Never would I have imagined that I would see stars during my stay in Hong Kong, and even see a shooting star fleetingly pass by.
Never would I have imagined that I would see a group of Form 6 boys sobbing from overwhelming emotions as their teacher washed their feet.
Never would I have imagined that I would be brought to the forefront of research on spiritual development (a growing interest of mine) at an experimental camp on Cheung Chau Island.
Never would I have imagined...
But God surprises us in unexpected ways. I am humbly reminded that His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts higher than ours. More and more do I realize the GREATNESS of God and the littleness of me. And I am so content to fall into His arms, relax, and bask in His loving-kindness.
I spent the past 3 days serving as a First Aider and Observer at a Spiritual Development Camp for Form 6 students (around Grade 11/12) from 3 different Catholic schools in Hong Kong. The morning I left, I found out that I had been placed in a Catholic Secondary School for my teaching placements next year; so the ensuing retreat was especially meaningful in the context of where I will be in October.
There were 24 students in total, and I was placed with a group of students from an all-boys school. As a First Aider, I followed the students around the various activities, and watched transformation occur throughout the 3 days.
As soon as the students tromped off the ferry that brought them to the island, they were given a map and asked to find their way to Don Bosco Campsite. Fortunately, they were successful and the rest of the day was spent sharing stories, songs, and prayer. The next morning, we spent some time doing some morning Mindfulness exercises that encouraged focus on breathing, slowing down the heart and opening the mind. Next, we played two games--one involved cutting holes in a newspaper ramp and rolling a tennis ball over it without letting the ball fall through the holes, and the other was a chair game (ask me in person for elaboration). After lunch was Golden Time, where a girl played a bass recorder and a teacher softly spoke us to sleep. How good it was to rest in a large hall with everyone else, windows wide open facing the sea and sky, breeze flowing onto our bodies.
In the afternoon, we set out for a hike to a cemetery on the island. Visiting a cemetery in Hong Kong was one of my wishes, and I am so happy to see it fulfilled. It was interesting to see that some plots were awfully small and squished together, while others took up a large space. One point of difference from the cemeteries I've seen in Canada, England, and France, is that these gravestones only contained the names and dates, without those poetic verses usually found in the other three countries I listed. On this journey, the students were asked to look for 4 things: life among the living, life among the death, death among life, and death among death. Unfortunately, the students didn't have time to share, but these concepts were interesting to think about.
We then headed down to the main area of the island for a satisfying afternoon tea time. I even tried a skewer of frozen fruit. It was yummy! The next portion of the retreat was called "the Last Night on Earth." Students were asked to consider that night to be their last night on earth. They were led to a small Great Wall, seated on the steps, and left to contemplate this question for the next hour. It was during that time that I laid back on the stone staircase railing and saw the shooting star. It was such a beautiful time of peaceful rest.
We trekked back to the campsite under the moonlight, and then the students were once again led to the small chapel for sharing. A highlight was the night-time snack where the students were surprised with dessert soup, cup noodles, and watermelon. I don't think I'll ever forget Polly's reaction to the two boxes of cup noodles. After grabbing the students reaction, she dryly turned and said, "Oh, there's something here." Without waiting for dramatic effect, she pulled out the two boxes of cup noodles amid the students' cheers.
That night, some of the male students were found in the girls' room telling ghost stories. Although the coordinator was very upset, she shared about her feelings the next morning in such a loving way. It was bold, courageous, and humane. It made teachers come alive and granted them humanity. The students then coated an old wall with fresh, new paint before undergoing a highly emotional experience of feet washing. I participated by shuffling new buckets of water to and fro, but I felt so honoured to be part of the process. It was such a beautiful scene, and I can hardly describe the beauty of six teachers on their knees washing the feet of their students. My spirit stirred inside, and I really hope to participate when God allows.
The final afternoon was low-key, with another Golden Time and then writing encouragements on a piece of paper clipped to each person's back. We all wandered back to the ferry together and departed when we arrived at Central.
Throughout the three days, I had the opportunity to get to know some very incredible people, listen to the opinions, and share our thoughts and observations. I am impressed at how God connects people together in the most interesting ways, and I've grown and laughed lots in these past days.
I went into the camp knowing only one person, and left with many new friends; faithful brothers and sisters pursuing God's heart for His next generation. What a blessing indeed.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
God actually
I've started to feel a bit of stress about my upcoming teaching trip because of last-minute requests and general underpreparedness. I've also felt alone because I haven't been able to attend the team meetings back in Richmond Hill and bond with the team. Although I leave on Saturday, I will be putting my first aid training and certifications to use as a First Aider on a 3-day camp for Catholic youth. I'm looking forward to it, but worries are beginning to creep in as time is shooting past me.
Today is my father's birthday, but due to my poor scheduling, I couldn't spend it with him. Instead, he went off to Ocean Park with his mom, while I am stuck in the flat prepping what I should have done earlier. Mid-way through the day, I went for a work-out to clear my mind. During my work-out, I reflected on a sermon preached at Island ECC yesterday about balancing truth and love in our walk (based on 2 John). It was an excellent sermon and I am still thinking about which side I fall on. Not only do we demonstrate truth and love in our lives, but we also receive the same from God. Sometimes I feel that I give more love than I do truth, but focus my attention and mind on God's truths, more than God's love. I know that I am feeling drained because I haven't been open to receiving God's love--something I need to remind myself of. I prayed that God would once again pour out His love on me, and remind me of His bountiful mercies and love that He lavishes on His children.
After my work-out, I ate a late lunch at a famous wonton noodle shop by Lee Theater Place. These wonton noodle shops are generally small, but packed with customers. The tables are small; strangers are seated next to or across from each other. I was seated at a tiny table with a lady across from me. As I ate my bowl of wonton noodles, I contemplated beginning a conversation with her, but I didn't know where to start. Half-way through, being inspired by a reporter friend who strikes up conversations with random strangers and listens with rapt attention, I commented on how delicious the noodles were. The lady quickly continued the conversation and I found out that she was retired and learning all sorts of things--like Latin dance and classical Chinese singing. She told me that although she was older and had less disposable income, she was filled with more joy. When I told her that I was going to China, she told me about how she had spent 3 weeks backpacking through with 3 other friends when she was younger. As I was getting ready to leave, she poured out many kind words of blessing and ended with "God bless you." In that moment, I felt so filled and content on love. God had answered my prayer--even through a stranger whom I probably will never meet again.
It reminded me of a time last year when I had been struggling in my faith to believe. I was traveling on my own through the French countryside, and had two hours to spend at a small town between trains. I encountered an elderly American lady who was on a river cruise, but also walking through the same town. Within minutes, she poured out her life story of how God transformed her son committed a crime, but met Jesus in prison and Jesus transformed his life. She was so certain about God and also blessed me as we said farewell.
To me, these women are angels. I most probably won't encounter them again, but in those moments of brief fellowship, I have been reminded that God is actually all around.
Today is my father's birthday, but due to my poor scheduling, I couldn't spend it with him. Instead, he went off to Ocean Park with his mom, while I am stuck in the flat prepping what I should have done earlier. Mid-way through the day, I went for a work-out to clear my mind. During my work-out, I reflected on a sermon preached at Island ECC yesterday about balancing truth and love in our walk (based on 2 John). It was an excellent sermon and I am still thinking about which side I fall on. Not only do we demonstrate truth and love in our lives, but we also receive the same from God. Sometimes I feel that I give more love than I do truth, but focus my attention and mind on God's truths, more than God's love. I know that I am feeling drained because I haven't been open to receiving God's love--something I need to remind myself of. I prayed that God would once again pour out His love on me, and remind me of His bountiful mercies and love that He lavishes on His children.
After my work-out, I ate a late lunch at a famous wonton noodle shop by Lee Theater Place. These wonton noodle shops are generally small, but packed with customers. The tables are small; strangers are seated next to or across from each other. I was seated at a tiny table with a lady across from me. As I ate my bowl of wonton noodles, I contemplated beginning a conversation with her, but I didn't know where to start. Half-way through, being inspired by a reporter friend who strikes up conversations with random strangers and listens with rapt attention, I commented on how delicious the noodles were. The lady quickly continued the conversation and I found out that she was retired and learning all sorts of things--like Latin dance and classical Chinese singing. She told me that although she was older and had less disposable income, she was filled with more joy. When I told her that I was going to China, she told me about how she had spent 3 weeks backpacking through with 3 other friends when she was younger. As I was getting ready to leave, she poured out many kind words of blessing and ended with "God bless you." In that moment, I felt so filled and content on love. God had answered my prayer--even through a stranger whom I probably will never meet again.
It reminded me of a time last year when I had been struggling in my faith to believe. I was traveling on my own through the French countryside, and had two hours to spend at a small town between trains. I encountered an elderly American lady who was on a river cruise, but also walking through the same town. Within minutes, she poured out her life story of how God transformed her son committed a crime, but met Jesus in prison and Jesus transformed his life. She was so certain about God and also blessed me as we said farewell.
To me, these women are angels. I most probably won't encounter them again, but in those moments of brief fellowship, I have been reminded that God is actually all around.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
A Walk to Remember
A large part of why I'm enjoying Hong Kong so much more this time around is because I've had the opportunity to do things I like doing. I've spurned the shopping scene for more sightseeing, reading, writing, and best of all--hiking!
I made it quite clear to my dad that I wanted to go hiking when I went to Hong Kong for my 3-week stay, and wondrously, he still has good friends from primary and middle school who hike regularly and were willing to bring us along. We've gone three times, and although the mountains are not spectacularly high, it's been awfully nice to be in the woods again.
It's only been in the past few weeks that I found out my dad loves to hike. He hiked a lot as a student in Hong Kong, with the friends who still hike, but he is too lazy to travel far for hiking in Canada. It's interesting to learn that my hiking heritage doesn't only come from my aunt.
My aunt in Canada is the one I usually think of when I think of hiking. I always experience a burst of pride when I tell people she's climbed the Himalayas. When I was younger, I hated walking. Quite embarrassingly, even when I was seven, my parents would still push me around in the stroller, or if I got tired walking, I would turn around and ask them to pick me up. Yet when I was 16 years old and was given the opportunity to participate on an Outward Bound trip, my aunt insisted that I choose mountaineering, even though I really wanted to canoe and portage.
It was on that mountaineering trip in British Columbia that I fell in love with walking and hiking. I loved being able to propel myself up mountains, scree down hills, and scale rock faces with my hands and feet. I realized that limits could be pushed: I experienced a colder cold (being awoken by the cold at 2am on top of a summit, opening my eyes, and seeing stars upon stars in the Milky Way Galaxy) and expanded my definition of tired (hiking 6-8 km daily with a 50lbs pack, and then having to set up the tents and cook dinner, for 2 weeks straight--I never appreciated sleep so much).
Today was another of those definition expansions. My dad's primary school friend brought us to Sai Gong. On the bus ride to the starting point, I felt physically horrible--most probably due to the strong Milk Tea I had drank at a famous milk tea place in Central. My stomach quaked, my heart beat funny, and my head spun. But I really wanted to hike.
Once we reached the starting point, I vomited on the side of the road. Part of me wanted to go back to our place in Causeway Bay and sleep it off, but something inside me told me that the hike would cure me.
And it did.
Unfortunately, about half an hour into the hike, it began to rain. We pulled out our ponchos, and as the rain got worse, we stood to the side to wait for it to pass. By then, the rain was seeping into my shoes and the bottom of my pants were soaked. Even so, a group of hikers passed us, drenched by the rain. After 10 minutes of standing, we had to make a critical decision: do we continue in the rain or do we head back down to the bus?
We decided to continue. The hardest point was the next step. It meant that I would have to leave my safe haven (i.e., standing on a small rock that prevented my feet from smooshing into the mud). Watching my dad go first, I followed suit: stepping firmly into the mud, rain water splashing onto my pants, and water flooding my shoe through the upper mesh. As we tromped through the mud, thoughts of feeling sick flew out of my mind. I learned to enjoy the experience of sloshing through the muddy path and feeling the water squeeze between my toes.
This hike was probably the most uncomfortable hike I've ever been on, but it was certainly memorable. My definition of discomfort has been pushed, and God has shown me mercy in the process.
I made it quite clear to my dad that I wanted to go hiking when I went to Hong Kong for my 3-week stay, and wondrously, he still has good friends from primary and middle school who hike regularly and were willing to bring us along. We've gone three times, and although the mountains are not spectacularly high, it's been awfully nice to be in the woods again.
It's only been in the past few weeks that I found out my dad loves to hike. He hiked a lot as a student in Hong Kong, with the friends who still hike, but he is too lazy to travel far for hiking in Canada. It's interesting to learn that my hiking heritage doesn't only come from my aunt.
My aunt in Canada is the one I usually think of when I think of hiking. I always experience a burst of pride when I tell people she's climbed the Himalayas. When I was younger, I hated walking. Quite embarrassingly, even when I was seven, my parents would still push me around in the stroller, or if I got tired walking, I would turn around and ask them to pick me up. Yet when I was 16 years old and was given the opportunity to participate on an Outward Bound trip, my aunt insisted that I choose mountaineering, even though I really wanted to canoe and portage.
It was on that mountaineering trip in British Columbia that I fell in love with walking and hiking. I loved being able to propel myself up mountains, scree down hills, and scale rock faces with my hands and feet. I realized that limits could be pushed: I experienced a colder cold (being awoken by the cold at 2am on top of a summit, opening my eyes, and seeing stars upon stars in the Milky Way Galaxy) and expanded my definition of tired (hiking 6-8 km daily with a 50lbs pack, and then having to set up the tents and cook dinner, for 2 weeks straight--I never appreciated sleep so much).
Today was another of those definition expansions. My dad's primary school friend brought us to Sai Gong. On the bus ride to the starting point, I felt physically horrible--most probably due to the strong Milk Tea I had drank at a famous milk tea place in Central. My stomach quaked, my heart beat funny, and my head spun. But I really wanted to hike.
Once we reached the starting point, I vomited on the side of the road. Part of me wanted to go back to our place in Causeway Bay and sleep it off, but something inside me told me that the hike would cure me.
And it did.
Unfortunately, about half an hour into the hike, it began to rain. We pulled out our ponchos, and as the rain got worse, we stood to the side to wait for it to pass. By then, the rain was seeping into my shoes and the bottom of my pants were soaked. Even so, a group of hikers passed us, drenched by the rain. After 10 minutes of standing, we had to make a critical decision: do we continue in the rain or do we head back down to the bus?
We decided to continue. The hardest point was the next step. It meant that I would have to leave my safe haven (i.e., standing on a small rock that prevented my feet from smooshing into the mud). Watching my dad go first, I followed suit: stepping firmly into the mud, rain water splashing onto my pants, and water flooding my shoe through the upper mesh. As we tromped through the mud, thoughts of feeling sick flew out of my mind. I learned to enjoy the experience of sloshing through the muddy path and feeling the water squeeze between my toes.
This hike was probably the most uncomfortable hike I've ever been on, but it was certainly memorable. My definition of discomfort has been pushed, and God has shown me mercy in the process.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
O Hong Kong
The more time I spend in Hong Kong, the more I am beginning to like it.
At first glace, it's easy for me to disdain the lifestyle here. It's heavily consumeristic and materialistic, the advertisements create an overstimulation of the visual sense, while the sounds and noise are hardly a pleasant cacophony. Yet there are so many things to appreciate about this city.
My dad has been bringing me around to many places, and having someone accompany me to the places I want to visit has been delightful (and safer too!). On Sunday, my dad's middle school friend took us hiking up the dragon's back (Lung Chek). It was a beautiful day for a hike--not too sunny, and with a cool breeze. Butterflies of all species and colours flittered past, and it was nice to admire the city from afar. Sometimes it's easier to be surrounded by nature and see how beautiful the city is, than to be in the city and notice its beauty.
Yesterday, we finally visited Tai O on Lantau Island: a fishing village I had hoped to visit since the first day I arrived. It was definitely food for the amateur photographer, and I enjoyed it very much, apart from the mosquito-bitten calves and sunburnt arms I left with. The sky was blue for once, and the way of life was so different. My dad starts conversations with random people (I get it from him), and we had the chance to hear life stories from two very elderly residents.
When I was younger, I used to pity the poor who continued to use old appliances and lived in one-room houses, but now that I'm a bit older, I'm beginning to appreciate the simple lifestyles. The old lady we spoke to told us that her children and grandchildren would keep asking her to live with them in the city, but she would refuse because she had lived here for the 50 years of her marriage and she belonged here. As an inspiring Urbana speaker once said, "Where you settle is where you will die." I better settle carefully.
Another thing I appreciate about the Hong Kong people is their proactivism. July 1st not only marks Canada Day, but also handover day when Hong Kong was released from British colony rule back to China. Hong Kong is a Special Administrative Region (SAR), which means that it is the only democratic area inside a communist country. The citizens here value their democracy so much because it is vulnerable. Democracy is fragile. So on this public holiday, there are no less than 7 marches and demonstrations, one of which I may take part in. There is a public spirit that docile Canadians seem to lack--simply because it seems superfluous in a democratic country. I like Hong Kong.
Friday, June 26, 2009
faithful
Since I arrived in Hong Kong again, I started to feel drained of joy. I could visibly notice my face growing blanker and my gaze hardening. I cannot blame Hong Kong for this change, although I'm sure it contributed. I realized that the physical change only reflected a hardness of my own heart.
Being a traveller in a foreign city meant that I had to be protective of myself. I had been warned countless times to watch my bag and my wallet and my purse--to the point where I was on the verge of becoming paranoid. Yes, I do need to be careful, but I no longer viewed people with the same compassion as I would if I had felt more secure.
I realized that I was slowly becoming more and more self-centred. I would think about myself more, others less, and God only when I opened my Bible. I had lost focus.
A wise friend once mentioned how she found it more challenging to become like Jesus than to serve Him. I agree with her. Becoming like Jesus requires transformation, and transformation can hurt. Serving God is an outcome of that transformation.
Well, after realizing my despicably prideful heart, I began praying for mercy and trusting my prayer partners to be praying for me too. Within a day, God has provided so much for me.
For the past week, I have woken up early to go for a run on the inner Ambulance Track of the Happy Valley Racecourse. Despite threatening stormclouds on many occasions, today was the first day I found myself caught in the rain. Today was also the last day that I would be living in Happy Valley until August. During my jog, I talked to God about my concerns and uncertainties, and told Him I wanted to trust Him with the different aspects of my life. The rain began as I was heading back to the tunnel that goes under the racetrack, but as soon as I came up from the tunnel, I looked into the rare piece of visible sky and saw the most beautiful stretch of rainbow. I was shocked still in my steps and remained still to admire it until it passed. Rainbows aren't usually particularly significant in my life, but after my prayer that morning, the rainbow suddenly took on an unusual amount of significance today.
Later in the day, my dad brought me to visit some relatives who are serving in ministry in Hong Kong. We aren't particularly close, and we hadn't met since I was 13 years old, but I was so blessed to see how my aunt had been called from her post as a kindergarten principal to become a pastor of a church that serves to disciple the poor. I also had a great conversation with her daughter who is serving in a full-time ministry in Hong Kong. Since my circle of connection in Hong Kong is small, it has been hard to find people similar to myself. Yet in her, I found someone that I could connect with and share our passions together. Afterward, I attended a talk on the spiritual development of children. It was targeted to the parents of their church, but my aunt knew of my interest in education and invited me to participate. The talk was simple, but meaningful, and I enjoyed the question-and-answer time the most because I could hear the concerns of these parents. I am so inspired for their desire to have their children come to know God and grow in Him. These parents are not well-educated and serve in jobs not well-considered by society, but they want a better future for their children and try hard to love them and teach them, which includes the heritage of faith.
Although I still have much to learn and much to confess and much to grow, I have been changed by how powerful and faithful God is to His children. As friends have reminded me, "God is faithful even when we are not faithful." (ref. 2 Timothy 2:13) Please say a prayer for me when you remember!
Being a traveller in a foreign city meant that I had to be protective of myself. I had been warned countless times to watch my bag and my wallet and my purse--to the point where I was on the verge of becoming paranoid. Yes, I do need to be careful, but I no longer viewed people with the same compassion as I would if I had felt more secure.
I realized that I was slowly becoming more and more self-centred. I would think about myself more, others less, and God only when I opened my Bible. I had lost focus.
A wise friend once mentioned how she found it more challenging to become like Jesus than to serve Him. I agree with her. Becoming like Jesus requires transformation, and transformation can hurt. Serving God is an outcome of that transformation.
Well, after realizing my despicably prideful heart, I began praying for mercy and trusting my prayer partners to be praying for me too. Within a day, God has provided so much for me.
For the past week, I have woken up early to go for a run on the inner Ambulance Track of the Happy Valley Racecourse. Despite threatening stormclouds on many occasions, today was the first day I found myself caught in the rain. Today was also the last day that I would be living in Happy Valley until August. During my jog, I talked to God about my concerns and uncertainties, and told Him I wanted to trust Him with the different aspects of my life. The rain began as I was heading back to the tunnel that goes under the racetrack, but as soon as I came up from the tunnel, I looked into the rare piece of visible sky and saw the most beautiful stretch of rainbow. I was shocked still in my steps and remained still to admire it until it passed. Rainbows aren't usually particularly significant in my life, but after my prayer that morning, the rainbow suddenly took on an unusual amount of significance today.
Later in the day, my dad brought me to visit some relatives who are serving in ministry in Hong Kong. We aren't particularly close, and we hadn't met since I was 13 years old, but I was so blessed to see how my aunt had been called from her post as a kindergarten principal to become a pastor of a church that serves to disciple the poor. I also had a great conversation with her daughter who is serving in a full-time ministry in Hong Kong. Since my circle of connection in Hong Kong is small, it has been hard to find people similar to myself. Yet in her, I found someone that I could connect with and share our passions together. Afterward, I attended a talk on the spiritual development of children. It was targeted to the parents of their church, but my aunt knew of my interest in education and invited me to participate. The talk was simple, but meaningful, and I enjoyed the question-and-answer time the most because I could hear the concerns of these parents. I am so inspired for their desire to have their children come to know God and grow in Him. These parents are not well-educated and serve in jobs not well-considered by society, but they want a better future for their children and try hard to love them and teach them, which includes the heritage of faith.
Although I still have much to learn and much to confess and much to grow, I have been changed by how powerful and faithful God is to His children. As friends have reminded me, "God is faithful even when we are not faithful." (ref. 2 Timothy 2:13) Please say a prayer for me when you remember!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Goodbye, my friend
Alas, the time for bittersweet good-byes has come.
I want to cry, but the tears only wet my eyes without sliding down my cheeks. There's a quiet sadness, a hidden sadness, that's stored so deep down inside that it will take time for purging. Maybe writing it out will help.
It's been strange saying good-byes because I will still be here next year, yet my closest '09 friends are graduating and moving on to the next chapter of their lives.
There have been a few "last suppers" lately. A memorable one was with Jenny and Flora. We planned to eat at Lotus Heart Blossoms, only to find out they were taking an extended Easter break. Next, we tried Pan Chancho, only to read that the cafe closed at 4pm. Then, we walked to Mexicali Rosa's to find that it was temporarily closed for some unknown reason. Finally, we backtracked to the Kingston Brew Pub and had a very long dinner, talking about things that friends talk about. This has been a meaningful friendship thus far, although it has only spanned a brief two years since we first all came together. Sometimes you meet people and you just click. It doesn't take much effort to adjust to one another and befriend one another. Sometimes you realize your initial reactions to the person was totally off--they're probably friendlier than they look.
Tonight I ate at Leonard Cafeteria with two of my 2nd year housemates--the only housemates I've ever had during my B.A. years. They were my Queen's family. There's Queen's friends, and then there's Queen's family--the people who root for you and hear you out and see how messy and disorganized you really are, without judging you for the worse. One has finished school for good, while another is going away for more. And I... I am still here.
There's some sort of feeling--kinda like being left behind. Yet I'm really glad to be here for another year. My ministry here is not over yet. God is moving on our campus in huge ways and bringing people from different backgrounds and groups together. I still have a lot of hope and have seen God bring revival. It happens one person at a time, when God breathes into His beloved child and draws them up to life again. People are being transformed daily, and God is here.
Next year is going to be exciting. My best friend is coming! I'm living in a house again! I won't have any exams to write! God is good.
I want to cry, but the tears only wet my eyes without sliding down my cheeks. There's a quiet sadness, a hidden sadness, that's stored so deep down inside that it will take time for purging. Maybe writing it out will help.
It's been strange saying good-byes because I will still be here next year, yet my closest '09 friends are graduating and moving on to the next chapter of their lives.
There have been a few "last suppers" lately. A memorable one was with Jenny and Flora. We planned to eat at Lotus Heart Blossoms, only to find out they were taking an extended Easter break. Next, we tried Pan Chancho, only to read that the cafe closed at 4pm. Then, we walked to Mexicali Rosa's to find that it was temporarily closed for some unknown reason. Finally, we backtracked to the Kingston Brew Pub and had a very long dinner, talking about things that friends talk about. This has been a meaningful friendship thus far, although it has only spanned a brief two years since we first all came together. Sometimes you meet people and you just click. It doesn't take much effort to adjust to one another and befriend one another. Sometimes you realize your initial reactions to the person was totally off--they're probably friendlier than they look.
Tonight I ate at Leonard Cafeteria with two of my 2nd year housemates--the only housemates I've ever had during my B.A. years. They were my Queen's family. There's Queen's friends, and then there's Queen's family--the people who root for you and hear you out and see how messy and disorganized you really are, without judging you for the worse. One has finished school for good, while another is going away for more. And I... I am still here.
There's some sort of feeling--kinda like being left behind. Yet I'm really glad to be here for another year. My ministry here is not over yet. God is moving on our campus in huge ways and bringing people from different backgrounds and groups together. I still have a lot of hope and have seen God bring revival. It happens one person at a time, when God breathes into His beloved child and draws them up to life again. People are being transformed daily, and God is here.
Next year is going to be exciting. My best friend is coming! I'm living in a house again! I won't have any exams to write! God is good.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Easter Sunday
I woke up early to meet two friends and catch the Easter sunrise.
We went out to the pier with our cameras. The sky was bright already, but the sun was still behind the curtain of earth. In a few minutes, the sun poked its bald head over the horizon and slowly tugged into the sky.
I was surprised to see how the sun made the sky appear dusty rose, especially since it was pretty bright on its own. But the sun overpowered the other light in the sky with its own intense luminosity.
Throughout this year, a thought has been playing through my head about the sun and the Son. In the English language, is it an accident that Jesus Christ is referred to as the Son, and the brightest source of energy and light is also called the sun? Saying those two words aloud, I cannot hear a difference.
And I've been learning this all-year long: the Son brights me joy, it brings light upon everything. In contrast to what is already bright, it outshines the rest. There is no other source of energy quite like it. When it is cloudy, I feel down in my soul; when it is sunny, I feel God's smile on me.
Watching the Son rise this morning was a pulchritudinous (a big word for "beautiful") moment.
We serve a risen Saviour! He is RISEN indeed! And all that He demands of us is our love and our life. What could be simpler?
We went out to the pier with our cameras. The sky was bright already, but the sun was still behind the curtain of earth. In a few minutes, the sun poked its bald head over the horizon and slowly tugged into the sky.
I was surprised to see how the sun made the sky appear dusty rose, especially since it was pretty bright on its own. But the sun overpowered the other light in the sky with its own intense luminosity.
Throughout this year, a thought has been playing through my head about the sun and the Son. In the English language, is it an accident that Jesus Christ is referred to as the Son, and the brightest source of energy and light is also called the sun? Saying those two words aloud, I cannot hear a difference.
And I've been learning this all-year long: the Son brights me joy, it brings light upon everything. In contrast to what is already bright, it outshines the rest. There is no other source of energy quite like it. When it is cloudy, I feel down in my soul; when it is sunny, I feel God's smile on me.
Watching the Son rise this morning was a pulchritudinous (a big word for "beautiful") moment.
We serve a risen Saviour! He is RISEN indeed! And all that He demands of us is our love and our life. What could be simpler?
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