The Curious Case of Aging

It was my birthday and I saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

Timing's perfect as the theme is about time, growing older, younger, whatever.

The movie is 45 mins too long, if you ask me, but it has much to teach us.

Here's what I came away with:

1. When we're old, it's hard to look glamorous - not even when you have a face like Cate Blanchett.

2. When we're old, it's hard to be pretty - not even when we are Brad Pitt.

3. Growing older is not a bad thing at all. It's worse when you're growing younger (and everybody else is growing older).

4. Growing older is not such a dreadful thing. It's how God planned it to be and there's a whole lot of wisdom for it.

5. Being old isn't the most horrible state we could find ourselves in. Being foolish, lonely and with nothing to live for - albeit young and attractive - is a more painful thing.

6. Being old isn't the end of finding love and companionship. Benjamin Button was loneliest when he started to look young - really young.

ON REMEMBERING THE DEAD

Today a group of us - my brother, his wife and three kids, my sister, and my daughter - went to the columborium to mark dad's ninth death anniversary.

Each year the 'ritual' is about the same.

Earnest (brother) would clean the plaque as he's the only one tall enough to reach the top level where dad's picture is placed, someone will change the plastic flowers, each person says a few words of what we remember best about dad, then we read the scriptures and pray.

Today Amy (sis) turned our attention to several passages on the hope of eternal salvation and redemption we have in Christ.

"Because there's a resurrection," Earnest said to his sons who were surprisingly very attentive despite their ages (Nat is 8 and Elliot is 5), "you will see your kong kong in heaven some day, isn't that great?"

I doubt they understood what it all meant.

But the visit each year must certainly have made an impression upon their little lives.

For one thing, it keeps alive their link with the dead .

Earnest's kids had never met dad, unfortunately; but they know through the visits that their father also has his own father, whom he doesn't forget though he's passed away.

It's a long way for us to go to the columborium.

It takes planning and effort to interrupt life just to remember the dead.

But the journey always renews us: our gratitude for the past, our ties with one another, and our resolve to live well even for the sake of those who come after us.

LET US PRESS ON TO KNOW

"And here among the bracken the thought came back to me;

that it was the greatest good fortune not only to be fascinated by animals but to know about them.

Suddenly the knowing became a precious thing."

James Herriot, All Things Bright and Beautiful.

Fascination is a wonderful word.

It means there's interest, passion, bright-eyed wonder.

But 'know'?

Here's a different level of meaning: it implies commitment, going further and deeper, asking questions, probing, chasing after the passion, taking the road less traveled perhaps.

Lately I've been studying the book of Isaiah and it seems that repeatedly, God's key charge against His people is they did not know Him.

Isa 5:13 "Therefore My people go into exile for their lack of knowledge - of Him, His ways, His plans, His justice and righteousness."

Sure they were offering their sacrifices and paid their dues. But it was lip-service and practice of 'tradition learned by rote' (Isa 29:13).

You could say they had some kind of fascination with God.

But they did not know Him.

For this Christmas season, "let us know, let us press on to know the Lord. His going forth is as certain as the dawn;And He will come to us like the rain,Like the spring rain watering the earth" (Hos 6:3).

LOVE THY NEIGHBOR

I LIVE in Jurong, known for the Chinese Garden, Bird Park, Science Center, factories and foreign workers.
For the past nine years, I'd seen an increasing number of 'foreigners' in my neighborhood.
I see them during my after-work grocery shopping. I'd wonder how they'd cook the vegetables or meat they chose, and which I never pick simply because I don't know how to cook them.
I queue up with them at the ATM machines, sometimes literally dozens of them during pay-day period. And feel their joy as they banter with one another, wide grins on their faces, as they claim their hard-earned cash.
At times I see some of them making long-distance calls home. From their tone of voice, I could tell the person on the other side of the line would be someone they care about, and probably live for.

MY daughter - who four years ago took the MRT to junior college in the wee dark hours of the morning - told me two weeks ago that during those days, she'd walk past groups of foreign workers on the way to the station.
When I asked how come I never heard her mention this before, her answer was matter-of-fact. "What's there to tell?" she said. "I passed them every morning for two years, they waited for their transport, that's that. It was a non-event."

IN my youth classes at church, I've had many opportunities to refer to the 'aliens' and 'strangers' in our midst.
I'd tell my wards that these are someone's sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers. That somewhere out there, there are people who worry if they ate or slept well, who pray for their well-being, who love them to bits.
We may not know or understand them, they may look and behave differently from us; but that doesn't mean we should despise or fear them.
After all, we are all created in the image of the same God, we share the same need for air, shelter, love, and kindness.
Will some of them harm our daughters? Maybe. But so will people who live in posh neighborhoods and drive big cars.
Do we need to take caution against these 'strangers'? Sure. But just the same common-sense caution we take anyway with all people we don't know.

James 2:2-10
For if a man comes into your assembly with a gold ring and dressed in fine clothes, and there also comes in a poor man in dirty clothes, and you pay special attention to the one who is wearing the fine clothes, and say, "You sit here in a good place," and you say to the poor man, "You stand over there, or sit down by my footstool," have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil motives? . . .
If, however, you are fulfilling the royal law according to the Scripture, "YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF," you are doing well. But if you show partiality, you are committing sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors.

BASIC THINGS

I wanted to quit teaching Sunday school at the beginning of this year.
Too busy. Too tired. Too long (I've been a teacher for close to 20 years).
And to be honest, I'd love to have an early lunch and longer fellowship with the adults on Sunday.
But God wouldn't let me. So I stayed.

Today I feel I've seen a tiny breakthrough.
The class opened up, and everyone shared about her struggles - with school work, fear of failure, loneliness issues, and parents' high expectations.
One of them thanked me for being her teacher.
One gal, who never made eye contact with me, told me she couldn't love herself.
Six months ago, I'd never imagine this could happen.
We're, after all, talking about bored, blase, and over-stuffed second, third generation believers.
So what helped?
Not better teaching skill, visual aids, program, or syllabus. Although these can help.

It's the basic things.

Like praying for the girls faithfully.
I read somewhere that if we prayed for someone for 10 mins, or even 5 mins, a day, something will change. Something's bound to change.

Loving them genuinely.
Remember birthdays; send a text message to say, "I'm praying for your test"; say, "I like your outfit."
Kids today are measured, accessed, criticised and judged constantly.
They thirst for acknowledgment, praise, and sincere compliments.

Being audience-focused, rather than syllabus-focused.
I believe in syllabus (I'm working in a seminary); but syllabus can't be a one-size-fits-all.
We must tailor, apply, and make lessons relevant to our listeners' needs. Real needs like how to face my parents when I didn't do well, how to say "No" to sexual temptations, how to love myself when I'm not tall, smart, or skinny enough.
We must teach looking at their faces, not our class notes.
We must touch hearts, not cover lessons.

Being vulnerable, honest and open about our own weaknesses and struggles.
One girl told me that when I shared with the class some time ago of my fears to go to Mongolia but went anyway by faith, she was encouraged. And she found the courage to trust God in overcoming her fear of going to a new school.

I read Howard Hendricks' Teaching To Change Lives 20 years ago.
His encouragement to teachers still rings loud and clear in my heart today.
In his opening chapter, the former professor at Dallas Theological Seminary talks about his own Sunday school teacher. This woman's ministry resulted in 84 young men going into full-time ministry.
Here's what he says:
"If you ask me the secret to this woman's impact, I'd give you a totally different answer today from what I would have said twenty years back.
"Back then I'd have credited her methodology.
"Now I believe it was because of her passion to communicate.
"My heart's concern for you is that God will give you a passion like that . . and never let it die.
"And I hope you never get over the thrill that someone will actually listen to you and learn from you."

Crouching Tigers, Hidden Dragons

YOU ARE at Watsons. You see yourself in the mirror and smile.
That’s when she pounces on you.
“Hi!” Her high-pitched voice startles you. “Slimming tea for your tummy and butterfly arms?”
Meet ‘Sale-by-Insult’, one of Singapore’s illustrious crouching tigers and hidden dragons.

INSULT' has a second cousin: ‘Smooth Operator’.
Now, this tiger does not tear you to bits. He flatters, and comes bearing a gift.
And when your senses are numb with delight, he operates - on your brain - and smooth talks you into buying something to deserve that gift.

SINGAPORE is a shoppers’ paradise.
But with our tigers and dragons breeding profusely like rabbits, we’re fast becoming paradise lost.
Seriously, how did we get here?
What happened to 22 years of courtesy campaigns? Why do the rude, bad, and ugly continue to reign in our service industry?

YOU KNOW the culprits.
The ‘Unsmiling dragons’ at check-out counters.
The ‘Circling Tigers’ who stop their taxis only for angmoh tourists.
The ‘Illusionists’ who trail you around in departmental stores like blood-hounds, then vanish like ninjas when you finally need something.
And what about the ‘What-You-See-Is-All-You-Gets’? Ask them for anything - stockings, sandals, salted fish - and they give you the same classic answer: “See lor. Got, got. Don’t have, don’t have.”
Finally, ‘The Terminators’, who disguise themselves as manicurists but are really agents with lethal weapons of precision timing.
These dragon ladies are ruthless. They only unsheathe their claws to terminate - your ego no less - only after your fingers are wet and immobilized, and your toes freshly painted and all clamped down.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” they hiss at you while you sit trembling, like some little trapped creature.
“Dry skin, enlarged pores, crow’s feet. How about a S$599.00 miracle-cure treatment?”

I FINALLY figured out why despite the good work by the Tourist Promotion people our tigers and dragons are still alive and well.
Here's the secret: Singaporeans are just too polite!
Oh we do stick out our don’t-mess-with-me ugly kiasu heads, but only when junior comes running home wailing over unfair PSLE Math questions, or when someone cuts into our Changi Village nasi-lemak queue.
Most of the time, we simply shrug and ‘take it’; or if we are very brave, ‘leave it’.

WE ARE so pathetically polite that we reciprocate freebies we don’t need by paying for stuff we don’t want.
After all, our mothers taught us to be grateful and say, “Thank you”, didn’t they?
We are so embarrassingly polite that we clean up our plates in restaurants like silenced lambs — even when they come late, cold, and, nothing like what we were promised.
Our mothers taught us that too, remember?

WITH DUE RESPECT to all our long-suffering Singaporean mothers, I say it’s time we stop being too polite.
It's time we stand as one united people, regardless of race, language or size or shape; and insist on decent manners, resist traps, and persist in saying, “No!” “Leave me alone!”
Let us resolve to report the villains, reject the insults, and refuse to pay the service charge when no service is due.
Only then can we extinguish the crouching tigers and hidden dragons from our concrete jungle.
Restore our self esteem.
And save our paradise.
Please.

THE TRANSIT - IS ALSO THE JOURNEY

FLIGHT delayed. Bummer.
After 18 hours of flying from Singapore, and five hours of waiting at Chicago’s Ohare International, I was more than ready to get going.
Then the announcement came: “Flight to Orlando delayed for four hours.”
“Lord!” I cried. “This is so purposeless! I’ve a meeting to attend, people to meet, the Great Commission to fulfill!”
As I sat there leafing through my Bible, fuming, the Lord spoke to me,
“Waiting is part of the going,” He said, “the transit—is also the journey.”

THAT was a ‘moment’. One to which I’d return again and again to revise the lesson I learned that day. Like when my husband stepped down as national director two years ago.
On 1 July 2006, we left the local office of Singapore Campus Crusade and began our new assignment at EAST, the East Asia School of Theology.
We were in transition.
It wasn’t sudden. As early as two years before then, we started to prepare for the change.
It wasn’t like we were stranded. We were sought after by north (Japan), south (Australia) and EAST.
It wasn’t as though we’d missed a step. We took time to inform, announce, prepare others. Everything was thought through, and unhurried.
Yet, on moving-out day, I didn’t feel ready.

HERE’S what I learned about transitions.
I learned that even with the best preparations, transitions are hard things to do.
It’s saying “goodbye” to the familiar that’s hard.
I remember waking up in the middle of the night and thinking the strangest thought: “I won’t see so-and-so at the zerox machine anymore.” I cried.
I wasn’t even close to so-and-so.
One day, while clearing my drawers, I suddenly realized I’d be giving up my parking lot, and the tears flowed.
The emotions weren’t always logical but they were real.
I learned that though I’d said my goodbyes verbally, emotionally I was hanging in in-between for a while longer. I was where Linus was, as writer Marilyn Ferguson put it, “when his blanket is in the dryer. There's nothing to hold on to.”
It’s the indefinite waiting for things to pick up that’s hard.
The first week at EAST, my husband and I wanted to jump right in and become instant insiders. But we couldn’t.
There were boxes to unpack, emotions to sort through, and new routines to remember.
Our engine was stuck in second gear.
It’s not being able to skip any step that’s hard. Because transitions—getting out of, getting used to, getting there—take time. There’s no short cut. Whether it’s overcoming a heartbreak, or adjusting to a new culture, new job, new cell phone—it takes time.
And time won’t be rushed. Time moves at its own pace and rhythm; time keeps us humble.
So I learned that it’s wise to leave transition alone.
And while it’s working out the process, fret not but soak in all that God wants to teach us.
For me, one key lesson was a refresher course on self-worth.

WHERE do I find my self-worth? Is it from the number of people who report to me or the title that follows my name?
Or does it—as I always preach—come from Jesus and Jesus alone?
I wrestled with these questions. I asked myself if I honestly believed in my own answers. And God directed me to the life of John the Baptist.
John the Forerunner was the kid “most likely to succeed.” He had a job description and title before he was born, and he fulfilled it. So perfectly that many of his disciples left him to follow Jesus.
At the prime of his life, his term ended and he decreased, as he himself had predicted—right into Herod’s prison.
From the world’s standpoint, John’s life might be considered an anti-climax. But in God’s eyes, his was a life lived well.
During John’s dark night of the soul, he sent his disciples to ask Jesus if He was the One. And this was what our Lord said, “ . . . among those born of women there is no one greater than John" (Luke 7:28, NASV). What a compliment!
Here’s the point: John’s glory wasn’t found in what he did or where he set up his office. His glory came solely from Jesus’ nod of approval.
So where does my self-worth come from?
It does not stem from position, power, or people; but from my Lord and Master.

COMPARED to what I’ve learned, and am still learning, through the transition, what’s convenience, familiarity and a shaded car park?
While his blanket was in the dryer, Linus must have finally discovered he could survive without his false security, and grew up.
In due time, the coast will clear and my flight shall take off. Meanwhile, I’ll stay put in the transit lounge, enjoy the coffee, and smell the flowers.