Of fragrant harbours and homesickness

I recently went to Hong Kong for a short break and was taken on a whirlwind tour of the city (courtesy of some wonderfully hospitable friends). I have not been to Hong Kong since I was a child, so in a way, I was discovering the city for the first time. My local friends assure me that plenty has changed since I last visited and from what I can remember from my previous visits, they are entirely right. [Disclaimer: Given the brevity of my stay, all opinions expressed here are impressionistic.]

Hong Kong is great fun - good food, vibrant nightlife, fantastic shopping... (Pictures can be found here.) It also has a very dramatic skyline which looks particularly lovely at night. Where Singapore is planned right down to the very last street corner, Hong Kong sprawls out in a more haphazard fashion, no doubt a legacy of the Brits' laissez-faire approach to governance.

I was struck by the many buildings which housed trendy restaurants, bars or boutiques on the first floor, but looked utterly dilapidated from the second floor up. The streets are windy and - for a directionally challenged person such as I - quite confusing. However, their subway system - the MTR - is efficient and has great coverage. Also, I have to agree with my Dad when he says that it is easier to get to the airport via the MTR, as opposed to Singapore's MRT. You can even check in your luggage at the train station. Impressive stuff.

While Hong Kong is a place that I would recommend to anyone for a short holiday, I must confess that it is not somewhere that I would like to stay for any extended period of time. For one thing, my Cantonese is virtually non-existent. I also find the pace of life far too hectic. From chatting with some local friends, the impression that I got was that work is virtually all consuming. Everyone is in a constant struggle to get ahead, because no one - least of all the government - is going to help you. This breeds amazing entrepreneurial spirit on the one hand (out of sheer necessity almost), and an intensely individualistic society on the other. It is no surprise that there are far more wealthy businessmen in Hong Kong than in Singapore.

Food in Hong Kong - especially traditional Cantonese cooking - is sublime, but I still prefer the full variety of Southeast Asian flavours that we have in Singapore. As far as I can tell, Singapore is also more ethnically diverse, which makes for a more interesting city. I also like that the pace of life here is somewhat more laidback and the city more orderly. I also appreciate the fact that the government does try to give its citizens (especially those who are less advantaged) a helping hand wherever possible.

But my fundamental preference for Singapore over Hong Kong may just be a matter of habit and familiarity. After all, both cities have plenty to recommend themselves. At the end of the day, it may simply be a matter of preference. Singapore is not without its problems. While the government provides far more for its people, there is also the danger of Singaporeans becoming overly reliant on the government. Also, how does one plan to have "buzz" in a city?

There is no perfect city. I love coming home after a holiday, but after awhile I long to go away again. While I was abroad at university, I would come down with occasional bouts of homesickness. But now that I've graduated and come home, every now and then I find myself wishing that I could relive my university days. Sometimes it seems that we're constantly in transit. Sometimes it seems that we're just passing through. You never feel like you completely belong somewhere, or anywhere, really. In a way, we are all permanently homesick.

Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.

C. S. Lewis in Mere Christianity

I've got my memories
Always inside of me
But I can't go back
Back to how it was

I believe now
I've come too far
No I can't go back
Back to how it was

Created for a place
I've never known

This is home
Now I'm finally
Where I belong
Where I belong
This is home
I've been searching
For a place of my own
Now I've found it
Maybe this is home
This is home

Belief over misery
I've seen the enemy
And I won't go back
Back to how it was

And I got my heart set
On what happens next
I got my eyes wide
It's not over yet
We are miracles
And we're not alone

And now after all my searching
After all my questions
I'm gonna call it home

I got a brand new mindset
I can finally see the sunset
I'm gonna call it home

Now I know
This is home

I've come too far
And I won't go back
This is home

When I look at the stars

According to the New York Times, there are two projects underway to allow New Yorkers to get a good look at the night sky. With the current levels of light pollution, most people never have the chance to see the night sky in its full glory.

Indeed, a study published in 2001 in the Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society in London calculated that more than two-thirds of people in the continental United States never encounter a sky dark enough to see the Milky Way. With the majority of the world’s population now living in or near cities, there is growing concern among astronomers and environmentalists that the permanent twilight of urban areas is making star gazing, once as simple as looking up, a bygone pastime.

Hopefully these projects will succeed and this will be something that we can do here, too.

"I love the night sky. It reminds me of how small and insignificant I and my problems are in light of the infinite. When I look at the stars, I feel like myself." – Jon Foreman (Switchfoot)

Maybe I’ve been the problem
Maybe I’m the one to blame
But even when I turn it off and blame myself
the outcome feels the same
I’ve been thinking maybe I’ve been partly cloudy
Maybe I’m the chance of rain
And maybe I’m overcast
And maybe all my luck’s washed down the drain

I’ve been thinking about everyone
Everyone you look so lonely

But when I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
When I look at the stars
I see someone else
When I look at the stars
The stars
I feel like myself

Stars looking at a planet watching entropy and pain
And maybe start to wonder how
the chaos in our lives could pass as sane
I’ve been thinking about the meaning of resistance
Of a hope beyond my own
And suddenly the infinite and penitent
begin to look like home

I’ve been thinking about everyone
Everyone you look so empty

Everyone, everyone, we feel so lonely
Everyone, everyone, we feel so empty

When I look at the stars I feel like myself
When I look at the stars I see someone

The Cure for Pain

 

I'm not sure why it always goes downhill   
Why broken cisterns never could stay filled   
I've spent ten years singing gravity away   
But the water keeps on falling from the sky   

And here tonight while the stars are blacking out  
With every hope and dream I've ever had in doubt   
I've spent ten years trying to sing these doubts away   
But the water keeps on falling from my eyes   

And heaven knows... heaven knows 
I tried to find a cure for the pain   
Oh my Lord! to suffer like you do...   
It would be a lie to run away   

So blood is fire pulsing through our veins   
We're either riders or fools behind the reins   
I've spent 10 years trying to sing it all away   
But the water keeps on falling from my tries

I've been listening to this song again and again. I remember when I first heard it. On an episode of Grey's Anatomy. I was so thrilled that they played a Christian artist's song on a major network TV show. I remember when I last saw you. At the Switchfoot concert earlier this year. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that you were a fellow Switchfoot enthusiast. I wish so much that we had met again under happier circumstances. But it was not to be.

We are one in suffering. Some are wealthy, some bright; some athletic, some admired. But we all suffer. For we all prize and love; and in this present existence of ours, prizing and loving yield suffering. Love in our world is suffering love. Some do not suffer much, though, for they do not love much. Suffering is for the loving. If I hadn't loved him, there wouldn't be this agony. This, said Jesus, is the command of the Holy One: "You shall love your neighbour as yourself." In commanding us to love, God invites us to suffer. God is love. That is why he suffers. To love our sinful world is to suffer. God so suffered for the world that he gave up his only Son to suffering. The one who does not see God’s suffering does not see his love. God is suffering love. So suffering is down at the center of things, deep down where the meaning is. Suffering is the meaning of our world. For Love is the meaning. And Love suffers. The tears of God are the meaning of history. Nicholas Wolterstoff, in Lament for a Son

Oh my Lord! to suffer like you do...
It would be a lie to run away

Let Your Love Be Strong - Your Love Is Strong

"Let Your Love Be Strong" is one of my favourite songs on the new Switchfoot album, Oh! Gravity.

Listen to the album version of the song here.

In this world of news, I've found nothing new
I've found nothing pure
Maybe I'm just idealistic to assume that truth
Could be fact and form
That love could be a verb
Maybe I'm just a little misinformed

As the dead moon rises, and the freeways sigh
Let the trains watch over the tides and the mist
Spinning circles in our sky's tonight
Let the trucks roll in from Los Angeles
Maybe our stars are unanimously tired

Let your love be strong, and I don't care what goes down
Let your love be strong enough
to weather through the thunder cloud
Fury and thunder clap like stealing the fire from your eyes
All of my world hanging on your love

Let the wars begin, let my strength wear thin
Let my fingers crack, let my world fall apart
Train the monkeys on my back to fight
Let it start tonight
When my world explodes, when my stars touch the ground
Falling down like broken satellites

All of my world resting on your love

"This one means a lot to me. 'Maybe I'm just idealistic to assume that truth could be fact and form, that love could be a verb, maybe I'm just a little misinformed.' I wrote this one after a long walk in the early morning before the sun came up. I was sitting out by the train tracks halfway between the ocean and the freeway. When everything in your life falls apart you begin to realize what's worth holding on to and who's got a hold on you. Let the world fall apart ... all of my life rests upon the love that created every breath I have been given."

Jon Foreman (lead singer of Switchfoot)

Recently, Jon Foreman released a series of four solo EPs made up of his quieter and more worshipful material. "Switchfoot is more of the public address with the lights and megaphone, whereas these songs are more my confession," he says.

"Your Love Is Strong" is an absolutely amazing song. The first time I heard it, it brought tears to my eyes. I love how the song is filled with Scripture, how he makes the words of Scripture his own as he talks to God, weaving eternal truth into the very fabric of his soul. Here he says that this song is the sequel to "Let Your Love Be Strong", and a very apt sequel it is. This is the answer to the question.

Listen to the album version of the song here.

Heavenly Father
You always amaze me
Let Your kingdom come in my world
And in my life

Give me the food I need
To live through today
Forgive me as I forgive
The people that wrong me

Keep me far from temptation
Deliver me from the evil one

I look out the window
The birds are composing
Not a note is out of tune
Or out of place

I walk to the meadow
And stare at the flowers
Better dressed than any girl
On her wedding day

So why do I worry?
Why do I freak out?
God knows what I need
You know what I need!

Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong

The kingdom of the heavens
Is now advancing
Invade my heart
Invade this broken town

The kingdom of the heavens
Is buried treasure
Would you sell yourself
To buy the one you've found

Two things you told me
That you are strong
And you love me
Yes, you love me

Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong

Our God in Heaven
Hallowed be Thy name
Above all names
Your kingdom come
Your will be done
On earth as it is in Heaven
Give us, today, our daily bread
Forgive us weary sinners
Keep us far from our vices
And deliver us from these prisons

Switchfoot Live

The concert was fantastic. Switchfoot were absolutely amazing live. They opened the show with several of their faster rock songs like Oh! Gravity, Stars and We Are One Tonight, their electrifying guitar riffs ripping through an ecstatic crowd. Unlike most of the eager young people in the mosh pit, I sat a safe distance away on the elevated seats, far from the madding crowd but no less enthusiastic.

On the slower songs lead singer Jon Foreman took to the stage solo, accompanying himself on the acoustic guitar. By way of introduction he said, "This is one of my favourites," before launching into what is also one of my favourites - Only Hope. Both a meditation and a prayer.

Sing to me of the song of the stars
Of Your galaxy dancing and laughing
and laughing again
When it feels like my dreams are so far
Sing to me of the plans that You have for me
over again

But perhaps the most touching moment of the concert came, surprisingly, not during one of their slower, more meditative songs, but in the middle of one of their loud rock anthems.

We were meant to live for so much more
Have lost ourselves
Somewhere we live inside, somewhere we live inside

Foreman turned the microphone over to the audience and the band fell silent. I never knew that there were so many kids in Singapore who knew the words to this song.

The hall was filled with the sound of singing -

We were meant to live
We were meant to live

Awakening

by Switchfoot

Face down with the LA curbside ending
In ones and zeros
Downtown was the perfect place to hide
The first star that I saw last night was a headlight
of a man-made sky,
but man-made never made our dreams collide
Collide

Here we are now with the falling sky and the rain
We're awakening
Here we are now with the desperate youth and the pain
We're awakening
Maybe it's called ambition, you've been talking in your sleep
About a dream, we're awakening

Last week found me living for nothing but deadlines,
With my dead beat sky but
this town doesn't look the same tonight
These dreams started singing to me out of nowhere
And in all my life, I don't know if I've ever felt so alive
Alive

I want to wake up kicking and screaming
I want to wake up kicking and screaming
I want a heart that I know is beating
It's beating, I'm bleeding
I want to wake up kicking and screaming
I want to live like I know what I'm leaving
I want a heart that I know is beating
It's beating, I'm bleeding

The acoustic version of the song can be found here. (By the way, Switchfoot is coming to Singapore. Yay!)


And so it is. Another year passes us by. 2007 marked my first full year in the workforce, a strange new reality - or unreality - that I am slowly starting to get used to. Monday to Friday, morning to night. Sometimes I find myself lost in the regular routine - "Last week found me living for nothing but deadlines" - only ever catching the faintest glimpses of light. But the end of a year, with Christmas as well as the new year, a season of hope and birth and new beginnings, is always a fantastic wake up call. Once again I am reminded of the heart of all things, which is You and You alone.

When I attempted, a few minutes ago, to describe our spiritual longings, I was omitting one of their most curious characteristics. We usually notice it just as the moment of vision dies away, as the music ends or as the landscape loses the celestial light. What we feel then has been well described by Keats as “the journey homeward to habitual self.” You know what I mean.

For a few minutes we have had the illusion of belonging to that world. Now we wake to find that it is no such thing. We have been mere spectators. Beauty has smiled, but not to welcome us; her face was turned in our direction, but not to see us. We have not been accepted, welcomed, or taken into the dance. We may go when we please, we may stay if we can: “Nobody marks us.”

A scientist may reply that since most of the things we call beautiful are inanimate, it is not very surprising that they take no notice of us. That, of course, is true. It is not the physical objects that I am speaking of, but that indescribable something of which they become for a moment the messengers. And part of the bitterness which mixes with the sweetness of that message is due to the fact that it so seldom seems to be a message intended for us but rather something we have overheard.

By bitterness I mean pain, not resentment. We should hardly dare to ask that any notice be taken of ourselves. But we pine. The sense that in this universe we are treated as strangers, the longing to be acknowledged, to meet with some response, to bridge some chasm that yawns between us and reality, is part of our inconsolable secret.

And surely, from this point of view, the promise of glory, in the sense described, becomes highly relevant to our deep desire. For glory meant good report with God, acceptance by God, response, acknowledgment, and welcome into the heart of things. The door on which we have been knocking all our lives will open at last.

C. S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory

Happy New Year everyone.

twenty-four

Twenty-four
by Switchfoot

Twenty-four oceans, twenty-four skies
Twenty-four failures in twenty-four tries
Twenty-four finds me in twenty-fourth place
With twenty-four dropouts at the end of the day

Life is not what I thought it was
Twenty-four hours ago
Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
And I'm not who I thought I was
Twenty-four hours ago
Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You

There's twenty-four reasons to admit that I'm wrong
With all my excuses still twenty-four strong

But see I'm not copping out
Not copping out, not copping out
When You're raising the dead in me

Oh, I am the second man
Oh, I am the second man now
Oh, I am the second man now

And You're raising these twenty-four voices
With twenty-four hearts
All of my symphonies in twenty-four parts
But I want to be one today
Centered and true
I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
You're raising the dead in me

Oh, I am the second man
Oh, I am the second man now
Oh, I am the second man now
And You're raising the dead in me

I want to see miracles
To see the world change
Wrestle the angel
For more than a name
For more than a feeling
For more than a cause
I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
And You're raising the dead in me

Autumn in Princeton

For Serene.

Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;
let your glory be over all the earth.
Psalm 57:11

As Saint Frances prayed, "It is in giving that we recieve, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, it is in dying that we are born to eternal life."

To those with ears to hear and eyes to see, there will be very great release from unbearable burdens in the language of autumn trees, for example, when they dress most gloriously in preparation for death. The red of the leaves is the sign of the cross.

Winter follows, when snow closes everything in frozen silence. The trees then are skeletons, but wonders are being performed under the surface of things. Spring comes, and the hidden wonders burst out all at once - tiny shoots, swelling buds, touches of green and red where all seemed hopeless the day before.

If the leaves had not been let go to fall and wither, if the tree had not consented to be skeleton for many months, there would be no new life rising, no bud, no flower, no fruit, no seed, no new generation.
Elisabeth Elliot in 'Passion and Purity'


The earth spins and the moon goes round
The green comes from the frozen ground
And everything will be made new again
like freedom in spring
'Golden' by Switchfoot

I LOVE SWITCHFOOT.

After much serious deliberation and consideration, I have decided that Switchfoot is my favourite band of all time.

They have just released a new album - Nothing is Sound. It is wonderful. (Go to www.switchfoot.com to listen to samples from the album.) It's slamming rock tempered with beautiful little acoustic pieces. And the most important thing is, this is not just another Top 40 album about booty-shaking-baby-i-love-you-baby-i-want-you-back.

I am getting increasingly disillusioned with that kind of music - I hardly listen to it anymore. Tell me something that means something, say something that is true.

Below the lead singer of Switchfoot writes about their new album. He writes beautifully - both in lyric and in prose. I wish I could write like that.

In 1991, when Rolling Stone interviewed Dylan on the occasion of his 50th birthday, he gave a curious response when the interviewer asked him if he was happy. He fell silent for a few moments and stared at his hands. 'You know,' he said, 'these are yuppie words, happiness and unhappiness. It's not happiness or unhappiness, it's either blessed or unblessed.'

This record was written somewhere between the blessed and the unblessed, between the godly and the ungodly by a few young urban professionals from San Diego. These songs are dreams and questions, bleeding together, breathing in and out - always somewhere between life and death. And I feel this tension, this distance now more than ever, like a numbing ache... deep inside. The distance between the way things are and the way they could be, the distance between the shadow and the sun. And this is where we exist: within the paradox. Living out our lives: oxygen and carbon and hydrogen and so on... This record was the attempt to make something beautiful in filthy backstage dressing rooms everywhere, trying to sing something true with a broken heart. This record was written about things that I don't understand.

And yes, there's more than a wink of irony in all of this: making music from our most intimate thoughts and selling these songs online for a dollar a pop. Singing an anthem every night about how "we were meant to live for so much more" and many times feeling like a failure; singing "I dare you to move" and feeling trapped. Both loving and hating all the fuss that the music has brought. Knowing that even Rock and Roll, perhaps the best job in the world will not make me happy (in the yuppie sense of the word).

And yes, this American life is absurd! a strange paradox indeed... Perhaps no amount of money, sex, or power has ever satisfied us before, but maybe today will be different! Maybe this new purchase will make me happy! And the sun rises and sets once more - another day, another dollar. A carbonated beverage will help to chase your insecurities away. This new product will help to fill the meaningless void I feel inside. And so I drink the beverage, wear the clothes, and watch the war on TV. meaningless. meaning less.

Do we hunt our ridiculous suburban dreams like the neighborhood cat? Have we quietly fallen in line with the advertisement? Are we driven by ego uncontrolled, our lives simply vain pursuits of meaningless ends? Do we attempt to validate our existence by material means, relational acquisitions, sexual conquests, fiscal achievement, and cultural prowess? It was another jewish man who said something like this a while back.

"All is meaningless,"

Declares the teacher.

"Meaningless, meaningless,

Everything is meaningless"

For me, there is a terrible, wonderful freedom in coming to terms with these un-happy, un-yuppie words. It's a strange consolation in our dizzy and breathless race for happiness to find that you will never outrun the horizon. It's an avalanche you can't escape. It's a fatal wound that you cannot heal. If you fall on this rock you will be broken, if it falls on you you will be crushed. You see, this album started with a blow between the eyes that I am still recovering from, that's really all I've got to offer these days.

So in the half-light glow of radio shows, music videos, and greedy billboard charts I am aware of a darkness that is beyond me, I am coming to terms with my unbelief. No, I don't believe in rock and roll. No, I don't believe in the success that we've achieved. And no, I don't believe in me. In a free market world of the bought and sold I feel caught in between. I believe I've heard about a man who was exploited to sell everything from indulgences to the wars of men. And yet he offered only one bitter pill that was not easily marketed. Maybe that's what this record hopes to be: a simple bitter pill of truth that steps outside of our hamster wheel and looks up at the stars and beyond.

Maybe Dylan was right when he said Rock and Roll isn't Rock and Roll anymore. I've met so many lonely, desperate, beautiful people over the past few years. Yeah, I've got a bitter pill to swallow, but it just might be true. Maybe our lives drift quietly by and we can't stop the current. Maybe this modern river leads to the sea of death, where no medicine can cure these ills. Perhaps our restless wanting is satisfied only outside of ourselves.

It was another jewish man who said something like this, "If you seek to gain your soul you will lose it." I am on a journey that will one day come to final terms with these words.

a few general thoughts on new tunes and their relationship to our previous four albums:

A part of me wishes I could say that our music was formulated and planned out by brilliant, methodical minds who structure entire records out of themes that are independent of anything that has ever been thought of before. In reality, most of these songs are simply the spontaneous ramblings of a man with a guitar who can't sleep - trying to make sense of a broken heart in world that is upside down. In many ways these songs mirror the melodies in my own life: relationships, fears, hopes, insecurities, doubts and so forth all set to the major and minor keys. But it makes sense that these honest songs are the ones that we're proud of; because whether it's Elliot Smith or Stevie Wonder or Pavement or whoever, the honest ones have always been my favorites.

So at the end of our time as a band perhaps we will have only one song to sing - just one very long, rambling, eclectic song that touches on life, death, pain, sex, anger, joy, peace, politics, God and the other elements of a searching soul in the twenty first century. Maybe at the end of my life I will sing only one song, a song that has been refined and purified. A lonely group of notes that will be a sweet, sweet sound for an audience of one. Or maybe I'm still trying to figure out this broken, beautiful planet - writing songs as a way of therapy in the hopes of a better understanding of this existence that we call life. Either way, the bitter struggle for meaning and truth in the postmodern world is a subject matter that I don't think I could ever exhaust.

"Nothing is Sound" is the fifth Switchfoot record. For me, it feels like the next step of a journey, diving deeper into uncharted territories. Because we've lived and breathed on tour for the last eight years, onstage is where our music comes to life, a life that is hard to pin down on tape. If you think this record feels a bit like a "live" record, we're proud to say that these recordings have somehow captured the energy of our live show more than any other record we've ever made.

Perhaps the best way to look at this record is as the next chapter in a mystery novel: many of the the same characters, the same settings and yet a few more clues come to life. Who knows, it could be a dark chapter revealing even more mysteries to be solved. I'm pretty sure you're the only one who can decide for yourself; I'd be curious to hear what your thoughts are. I certainly have my own... Whatever the theme of this record might be, believe me - it was only partly intentional! Hope you enjoy the tunes.

-jon

The Beautiful Letdown

We went to really nice French restaurant in Times Square for dinner with a representative from our sponsorship board.

Chez Josephine is run by Jean-Claude Baker, French adopted son of African-American Josephine Baker - "the most successful music hall performer ever to take the stage" (according to Ebony magazine). She was the toast of Paris in the 1920s, star of stage and screen in the 1930s, Red Cross volunteer and undercover agent in World War II, participant in the 1963 Civil Rights Movement march on Washington, and star of several farewell (and comeback) tours. She also adopted 12 children of different races and called them her "rainbow tribe." The restaurant is named for her and is essentially a celebration of her.

Mr Baker sat and chatted with us for a bit after our meal, regaling us with interesting little restaurant anecdotes and stories of his adoptive mother. He told us also about how he had set up a foundation to celebrate the work of early 20th Century black artists, in honour of his mother. I was most impressed.

The food was superb and the company delightful. The ambience was lovely, with live piano music in tinkling softly in the background. We even got complementary sorbet at the end (our fourth course!) and it was the best sorbet that I had ever had. Seriously. But then again, my experience of sorbet is hardly exhaustive.

We walked to the 42nd Street metro stop to catch the subway home, happily full of sumptious food.

It was close to midnight.

I saw this black girl in the near-empty station, busking for a dime.


She was playing "If I were a rich man" from Fiddler on the Roof, and the painful irony could not be more obvious.

And so this is New York.

An uneasy mix of extremes, an irresolvable tension, a conflicted existence. There is so much beauty and so much pain, all of it side by side.

To borrow words of Switchfoot, this is the beautiful letdown.

This is life.

But thank God that this is not all that there is to it.

Good Friday

Watched the Passion of the Christ today. This was the first time I'd ever seen it. What better day to watch it than on Good Friday? The day that we commemorate Jesus' crucifixion. I am very grateful to my friends who came to see it with me even though they'd seen it before - I do not think I would have dared to go alone. To be perfectly honest I think the reason why I did not see it the first time round was that I was too afraid. Most people will watch the movie as a graphic depiction of a historical event. They might not even agree with how entirely historical the events of the movie are. Sure, Jesus suffered and died, but that was it. How could he rise from the dead? Nobody rises from the dead. Nobody except God.

I don't agree with every single part of the movie - I think Mel Gibson overdoes the violence and includes too many bits which are not in the Bible proper but derive more from Catholic tradition. But I believe that most of the events depicted did happen - that Jesus was the Son of God who descended to earth, that he taught widely during his earthly ministry, that he was flogged and then crucified, surrendering his life on the cross, only to rise again three days later.

The night before he died, Jesus ate with his disciples one last time (The Last Supper).

And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.” (Luke 22:19)

Then he took the cup, gave thanks and offered it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins." (Matthew 26: 27-28)

Jesus died in our place, taking the punishment that we deserved, so that we can be reconciled to God. For the essence of sin is separation from God and rebellion against His authority, above all else. It is separation from everything that is good, pure and true.

I know that very many people say that they do not believe that people are innately sinful, they cannot believe that people are innately sinful. But personally, looking at the state of the world today, and more often looking into the reaches of my own heart, I always think this cannot be all that there is. In the very eloquent words of Miss Stacie Orrico - there's gotta be more to life. And in the words of the very awesome Switchfoot - we were meant to live for so much more.

But Christianity isn't doom and gloom and condemnation - it's the greatest hope of all. God's love for us is the greatest love of all. Because despite our undeserving brokenness, we are already redeemed.

For a fuller exposition please see: "Two Ways to Live"

I must confess, the reality of Jesus' sin-bearing substitution is something that I constantly grapple with. Sometimes I think that my finite mind simply cannot comprehend God's infinite mercy and grace. I believe that it is only with Jesus's death on the cross that God is both just and merciful. He is just in that he rightly judges us all guilty of sin, but he is merciful in his abundant forgiveness of it.

I recently read a very helpful illustration of what it meant for Jesus to die on the cross that I would really like to share with you. It's a bit long but please bear with me; I promise it's worth it.

Joshua Harris, who's written many awesome books on relationships, recounted this dream he once had.

The Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed".

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I Have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed At." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled At My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done In My Anger," "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath At My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped.

I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't mattered now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared With About My Belief In Jesus." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.

I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?

Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished!"

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.


Thanks for reading to the end.