Leaf Peeping

Leaf peeping is the art of being at the right place at the right time. To be there just as the perfect combination of sunny days and cool nights turns the leaves into the brightest shades crimson, orange and gold.

It was a perfect day. The autumnal air was crisp and fresh. The sky was a deep, cloudless blue. The sun set the leaves ablaze.

The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing ...to find the place where all the beauty came from ...the place where I ought to have been born.

Psyche, in Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis

We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words — to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. That is why we have peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses and nymphs and elves — that, though we cannot, yet these projections can, enjoy in themselves that beauty, grace, and power of which Nature is the image. That is why the poets tell us such lovely falsehoods. They talk as if the west wind could really sweep into a human soul; but it can't. They tell us that "beauty born of murmuring sound" will pass into human face; but it won't. Or not yet.

For if we take the imagery of Scripture seriously, if we believe that God will one day give us the Morning Star and cause us to put on the splendour of the sun, then we may surmise that both the ancient myths and the modern poetry, so false as history, may be very near the truth as prophecy. At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.

C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory

Hong Kong

I que es la veritat? (What is truth?)

Front gate of the Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

This is the famous question that Pontius Pilate asked when cross-examining Jesus, (John 18) one that is surely as old as humanity itself.

I was just thinking about how wonderful it is that truth, the Truth, is a person that we can know. We can relate to the truth, not as we relate to a set of propositions or facts, but as one person relates to another. We can have a relationship with ultimate reality itself, Himself. He is our friend, our brother, our father, our Saviour, our King. To know Him is to know ourselves. To know that we are completely loved and accepted, despite all our flaws. To know Him is to know that all of history is not a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. To know Him is to know that in the end, everything that is broken will be made whole, and that everything sad will come untrue. To know Him is to know the truth.

I am the way and the truth and the life.
John 14:6

Happy 2007! (Raining light)

In the bleak midwinter

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain;
heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
but his mother only, in her maiden bliss,
worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
yet what I can I give him — give my heart.

by Christina Rossetti

Driving in Taiwan

Last week we went on a field trip to Taiwan as part of our foundation course, and one of the Singaporeans we met there told us that many Singaporeans find Taiwan messy and disorderly. He said that you can tell the difference between Singaporean and Taiwanese culture just by looking at the way people drive. In Taiwan, cars swerve in and out of lanes and traffic lights are more like suggestions rather than legal requirements. The Taiwanese have this proverb that means "order in disorder", and they are very tolerant of inconsiderate driving. If you pull up alongside the road to let people off, causing a backlog of cars behind you, people will just wait because everyone recognises that they would have done exactly the same had they been in your position. But if you did that in Singapore, the drivers stuck behind you would be pounding on their horns.

We Singaporeans are a very law abiding lot, but we are extremely intolerant of people who do not obey what we perceive to be the rules. At the same time however, the Taiwanese are also extremely intolerant of intolerant people. Quite of few of them see Singapore as inflexible and authoritarian, and China is regarded as the antithesis of democracy and a system that just cannot be accepted.

I was keenly reminded of how Tim Keller once pointed out that all cultures are oppressive - they set up an ideal (say, of law-abidingness or liberal tolerance) and everyone who does not conform is "condemned". The Bible tells us that all cultures are fallen (because all people are fallen), and that all cultures oppress, because every single culture puts in front of people certain objects and says “If you don’t have them, you’re nothing.”

Ancient cultures, and traditional cultures today, tend to have collectivistic idols: Follow the rules! Obey the law! Toe the line! But modern Western cultures tend more to have individualistic idols: Break free! Define yourself! It’s your choice, so choose! Every culture that ever existed and that exists today, is telling you to build your identity on something.

One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?"

"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."

Mark 12:28-31

It is no accident that Jesus tells us to love our God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength first, before telling us to love our neighbours, because the latter would be completely impossible without the former.

It is impossible to love your illiberal neighbour just as much as your avowedly liberal self, if you do not love God more than your liberal credentials.

If you build your identity on being liberal, you will despise illiberal people. If you build your identity on being law-abiding, you will despise "law-breakers". Only if you build your identity on God, a God who loves you with an everlasting love despite your weaknesses and flaws, a God who will tear himself apart to make you whole, will you be completely incapable of despising anyone.

See! The winter is past (Sakura Matsuri)

Spring is well and truly here. Flowers are erupting into colour everywhere you turn. The sky shines the deepest blue and all the world is drenched in sunlight. The cherry blossom trees on campus are in full bloom, and not even deadlines and exams can get me down at this point. Speaking of cherry blossoms, we went down to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens today for Sakura Matsuri 2006, the annual cherry blossom festival. Everyone was there to see over 200 cherry trees in full flower, among all the other flora and fauna, and I’m sure that no one was disappointed. The gardens were a riot of colour, and the flowers were just stunning. Looking at the cherry blossoms, each flower utterly perfect and delicately beautiful, it occurred to me that all the world is an open love letter from God to us, in all its pain and beauty.


It is in the depth of suffering that we know it is only the manna from heaven that will fill us, and only the springs of living water that will never run dry.

It is in the midst of beauty that our souls soar towards eternity, and we know, in the depth of our hearts, that no joy this profound could be an accident.

My lover spoke and said to me,
"Arise, my darling,
my beautiful one, and come with me.

See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.

Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.

The fig tree forms its early fruit;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
my beautiful one, come with me.
Song of Solomon 2:10-13

Easter Sunday

The Amalfi Coast


Seven Stanzas at Easter
by John Updike

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His Flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that – pierced – died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.


Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!
In his great mercy he has given us new birth
into a living hope through the resurrection
of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into
an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade —
1 Peter 1:3-4

Good Friday

This was carved into the wall of the Colosseum in Rome.

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride

See from His head, His hands, His feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did ever such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown

Oh the wonderful cross
Oh the wonderful cross
Bids me come and die
and find that I may truly live

Oh the wonderful cross
Oh the wonderful cross
All who gather here
by grace draw near
and bless Your name

Were the whole realm of nature mine
That were an offering far too small
Love so amazing, so divine
Demands my soul, my life, my all


But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
Isaiah 53:5

The Last of Winter

Blizzard of 2006, 12th February

The Snowfall Is So Silent
by Miguel de Unamuno
Translated by Robert Bly

The snowfall is so silent,
so slow,
bit by bit, with delicacy
it settles down on the earth
and covers over the fields.
The silent snow comes down
white and weightless;
snowfall makes no noise,
falls as forgetting falls,
flake after flake.
It covers the fields gently
while frost attacks them
with its sudden flashes of white;
covers everything with its pure
and silent covering;
not one thing on the ground
anywhere escapes it.
And wherever it falls it stays,
content and gay,
for snow does not slip off
as rain does,
but it stays and sinks in.
The flakes are skyflowers,
pale lilies from the clouds,
that wither on earth.
They come down blossoming
but then so quickly
they are gone;
they bloom only on the peak,
above the mountains,
and make the earth feel heavier
when they die inside.
Snow, delicate snow,
that falls with such lightness
on the head,
on the feelings,
come and cover over the sadness
that lies always in my reason.


Surely you desire truth in the inner parts;
you teach me wisdom in the inmost place.

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
Psalm 51:6-7

Sweet Endings and New Beginnings

These winter holidays have been truly wonderful - it was with no small amount of regret that I bid the last of my friends goodbye and saw it all come to an end. It was a joyous time of meeting up with friends, both new and old. New York at Christmas, though thronging with tourists, is an endless treasure chest of fun. We watched Wynton Marsalis and his band rip up the stage with some festive, red-hot stomping jazz at Lincoln Centre. We also sat in, and attempted to join in (with 2000 other people), the annual Handel's Messiah sing-in - most of the time I just sat there in awe, letting the beautiful choral singing wash over me.

The great thing about having friends visit is that you can unabashedly go do all the touristy things that "real New Yorkers" (something that we sometimes aspire to be) don't ever do. Taking pictures in Central Park, going to the UN, going on the CNN tour, watching the sun set atop the Empire State building (after watching King Kong no less), hitting all the museums and art galleries (MoMA was especially fun - they had a Pixar exhibition), taking the harbour cruise (and nearly freezing to death in the process), going to see the big Christmas tree at Rockefeller Centre... And of course, who could forget the transit strike? I don't think I've ever walked that much in my life. We walked over 50 blocks to get to Lincoln Centre, and even further to go ice-skating in the Park. It was definitely worth it, but thank God the strike didn't last for long. It was amazing that we even managed to make it to Boston (many thanks to a kind friend), in our bid to escape the strike. But of course, the strike ended just after we arrived there.

Kenneth hosted a fantastic Christmas party which saw 25 Singaporeans gather in his apartment for a gourmet feast - lovingly prepared by the man himself and his lovely assistants. We contributed mulled cider to the kingly spread, and I am happy to say that it went down very well. I have developed a decided liking for the stuff, especially since cider in this country is non-alcoholic. There was also much boisterous carol singing and enthusiastic Taboo-playing.

We heralded in the new year watching fireworks explode over the Statue of Liberty at Battery Park (the clever alternative to squishing with a million other people in Times Square). Then we were off to Mount Poconos in Pennsylvania, for a week of skiing, snow-tubing and snow-fighting. While we were there we also had the opportunity to go on a horse-ride through snow-covered woods, and on our last day there we chanced upon a frozen lake.

As the sun set we walked on water.

In this season of warmth and love, we remember the greatest love of all. We celebrate the birth of He who was born to die so that we all might live. And we remember that everything we have, is truly a blessing. Most of all, we remember the ultimate gift of love, bought at infinite price, bestowed upon the deeply undeserving.

I think that it is so apt that Christmas segueways into the New Year. Why do people celebrate the New Year? I think that we all want second chances and new beginnings. Reinvention and rebirth. Bridging the chasm between the ideal and the reality. Yearning to be so much more. For in the midst of all this abundance there is so much want. And in the midst of all this laughter there are so many tears.

The last night we spent together we watched Rent. I love that musical - the music is fantastic. And it is true that everything (here and now, anyway) is rent. This is all fleeting, and nothing here lasts forever. No day but today. Right?

For all the soaring harmony and uplifting voices, I walked out of the musical a little heavy hearted. The couples in the musical sing of love with such conviction, but conclude that it will all pass away. But there is a forever to be had. And it is no mere coincidence that we often speak of love in the language of eternity (I will always love you). Because God came to earth as a little baby, living the life we should have lived, and dying the death that we should have died, so that we can have forever in Him. And this is the transforming love that gives new life. This is our second chance. And this is our new beginning.

Happy New Year everyone.

Mount Poconos, Pennsylvania

Remembering You

Steven Curtis Chapman

I found You in the most unlikely way

But really it was You who found me

And I found myself in the gifts that You gave

You gave me so much and I

I wish You could stay

but I'll, I'll wait for the day

And I watch as the cold winter melts into spring

And I'll be remembering You

Oh and I'll smell the flowers and hear the birds sing

and I'll be remembering You, I'll be remembering You

From the first moment when I heard Your name

Something in my heart came alive

You showed me love and no words could explain

A love with the power to

Open the door

To a world I was made for

And I watch as the cold winter melts into spring

And I'll be remembering You

Oh and I'll smell the flowers and hear the birds sing

and I'll be remembering

The dark night, the hard fight

The long climb up the hill knowing the cost

The brave death, the last breathe

The silence whispering all hope was lost

The thunder, the wonder

A power that brings the dead back to life

I wish You could stay

But I'll wait for the day

And though You've gone away

You'll come back

And I watch as the cold winter melts into spring

And I'll be remembering You

Oh and I'll smell the flowers and hear the birds sing

and I'll be remembering You, I'll be remembering You

And I'll watch as the sun fills a sky that was dark

And I'll be remembering You

And I'll think of the way that

You fill up my heart

And I'll be remembering You

I'll be remembering You

I'll be remembering You

I'll be remembering You

I'll be remembering You

from Music Inspired by The Chronicles of Narnia

First Snow at Columbia

I'm feeling hopelessly Christmassy.

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

A Beautiful Surprise

On Saturday night I was totally convinced that Cherfy, Kenneth and I were going to watch Falstaff at Lincoln Centre. I got downstairs to meet them only to find Shuxiang, Mark and Adrian there as well. I thought we were all going for dinner together before the opera. Turns out I was only partially right - we were going to dinner, but there was no opera to go to. I had been completely and utterly duped. I was most impressed. I did not suspect a thing. This was a surprise early birthday dinner (because quite a few people would not be free next weekend, myself included, hopefully - I am on the waiting list for my church's fall retreat).

Cherfy had gone to much trouble to deceive me about Falstaff and Kenneth had rounded up the others. They even gotten in touch with Cass, and Serene and Greg came all the way down to New York too! I called Janice at the very last minute and she braved the pouring rain to come uptown. I was very, very touched by it all.

We went to Carmine's on West 90th Street, a big bustling Italian restaurant where all the food comes in jumbo family portions and everyone shares everything (think the Chinese version of Italian food). We had to wait almost 3 hours for a table - I kid you not. Very New York. On the weekends, all the good places to eat are just packed to the brim. Carmine's also refused to take reservations and big parties are always harder to seat. Most of the time was spent rather enjoyably in raucous conversation in the comfort of a nearby Starbucks. The wait was not in vain - the food was most excellent and the size of the portions bordering on obscene. We rounded off the meal with a yummy tiramisu cake and they insisted on singing Happy Birthday in Chinese, and then in Malay, because everyone else was singing it in English. I was deeply embarrassed but also greatly tickled, not knowing whether to laugh or to hide under the table.

After dinner a few of us went on an impromptu road trip up to Princeton - Greg had driven up to New York and so we gave Serene a lift home after dropping Cass and Janice off downtown. The random road trip turned out to be much fun even though there was some initial protestation on Serene's part - she didn't want us to be driving around so late. But we didn't want her to be travelling on public transport so late all the way back to rural Princeton, and we really weren't taking no for an answer.

The freeways were clear and Jersey city spread out before us in a sea of light. As we were approaching Princeton, we saw a deer dancing on the green.

We got back to Manhattan around 4am. I crashed straight into bed, only to be woken by numerous phonecalls. We were brunching in Chinatown. We had yummy northern dim sum at Shanghai Cafe - that woke me right up. Cherfarn pointed out that my birthday had become an 15-day long fête - like Chinese New Year. I very much liked the sound of that. Just like all my other birthdays, I even have an exam very close to it - I have an oral French mid-term this Friday. All part of the celebrations of course.

Janice and I were going to drop by her apartment but we took a wrong train and ended up in Brooklyn. It was a lovely accidental trip. She suggested we go to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade and so go there we did. The views overlooking the East River and Manhattan were stunning. The weather was perfect - clear skies sprinkled with clouds, a crisp breeze and gentle sunshine. It was so beautiful, I was almost taken by surprise.

This whole weekend in fact, has just been one beautiful surprise.

Thank you all.

Brooklyn Heights Promenade

From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets,
the name of the LORD is to be praised.
Psalm 113:3

Chris Tomlin Indescribable Tour (ft Matt Redman)

At first I was uncertain about whether to go for the concert but in the end I was so very glad that I went. Chris Tomlin's music turned out to be much better than I expected (he sang lots of stuff from his new album, Arriving) and Matt Redman, whose music I've always liked (Blessed Be Your Name is one of my favourite songs, ever), got quite a bit of stage time too. In a way, the concert was like a big flashy church service, with really cool graphics and fantastic sound and lighting effects. But the best part was that the concert wasn't about any of that or either of them and their status as music stars. The words of the songs came up on screen and everyone sang along. We were all singing to an audience of one. I think it's so human to want to sing when you're happy. When your soul is full of joy, when your feet are full of dancing, and your heart is full of song. I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free, His eye is on the sparrow, and He watches over me.


Indescribable
by Chris Tomlin

From the highest of heights to the depths of the sea
Creation's revealing Your majesty
From the colors of fall to the fragrance of spring
Every creature unique in the song that it sings
All exclaiming

Indescribable, uncontainable,
You placed the stars in the sky
and You know them by name
You are amazing God

All powerful, untameable,
Awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly proclaim
You are amazing God

Who has told every lightning bolt where it should go
Or seen heavenly storehouses laden with snow
Who imagined the sun and gives source to its light
Yet conceals it to bring us the coolness of night
None can fathom

Indescribable, uncontainable,
You placed the stars in the sky and You know them by name
You are amazing God

Incomparable, unchangeable
You see the depths of my heart
and You love me the same
You are amazing God
You are amazing God

"He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name."

Psalm 147:4

"When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?"

Psalm 8:2-4

PureLife

Over the weekend Cassandra and I went to the PureLife women's conference organised by her church. This was the first women's conference that I'd ever been to and I was ever so glad that I went. (Thanks Cass! ;)

And this is where words somewhat fail me.

Cassandra's (Oct 3, 4) written a far better account. I highly reccommend it, and I agree with her wholeheartedly.

I learnt more of what it was to love God with all your mind and all your heart.

And I learnt more of what it meant to be loved.

Unconditionally and unfailingly.


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

Love never fails.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

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.

A Trip to the Opera

Lincoln Centre

We went to the opera, l'amie and I. Mon amie (see? I learnt a new permutation! :) geniusly found us $16 student rush tickets, and the seats were decent too.

In Madame Butterfly, east meets west. A callous American lieutenant marries a young Japanese girl (Butterfly), only to leave her. He comes back three years later with his American wife, only to find that he has a child. Madame Butterfly loves him desperately and has been waiting for him all this while. She is shattered when she realises that he has abandoned her. He feels deep remorse but it is now too late. He wishes to take the child back to America to give him a better life. She agrees to let to child go with him. When he comes for the child, she commits ritual suicide.


SHE sat quite still, and waited till night fell. She had a sword in her lap.

Butterfly [softly reading the words inscribed on it]
Death with honour is better than life with dishonour.

[points the knife sideways at her throat]

[The door on the left opens, showing Suzuki's arm pushing the child towards his mother: he runs in with outstretched hands. Butterfly lets the dagger fall, darts toward the baby, and hugs and kisses him almost to suffocation.]

Butterfly
You? you?
Beloved Idol!
Ador'd, adorèd being,
Fairest flower of beauty.
[taking the child's head in her hands, she draws it to her]
Though you ne'er must know it
Tis for you, my love, for you I'm dying, Poor Butterfly
That you may go away
Beyond the ocean,
Never to feel the torment when you are older,
That your mother forsook you!

[exaltedly] My son, sent to me from Heaven,
Straight from the throne of glory,
Take one last and careful look
At your poor mother's face!
That it's memory may linger
One last look!
Farewell, beloved!
Farewell, my dearest heart!


I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. It reminded me also of the ending of Miss Saigon (my favourite musical ever), where the sacrifice of the Vietnamese mother is clearer - her erstwhile lover proposes to support her and the child financially in Vietnam, but she kills herself so that he and his wife have no choice but to take the child back to America, where he will have a better life.

For there is no love greater than this - giving yourself up for another, dying so that those you love, may live.

God is love. - 1 John 4:16

The Light in the Darkness

We went on a very enjoyable sunset cruise organised by the university to celebrate the end of the orientation period and the end of the first week of classes. The views from the boat were spectacular. We saw the skyline illuminated in the orange glow of the setting sun, the sky gradually darkening and the city lighting up. It being the day that it is, the twin beams from Ground Zero lit up the sky, reaching so high that they grazed the stars. It was both beautiful and eerie; beautiful for what it was, but eerie for what it represented.

So much of what is beautiful is also oftentimes so very sad. We live in this strange dichotomy, this irreconciliable duality, where the human heart is capable of great love as well as immense cruelty.

You see, I don't think that there's a "them" and an "us". I think there's a "we", and we're all broken, and in our brokenness, we break each other.

Yet we were meant to live for so much more. He who made the sun and the stars, he who breathed blue into the sky and ignited the sunset, formed our hearts, and therein lies the beauty, for we were made in his image. But we have all rejected our first love, turning away from he who made us, and we live lives with no reference to the giver and sustainer of all life. We all go our own selfish way, and this is how we break.

But there is a light in the darkness for we were not, and we are not, left alone.

The opposite of love isn't hate - it's apathy. And he who made us loved us enough to come down to earth to be amidst us, to seek and to save, to mend and to make new, to bring beauty out of brokenness, to turn darkness into light.