running, looking backwards

Cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, boys
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe…just breathe
Oh breathe…just breathe

—

If there’s one lesson that life keeps teaching me over and over, it’s that you cannot undo what you’ve done; you cannot go back on the choices you’ve made; you cannot retrieve the words you’ve said. Reconciliation may be achieved, compensation may be made, but the past remains. You often leave your mark on others without knowing, and your mark persists even in your absence.

Some are good marks; but most of the time, it’s the painful ones that are remembered.

Whether you like it or not, time goes on, people change and people move on. Facebook photos store up pleasant memories, capture the unforgettable experiences; but they are also a painful reminder that people’s lives have gone on without you. And sometimes it’s pride that causes you to feel downcast, because you realize that you weren’t needed in the first place, and like a good friend always said – you learn to learn your place. Most of the times, those photos are filled with smiles – people have not only moved on, but done so with much happiness (at least, the photos testify so)

You make trade-offs, your time cannot be given to every person.
Is it true that there is no right or wrong in these matters?
Because it certainly feels that way sometimes

You begin to play that fruitless game –
The game of ‘what if..’ and ‘i wish i had…’

In the end, you’ve simply got to trust
That whether right or wrong
Whether wise or foolish
He’s got you covered
He knows your choices, ordained them
And you’ve got to keep looking forward…

you can’t keep running, looking backwards.

vain conceit

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit
but in humility consider others better than yourselves
Each of you should look not only to your own interests
but also to the interests of others

—

i find myself falling into this trap – time and again

when i’m deciding whether to spend time with someone
I think to myself:
“If i don’t spend time with them, what will it mean for our friendship?
does it mean that they’ll drift away from me?
does it mean that they’ll stop looking to me for fun/support?
does it mean that they’ll stop thinking i’m a good friend?”

what results is me sincerely being there
but sincerity is tainted by selfish regard for self

what liberates us…what liberates me
is to think instead:

“When he/she asks me out for something, what are they asking for?
what is their interest? what is their need?
and has God placed me in a position to meet that need?
is it wise for me to meet that need?
will i end up just using it as an opportunity to exercise my gifts?
or as an opportunity to build someone up?”

hopefully, it’ll liberate us to think in this way

stop worrying about how people think about you and your friendship with them!
stupid tim.
Look out for their needs, not yours. and love as God has given you the chance to do so..

the fight

such common experiences to us all
whenever I’m with You, the world seems so much brighter
my heart feels so much lighter
my body, invigorated with passion
but then, you realize,
that there’s still a life to live
there’s still a door to open, a world to face

it’s when your heart is most full of hope
that it’s the most fragile
the most sensitive to setback
so quickly it descends back into despair

it’s when your heart is most willing to love
that it finds itself shut up, alone
whether by choice, or circumstance
and love kept captive in one’s heart
festers, decays into despair

quickly, the new-found passion subsides
the newly discovered joy disappears
you wonder to yourself, if they were authentic
or just a trick of your mind
or just proof again, of your not seeking enough
of your not trusting enough

but they had felt so real
they felt like they had been built on truth
based on the right foundations
and yet, this testing can only mean…
…maybe they were counterfeit after all.

—

but

Your word is true
no matter how we think or feel

to mum (:

it’s mother’s day again, my first mother’s day abroad,
there’s many things to thank you for in the past year,
here’s just a few..

for the many prayers over skype, and those that are unheard, thanks
for the many simple encouragements and verses, thanks
for being with me through heartbreaks, and sharing my joys, thanks
for never tiring of hearing my ramblings about Cambridge life, thanks
for bearing with me whenever i’m distracted over skype, thanks

for the late nights you spent washing and ironing, thanks
for always asking me about whether my knee’s recovered (it has!), thanks
for always reminding me to eat vitamins and force-feeding me with ginseng, thanks
for keeping cheesy, amanda, bearbear and co. company while i’m away, thanks

may God continue to bless you and keep you
and may He always be your glory and your crown
may He always be your delight (:

debris strewn across the ground
searching – for your own pieces – only to find
pieces of others
you thought you left behind

after awhile, they merge into a dusty pile
of broken promises and jagged words
some mine, but some yours as well
some silent, but some heard.

these roughened palms can only do so much –
retrieving the pieces of my own.
but yours remain
a testimony to my guilt and shame

these roughened palms can only pray
fingers interlocking in close embrace
for a day
where life and love will sprout again

till then..

diary

vic and i were strolling, talking about our diaries
and once in a while you’re reminded of a song you really love
but haven’t heard in a long time…

—

I found her diary underneath a tree.
and started reading about me
The words she’s written took me by surpise
you’d never read them in her eyes.
They said that she had found the love she waited for.
Wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it.

When she confronted with the writing there,
simply pretended not to care.
I passed it off as just in keeping with
her total disconcerting air
and though she tried to hide
the love that she denied,
wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it.

And as I go through my life, I will give to her my wife
all the sweet things that I can find.

I found her diary underneath a tree.
and started reading about me.
The words began to stick and tears to flow.
Her meaning now was clear to see.
The love she’d waited for was someone else not me
Wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it.

and as I go through my life, I will wish for her his wife
all the sweet things that she can find
all the sweet things they can find

God’s love

in the post-it notes that plaster your kitchen wall…it’s there.
in the morning chats over pain-au-raisins and muffins…it’s there
in the rich silence of quiet glances…it’s there
in the extra cardigan that brings you warmth…it’s there
in pigeon-holed surprises…it’s there
in post-its that bear words of truth…it’s there
in the remembrance that you like it white…it’s there
in the midnight visits from a friend…it’s there
in the rustling of your phone past midnight…it’s there
in clumsy fingers that fumble over the fretboard…it’s there
in the taxi rides back home…it’s there
in the walking home after each Sunday night…it’s there

God’s love is never too far away
it’s right there, in the little things
how marvelous to know
that we are loved by a great king.

thanks.

failings

sometimes you really feel like a failure in many things.
in managing your emotions
in ministering God’s Word
in building relationships

it can be overwhelming.
fingers of accusation, pointing
voices of condemnation, piercing
there’s only so much one’s heart can take

but then, in our weaknesses He is made strong
one prays prayers to express what he desires to be
even though he still makes the same mistakes
over and over

strengthen, O Lord
and shield me from the ongoing barrage.

Your hands were always bigger, more capable of intervals and timings than my own clumsy pair. Melodies would roll off your fingers, like the springtime rain trailing off the tender leaves of April – gentle and elegant. You’d play and I’d watch in amazement, fingers twitching in excitement, summoned to the same chorus of emotions. Out from the deeply guarded depths of your heart, music flowed, and found itself entangled within my own heart-strings. Without you, the notes never made sense; they’d abuse me, chanting their melody, mocking me as they leaped from ledger to ledger. Without you, the pages would not become alive.

But a part of it has left. So often the heart can only keep so much, and like everyone else, mine has leaks. My fingers slip, become unfamiliar, and descend once again into silent confusion. precious things are lost by a careless heart.

In the morning, the heart is filled with visions of future glory, delighted with the joy of newfound grace. But as evening descends, the heart is again in need of filling.

In the past, it is filled with pleasant memories, but then again, those leak away too, like sand in the hourglass.

—

You wonder why I love. I wonder too. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just deceiving myself.

i do. i do share a lot. there’s so little that remains that i have not said.

i don’t want to hurt you anymore.

—

fill me again.

prayer and praise

that’s the thing about channels sometimes
things flow through you
in one way, out the other
and at the end of it all, you feel empty.

the precious gift of joy
is coming under siege
Lord please protect it
Lord please shield me..

the precious gift of fellowship
is falling apart, with each forgotten note,
with each remembered regret
Lord please hold it all together

come on soul, praise Him.