what comes first

Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you —Matthew 6:33 Even household chores and time spent with friends can come in the way of my devotion to God. What are the idols in your life that are hindering you from living a life of surrender to God?

gee thanks

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. If only. Your words though at times out of jest, cut and scar me, they tear me down. One that I respect and hold in high honour, one whom I seek comfort from. One whom I've wanted to please for years. These make your words sting more. Either that, or I'm just being a sensitive emo can't take criticisms good for nothing lazy bum.

a broken and contrite heart, you God, will not despise

Psalm 51:16-18 New International Version (NIV) 16 You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. 17 My sacrifice, O God, is[a] a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise. 18 May it please you to prosper Zion, to build up the walls of Jerusalem. * con·trite [kuhn-trahyt, kon-trahyt] Show IPA adjective 1. caused by or showing sincere remorse. 2. filled with a sense of guilt and the desire for atonement; penitent: a contrite sinner. Year 2013 lesson #1: It's ok to be broken. Out of our devotion to Him in the midst of our brokenness, God uses us, He works in us and through us. In our weaknesses, He is made strong.

"clear the stage, and set the sound and lights ablaze, if that's the measure you must take to crush your idols"

I've always thought I'm not much of a thinker, but I think I am. I think so much that I don't even realise I'm thinking. But they are dispersed randomly around my brain, I can't think in an organised manner. A substantial amount of thought have been revolving around friendships (omg so high school) and how disappointing they can be. Somewhere down the track in the last few years have convinced me that many people are friends with me because I can offer them something, ie car rides/ accommodation/ meals/ etc. In the last few years, I have also lost some close friendships from God-knows-why.. my (probably disordered) personality and stuck-upness? Anyway, I hate changes and what it does to people. It has made me a cynical donkey. Sometimes I don't even know why I bother with people who don't bother (or maybe they do bother but i feel that they don't bother). Anyway, le sigh. I must be too free and have a wandering mind and haven't socialised for too long because my life has been all about cooking and driving and thinking about cleaning and stressing about cooking again. I suppose all these troubled thoughts boil down to a fear: being forgotten. Because life is all about me, the world is all about me, what my friends think of me, me me me. It's gonna take a great deal of conscious effort to deny myself and pick up my cross daily. I guess this is how I'm supposed to learn. challenge accepted. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6smGew7dGto "clear the stage, and set the sound and lights ablaze, if that's the measure you must take to crush your idols"

combustion

If I were a fruit, I would be a bitter gourd. A lemon or lime.

chicken

To many, the interview must be the most stressful part of the whole job application process.
I can't even bring myself to send out resumes D:

B - Born to Be Wild

Yesterday, I received news that B, one of the persons that I took care of at work, had passed away.

B was one of the first people I met at work, and has always been one of my favourite faces there.
I have never ever seen B angry. She had a lovely personality and a charming sense of humour. I loved how I could count on her to be so tickled and laugh out loud at my jokes.. How much she was entertained by "daisy, daisy, daisy, woops", how she would randomly break out into the song she heard on tv: "BORN TO BE WILD~!!". B LOVED sweet sweet SWEET tea that had to be warm. B never got sick of BBQ sauce. B loved banging the table. B loved nine nine nine nine nine nine nine nine.

She may not have been able to see, or walk, or have the strength and control to carry a spoon or cup, she may not have been able to adjust herself on the seat for hours till she told someone that her knees were sore. But B was able to melt your heart with her beautiful soul. B would always hold your hand and ask you how are you, give you a side hug, pat your belly, pat your back. B was one sporting person who entertained silliness from carers and other residents with her hearty laughter. She would agree to arm wrestles on days when we got bored.

That was one thing I loved at work. Watching B laugh, because it was contagious. Her departure was unexpected to me, and her presence will be sorely missed. I'm thankful to have met B and am privileged to have received much loving and laughter from dearest dearest B.

Pilgrim's Conflict with Sloth, John Piper

http://www.desiringgod.org/resource-library/poems/pilgrim-s-conflict-with-sloth
My name is Pilgrim. Yesterday
At dusk I met along my way
An enemy. His name was Sloth.
He tried to lure me, like a moth,
Exhausted, to his idle flames.
As always, he used other names:
Relief and Respite and Repose
And Rest, and Leisure. These he knows
Are worthy seasons in this age—
Worthy names to make a sage
Out of a scoundrel.
                             “Look,” he said
To me, affecting praise, “you've led
Your church for thirty years. And I
Am glad that you at last comply
With my advice. I'm willing still
To help you rest, though my goodwill,
I must admit, has withered from
All your unwillingness to come
When I've invited you before.”
But I replied, “I still deplore
Your ways and your deceitful snares.
What makes you think that all my cares
Would suddenly transform your mirth
And your amusements, as if worth
Were made of ease and emptiness?
My urgent prayers do not express
Compliance with your old advice.
No more today does it entice
Than it has ever done.”
                                      “Then why,”
Said Sloth, “do you retire? Should I
Not hear this as a knocking at
My door? Come now. My welcome mat
Is out. Are you not standing there?”
“No,” I replied, “I’m not. And where
I stand you cannot comprehend.
I do not aim with you to spend
A single hour, though I confess
You are a subtle cheat, and dress
Your house with promises your name
Can never keep—Sloth! To my shame,
I visited your rooms enough
To know—you are not Rest. You bluff
Your way into the lives of drained
And weary men, with pity feigned,
And promise life—as if the soul
Of man were made to sit and roll
The dice until some happy pair
Make him a champ or millionaire.
You cannot understand my aims.
I do not live for wealth or games.”
Sloth felt the sting and said, “I know
Your kind, a workaholic. O,
Sleep not, play not, throw to the wind
God’s gift of leisure days. Rescind
The work of Christ who bought your rest.
O, yes, I know your kind: invest,
Invest, invest. And never take
Your dividends on earth. You make
Your way to heaven by your work,
Your precious work. O, do not shirk
A moment from your service of
This holy god, your life, your love.”
“Perhaps,” I said, “had I not heard
This censuring before, conferred
From better lips than yours, I would
Just thank you for the warning. Good
And useful outcomes flow from such
Rebukes, when love is in the touch.
But you have never loved. Along
With wrath and greed and pride and strong
Desires for sex and food and eminence,
You seven deadly sins dispense
Destruction everywhere, and then
You cover treachery again,
And smile as you condemn the heart
That wars to quench your flaming dart.
You cannot grasp in part or whole
The glory of a Christian soul
At work and rest.”
                              The sun had set.
And sloth said, “Night comes, Pilgrim, let
Me now keep your book while you sleep.
Will not your tireless Jesus keep
Your going out and coming in?
Come, Pilgrim, rest, it is not sin
To sleep.”
                     “That’s true,” I said, “but it
Is sin to sleep for Sloth. I will not sit
Or lie while you are near, but stand
And take this book in my right hand,
And in my mouth, until you are
No longer in my way, nor bar
My path of industry in this
Next season of my life. You miss
The mark, Old Sloth. You do not know
What Jesus bought.”
                                  “O yes, I’ll show
You,” Sloth replied, “Come unto me
All you who labor now and see
The rest that I have bought for you—
That’s what he bought.”
                                 “Quotes that are true,”
I said, “do not make truth. Old sins,
Like heretics, build vice on spins
From true, half-cited texts. How gives
The Lord this rest? As my God lives,
I’ll tell you, Sloth: he gives his rest
Under a yoke—his sweet bequest,
Blood-bought, and suited to the back
Of every weary saint. The knack
Of all our plowing: Jesus makes
The weighty burden light, and takes
The yoke-beams in his hand, and lifts
And carries us. Our works are gifts.
And Jesus is the giver. Grace
Bought and powers every pace,
And every enterprise. Sloth, we
Were made, and made again, to be
Co-makers with the Maker of
The world—to see the world above
And then to make the world below
More beautiful, to learn, to know,
And then to make, to shape, adorn,
Compose, produce, and turn a thorn
Into an etching tool—to write, to say
What never has been said that way,
To sing, to draw, to paint, to build,
To stitch and weave until we’ve filled
The world with truth. For this God spoke,
And Jesus died. This is our yoke.
Our happy yoke. You will not take
My work. Sloth, we were made to make.”
“So, Pilgrim,” Sloth replied, “you’ll earn
Your heaven with your arts? Go learn
Your Bible better. Saved by grace,
Not works, the book is clear. Go chase
Your heaven, laboring. That’s not my taste.”
“My heaven, Sloth” I answered, “chased
Me long before I found my way
To it. Grace, to be sure! The day
Will show again the half-text you
Left out. Sloth, we are made to do:
We are his workmanship in Christ,
Made for good works. He sacrificed
His life that we might live in them.
He the vine, and we the stem,
And they, the fruit. Is not the fruit
Of love our life?”
                             “Pointless dispute!”
Sloth muttered to himself. He turned
To go, and said to me, “You’ve spurned
My offer of sweet rest. Go waste
Your life. You are a fool. You’ll taste
Your sorrow. Mark my words.” And he
Was gone. 
                  And so, one victory
Obtained, my weary soul was kept.
And I lay down my head and slept.
                                John Piper
                                12-11-12

thinking day

Have we been so focussed on our ambitions and aspirations that we chose to push God out of the picture?

Have we used His gifts to glorify ourselves instead of Him?

Are His plans really our priority?
Do we really know Him? Do we try?

Does the kingdom of God matter to me at all or am I just a liar and a hypocrite?

if Christ were to sit with us over a meal and tune in to our conversations, would He be pleased with what we talk about? Would He be pleased by what we think about?

what am i doing in response to the love of Christ, who chose to take the penalty of my sins, so that i could live?

IMPACT CONFERENCE 2013

ACTS 20:24
However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.