Tag: bible

I just got off the phone with a dear friend. It’s funny how sometimes what is meant to be a five-minute conversation goes on for an hour or more. I love when this happens. It means that we’re spending time together. There are the friendships where this happens and the ones where we just stop communicating. There are a lot more friendships in the latter group, and we put it down to busyness, which makes me appreciate the times when I get to have these chats.

In our phone conversation, we talked about how fear holds us back. Sometimes we even make blanket decisions. How often do we say things like ‘I’m never going to trust anyone again!’? There are so many such stands that we take. We decide we’ll never give something a chance again after we’ve been hurt or when we’ve lost. We make declarations of how we’ll face certain elements, while ‘bravely’ shutting the door on other options. When we strip it all down, it is clear to see that we are afraid.

I don’t excuse myself from this. I had a great experience with a business partner. He was wonderful really, and he had amazing business sense. I felt very supported as a partner and even when our partnership ended, I never had any bad things to say about how it had all transpired. I was determined to find another such partner.

What this meant was that I closed the door to stepping out on my own at different points. I felt the need to have this partnership and that if I didn’t have one, I couldn’t move forward. There were various discussions had with different people at different points. But no matter how good they were, partnering with them never felt right. As such, I never ventured out on my own. Until now, that is.

I had to really think over a lot of things when I was made redundant. My redundancy came into effect in February 2025, but I knew from some time in September 2024 that things were in motion. Whilst negotiating severance terms, I frantically applied for jobs, attended interviews, and considered options that were put on the table before me.

There was initially zero clarity because I kept thinking I needed that partner. It took a while for my faith to kick in and confront me on this idea. Finally, I did realize that I wanted to have my own gig, and that I had a partner in the God I trust. It was terrifying, which made me realize that as much as I speak about trusting God, I don’t trust Him enough.

My business is slowly growing. It’s not always easy, but I can say that I love every minute of it. I am enjoying work again in a way that I hadn’t in a long time. Even that realization, of how I stayed in a job that I wasn’t fully enjoying out of fear that I wouldn’t be able to do better because of chronic illness. It annoys me now when I think that I boxed myself in. I didn’t think God could do His thing.

Fear is a real thing. It makes us so very timid and we put ourself into tiny spaces, almost trying to minimize our existence. This feeling is not always obvious. We layer it up in what we call ‘rational thought’ or ‘justified reasoning.’ At its core, it really is fear.

One of my favourite stories in the Bible is of the woman with blood issue who touches Jesus’ garment and is healed. The faith of that woman is truly beautiful. It is strong. In that time, she was considered unclean and shunned. For her to overcome that fear and seek her God, just moves me.

In recent times, I am reminded too of how I have been given faith. Faith is a gift from God – not something I can whip up on my own accord (Ephesians 2:8). I am very aware of this. Yet, this is a gift that I have to do something with. I have to feed it. This happens as I consistently engage with scripture (Romans10:17). It is important I do this because it helps me mature and grow deeper in my love, knowledge, and understanding of Jesus (1 Peter 2:2).

As I say this, I know immediately that the fault is my own. A lot of the time, I am truly guilty of feeding my fear instead of my faith. The foolishness I reveal in this is staggering. God is the same God yesterday, today, and forever. The God I believed in sent help to Hagar, who was pregnant and flees from Sarah’s harsh treatment. In the New Testament,  it is Sarah who represents the new covenant of grace by Jesus, not Hagar. And yet, God shows Hagar so much mercy and grace. I know this story. Why then do I feed my fear instead of my faith?

I think at the heart of it is the illusion that I can control things. There is nothing I can control. Little Gamora reminds me of this every single day, when she has moments thinking of whether to obey or not. In the beginning, I used doggy treats to persuade her to obey, and she has built a certain muscle memory. She now obeys with the hope of getting a treat. I tell you what, it works! Most of the time, she gets a reward.

Gamora demonstrates what I should be doing. I have God’s Word that shows me so many instances of His faithfulness to those before me. I have a lifetime of experience where I have indeed tasted God’s goodness. Yet, my muscle memory isn’t as good as Gamora’s. I forget. And I end up feeding my fears by dwelling on them instead of feeding my faith.

I think there’s a change of diet on the cards! From experience, I know this isn’t the easiest thing to do, but it is wise that I start being more focused on feeding my faith. I serve the God that my parents taught me about. I serve the God who gave me my faith. It is right that I serve Him by feeding my faith whenever I am fearful for He did not give all of us who profess a faith in Him, a spirit of timidity, but of power, love, and self-control.

As we start the charge towards closing out 2025, I am thankful for these thoughts that have been put into my heart to ponder upon. It  will be my prayer that I continue facing my fears with courage, knowing that I have a God that I can fully trust with the final outcome. I wish so very much that my dad was around for this conversation – he tried to tell me about this many times whenever he tried to prepare me for his passing. Papa, the penny has finally dropped. You and mummy have given me so much by growing me in Christ. I am eternally grateful for you both.

It’s Good Friday today (18 April, 2025). Christians all over the world will be reminding themselves of Jesus’ crucifixion that took place on that wicked hill called Golgotha, ever so long ago. This morning, I went to church — which was a bit of a feat in itself, because I’ve hurt my back. Before you give me any sympathy, let me just say that I’ve hurt my back out of sheer stupidity and I’m not impressed. As I attempted moving a full bucket of water with my foot, I was telling myself not to do it. It’s hard to explain — it felt a bit like a horror show, watching myself not listen to the voice of sense that was screaming from inside my brain, and attempt the act which I’ve already described. I had to walk sideways, holding on to the outer walls of my house to get inside, grab my car keys, and drive through the pain to see a doctor. Thankfully, I’m so much better already. I’m not sure how quickly I’ll recover over my own stupidity, though!

There were three reflections in church and friends have been forwarding all sorts of messages about Good Friday. One friend in a group of ladies I read the Bible with shared one that was particularly hard hitting. It reminded us all the Judas sat at the same table as Jesus and the other apostles and our Lord showed him love. This is devastatingly shocking to read, because we know that Jesus knew who His betrayer was. The little WhatsApp share also reminded us how we’re all sinners — like Judas! That’s hard to take.

The Bible’s constantly going on about the prophecies about Jesus. The accuracy of the Psalms that refer to His character, His death, and even His resurrection is pretty stunning. We looked at Psalm 22: 1- 18 and Isaiah 52: 13 – 53:12 in church today. I’m constantly blown away, when I consider the way Jesus is described, not just as the long-suffering servant, but the Man of Sorrows, and unlike king David who’s described as ruddy, handsome, with beautiful eyes (1 Samuel 16:12), Jesus is described appallingly. Imagine this — we’re told that Jesus’ appearance is ‘marred, beyond human semblance,’ (Isaiah 52:14) and that ‘he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, no beauty that we should desire him’ (Isaiah 53: 2). The contrast to king David is unmissable.

However, David (whom I like very much), as good looking and majestic as he is, and with the kind of frenzied support he had, didn’t treat people so well all the time. For starters, there’s that whole episode of lusting after Bathsheba, who was already married to Uriah. David stops at nothing to get the woman he wants — which includes ensuring that Uriah, who was a faithful servant to him, is killed in battle (2 Samuel 11). David was also a pretty rubbish father to his daughter when she needed him the most (2 Samuel 13). David didn’t deal with his son Amnon who raped his daughter Tamar. This injustice causes David’s son Absalom to rise up against him and this eventually leads to Absalom’s death (2 Samuel 18). So much for majesty, riches, being a powerful warrior, and being so good looking!

So, years later, when Jesus arrives — born in extremely humble circumstances, the scene is set for the contrast. Jesus grew up in a small, insignificant place called Nazareth. In fact, in John 1:46, Nathaniel’s response when he first hears about Jesus is ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ We’re also told that people took offence at Jesus — after all, He was the carpenter’s son (Matthew 13: 53 – 58 and Mark 6: 1-6). Suffice to say, such responses combined with some of the prophecies that spoke about Jesus in such appalling ways inform us that His majesty, His beauty, His power — were all hidden. He truly did humble Himself to come into this world to die for us.

Despite this, Jesus, unlike David, does something that David or none of us can do. He humbled Himself and embraced the man that would work with conspirators to lead Him to His death. He didn’t chase Judas away. Rather, He allowed Judas to sit at that table, washed his feet, and let him eat in His presence so that you and I won’t be cast away from that table. Because Jesus let Judas lead Him to His death willingly, He fulfilled the demands of God’s law and obtained justice for those who believe in Him. We have a place at the table because of Good Friday.

As I reflect on Good Friday and Easter Sunday, the death and resurrection of Jesus, I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of the gift. I know I am a sinner. I know that I’m not easy to love. This is true for all of us. Yet, Jesus died for such as us. This comforts me as I think about my own mum and dad. They brought me up believing in Jesus and they died believing in Him. The events of Good Friday and Easter Sunday inform me that one day, I will see them again, when we are united in Jesus’ Kingdom. The Bible tells us that He will return in glory (Matthew 24:30). That will be a sight to behold.

Papa and mummy, I miss you both so much at times like these. It was so wonderful to have conversations with you about all these things that truly mattered. Thank God for Good Friday and Easter. Christ died for us and He rose again.

As friends of mine in the US settle down to celebrate Thanksgiving, I feel a sense of sadness this year. I like Thanksgiving, although it’s not something we do in Malaysia. Many years ago, some dear friends from the US who were living in Malaysia included me in their Thanksgiving celebrations over here. There was something about it that I really loved. I used to tell my dad that there was so much for us to be thankful for. He’d heartily agree with me. So, whilst we never marked it with any formal celebration, it was always a day that I made a conscious effort to thank God for the many blessings He has granted me. This time round, it feels like the blessings are gone.

My home will never be the same again. The loss of my mum way back in 2006 transformed home. It was hard to get used to her absence, and it took me a long time to feel okay again. My dad was instrumental there. He didn’t push me into anything. I appreciated that. Sadness wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, I sometimes felt. It’s not a popular emotion, and I think it’s one we are taught to try and ward off, like some kind of evil spirit. My dad’s passing in 2023 means that my home is completely shattered. There’s nothing that’s going to make it okay as long as I live. I know this. I find myself in such deep throngs of sadness knowing that. Home was really my mum and dad. How I miss them. It really is too much to bear.

Life has a way of just happening. Isn’t that what they say? ‘Life happens.’ Tell you what, it’s not always a good feeling either. There can be moments of joy, rejoicing, and cheer. Those are social media worthy in today’s world. Post only the celebrations. Leave out sadness. When life happens, it can also be a downer. It can break you, or jolly well come close to it. Life isn’t always easy. That was what I said to God this morning. That and a series of ‘whys’ and ‘how will I continue’ styled questions. There are things that happen which are so unfair, it hurts. It shows up all the adages that people cling on to. Work hard, you’ll be rewarded. Really? Says who? Never give up or never say die. That’s the winner’s mentality. Really? Believe in yourself, you’ve got this. Really? Right now, they sound like loud clanging noises on an empty tin can.

The other problem that happens when something goes wrong is that you can’t always talk about it. There are sensitivities that prevent you from sharing. Sometimes it feels like such a façade, pretending that everything is hunky dory, when you know a storm is coming. You know that you don’t deserve that storm – that your umbrella was snatched away from you and your refuge taken over. It can feel like you’re all alone. That makes me miss home so much. Home with my mum and dad was always a safe space. I was always thankful. I could come home with the worst problems, feel completely ripped apart, but they would always pick me up. This year, as Thanksgiving approaches, I feel a real struggle to be thankful for my home as it is now. I miss home as it was. I miss it with every heartbeat. I miss it.

Sometimes I want to scream out at God. I am thankful for the psalms that show us how to take all these raw emotions to Him. It does get hard. I start to doubt. I doubt everything. I doubt myself. Should I have seen the storm coming? Should I have got out of there? Was I blinded by unfounded optimism? Have I lost my edge? Am I even relevant? Then I doubt Him. Why does He let these things happen? Why isn’t He screaming out at me when I read the Bible? Why isn’t He whispering to me when I sit in the quiet of the morning, trying to spend time with Him? Why isn’t He giving me a break? The doubts don’t stop. They come in waves. They keep pounding on my door. What are you doing? Is this faith even worth it?

Then the strangest thing happens. Something gives as I’m wrestling with these questions before Him. Mind you, I have adopted some strategies. I list out what I can rely on and what I can’t. The ‘can’t be relied upon’ side of the list gets filled out extremely fast. I often need to have a moment to rest my hands, the result of writing so much so quickly. I am ambidextrous, so both hands get used to the point that they can write no more. At points I must slowly peel my fingers off my pen, the anxiety showing in how tightly I gripped my pen. After a moment, I look at the things on which I can rely. There is a truth I believe. That truth is that God is good. I rely on that. It is part of my psyche. I cannot imagine otherwise. As I write this truth down as something I can rely on, I start writing down little prompts of things that happened to all those familiar characters in the Bible. Some of my favorites are Abraham asking God how he was to know that he would possess the land that God promised Him (Genesis 15:8), Thomas saying he wouldn’t believe until he felt the wounds on Jesus’ body (John 20: 25), or where my poetic king David (who was ruddy, handsome, and had beautiful eyes) asks the age old question of ‘How long, O LORD?’ There are many more examples of course. As I am reminded of similar struggles with doubt and anxiety in a whole load of circumstances. I don’t like saying that their circumstances were worse than mine, because I don’t want to dismiss the ferocity of the storm that looms. But the storm isn’t the focus at this point. It is the voice that can calm the storm that is speaking by this point.

As I express my doubts and fears over the storm that I’m facing, there is another hurdle. I hear a voice, which sounds eerily like my own, which asks if I could have done better. The transactional aspect of my faith pops up, unfortunately, to make me feel worse. My mind starts racing to think back on the good and bad things that I’ve done, like a child wondering if they’re on Santa’s good or bad list. It is hard to explain how I freeze, and almost give up at this point. Can I rely on my own goodness as I call out to God for help during the storm? I love the examples of the characters from the Bible that struggle with doubt in their struggles. Abraham displayed moments of cowardice at various points, and even tried to shield himself using Sarah. Thomas who spent time with Jesus and the other apostles wasn’t willing to admit that they could have seen him. He needed more. Then, there’s my favorite king David whose recorded transgressions could be the source of many Netflix adaptations. These people I read about are in many ways like me. So flawed. Their stories give me courage because God always meets them where they need Him to. It’s overwhelming to think about this. Why would God even do this?

There is one example of perfection, which comes in the person of Jesus. In the Garden of Gethsemane, scripture says that Jesus sweated drops of blood (Luke 22:44). Jesus felt anguish and deep sorrow and was overwhelmed by it all (Matthew 26:38, Mark 14:34). Jesus must have known the terror that awaited Him. He had willingly counted Himself as one of us when He lined up to be baptized. He knew the punishment, and worse still, the total abandonment by God, at a time when He was at His deepest need. And that’s it right there. Jesus lived that perfect life and in His moment of terror was totally abandoned. Through this, He purchased mercy, and grace for me. Because He faced the injustice of abandonment when He was taking the greatest brutality ever inflicted, I can have faith that God will not abandon me in the storm that I am in. That is sobering. This realization hits home hard for me for it means that despite this storm that I am in right now, despite missing home as I knew it with my mum and dad, and then as I knew it with my dad, despite the sadness that I feel enveloped in, I have much to be thankful for. I can join the psalmist and say in the face of my doubts when I am losing my foothold, where the waters roar and the mountains tremble, that God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble (Psalm 46). I am thankful. I am so very thankful. He is good. I can rely on that. I am thankful even in the midst of this storm.