Enter into the Garden of Gethsemane

There are points in our lives where we feel alone. We are in a place where no one else can come with us. It could be sickness; it could be an exam; it could be anything that we need to confront on our own. Our families and friends cannot suffer the illness for us, nor can they take the test on our behalf. The Lord puts us through trials so that WE can be molded and refined; we need to brave the challenges in order to be changed.

In those moments, we don't have to act heroic. We don't need to, in Singaporean terms, geh kiang. Easier said than done. That's what I always do: try so hard on my own, struggle on my own and eventually wallow in self-pity when things don't turn out the way I like them to be. We don't have to carry the burden, the yolk, on our own. You see, when Jesus entered into the garden of Gethsemane, he started off by praying this "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me" He fell with his face to the ground and faced God in His frail humanity, in honesty and in sorrow. He acknowledged His human nature. Likewise, we can enter into that same place and cry out to God, be broken before Him and admit that vulnerability you possess.

But note what the Lord said thereafter. He continued by praying this "Yet not as I will but as You will. He allowed God to override His own humanly desire. Is it resignation? Nope, it is an act of submission and obedience to the One who is all-knowing and almighty, the One who knows what's best for us when we don't most of the time. What does it mean to surrender to the Lord then? This is something that we always tell ourselves and tell the ones we love. But what does it entail specifically. First and foremost, what is within our ability is to stop struggling. Stop trying too hard. Stop bashing through the jungle. Be still, talk to God and praise Him. Go into the presence of God. Go into the garden of Gethsemane to meet Him.

This was a message that really touched me on Sunday when I heard the pastor preach the Word of God. I have been struggling and floundering and trying to keep afloat on my own, doing all it takes in my own wisdom to achieve the success I want. It's tiring and when things don't go smoothly, it is easy to beat yourself and find reasons to blame yourself. You start questioning why you can't do this. We are not invincible and rejoice in that because that keeps us plugged into God's resources; we realize that we need to stay close to God to survive. That's a true blessing that often goes unnoticed.

Here is a link to a song that we sang at service this Sunday. Check this out if you want to know what it means to surrender!

Marc James' Surrender

Commonality in Diversity

(extension of previous post)

I was watching the Tyra Banks Show on bleaching skin (perhaps it was shown today because of MJ's recent demise), and found the content very relevant to my previous blog post. Tyra was interviewing a group of African American women. One of them had really dark skin, which she dubbed "slave-black", and another 2 had skin that resembled that of caucasian women. They were at opposite ends of the spectrum. The dark-skinned lady was lamenting how she felt disadvantaged compared to the Black women with relatively whiter skin. The other 2 were relating past accounts of being ridiculed by their African American peers, and being checked as "White" by a police officer when booked for speeding. These ladies began to dispute about whose plight was more unfavorable, and finally Tyra tried to round up the conflict by getting them to think about their commonalities.

Apparently, some women in a bid to lighten their skin use bleach (those used for clothes!) on their faces and bodies. Others not only bleach their own skin, but also do it for their own children. Other than bleaching, some had contempt for their own hair texture; they found it of "lower class". Tyra also had her producer interview some young Black girls on TV and they all had something in common--a dislike for the typical coarse, fizzy Afro hair. It was so saddening hearing kids talked about being made fun of because of their hair. There was this one girl who said she thought people liked her better when she wears her Hannah Montana wig.

Though I'm not African American and will never be able to understand how they feel, I just felt so sad watching the program. There were obviously larger themes of stereotypes and stigma involved. Whether its actual or perceived, stigma has seeped into how people view themselves and choose to dissociate with their own heritage. Many are banking on Barack Obama's presidency to change such perceptions. Psychologists are trying to understand how his presidency has changed racial attitudes. The picture seems hopeful.

Commonality in Diversity

It's been a long while since I updated this blog on a regular basis. The motivation to pick it up and start writing again after such a hiatus was truly derived from friends that recently told me that they felt encouraged reading some of my entries. I never really expected that. Firstly, because I haven't written anything in a while, and secondly perhaps because I never really believed that people would read such stuff and be touched, be inspired, or acquire new insights. Upon reflection, I guess the main reason why I blog is because some things that I ponder about, for example a message or a learning lesson I draw from observing the world, sound pretty good in my head ;) Besides, an idea will always remain an idea if it remains in the mind. If it were a bad idea then remaining in the mind or eradicating it altogether wouldn't be a bad thing. But if it were a good one then it ought to be shared on a platform so that people can potentially translate it into an action or even a movement! Whiffs of idealism brewing...:D

Back to the subject of "commonality in diversity". It was on the shuttle ride back to my apartment in the Bronx that this catchphrase bobbed into my mind. I can only attribute this to the reflections of home (i.e., Singapore) I had earlier on, and the realization that I've slowly begun to become accustomed to life in NYC. Scanning around the subway station and studying how people scoot home during the rush-hour made me feel so embedded in the context and that I was a part of that social and cultural environment. This sounds kinda vague; I can't really put it into words. The bottom line is I've gotten used to life here. Everything that was foreign to me a while back had become a familiar sight: the subway scene at peak hours, the sunlight at 7 o'clock, the noisy streets of Manhattan, etc. The "barriers" that once made me feel separated from the crowd--the different skin colors and hair colors, the American accent, etc., which were all so surreal to me at the beginning (as though I had stumbled into a hollywood set)--have waned away.

The driver of the shuttle made a comment about the remarkably smooth ride to the Medical Center (the stop before he takes passengers back to the Bronx from campus). The traffic condition was absolutely fantastic. Then he prattled on about earlier trips when traffic was horrible and cars congested the roads, and talked about how one could avert the traffic buildup on Riverside Drive by taking the Broadway rout and how it was sometimes a better option despite the number of traffic lights found along Broadway. I immediately thought how "Un-different" that was from the mindset of a Singaporean driver! I began to see how much commonality there is amidst that diversity we all talk about in the world.

We often notice how different we are from each other, but fail to recognize how similar in actual fact we are to one another. Whether in Singapore or NYC, there are commuters who likewise dash into trains without allowing passengers to alight first, and there are those who refuse to move into the carriages when the trains are full. Whether in Singapore or NYC, we get impatient when we're caught in traffic jams and upset when we miss the bus. In psychology experiments, we see the same social phenomena happening in the US and many times the same results are replicated in other countries--in China, in Singapore, in Europe, all over the world. Sure, you may see differences in the way people from different cultures behave from time to time, but I believe that we are actually a lot more similar than dissimilar.

This makes me think back about the times when I was either in a class, an ECA or a youth group. There were always those cliques that started to form as so-called like-minded people clustered together to form their own little community. There is nothing wrong in that. It happens, it's natural and it's called group dynamics. Different groups of people may uphold different values, have different likes and dislikes, and have different dress sense. When I recall these instances, however, I think of how ideal it would have been for the various cliques to have focused on the commonalities they all shared instead of the things that set them apart. In social psychological terms, it would have been ideal if different groups were able to engage in perspective-taking and formulation of a shared goal.

There is so much talk about diversity right now in this day and age. It is being celebrated, and it took humanity a long time to reach this stage where we respect each other's differences. But above all, we should also remember what binds us together and the commonalities that we share. We all like peace and we all feel grouchy when we don't get enough sleep!

If Christians could remember how they share the same God and not how different they are in their views and beliefs...that would be ideal...:)

Unconditional Love Displayed Conditionally

It's nicely captured in that title, I guess. Yep, that's how it is with my pup. He's a cutesy, girley, Brenheim (meaning white and brown coat), King Charles Cavalier Spaniel. His name is Chewie, and I think from the likes of it, the name is perfectly apt in describing him--chewing is his favorite pastime now and I hope not forever. He's 4 pounds now and as tiny as a boot. Whenever he sits still in his favorite toy dog position, he looks like a stuffed animal.

Yesterday, as per everyday, I was awakened by his squeaky yelps and moans around 8am (he is definitely the morning lark and not the late-night owl). In my fuzziness, I discovered a "lovely" little mess the boy had made. Because an abruptly awakened person is seldom a happy one, I lost my cool though it was largely watered down cos' at the back of mind I was aware he was still a puppy who wasn't the best at holding his poop and pee. Nonetheless, I was grouchier than Oscar and his Grouchketeers.

So what exactly was the damage? There was poop on my bathroom mat, which was one of his favorite lying spots, and to my horror, I found the same beige mat that I adored to be gnawed and frayed at the corners with stray threads littered beside it. I was mad!! I gave Mr Chewie several spanks on his butt and topped them with a furious scolding. Clearly afraid and guilt-ridden, the young mister hurried back to his crate and lay on his towel with full knowledge that he had done something wrong.

Unconditional love with a conditional display. It's difficult not to love this pup especially when he's cute and affectionate: he seizes every chance to scramble into your lap when you sit on the carpet; he loves to lick your toe (though most of the time he bites with his new set of milk teeth!); and he never fails to amuse whenever he straightens his neck upon hearing the doorbell in the Tacobell ad on TV. It's so easy to love him unconditionally, yet at times I get so mad that extending such love becomes an exceptional feat.

On the other hand, his unconditional regard for me (despite the numerous dressing downs he gets when he sets me up on an anger trail) makes it difficult to not reciprocate that affection. However, with puppies, showing that love conditionally helps them understand their limits and boundaries; it becomes necessary to dispense external and social reinforcers when they behave, and punish, confine or deny them of their reinforcement when they go out of line. Hence, the title "Unconditional Love Displayed Conditionally".

I learn a couple of things from this conditional-appearing, unconditional love that I have for Chewie:

1. Loving something adorable is simple. But when that love object messes up, when that love object shows disdain for you, or even when that love object is simply externally unattractive, the task of loving becomes a chore. But God doesn't treat His love for us like a chore or task; he simply loves us unconditionally although we screw up sometimes, although we make a mess of our own lives, and although we show our disdain for Him. Loving us unconditionally is what He does best.

Chewie, when he was still lying in his bed with the right side up

(now he likes to flip it and lie on the other side!)

2. Chewie always flaunts his unconditional regard for me without hesitation. One could say that that's his natural instinct. Even though I shower him with conditional-appearing love, he still maintains that same regard for me. I'm not drawing parallels between my God and my Chewie (God forbid that!). What I'm saying is, despite my conditional praise and worship for God in my life (I pray when I need help, and sing His praises when I feel like it), God never despises that little I give Him. He always accepts it and He loves me unconditionally nonetheless.

Chewie fast asleep on my lap (Lap-Dog!!)

3. Because of the soft spot I have for Chewie in my heart. I always find it easy to forgive him when he misses the pee pad when he aims his pee, when he bites my toe or chews my mat, or when he knows he's pooped improperly and tries to cover that up by eating his poop (this is just a conjecture but you get the picture yah). And likewise the soft spot God has for each one of us makes it such that He'll always forgive us and love us the same even when we do things that hurt Him or make Him angry.

There's Chewie sitting in his toy dog position on the bathroom mat

4. Finally, sometimes it can seem that God's love appears conditional. When we worship Him with our lives, sometimes (not always of course) things are smooth; when we refuse to demolish the idols we set up for ourselves in our lives, things happen to make us go back to God. Such conditional-seeming favor is present to mold us. Remember God's motive is always to prosper us and not to destroy us. The same unconditional love I have for Chewie exists in spite of the conditional affection I shower him with.

Chewie fast asleep in his bed with his stuffed ring toy

Life is not the same with the pup. Especially with the first few months things get way out of hand. I wake prematurely, the cleaning at home becomes doubled, the distance I have to travel just to bring him for shots (that's a whole story altogether!), and of course the extra expenses I incur, all make me regret getting him at times. But the unconditional love he gives me and the same love I reciprocate makes these thoughts vanish and dissipate. And of course, the hope that this is just a phase helps me get by each day!

It's been such a long while since I last blogged. Yep, been busy. Too busy lazying around and watching shows online and on TV. Anyway, I've decided to blog because something happened to me yesterday that necessitates some kind of cathartic release I guess. 

Just a quick update, I submitted 2 applications to 2 separate PhD programs at the end of last year. One was to a PhD program in the Social Psych department of Columbia uni, and the other was to the B-School at Columbia, the marketing division. Yesterday, I felt my flicker of hope just diminish and disappear. 

The PhD application results will be out soon, but I sense my hope dissipating by the day. These are two very difficult programs to get in and I've chosen (and I'm not too sure whether is by pure faith or sheer laziness) to place all my eggs in once basket by limiting my options to these two places. Yesterday, I learnt of news that my application is being pitted against very strong competition and realistically I know my chances are close to a mere zero.

The Lord was gracious. Just before I left the apartment yesterday, I did a quick read of the daily bread my mum gave me when she dropped by New York. It was regarding the loss of Manchester United, the football club, when a plane carrying the team crashed leaving only one surviving member who rebuilt the team and restored its former glory to what we knew Man-U to be in the 1990s and early 2000s. In the same way, when Jesus died and all hope seemed to be lost, He resurrected from the dead, sat at the right hand of God in Heaven, and became our bridge to God and eternity. Although the mesage didn't impact me much as I left the apartment, but somehow the message was instructing readers to know that in all tragedy and loss, the Lord has the capability to restore and bestow greatness in all situations. I knew no matter what I had nothing to fear.

I shan't deny that I was extremely devastated. This is no life and death matter; it's merely something that I really want. But still I've been trying to apply since 2007 and I am pretty much tired now. Although I know this round I might not get in because all odds are stacked against me, I'm going to hang on and persist because God appreciates persistence in prayer and in effort. And hopefully my faith (and my applications next year) will take me there someday. As I reflect on my life, I realize how the Lord works with me. He usually opens one door and inspires hope, then closes that door but opens another that brings another spark of hope. As this door closes, I don't know what is behind the next that opens. But it usually is something better and beyond what I can imagine. Now I just need to prod on...

My Traveling Ordeal: To Montana and back

It seems a little too late to blog about this. Nonetheless, I am going to journal this down while it is still fresh in my mind, to remind me of God's goodness in helping me endure and navigate through life's little distresses that presented during my travel to Montana and back.

21st December 2008 (Saturday):
I hopped onto the Super Shuttle to fetch me to Newark Airport, New Jersey, only to realize that both the boot straps belonging to the 300-dollar pair of UGG boots I just purchased the night before were no longer on my boots. Unstrapped and dangling from my boots as I was making the 100m dash for the shuttle (rushing late as usual), they had fallen off--one at the lobby area of my apartment building, and the other into the heap of snow at the sidewalk of Broadway where my building was. Immensely distress set in (although technically I could still put on and secure the shoes). I immediately made an SOS call for help to retrieve my boot straps. After 4 repeated phone calls that went unanswered, I decided to leave a text message. Fortunately, my phone call was responded to eventually (after a grueling 10 min wait as my shuttle drove further and further uptown), and my boot straps were found. Thank God! Thinking that the worse had happened and nothing else should go wrong after that little "setback" (well, I said that too early). I made it onto the shuttle and got to Newark in good time. The check-in queue was terribly long, but unsuspecting of any possible complications that could arise, I waited in line thinking that I was early and time was on my side. To cut the long story short, the queue barely moved after 2 hours and rumors of the flight being canceled were verified to be true. By the time I got to the counter, I was informed that my flight to Minneapolis, where my connecting flight to Montana was supposed to take off from, was canceled and the next earliest flight they could give me was on the following Tuesday, 23rd Dec. With that, my vacation period was reduced by half from a week to three days four nights (my airticket cost approx USD1400!). Resigned, I took a 2-hour-ish ride on the express bus and subway back to Manhatten, and trekked back on the icy ground to my apartment, lugging my luggage along. It was utterly distressing and awfully! The weather was freezing and the journey back was very rough (to keep the story short, I won't elaborate). Oh well, at least I wasn't stranded in the airport with nowhere to go.

23rd December, 2008 (Tuesday):
This time I was determined to fly, but it sure wasn't going to happen without a struggle. My shuttle was 15 min late. The driver dilly-dallied and by the time we got onto the highway to Jersey, we were stuck in a traffic jam. The whole journey was stressful for me. By the time I got to the airport, it was half an hour to departure time. I noticed that the queue was short at the check-in area and thought I would be able to make it, but before I could even heave a sigh of relief that I made it, I was told that they had "locked down" on all check-ins for the flight I was taking. I went hysterical!! I was in disbelief. I went to the counter to demand an explanation. They said there was nothing they could do. I hurled at the counter staff and demanded a refund if I wasn't going to be permitted to go onboard. I was intensely furious. They told me that I had to call up their office to enquire about and obtain any refund. I was livid because I had been making phone calls to the airline (which I would not explicitly mention here) for the past few days to enquire about earlier flights out to Kalispell, Montana, but I hadn't been able to get through. Adamant about making it onboard this time, I continued to create a scene. The manager subsequently made a check on the system and realized that I had made a prior check-in online and that I should be allowed to board the plane. They directed me to rush to the gate. There were other passengers queuing at counter that did not make it on the flight because they didn't. With 10 min before the plane took off, I ran to the gate with my luggage, and eventually made it. That was really close. Subsequently, I managed to fly to Minneapolis and caught my connecting flight to Kalispell. Thank God!

27 December, 2008 (Saturday):
After the nightmare I had experienced in my trip to Montana, I wasn't expecting anymore hiccups. But I guess God had other plans to stretch my limits and challenge me. A snow storm was anticipated to arrive in Kalispell after 11am on Saturday. At 8.30 am, I boarded my plane after checking in my baggage, unsuspecting of what was to come and thinking that I was going to miss the impending storm. Shortly after boarding, I was kinda sleepy and dozed off in the plane before take-off. At around 9.10 am, I was awoken by a small commotion. I openned my eyes and to my amazement the plane had not taken off! A lady in the seat across the aisle and diagonally behind me was sobbing away, moaning that she had to fly to Washington because she had a job. In the words of the 11-year-old boy sitting in the seat behind me, she appeared to be "mentally disturbed". Shortly, a ground staff from the airline came onboard and coaxed her to leave the plane with the assurance that alternative arrangements would be made for her to travel to Washington. Apparently, the plane couldn't take off because the runway was too slippery and the plane was too heavy to fly. The flight attendant requested for 8 volunteers to leave the plane--each passenger would be compensated with a $300 airline voucher. After 8 volunteers left, they did a count and requested for 7 more people to get off the plane. And then, 4 more, and eventually 1 more. After 20 minutes of tension and suspense, the plane was de-iced (they sprayed some redish-fluid and green substance all over the body of the plane), we finally took off. By then it was 9.30 am and the flight had been delayed for an hour.

When I reached St. Paul International Airport, my connecting flight to Newark had taken off. I was re-booked on a flight that was 5 hours later to Detroit, Michigan, for a connecting flight back to New Jersey. With no boarding pass issued and simply given verbal instructions to go to Gate F7 to wait for my next flight out to Detroit, I felt utterly unsettled. Thank God, I made an SOS call to New York, and was able to check-in online for seats onboard the flights I was taking. I secured my seats and made it to Detroit and finally back to Newark. I reached Newark at 11.30pm (according to the original itinery, I was supposed to meet my parents at the airport at 4.50pm!). To cut the long story short, my baggage was located to be stuck in Minneapolis. I left my details and went to the ground transport counter to call for a Super Shuttle. The shuttle came after 90 min, and by the time I reached home, it was 2 am. I was upset but relieved to have made it back safely.

28 and 29 December 2008:
Around half past 10 at night, I received a voice mail message from the baggage services instructing me to give them a call on their hotline. They informed me that my baggage would be delivered to me soon and the driver would call me when he made the delivery. I got home close to midnight, and the driver had yet to call. I made another phone call to the hotline and they said the driver would call me. Close to 2 am, the driver had not called and I gave up and went to bed. Shortly after 3 am, I was awakened by a phone call. The driver was on the line and told me that he was nearby and that he would be arriving shortly to deliver my baggage. Rustling out of bed and putting on my coat, I rushed down to receive him and finally got my luggage back. But I certainly wasn't happy from being awakened at 3 am in the morning!

The UN-GLAM of staying in a cool city like New York.

New York always sounds so cool, doesn't it? When I told several friends that I'll be going to NYC for my postgrad, they seemed so envious of me. Hollywood films perpetuate the image of NYC as being one of the greatest and most exciting cities in the world--well, I guess the exception would be films that depict aliens invading the planet or something catastrophic striking the world; such things always tend to happen in Manhattan in those fictional films, don't they?! Shows like Gossip Girl, Sex & the City, etc. show the glamorous side of living in NYC. Haha but they don't include the UN-GLAM parts of it. 

Today, the UN-GLAM part of living here was glaring to me. There was a snow storm. And it wasn't nice. I can't deny that it looked beautiful; everything was covered with a blanket of wintery white. However, as my friend, Esther, astutely recognized, "It's pretty when you look at it from inside through the window, not so when you are outside!" It's really gorgeous when in the initial stages when the snow flakes fall, but it's a totally nasty experience when it inches of snow accumulate on the sidewalks and pavements and especially horrible when the ice starts to melt. Amidst the heavy snowfall today was slush all over the ground that made walking along Broadway (and many places in New York and Jersey as a matter of fact) a hazardous experience.

I found myself slipping into the self-pity mode so many times today! I was blaming myself for not wearing my Wellington boots out. I wore the other pair which was not impervious to water. When the snow started to melt, puddles formed everywhere. Worse still, the puddle surfaces were shrouded by ice so I ended up stepping into puddles several times and some were pretty deep. After a while, my boots got wet and water seeped through, soaking my feet and chilling my toes! It was a real nasty experience. Anyway, thank God I made it to Harry's Shoe Store just 10 min before it closed and bought myself a USD300 pair of UGG boots that are waterproof. I knew I had to, otherwise I won't survive Montana in the next couple of days (it's like -14 degrees celsius over there!) 

Living in a country with winter is really a hassle. Not that I'm dismissing it totally; I do like the beautiful sights and the experience of 4 seasons. However, there are downsides that people like us who are born and bred in warm and sunny (and humid) Singapore just don't see. It seems so cool being able to wear jackets, and to mix and match different layers and accessories, but it is really costly buying so many different kinds of clothing, shoes and other stuff. Plus, the time I take to change into something (and change out) takes forever! Sometimes carrying those big coats around can be rather troublesome too. I can go on and on about the inconveniences, but one thing I realized is that life in Singapore tends to be more straightforward and efficient because we don't have the complications of dramatic climatic changes. We won't get stuck at Bukit Batok because of a snow storm, nor do we need foreign labor to shovel the snow off the pavements. We don't need to expend large amounts of energy to heat our homes (although Singaporeans probably spend a lot on air-conditioning!), or experience a drop in productivity because of harsh weather.  

So do I like living in NYC?? Haha, I'm just complaining and whining for now. I still enjoy the experience and these are just culture shocks I guess. They make me miss home. Whatever it is, I'll always remember Tuesday night (this week) when I was walking outside as it just started to snow. It was a magical experience. I have seen snow before, but that night was just awesome. It was so beautiful that I couldn't help but feel this joy well inside me and it made me want to praise the Lord. I'm still thankful that He brought me here, and I'm looking forward to the great things He will do soon. He has led me from place to place, closing one door and opening another, and I just can't wait to see where the final destination of this hope He has ignited in me will be. Hopefully, I'll get to stick around for a while. I just bought close to USD600 worth of North Face gear (and that 300-dollar-boots), I think I can tahan the snow at least in NYC, not too sure about Montana.