothing that would even compare to their fabulous creations, and especially nothing wonderful enough to honor Eli on Maker Day. Yet, in the midst of the celebration, something goes terribly awry and Punchinello comes to the rescue with the most precious gift of all—a gift from the hearts of all Wemmicks to honor the Maker on His special day.

The Wemmicks were small wooden people. These little wooden people were carved by a woodworker named "Eli." Eli's workshop sat on a hill overlooking the Wemmick Village. Every one of the Wemmicks were different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes. Some were tall and others were short. Some wore hats, others wore coats. But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the same village. All day long, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing. They gave each other stickers. Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of dull gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people could be seen sticking gold stars or gray dots onto each other. The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got shiny gold stars! But if the wood was rough or the paint was chipped, the Wemmicks gave dull gray dots. The talented ones got stars, too. Some could lift big sticks high above their heads or jump over tall boxes. Still others knew big words or could sing very pretty songs. Everyone gave them shiny gold stars! Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got a star it made them feel so good that they did something else and got another star. There were many other Wemmicks though that could do very little. They got dull gray dots! There was one little Wemmick and his name was "Punchinello." He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others would gather 'round and give him dull gray dots. Sometimes when he fell, it would scar his wood, so the people would give him more gray dots. He would try to explain why he fell and, in doing so, he would say something really silly. Then the Wemmicks would give him some more dots!!! After a while, Punchinello had so many dots that he didn't want to go outside. He was afraid he would do something dumb such as forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give him more dull gray dots. In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and just give him one without any reason! "He deserves lots of dots," they would say. The wooden people would agree with one another. "He's not a good wooden person," they would say. After a while Punchinello believed them. "I am not a good Wemmick!" he would say. The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of gray dots. At least he felt better around them. One day, Punchinello met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met. She had no dull gray dots and did not have any shiny golden stars either. She was a wooden Wemmick and her name was "Lucia." It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick to her!!! Some admired Lucia for having no dots, so they would run up and give her a star. But it would fall off. Some would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot. But they would not stick either!!! "That's the way I want to be!" thought Punchinello. "I don't want anyone's marks!" So he asked the "stickerless" Wemmick how she did it. "It's easy," Lucia replied. "Every day I go see Eli." Punchinello asked,"Eli? Who is Eli?" She replied "Yes, Eli, He is the woodcarver. I sit in His workshop and spend time with Him." He asked Lucia,"Why do you do that?" Lucia told him, "Why don't you find out for yourself? Go up the hill and visit with Him. He's there!" And with that, the sweet little Wemmick named Lucia turned and skipped away. "But He won't want to see me!" Punchinello cried out to her. Lucia didn't hear him, as she was too far away.

So Punchinello went home. He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other gold stars and gray dots. "It's just not right," he muttered to himself. Then he resolved to go see Eli after all. Punchinello walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big Woodcarver Shop. His little wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on his tippy-toes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm. Punchinello swallowed hard and thought to himself, "I'm not staying here!" and he turned to leave. Then he heard his name. "Punchinello?" said this voice, so deep and strong. Just then Punchinello stopped. The voice said, "Punchinello, oh how good it is of you to come! Let me have a look at you." Punchinello slowly turned around and looked at the large bearded craftsman and said, "Sir, you know my name?" "Of course I do. I made you," Eli said. All of a sudden, Eli stooped down and picked little Punchinello up and set him on the workbench. "Hmmmmm," the Maker spoke thoughtfully as he inspected the gray circles all over him, "Looks like you've been given some bad marks." Punchinello explained,"Oh, Eli, I didn't mean to; really I didn't!!! I really tried hard not to." The Maker said, "Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, my child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think." Punchinello asked, "Really? You don't?" Then Eli said, "No and you shouldn't either. Who are they to give stars or dots? They are Wemmicks just like you. What they think really doesn't matter at all, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special." Punchinello laughed, "Oh, me special? How can I be special? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. I make silly mistakes all the time and I am not a beautiful Wemmick like some of the others. How could I matter to you?" Eli looked at Punchinello and put his hands on those little wooden shoulders of his and spoke very slowly, "Because Punchinello... you are mine. That's why you matter to me." Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this before or say anything so nice, much less his Maker! He didn't know what to say! "Punchinello, every day I've been waiting and hoping you would come to see me," Eli explained. Punchinello looked up at him and said, "I came because I met a sweet Wemmick girl who had no marks." Eli said, "I know. Lucia told me about you." So Punchinello asked, "Why don't the stickers stay on Lucia?" Eli said, "Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what anyone else thinks. The stickers only stick if you let them." Punchinello looked puzzled and said, "What?" Eli said, "Yes, the stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust My love, the less you will care about those stickers." But Punchinello said, "I'm not sure I really understand. What you are saying?" The maker said, "You will, but it will take some time. You've got a lot of marks. So for now, just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care about you." Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the floor. "Now remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door. "You ARE special because I made you, and I don't make mistakes."
By Max Lucado, You are Special

Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought, "I think He really means it." And each time he remembered what Eli told him and each time he went to visit and talk with Eli, one of Punchinello's dots would fall off. They kept falling off and soon they were all gone!!! So like Punchinello, we must remember one thing: "Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart." (I Samuel 16:7) On Christmas Day, we honour God for giving His one and only Son for us... His precious gift unto us is everlasting, redeems our sins, and bridges the chasm bet. God and Man when we LEAST deserve it for He so loved the world! Surely... No other present you receive in this world can be better than this! Surely no love is greater than when you die a most painful death for someone who condemned, insulted, spitted, humiliated, hurt and tortured you. He died while we are still sinners and yet He was sinless. He carried the cross for you and I. Think of a person in your life you really couldn't stand and imagine yourself dying slowly and painfully for him/her. That pesky, selfish manager who always use me to do OT till 11pm and even weekends but all the credit belongs to him and I get nothing except tons of work to finish, that ger who always gossip behind my back, that nasty colleague who I can't seem to see eye to eye with and always game for confrontations.... etc. Can't do that, can you?

Only Your Maker knows your purpose and destiny on this earth we live in. Lucia's stickers don't stick becoz she cares more about what her Maker thinks about her than what others think about her. Punchinello has learnt his mistakes and begin renewing his relationship with his Maker who cares so much about him. We are unique in our own way becoz Our Maker does it so deliberately. The day you recognize this truth is the start of a covenantal relationship with Him. He's the reason for the Xmas season. He is YOUR Maker and truth is... He loves you very much... even more than Himself.

So ask yourself.... What will you present as a gift to your Maker this day?

Batman Begins: The Lesson

Watched "Batman Begins" DVD recently, the film spoke to me powerfully. I was skeptical at first coz of the previous "Batman" franchise movies which were kinda cheesy. Nevertheless, the plot and depth of the film impressed me deeply.

Bruce Wayne (Batman) was haunted by his inner demons (bats) when he fell into this old well which was smarming with flying bats when he was a small boy. Since then, he developed a phobia of bats. One day, his parents took him to the opera where Bruce became scared at some of the dancers' portrayal of bat-like demons. Bruce's past experience with bats jerked back into his memories and he begged his parents to go. In the dark alley where they exited, a mugger confronted them. Even thought the meek father (Thomas Wayne) complied with his demands of the robber, both he and his wife was shot fatally in the chest. "Don't be afraid" were Thomas Wayne last words to a young Bruce, who became an orphan that fateful night.

He was brought up by the family butler, Alfred who raises him up as his own. 14 years later, Bruce returned from Princeton Uni to attend a parole hearing of his parents' murderer. Unknown to others, He brought a pistol to court, in hope of killing the murderer. When Rachel (his childhood friend turned Assistant District Attorney for Gotham City) learnt this, she slapped and rebuked Bruce and explained the difference between vengeance and justice. A disillusioend Bruce then traded his expensive jacket for a vagrant's and gave him all his money, hopped on a cargo ship and travelled the world seeking the means to fight injustice and "turn fear against those who prey on the fearful". By becoming a criminal himself, he learnt what it means to survive on the streets and resorted to stealing. Eventually, he ended up in a Chinese prison. Upon his release, he travelled to the League of Shadows in the Himalayas where he was taught theatrics and deception as his greatest weapons. His teacher (who ironically later became Bruce's nemesis bent on destroying Gotham City) taught him, "To overcome fear, you must become your own fear." After learning his trade, Bruce returned to his home. "Never given up hope on me, haven't you?" Bruce asked Alfred twice in the film. Each time after he seemingly fail to live up to expectations of managing the Wayne Enterprise. Alfred replied simply, "Never". At the end of the day, Batman saves the day and becomes the fear of criminals in Gotham City. But it was the faithfulness of Batman's ever reliable and faithful servant, Alfred that touched my heart. The one who believed in him when no one else did.

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me" (Revelation 3:20). Every person has the right to say to God, "Leave me alone. Don't bother me." At some time or another, we've rejected Him. I know I have. A "Do Not Disturb" sign on our doors. But it is the Lord's right to pursue us with His persistent mercy. By His grace, He keeps knocking, ready to fill our lives with His love. He doesn't know the meaning of 'give up'. I thank Him coz he's NEVER given up hope for me... and for you too, my friend.

A song kept ringing in my ears this morning on my way to work. I don't know why... that's why I think I need to write this down.
"~Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness! Morning by morning new mercies I see. All I have needed Thy hand hath provided; Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me~"

God is faithful in sustaining us through suffering. One of the times we are most tempted to doubt God’s faithfulness is when suffering strikes our lives. It often makes no sense to us and we see no reason for it. We may search our lives, and although we find some sins which we have previously overlooked, we still cannot believe we deserve what God has allowed to happen to us. We begin to think that He has forgotten us or really does not care about us.

The people of Jerusalem in Isaiah’s day were beginning to think that way. Israel was a tiny nation surrounded by giant powers which were continually menacing her. Listen to her complaint:

But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me, And the Lord has forgotten me” (Isaiah 49:14).
But the Lord was right there with words of encouragement.

Can a woman forget her nursing child, And have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you. Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me (verses 15-16).

He had allowed them to suffer, but He could never forget them in their suffering because He is faithful. And He does not forget us. He really does care.

Many other promises in the Word are absolute and unconditional. God is going to keep them whether we believe He will or not. He will fulfill His Word whether we are faithful to Him or not. The Apostle Paul said, “If we are faithless, He remains faithful; for He cannot deny Himself” (2 Timothy 2:13). To be faithless may also mean to be unbelieving. When God’s promises are unconditional, neither our faithlessness nor our unbelief will affect His faithfulness. They will rob us of our peace, our joy, and our testimony, but He will just keep right on doing what He promised to do, keep right on being faithful to His Word. What a wonderfully faithful God! Believe Him. Experience the peace, the joy, and the power which faith in His Word will bring. Then you too will exclaim enthusiastically, “Great is Thy faithfulness!”