(I'm Not) Waiting On The World To Change

Adrian Tan was the guest-of-honour at a recent NTU convocation ceremony. This was his speech to the graduating class of 2008.

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I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It’s a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.

My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practising at home during conversations between her and me.

On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.

Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.

And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when you’ve already won her heart, you don’t need to win every argument.

Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.

The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You’re done learning.

You’ve probably been told the big lie that “Learning is a lifelong process” and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters’ degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don’t you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to be repeat customers.

The good news is that they’re wrong.

The bad news is that you don’t need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You’re in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.

I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I’m here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.

You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There’s very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and restful nap.

Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.

So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you’ll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.

Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they’re 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn’t meet their life expectancy.

I’m here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.

After all, it’s calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average.

Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.

That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.

If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don’t need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average.

What you should prepare for is mess. Life’s a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.

Don’t expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.

What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.

Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.

The most important is this: do not work.

Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable.

Work kills. The Japanese have a term “Karoshi”, which means death from overwork. That’s the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there’s nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.

There’s a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are “making a living”. No, they’re not. They’re dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.

People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan “Arbeit macht frei” was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.

Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.

Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.

I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn’t do that, I would’ve been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction – probably a sports journalist.

So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don’t imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I’ll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher.

Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don’t, you are working.

Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I’m not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.

In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.

I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated.

It’s not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.

One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it’s often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one’s own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that you are doing something wrong.

The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.

I didn’t say “be loved”. That requires too much compromise. If one changes one’s looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.

Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We’ve taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance. It is hard work – the only kind of work that I find palatable.

Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.

Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn’t happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.
You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.

You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you.

Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don’t, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.

Don’t work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.

I wish I wish I wish...

At work, in everyday life, I'm kind of a screw up. Clumsy, small, weak, socially awkward, untalented, with a weird view on life amongst a list of infinite incompetencies and shortcomings. Heck, I've fouled up so many times at work but Boss Man is too nice to yell at me.

Recently, we've been dealing with a case at work and it's been time consuming and a wee bit dangerous, Boss Man's nerves have been on edge though he is holding it in well, I have been burning through all my normal as well as reserve energies to juggle both the case as well as my regular duties, which have fallen a bit to the wayside with the emergence of this case, which surely is making Boss Man angry but as he said tonight, he is not mad at me but at the whole situation.

Only God knows how often I have prayed, wished, hoped that I was more normal, socially, emotionally, everything, that I could be almost like every other person walking on the street and yet still have that uniqueness about them that everyone has. And yet, despite all my pleas, nothing has changed, I am still the weird one...

During the early investigative phase of the case, my weird nature led me to take several actions which might have seemed stranged at the time: taking random photos of the scene, just cos it was an unusual event and I wanted to remember it. Then, my knowledge of how evidence works kicked into play then and I began to behave quite a bit more erratically. My understanding and calculations of space then fired up as I spotted additional factors which had been missed by everyone at the scene.

Since the early phase, I was tasked to retrieve information and due to my inquisitive nature, I dug and dug so hard that I came up with info that even Boss Man did not know existed. Finally, today, weeks after the early phase my spastic memory kicked in with more info which had been unnoticed or forgotten by all and over time, my workaholic behaviour combined with the photo evidence and all the other weird traits I possess has come up with a defence that is currently proving that we were in the right, with additional info to provide for a secondary defence if needs be! I had aided heavily in defending the company from potential external assault (though admittedly not singlehandedly)!

I will not lie to you, there are so many nights that I wish I was more normal.

But tonight, I thank God, is not one of them.

Volunteering and interacting with the Salvos for the past 4 months, I could not help but overhear this name being peppered all over the place, be it in conversations about music or on Twitter:

Kimbra

(Yeah, that's her actual name, pretty cool eh?)

As per my curious nature, I began to read up articles on her as well hear some stories from friends at 614. Kimbra Johnson is a NZ native who travelled to Melbourne to find herself, musically. She befriended the guys at the Salvos and slowly began to work on her music career and after singing with Goyte and Miami Horror, she has finally released her debut album 'Vows'. Kimbra prides herself,'not only from her dedication to God in her album sleeve but also in how she carries herself, waving of the traditional trappings of a rising music star.

After only remembering that she was playing at The Forum on Friday night while walking past during Street Teams (and kicking myself, cos I'd seen the posters everywhere and saying I wanted to go to check her out live but apparently the other stuff on my mind clouded that memory), I marched straight into Readings yesterday and bought Pete Murray's 'Blue Sky Blue' as well as the lady Kimbra's 'Vows'. After listening to both albums, on a conscious and subconscious level, I came to a decision.

Whilst I am more or less a mainstream junkie, which makes it hard for any other type of music to really breakthrough my 'like' barrier, I found that Murray's album paled in comparison to Kimbra's, despite my penchant for Murray's vocals and musical stylings.

Kimbra's music is attention grabbing, without having to stand at the edge of a window sill shouting that he/she is about to jump. It is that shocking and breathtaking, but with none of the silly theatrics. Each melody suggests the thought patterns of this young lady's very mature soul, varying so drastically one from another that you have to wonder how many aspects to he personality she must have to be so melodically versatile. Additionally, her musical arrangements are very well thought through, adding dimensions to her songs that I have not heard in a while.

I will not lie, I do not get most of her lyrics, the level of metaphor is either beyond me or just a sign of the quirkiness of this young lady's personal story telling style but that could just be me, as many of today's musicians have also displayed similar metaphorical lyrics stylings. It might be my personal 'grouse' as a traditional Wordsmith, but as I said, it could just be personal preferences, as this whole review is. There is no denying that Kimbra's voice is beautiful, not in the traditional pop variety but that makes it that much cooler to me, a beautiful pairing to her soul music which is intelligent, too clever for my relatively high IQ to fully grasp.

In closing: 'Vows', get it, you won't regret it.

A lot of people have asked me about music. How I hear the music. The process behind it. The history of how it all began. Skill sets and technicalities. (Not that I am a pro, mind you, just more vested than most others)

One of the other questions that will be asked, especially after all these and more queries have been made about myself etc, the next popular question is "Then why don't you go all out for it? You have the passion and the skills needed!"

Whenever confronted with this question, I always knew that there was a Bible verse that expressed my response to that question and I would always reply lacking the Biblical eloquence. As I was going through some old 'favorited' tweets, I recalled the verse (or rather, verses) and decided to jot it down this time not only for myself but everyone.

Moses said to the Lord, "You have been telling me, 'Lead these people,' but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. You have said, 'I know you by name and you have found favor with me.' If you are pleased with me, teach me your ways so I may know you and continue to find favor with you. Remember that this nation is your people." The Lord replied, "My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest." Then Moses said to him, "If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth?" (Exodus 33:12-16 NIV)

While I do hear the music, compose and have moderate music skills, the big question I have always asked first and foremost is "Is this what God wants of me?". Like Moses, I always find it important to ask if this is, to begin with, of God's will in my life. This can be the most essential question you could ever ask God about your life, your calling, cos even if you love to do something, that does not necessarily mean it is what God wants you to do. He did not want to move, without the favor and presence of God by his side and truth be told, neither do I.

In addition, many of my friends, many many friends, sing out to God fresh new songs spontaneously, and though I have never heard them before, these guys actually have musical instrumental skills and training so I earnestly believe that their songs will be really good. That leads me to the next question 'Has God put something, anything in me which will set me apart from others? Am I merely composing like they are and if so, how would I know this is my path to tread, when all around me they are not only like me but more qualified too?" Moses asked God to give a sign, a form of recognizable anointing upon him and his people, to be distinguished from the rest of the world. I only have slight inklings of what that distinguishing factor might be in me but no solid proof either, so if I am not stumbled by the first question, then I am stumbled by the next.

I don't know many things which I wish I did, not only because that way I could focus on what God would want me to do but also to know that He will be with me, and giving me His favor, which is why I designed my distribution strategy as such, to await and see the favor of God at work or absent.

But I will go, because if I do not do this, I will ever always be haunted by the past. God, please let this path that I choose to tread be the one that You want me to as well, and please let that favor be recognizable by others, that they see that I do not do this by my own passion or strength, but by You purely.

Now what will you do?

The story of Paul David Hewson is interesting and seemingly haunting for someone such as myself, namely because I am living in the echo of his past, and God willing, I might get to live in his present life in days to come.

Not that that is my main ideal, but it is a hope-filled notion that there is hope for me yet.

Like me, Paul was and still is not good with any musical instruments. In his band's previous incarnation, he ga this to say of himself, "When we started out I was the guitar player, along with David (Howell Evans), except I couldn't play guitar. I still can't. I was such a lousy guitar player that one day they broke it to me that maybe I should sing instead. I had tried before, but I had no voice at all. I remember the day I found I could sing. I said, 'Oh, that's how you do it.' " Paul has had years to practice his singing and noted critics have said that he has 'nurtured his falsetto operatic voice' and over the years crafted his 'notable lyrical bent towards social, political, and personal subject matter while maintaining a grandiose scale in his songwriting'.

I read all this and thought to myself, "Wow... Can't play instruments for nuts, only had 5 years piano playing lessons starting in recent years to improve his songwriting, didn't know that he could sing till he was told, has a falsetto operative voice type and composes song on a grandiose scale... Sure sounds like my story, only I'm living in his past!"

Yes, I do realize that comparing one's self to Bono of U2 can seem like the most truly arrogant act of ego for any singer, but I never said I was as good as him or otherwise, I simply found our stories simply similar and encouraging. I honestly don't know what God has in store for me, but I guess in this life, I have time, hope and anointing if God wants this to happen for me. Crossing my fingers that my story will follow in Paul's and that God might shine through my life, always.

Recently, some of my friends heard several songs that I composed at a gathering. Unfortunately for me, I could read the secret cues and when I brought the truth to the light of day, they admitted that the songs did not strike them.

I was a wee bit disheartened but as a whole, I am still a vey rational person and was wondering what my primary, most prominent gift was, if it wasn't music. It was Aristotle who once said, "... Strain every nerve to live in accordance with the best thing in us." and I still am looking for the best gift in me.

More recently, on Thursday, I asked a girl from the Salvation Army: Order 614 to read my songs and tell me what she thought of them. By the second song, she looked up beaming, asking if she could copy down the lyrics for it. I walked over to see which song had caught her interest, raised my eyebrows quizzically and said, " 'The Journey'? Really?" as I consider that one of the weaker songs in the 'Love, God' Project, to which she earnestly said yea, cos it spoke to her, and the other Order girls, who also were on this journey.

I lent her the songbook and will be collecting it back from her tomorrow but that event triggered many others to unfold before my eyes. Another Order girl had wanted to copy the lyrics to 'Love Letter' down when she read it and a friend back in Singapore chose what could be the weakest song in the entire project collection, 'Eternally', as his favorite, going quite nuts when I sang it to him.

I doubt my songs will be able to please every listener, some songs hitting the wring nerve whilst others the right chord. I don't know if I will ever be able to find that best gift in me or answer so many of the questions that I bear in my heart. This, however, I am certain of: God is the best thing in me, and even if I am 'massacring' the songs He places in my heart, I am trying my best, my hardest, straining very nerve, every fibre of my being to live in accordance with the best in me and 'my' best is God. I am by far not the best but whatever the case, I am being as true as I can, to myself and to my Lord. Amen.

There is this famous scene from Disney's 'Aladdin' where Jafar is looking for the Chosen One amongst all of Agrabah to enter the Cave of Wonders to get the magic lamp, and when he finds him, he cackles gleefully that he has finally found 'The Diamond In The Rough'.

Often times, I wait for God to give me songs, when He slaps me in the face with a melody that won't quit my mind (I say my mind, cos others don't seem to be too enthusiastic at times, right Melvin? lol) or lyrics that reverberate in my soul that complete themselves in a day but these are direct gems from the Lord.

As one of the spiritual gifts/annointing that God has placed into my life, I am supposed to be a prophet, not prophetic, but a full blown prophet (and that's one of the 'strange' things that people have told me, and apparently there is a difference, which WOULD explain why nobody likes me :P ) hence my songs are almost purely words from God (most of them honestly are) so it makes me wonder and worry a bit... Am I allowed to dig around the dirt for more diamonds on my own? There is nothing wrong waiting on the Lord (cos His lyrics are awesome!) but the only downside is the time delay between the lyrics and between each song. The songs He has given thus far are gems from heaven but I am quite sure that while I have been looking skywards, there must be many more waiting in the earth beneath me.

One of my good friends have helped me to kickstart the 'Love, God' project and so I am going to get this done real soon, and well, will wait on the Lord from there but new songs have begun creeping in... The question is whether to catch the diamonds as they fall or dig deep?

Ten more minutes till midnight but this Cinderella is already warm and snug in bed. Two hours ago, I was smiling to myself as the last bits of 'magic' washed off me. About 12 hours ago, the magic spell of the day began.

I walked up to the glass doors of the Hamodava Cafe and waved at Andrew as he was moving near the stage. He paused for a moment, eyebrows raised as he let me in. Next was Brad who saw me and immediately the comments left his lips. One by one, what I had expected came: many faces scrunched with pleasant confusion, exclamations of excitement and at last count, two people not even recognising who I was, despite walking past them, but all comments positive and approving of my new 'look'.

See, everyday I go into the Salvos and most of the time, I am dressed like an utter dag, simply because for the past few months I have been involved in the dirty work, where I end up covered in dust, paint and sweat and more often times than not, hidden from the sight of others. Additionally, I do not see people that I particularly want or need to impress: for if they are my friends, surely they can look beyond my clothes, right?

Today, I decided to dress up for the Commissioning of the Salvos Building at 69 Bourke Street. My policy about dressing up is that constantly doing so means that people, after some time, expect you to always dress nicely or fashionably and it becomes commonplace to see a person dress nicely. For me, I dress when the occasion calls for it because that way, when I do dress nicely, for birthdays or special events, people can tell that I do consider something important or special and will appreciate the additional effort I have put in to look nice, because the effect of me dressing nicely can be quite flabbergastingly stark judging by the coments and expressions from everyone today (not to mention I do not have the cash to update my wardrobe sufficiently to keep up with the times hence I need to sporadically wear my nice clothes or else it can become an expensive image to upkeep).

Nonetheless, many of my friends (ahem, Brad and Andrew) still saw it fit for me to run about and be their lil' gofer (and I say that completely lovingly, guys!) cos they still treat me the same, no matter how smart or cruddy I look :P And that's the way it should be (though next time, I might be tempted to call a time out! Heh Heh Heh!)

On Friday night, my BS group discussed the difference and importance between honesty and flattery. I have always been the kind of person who likes to be honest so that my words will always be considered as truth so that there is no doubt whenever I speak.

Last night was a rather large wake up call.

I let a few friends of mine hear some songs of mine, lyrics and melody, and they said it was good and all. However, I could see that something on their faces and brought it up to them, to which they admitted the hard truth.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, and who am I blame them, cos I there is no reason for me to do so, not when the fault lies in me.I am fine to be honest, if this is not the path God has for me but then the two questions boil in my blood:

What is my true, stand out talent/gift and what does God want of me on this earth?

I walked into Koorong today and bought myself a copy of Matt Redman's latest album, '10,000 Reasons'. Just about half an hour ago, I completed listening to the entire album, chuckling a bit to myself as I felt the songs sounded quite a bit like anthems of different English football teams (not that that is a bad thing, I chuckled because it was very British/English sounding despite being recorded live at 'Lift' in Atlanta, Georgia, WHICH I was supposed to be at :S). A few months back, I bought Tim Hughes' 'Love Shine Through' and thought that the album took a strong tact towards the electronic and when I put two and two together, I began to wonder and think about the 'future face' of worship.

A large portion of King David's Psalms were cries to God, of how great God is and how David was a broken man and needed God in his life. Of course, there were other Psalms, Psalms of empowerment and kickass-ery (yes, I coined a term, so sue me), not just about the glory of God but how God would wipe out David's enemies. King David even had musical terms such as Shiggaion to specifically denote that a melody was to be turbulent (ie. Old Hebraic for our modern rock, from what I understand) or Michtam to denote a 'golden psalm' (most of which were of the 'happy/praise' sort).

Within the last ten to twenty years at the least, most of the Contemporary Christian music that has been produced has leaned towards the more worship, broken and vulnerable aspects of worship/praise music and now, I begin to wonder... Has the CCM scene shifted to the Shiggaion? The rock melodies that belt out the awesomeness of God, not only in lyrics but uplifting melodies and all that jazz? If that is so it would mean very good news for my friend Brad Ellis (you can check out his stuff at www.bradellismusic.com, yes, I am cross promoting, but he IS my friend and his stuff IS good) because while his voice can traverse the soft and broken aspects of worship, he really shines when it comes to the Shiggaion (he's got the voice of an Aussie Tim Hughes [I honestly love it], possibly Chris Tomlin but I think more the former than latter) but that makes me wonder, a little selfishly...

What is to happen to me?

Has the music He gives me become obsolete in the face of the new fore of CCM? They are nonetheless beautiful, at the very least to me, but has the new Shiggaion not entirely supplanted but become the new 'in scene'? My heart fell a little when I realised this cos this would mean even considering launching 'Love, God' would become even more harder than it already is going to be (I use the term 'launch' VERY loosely, if you do not already know, my dream job would be a songwriter/singer, the singing part being the bonus since I still consider my voice as mediocre). I am wondering whether these songs are meant for me specifically but... I highly doubt it? There have been people who have read the songs, especially the 'masterpiece', and all comment on the beauty of the songs but I wonder, if they had heard the melody, if it would affect their decisions? Are they being nice? Would they rather a song that they could jump to and declare His glory or claim empowerment or declare His message?

Sadly, I do not excel at the Shiggaion, or rock music, nor is my voice anywhere close enough to sound suited for anything more than the songs He gives me (not that the songs are intentionally composed to suit me, some of them are completely out of my league and I can recognise that) so I will have to stick to the lot I was given and find contentment in it. I will carry on with the 'Love, God' project and if God wants to use the songs to bless others, He will move through the actions that I plan to take, these songs, this 'album'... They have a life of their own, so much bigger than myself which is why I want to record them, not for myself but for others as well, that they might connect with God in the same way I did, that I still do with each song I sing.

'Love, God' will go on, even in the New Face of Worship, because there are others, others who want to reach out to God in the way that I generally always have. I do not need a huge following of people who go nuts when they see me on the street, most importantly I want God to be glorified above all else and I want those who listen to the songs to find solace and healing in the songs.

Time is running out though and I need to carry out the project as soon as possible (it's only an accoustic recording of all the songs but judging on how long it took Brad to record his album, I'm REALLY gonna need the time) so please keep me in prayer over this matter, I am not worried for the CCM music scene in general because songs of empowerment are good, just curious as to whether I and the songs I now possess are relevant anymore...

Anyway, gotta hit the hay for now, I've got worship practice with the youth band at church in 7.75 hours and I need the rest, catch y'all another time and God Bless!

These days, I actually find myself getting very down more often then norm (I'd say depression but I dunno if it is that extreme and do not wish to make light of those afflicted with this chemical imbalance/affliction).

I used to be able to calculate and predict the peaks and troughs in my emotions and isolate myself to ensure that no one got inflicted with whatever turmoil I was feeling at that point in time but not so much these days.

So yesterday, someone got hit with a blast of my emotional turmoil...

I could not hold it in anymore. I was in The Salvation Army's Hamodava Cafe (soon to be open, you fair trade coffee aficandoes!) which is still being renovated and, while not close to tears, I had to let it out somehow and somewhere, soon.

Looking around and seeing that I was clearly alone, I walked into a small corner and let loose, a spontaneous song of brokeness with fresh, lyrics expressing of how I needed the Lord to lift me out of the mire I was in and to guide me in this life and to just simply please save me from how I was feeling and...

Suddenly, from an even smaller alcove in the cafe, a painter who had been working on the cafe ceilings walked towards the window and saw me, eyebrows raised as he pointed at me. I quickly apologized bashfully and walked out of the cafe to hide in the toilets, my embarrassment for a frozen moment overwhelming all other feelings.

Today, I walked in to work on varnishing the floors, the incident completely out of my mind, though not the emotions. The next moment, the very same painter walks into the room. I found out earlier that day that his name was Matt so I greeted him and him in turn and asked me if I wanted to go for a warm drink, his shout. Over the course of our short though meaningful conversation, Matt then asked me if it was I whom he had heard yesterday singing. The memory suddenly rose afresh in my mind as I turned a wee bit red and meekly answered yes. He smiled and said that I was not bad and that I should keep at it: it turned out that he had walked over to the window yesterday to see who had suddenly turned up the volume of the radio but was surprised to see that it was just me singing. I don't think that I have a great voice, in all honesty (for some weird reason, I cannot see it, no matter what people say) but his comment to no ends cheered me up today. 

God can do anything He wants. In Isaiah 61, it speaks of how God will bring about revival in our lands and save the broken and fallen. I know my voice isn't that beautiful or the best that it can be yet but in the events of the past 2 short days, He has certainly shown me how He can turn my ashes into beauty. Will you give your sorrows and brokenness to the Lord? He is willing to make the exchange, all you have to do is go to Him...


P.S. I was reading up on the Bible verse in Isaiah 61:3 when I read a bit further down and coincidentally, read Isaiah 61:4, the Bible verse/motto upon which The Salvation Army: Project 614 is based on (and yes, the number 614 is jn honor of the Bible Verse). Coincidence? Methinks it's JUST a BIT too coincidental! :)

These last few weeks have literally been... Life-Changing.

I was supposed to be at a 20th birthday party tonight but due to my exhaustion from moving and wanting to give my best for worship in the morning, I decided to instead call I an early night (relatively).

Thing is, normally I would be quite pleased to laze at home and just give such social meetings a miss cos I like being alone with my own quiet time to myself but like I said, things in my life are changing.

So if you don't know by now, I've been volunteering daily at The Salvation Army: Project 614 (and if you don't know, REALLY? I like mention Salvos in almost every conversation I have these days!) and working with the Salvos has really started to have a strong effect on me.

I'm still very much an introvert, that much has not changed, but I've taken to befriending them, especially with these two nutjob blokey blokes whom I have worked alongside with the most, much faster and stronger than I would with many others. I'd like to say they too have taken a shining to me but I think that is a bit too bold to assume.

In addition, I used to like lazing around at home and just, well, doing my own thing but now, well, I get up at the same time as usual, prep my morn with the usual waking up ritual, then head off and arrive at 'work' at 9.30am, most often leaving at 9.30pm each night (I've tried to explain it's the Singaporean/Army way but they still seemed quite shocked, though now it's thankfully becoming commonplace to them). In fact, I was just yesterday 'forced' to take the day off (they caught me sleeping twice during that week, but I have explanations for both times and it's also quite normal for me to be found sleeping despite hating it) and I managed to supersqueeze packing, checking with immigration, and during the time inbetween (which was probably more than 5 hours) I was gaming and watching TV... And finding it to be rather unfulfilling! I used to CRAVE days like that but... Not anymore? Granted, I should have been composing but the stress from moving house would not have helped much in the creative process. Even now I feel a sense of regret not going to the birthday just to hang and catch up with everyone outside of 'work' but I have a duty to fulfill in the morn, and it's one of those duties which I hopeto carry out to y best for God.

Also, I am finding new aspects to myself that I thought I had lost years ago by hanging out with the Salvos (I know my jokes aren't THE best and they have gone overboar.d once or twice but I'm learning still and apparently, my sense of humour translates better to Aussies than Asians) and also applying my knowledge of my present self in newfound ways. Especially after the car accident, my memory was pretty crapped up but now it would seem to have rebooted itself to the point that the guys would ask me first where something was last seen rather than search for it (and aside from being a human inventory list, they also use me as a human calculator, lol!).

And of course, they've just been really, REALLY nice to me, one of the heads gave me some food vouchers as a thank you weeks ago and while I've tried to politely return them (admittedly, I used stealth and sneak methods after the first few times of giving them to people failed but they too were failures), they were adamant about me accepting it. The food bought with the vouchers will easily last me close to a month (I bought some chips, though I do not see when I will really have the time to eat them now) but since the Salvos have been mire or less providing me with 2 meals a day (yes, you may gasp, one of the office ladies almost made me promise to eat properly so long as I was there, so I have been eating quite often and soon will get chubby), it is likely, with the stockpile offood I had before, the new groceries and the provision of meals, I am unlikely to be buying any more essential groceries for a while, save for chocolate and chips which I do consider essential (the latter less than the former, and only Choceur is considered essential). Even this birthday I was invited to, if I were honest, I hardly know the young lady but she was nice enough to invite me all the same.

And the friendship? That's on a whole new level, especially when your workmates turn out to be some of the best friends a guy could ask for in disguise. I feel like I've been really welcomed into a whole new family/social unit/circle so if any OCFer is reading this, don't worry, I will be ready to move on at any time I wish now (but I'm staying, for other reasons, including the potential new ministry that is being started!) cos these are people I would be very sad if I lost contact with over the years, and I do not intend to let that happen. I have very few groups of people I would call friends; these guys have found their way into my heart and now they are the newest bunch!

I could probably go on and on about what I'm feeling right now, but it is midnight now and I think I had better rest for tomorrow or else I will croak like I did last week so I guess what I would like to say in closing for now is Thank God for The Salvos! Thank you guys so much, for everything...

There’s a city on the hill...

Just outside it’s gates, it’s denizens huddle in the cold, seemingly fine to endure the chilly weather outdoors, waiting, waiting. Two girls in black hoodies sit on the steps, one holding a coffee, greeting people as they approach the city. They say hello to an old lady, helping her lift her worn out walker up the stairs as she thanks them, and keep company with the grime faced men, talking to them about their week.

There’s a sanctuary in the city on the hill...

In the Sanctuary, people are finding their seats; there are not many but there are enough for everyone. More elderly folk are already awaiting the hour inside, none of them dressed to impress and if they were, that their Sunday best consists primarily for the purpose of keeping warm in an already warm room and even that is covered with an almost visible layer of dust and dirt from the never-ending battle on the streets outside. Uniformed men and more girls in black hoodies start to fill the room, but are still overwhelmingly outnumbered by the other denizens of the city who file in with them.

The hour arrives...

The band takes the stage, bereft of it’s worship leader, who has led each and every Sunday for over five years. His absence is explained, that he is in another city faraway, leading that city in worship for the day and sharing what his city is doing with it’s people, and asking other not to leave their homes but to help and serve, to ‘enlist’, in a way. His presence is missed but it does not stop the people from approaching God’s throne and singing love songs to Him. The old woman beside me seems to have been looking at me for a while. Through her whispered conversation with another off-silver haired woman, I heard she was new comer, and yet she offers me a smile like she has been there for years. The elderly Chinese man who finds his seat beside me politely asks if I can speak in Mandarin, as he tells me a bit about his life and how for four years head had been coming to the Sanctuary but with no one to talk to, a barrier that is often forgotten by many.

Mid-way, a middle aged woman enters the Sanctuary, her hair dishevelled and face aglow. No one does even so much as a double take as she finds her seat on the floor right in front of the band, smiling; who can judge, who can comment, when almost everyone there looked just her. She says a blessing to the people as she sits, and a blessing as she rises to find herself a chair in the second row when the music fades, right beside some girls in black hoodies and uniformed men, all of whom seem to know her by name. In fact, everyone seems to know each other, in one way or another. A woman in a white hoodie tells a simple children’s story, as simple as the parables might have seemed, and speaks of God’s love to the denizens gathered in the Sanctuary, asking to share how God has shown himself in everyone’s week. A young man raises his hand to tell the short story of how his application for a home was approved, a woman tells of how she has found work and is starting in two weeks, and the joy and hope is clear to see on everyone’s faces. The worship band sings more songs; the young man now with a home loudly comments to someone in the row behind him that they have missed a verse before, and as the band steps off the stage, directs his voice to the band about his comment. No one seems perturbed, as the young man quietens down, his gaze becoming blank and unfocused; they all know he is a child locked in the body of a man and accept and love him for that.

There is a cafeteria in the sanctuary in the city on a hill...

More denizens arrive from the cold outdoors; they know the time and they know the place, and though most do not love the Lord, all are welcomed in. Grace is said by the woman in the white hoodie as tables are rolled out and adorned with table clothes, and eating utensils. I close my eyes as a fork drops from my hand, the second utensil I have clumsily let slip through my fingers: the slight embarrassment turned into a mixture of guilt, surprise and a little hurt as an unknown man calls me a dickhead. I carry on with my duty, as do the girls in black hoodies. After wandering around a bit, I finally find my seat and my meal as the hall slowly begins to empty. The dishevelled hair woman had been going round the whole mealtime, giving hugs and kisses to more seemingly random people, all of whom I realise seem to reciprocate. Finishing her meal, she turns to those left in the hall and proclaims another blessing; the look on her face childlike from entry to exit and yet her eyes filled with experiences of hardship and more surprisingly, sincerity. Something, or rather, Someone has shielded her, protecting this rare inner beauty from being ravished by the worries and weariness of the world.

I break bread at a table, populated with a red-faced, raggedy man and a girl in a black hoodie. As I make shy introductions to the black hooded girl, the man across the table animates. The bodiless voice who had called me dickhead earlier now has a face, as he slings the same name at me again, before continuing on with more degrading insults which were completely unrelated with my person. I suddenly become very interested in my spaghetti bolognaise, controlling the rush of emotions within as the man carries on his tirade, cursing the very sanctuary that feeds him. The first time the girl asks the man of his hypocrisy, he falls silent, the second he rebuts with how he has paid fifteen million dollars in taxes and how he used to own a brewery and how the citizens who work in the city only work for the money, to feel better about themselves and how they would forget the denizens if they were not paid. Part of me marvels at his self importance and arrogance and realise to my horror that I have begun to assume self-righteousness, thus I quieten and humble my heart. Yet all this time, the girl patiently nods and smiles and continues to converse with him as I, with all my might, bite down on my tongue. My eyes widen and eyebrows raise when another girl arrives at the table to chat with the man, who suddenly turns tack and compliments me as a nice Chinese boy, that he was enjoying lunch in this beautiful place. I turn, face frozen to the first girl but she is already waiting, eyes unchanged which conveyed volumes in a single unspoken word: ‘Yeah...’ It dawns upon me that there was more to his drunken, slurring demeanour; here was a man of two minds, truly literally...

While the denizens have fled back into the cold world outside, the citizens work to return the sanctuary to its original state. A young man, new to the city, quietly collects bowls and utensils from the tables, having earlier been welcomed in and a nice warm meal. I in awed silence watch for a moment or two before inquiring of the first girl who he was; she too does not know, for he is new. I hear the woman in white thank the new denizen, who humbly replies it’s the least he could do for the kindness he had been shown. Here was one of the denizens, one of the few that has ever reciprocated the favour shown upon him, who must realise that the world does not owe him a living. I make a mental note to get to know the young man the next Sunday and, my faith in mankind having reached a new zenith, I too begin to leave but the woman in the white hoodie halts me before I reach the gate. She recognises me as a new person as I shyly reply that this was merely my first meal but that I had been hiding my appearance for four weeks from most of the citizens. Either way, she shook my hand and introduced herself formally, thanking me for my effort. Our conversation is short as I know she is busy but I tell her not to fret for I will be back in the city the following sunrise and turn to disappear into the streets.

There is a city on a hill. Who are it’s denizens? Who are it’s citizens, these men in uniforms and ladies in black hoodies, all called and anointed by blood and fire? What, why, when, where, how? There are many questions and there will be answers for those who merely but ask...

There is a city on a hill...

And it’s calling out to you.

I had a dream...

The before and after is shady but what I do recall is it began just after we had just finished setting up. I was placed near the far end side of the stage, near some amplifiers or something, when my microphone died and I was shunted to the centre front of the stage and asked to sing with the lead (who "appeared" to be Bart Millard).

The question is whether thus is a desire of the heart, to be the centre of attention (which means I should never lead worship again till I am pure of heart) or is this a sign of things to come? If it is the latter (and I pray that is the truth), I still know not where the location of such a dream may come to pass since I recognize it as three different locations that I have previously been to... What does this mean?

I've been away for a while, haven't I?

But it seems like when I get all these inspirational pieces that I want to write about, the topic slips from my mind before I can arrive home.

This post was just to keep everyone in the know that I am still around and living, and if you pray, please pray my memory becomes stronger, I only ever seem to remember music these days, lyrics, melodies (with the exception of new ones) and they seem to embed deep within my mind.

At any rate, when I have something very good to post up, I will again, though I would like to thank God that He gave me a new hymn recently over the Easter period, it was soul shaking! Catch y'all when I get back with inspiration in my grasp!

For a very long time now, I've been on debate mode with God. It comes and goes, mainly due to my insecurities and questions, most of which go unanswered, occasionally I forget the answer originally given.

Today saw the end of another long period of questioning without answers, and I am thankful for that. A friend indirectly suggested I stop doing the talking and pleading and wait on Him completely instead so that's what I did and last night, a dream came to me.

I wish I could recall the tune and the exact details but I can't. What I CAN recall though was just being in a beautiful place and I was overjoyed and composing and singing unto God. When I woke up, all I could recall was that I was truly happy, something I've not felt in a long long time and that's when I realised the truth.

I don't need to be a songwriter who is paid and supported by a record company and would like to be a singer as a bonus. What I need, what I would like is that God continues speaking to me, to send me His songs, because without hearing His voice, His songs, I feel hollow and empty and sad and nothing. Anything else is a bonus, I just want to compose His songs all the days of my life and that would be enough. I pray that is a simple enough prayer request for my life, everything else would be a bonus...

I don't know if I am making a mountain out of a molehill but I think this is worth the read at least.

See, I've been corresponding with a friend who went home for the holidays about helping this homeless man to get his life back on track, not merely for himself but his two kids. My friend showed me his picture and said his defining characteristics included a red cap he wore everywhere and that he often hung out at Melbourne Central. I have spent the better part of two months trying to bump into him and have a chat with him and help him find a simple job at the leaset but after two months, not a sign. My friend had warned me that the man was elusive, often frequenting train stations outside of Melbourne City as well, so meeting with him would be hard if at all.

I was late for the first easter musical meeting this morning (which was fun, a very minor role but looking at the major roles, I'd prefer the minors!) so was tramming up Swanston Street and as I passed by Melbourne Central, a man in a red cap instantly caught my eye. The tram stopped to let people on as I rose from my seat to look and inspect the man from within the tram and I could not tell... Was he the guy I was looking for? He sure seemed like he was homeless but... I could not be 100% certain and as it was, I was already late for the meeting so I sat down as the tram moved off, my insides curling and coiling with the thought that, it JUST might have been him.

No longer able to bear the question and doubt as to whether I was right or wrong (I like answers, whether I am right or wrong, I get to learn if I am incorrect), whether I was giving the man I had been searching for for weeks now a miss, I violently erupted from the tram at Frankston and Swanston and ran, back towards Melbourne Central. I was running so fast that a pouch on my bag unzipped itself and spilled all the contents onto the pavement, which I hurriedly packed away, but all along, a thought was haunting me: It's just one stop, he would not just so happen to leave between the time of one tram stop...

Needless to say, as all good stories go, by the time he arrived, he was gone. I stood there, stunned for a minute or so, before running into Melbourne Central to see if he had wandered in there but to no avail... 

Just one stop, just those few minutes and I had missed him. It might not seem like much, like I actually am making a mountain out of a molehill but I thought I would tell this little tale because I have this question for any readers: What if that was truly a moment you could never get back? What if it meant an encounter with God? The precise time to reach out to a friend, spiritually, emotionally? What if it was your only shot at a once in a lifetime chance?

Just some food for thought, that when the time is right, do not delay. It only takes one tram stop and everything could change...

 

If you haven't already watched 'The King's Speech' I feel inclined to bonk you on the head, cos it was AWESOME for a simple predictable plot but nevertheless, awesome!

Or perhaps the reason why I love the movie is because I can relate to Albert Frederick Arthur George (ie King George VI), especially since we both have speech impediments. Now my stuttering is nowhere as bad as his, and I was not born with it, but along the way in life, something happened that caused me to gain my stutter, which manifests these days as fast speech, poor enunciation and sometimes becoming tongue tied. I have my hypothesis on why it happened in the first place but these days, it predominantly occurs in excited moods, when I am nervous (a wide spectra of events trigger this) or when I have a lot on my mind and want to get it out fast (also very common). The 'severity' of this stutter is that I usually have to restart my sentence or, in order to nullify the stutter, have to actively think about speaking slow, to the point speaking becomes a cognitive active process rather than simply a passive activity.

And like Prince Albert, there is another similarity (we surprisingly share a lot in common, not elevating myself, just interesting), if the film is very much pinpoint accurate, and that is as and when I sing, my stutter as does most of my slurring vanishes.

I mentioned in an earlier entry that I recently had an audition. Well, my church was holding auditions for an Easter Musical and as I do not know what is to be come of me, I merely went to the auditions just to hear the music and see the other people auditioning, both acting and musical skills wise. When I met the directors/crew, they questioned me of my presence there and automatically, I started stuttering and slurring. Ross was auditioning that day and vouched he knew me and was fine with me watching him so I got to stay and watch him (he really ought to be cast as the father in my opinion!).

After his turn was over, and we were both getting ready to leave (cos no one else had turned up at that time), Ross smiled and said that the directors should audition me as well. Nervously, I said that I would be willing to try out for the choir since I was uncertain about whether I would be around in April (though I would like to be), and then the musical director and I went to choose a song from the chord cabinet. After a short and improper run through with the musical director, I stepped up to the podium, opened my mouth and began.

Now, I did say that my first run through was improper, and that was because I had a cough (which has, sadly, worsened) and also I did not use my 'full' voice, especially since it might have deafened the musical director if I blasted her close range (not literally but I am told my song voice is loud). But on the podium, I held back the coughs and let loose. St. Judes is a beautiful, traditional church built from bricks and is completely stand alone and having been singing there for a year now for worship (plus my informal sing sessions), I knew how to manipulate the soundwaves etc. So sing I did, never looking up once from the lyrics cos I was not PERFECTLY acquainted with the song we chose.

When I did look up from the paper at the end of the song however, there was kind of a stunned silence for a bit before a gentle applause (I do not delude myself with thoughts that I sing like an angel but I do sing decently, according to people). My head was buzzing a bit from a solo in front of people I knew not so every detail recalled might not be perfect but what I did know was that their first comment/question was when I could get back to them about when I would know whether I would be around, though the expression on their faces said a lot as well. Personally, I think when people hear me speak for the first time, then when they hear me sing, they get a little flabbergasted by the stark contrast, as I have a feeling they were feeling then and there. I would not have minded auditioning for the acting roles as well, since baritones are good for support roles and they need an elder responsible brother (cast member that is) but for now, I will wait namely cos of my stutter/slur.

I do not know if I will ever find a way to manage or control or completely supress my stutter/slur (singing out all my thoughts is not a viable option) but I feel that this is a sign of God's grace and mercy in my life. How could a man who slurs and stutters be able to sing without hindrance (except for my low vocal stamina), let alone stand before a crowd and lead worship? Only by grace, by some 'virtue' He has placed within me could I be able to do so, so yes, even in this minor darkness, there still shines the light of the Lord (to me). This is yet another reason why I love music so much, composing, listening, singing. It just brings out a side of me that I feel is the real me.

I hope one day to completely overcome my stutter/slur, so that I can at least normalise that part of me but till then, I hope everyone bears with me and my speech. Heh, I am tempted to try not hearing myself when I speak, like Prince Albert, but that will be an experiment for another day.

I've finally moved out of my little Sanctuary at College Square and into my temporary new housing (courtesy of Yosua and his new housemate, Matthew) and while the chaos from the move and the packing is about to settle, there is a remnant of dust still hovering, waiting to settle.

Most of you know about the prophecy I had about my 'death' in a car accident and how I had my accident in December (an interesting situation, if you care to ask), The thing is, I always thought that would be it? Waiting till the Second Coming in slumber? But it would seem like God had other plans for me, plans which not necessarily need to profit me but plans nonetheless (what happened in the 'inbetween' is somewhat of an interesting story, I feel) and so, I am now seekign and asking Him what is up next... Cos it's DARN weird, and in my mind I'm in a particularly interesting chapter of a very complex story (actually, it reminds me of a story I was planning to write in the past).

I am now earnestly waiting on the Lord (interestingly enough, we've been singing that as our opening song/intro at church for our worship team)on what path to next and where to go and all. There have been one or two signs which suggest I ought to stay on a little longer in Australia (including a part of the choir in an Easter musical, at least that is my automatic assumption based on reactions at the auditions, short unusual story but not necessarily vital) and with my recent GMAT scores, it opens more doors for myself for studies too (I Not Stupid, or so the testing systems seem to deem).

So if you have some spare time during your prayers, please pray for me. I want to do His will first and foremost (errrm, except for overseas missionary work, that seriously scares the shit out of me so unless He has a twisted sense of humour, especially with my other ministerial passions). I am still hoping and praying that a big big door gets busted open but as I said, Him before me in the end. Will keep this short, especially since todays' meals are playing tricks on my stomach, will be back soon, when I have more stable internet, Later!

I have been glued, mesmerised to the television for the past 3 days, watching the news reporting about the Queensland Floods 24/7 (save when I am asleep or out), feeling my heart breaking over and over again.

Over two parents who sent their two children out through a hole on the roof of their home first and upon turning back to get them out, the children being greeted only by water. 

Over young Jordan Rice who put his brother before himself, despite being terrified of water, and being swept away by the rising waters.

Over homes destroyed and many lives having the reset button hit as they start back from the beginning.

The only other times I have really been so saddened was when the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami struck and the 2009 Victorian Bushfires and instinctively, there was a stirring within. And I went to do what I could, to the best that I could.

And yet, in the midst of each of these times, I hear and see people beginning to push their own agendas to the forefront amidst all the tragedy. 'God sent the fires because of Victoria's abortion stance', 'Where is your God in the midst of this flood? Did He cause it?', 'Popstars and celebrities have a moral responsibility to help out in these times'.

Please, stop it...

If I were to push my personal agenda during these times, it would be this: Do not use these natural disasters to push your personal agenda. Everyone is suffering as it is , they do not need third parties trying to use this sad event to gain publicity and make themselves heard. They are simply attempting to make use of this negative publicity to boost their own personal goals.

There is no need to go out and say 'Physical work does more than praying' or vice versa. Just please, you know what you can best do to serve these people in need, so just go out and do it. There will be those who believe like myself and others who do not but whatever it is, just go and do it.