Loving you for eternity.

Our church signboard at broadway.
The picture has been taken from Natania .

Every time I pass by this signboard, I remember how much God loves us. I remember how no cost was spared to bring us back to him and I remember how he works for the good of those who love him.

simply to the cross i cling.

Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.

-Au­gus­tus M. Top­la­dy, Rock of Ages, 1776

I really do love going to church. I love it going I go there because I enter the building unsuspecting and normally panting from the walk there, and then when service starts, when songs are sung, and when the sermon gets preached, I realise how much I need God and much more importantly how much God loves us all. And then the day just transforms from a mediocre day that started off with a sleep-in, to a day that sings and points to God.

Today, again I dragged myself out of bed after an hour sleep-in. Soaking in the sprinkles of spring, I lugged my heavy body to the little church full of the smell of lunch being made. Songs were sung, greetings made, and then the sermon started. Coincidentally enough, it was on almost the same passage of the Bible that OCF studied on friday, Hebrews 11 – 12:3. It was wonderfully enlightening listening to the passage being preached outside the parametres of OCF. Ian, our rector, talked about running the race, about preserving, and about fixing our eyes on Jesus. I know I’ll do no justice to the passage, and probably get many bits of it wrong, so I won’t even attempt to reproduce what he said. But what stuck to me was the last bit, about considering Jesus, remembering Him, and fixing our eyes on Him.

The future makes me want to pee in my pants, I have so many things to do, so many things to say, and so many uncertainties to plan for, that if I sit down and contemplate them, I might actually cry. But when I think about all that I have learnt (or all the bits I try to soak in), Psalm 73 comes into mind. The Psalmist talks about how God is always with me, how He holds my right hand and is my counsel. And reminds me that though all things might fail, and I might not end up where I want so badly to be, Jesus is my strength of my heart and my portion. Thus, though everything scares me and renders me weak and tearful, if I just stop panicking and focus on Him, though the race is long, hard, and very painful, I will be reminded that my Jesus is always with me.

Simply to the cross I cling.

control and the lack thereof

After an extraordinarily long suspension of reading the bible outside of what is required of me to, i’m starting again. I think busyness of our little club and of my uni work made me believe that what little portion I had left from my time pie wasn’t meant to be used for anything else but on myself. Unknown to me, my lack of reading the bible more was bringing me further and further away from God. But, today, I try again.

I’ve decided Habakkuk (it’s only three chapters!). I want to bite into it slowly and try to absorb every little detail, instead of my usual mass reading where the tiny snippets get lost. From what I’ve read, one of the main themes of this book is of hope, it is of trusting in God and though everything seems to be so crappy, its about knowing that God really does know what he is doing.

I guess, almost everybody knows that I had the worse few weeks of the semester run by me recently (because i complain and i complain and i complain and then i whine till my mouth gets dry) and that this was only the beginning, the worse is apparently looming right ahead. After reading a wee bit of Habakkuk, I’m still quite certain, it’s going to be another two more yucky weeks ahead of me, I doubt the workload will magically vanish. But as I go through a period of assignments, presentations, and case studies and then right into exams, I want to learn about hope and about God being in control.

HALLELUJAH! WHAT A SAVIOUR!

Man of Sorrows! what a name
For the Son of God, who came
Ruined sinners to reclaim.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
In my place condemned He stood;
Sealed my pardon with His blood.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Guilty, vile, and helpless we;
Spotless Lamb of God was He;
“Full atonement!” can it be?
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Lifted up was He to die;
“It is finished!” was His cry;
Now in Heav’n exalted high.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

When He comes, our glorious King,
All His ransomed home to bring,
Then anew His song we’ll sing:
Hallelujah! What a Savior!

-Phil­ip P. Bliss

I love the Easter weekend, that is, Good Friday, Saturday and Easter Sunday! I can almost hear the shout of joy that rings through the air and smell the overwhelming fragrance of victory that oozes into the streets, I cannot help but do some dancing! At the end of an extremely long half semester, to be reminded of who I’m working for and what I can look forward to, is certainly wonderfully refreshing.

I love this entire weekend because it remembers the death and resurrection of Jesus. Christmas is lovely too and I love Christmas, but Good Friday and Easter just brings it home for me. Good Friday reminds me of the extent to which Jesus went to bring me (and us) to our Father. I am of no use in this horrible horrible ordeal that Jesus went through, I just sit there and receive the profits of his act of ‘divine madness’. It is at this point in time when I realise that all I hold dear in my life, all that I consider important really pales into insignificance to the brilliance that comes with getting to know MY saviour.

This is the God that went down to hell to bring me back. This is my lord, this is my friend, and this is my saviour.
HALLELUJAH! WHAT A SAVIOUR!

sheepers

I will be back properly. I want to post what little pictures I have of the summer and write little ditties for each one of them and I will. Unfortunately, right now, that isn’t an option. All the same, I’m sort of back from summer and full of promised anecdotes.

One of the things I prayed about when I first got back to Sydney was that I wanted to be somebody filled with grace. I guess that really is an odd thing to want to embody because for me grace is akin to being spineless. I don’t really remember specifically why I wanted to be full of grace, but that was what I prayed for.

But I also told myself, “I ain’t gonna be walked all over.“

Little did I know, God had something stewing.

Summer school was both awful and fun. Lessons were many and assignments and tests overflowed my little red leather diary.

I also became a boarder at Aunty and Uncle’s place. I wasn’t very sure how that would turn out, but I don’t think I had any other option.

At Aunty and Uncle’s place, I usually wake up too late to have breakfast with them, so I have it by myself with the sound of Aunty already preparing lunch humming in the background. Then I’m off to uni till late but not after sundown. Dinner is always ready, waiting and a decadent spread of some kind of stew, fried veggies and perfectly prepared rice. Followed by Uncle’s freshly bought stone fruit. Surprisingly, Aunty and Uncle sleep pretty late, sometimes almost they sleep at same time as I do. Aunty would either read or watch telly with Uncle who is usually lying on the beanbag soaking it in. I normally monopolise the computer and watch heaps and heaps of big bang theory and a very embarrassing ‘reality’ show that shall not be named.

Throughout my one month stay, I was reminded each day of how though some people may let you down and disappoint you, some people lift you up and show you the other side of things. Many a time I sit back, moan and groan about how horrible everything was, how unfair and undeserved it was. Though that much is true, I realise now that it is because of the unfavourable events that I learnt how good God really is and how good his people are. The immense love that showered me was so great. I was never short of a listening ear, a helping hand, solid advice or a prayer. Moreover, I have a bigger, better and prettier apartment to call home. Maybe it takes a push and a shove before I realise how truly blessed I am and how brilliant my Aba father is.

I think the next step from here is to remember this summer, to negate the wonderful acts and magnify the horribles would be a unacceptable. I think I have done that quite a bit I am ashamed to say, but I will learn and will remember.

Alas, the summer is gone. Let’s hope summer school wasn’t the only source of my education.