LESSONS ON THE POTTER’S WHEEL

The clay is a shapeless, squishy, lumpy lump.

The potter is an artist, creator, planner, master designer.

The clay hardens quickly and when that happens, nothing could happen.

The potter labors speedily - keeping the clay moist tirelessly, making everything happen.

The clay does nothing on the wheel.

It says nothing and does nothing except to shut up and stay still.

The potter does everything on the wheel.

He designs, he drives, he directs – according to his perfect plan and will.

The clay is soft and gentle; it takes whatever form the potter chooses.

The potter is meek and tender; he exerts only enough pressure on the clay to mold, not to mar, to bend, not to break.

Lord, help me to remember that I am just the clay.

I don’t drive the wheel. I don’t decide my shape. I don’t determine my ways.

I don't say, "I only want to be this" or "I only want to do that."

Help me to remember, Lord, that you – and you alone – are the potter.

You step on the pedal. You press, you pull. You twist, you turn.

You say, "I only want the best for you" and "I love you."

So whenever I feel bored – “Why so long?”

Uncomfortable – “What? Another squeeze?”

Fearful – “More water on me? Will I drown?”

Lost – “I can’t see where you’re going!”

Help me to never forget:

"Be still, and know that I am God” (Ps 46:10).

“You have enclosed me behind and before,

And laid Your hand upon me” (Ps 139:5).

You are the Potter - the artist, creator, planner, master designer.

And I - shapeless, squishy, lumpy - I am just the clay.

Thoughts on my birthday

Miscarriages: two.

Serious cried-myself-to-sleep-heartbreaks I could remember: four.

Close encounter with cancer (and healed by the grace of God): once.

Age started full-time ministry: 21.

Countries visited for ministry: around 50.

Countries lived in overseas (and had a baby): three.

Distracted, discouraged, sinned, repented, forgiven: countless.

People who prayed for me: more than I know.

God's bountiful grace and blessings - past, present and future: above and beyond what I could fathom, imagine or dream of.

Loved by one faithful man: almost 40 years.

Blessed by one beautiful daughter: 25 years.

Entertained by two interesting cats: 16 years.

What a life!

Thank you Jesus.

I am not afraid

I must not be afraid of the lows and downs of my life.

For without giants, there are no heroes.

Without challenges, there are no challengers.

No Goliath, no David's one-stone win.

No Midanites, no Gideon and his 300 men.

In my life, I have met many moments of trials and traps.

But God turns them into tools to train me, and build my trust and tenacity.

I have faced my share of Pharaohs and Pharisees.

But God uses them to push me to my knees. And to pursue authenticity and pay attention to Him.

Yes, I must not be afraid of the lows and downs of my life.

Though I feel weak now, I shall be strong.

I see obstacles, but by His power I will overcome.

No giants, no heroes.

No challenges, no challengers.

THE NEW NORMAL

"We don't have weekly date nights anymore!"

"Thanksgiving isn't Thanksgiving for us this year - no turkey (too expensive in this country)."

"I'm not a good mum - I haven't been baking lately."

This past week, I'd heard many people telling me their life isn't "perfect".

Why? Because "it ain't normal."

"What's normal?" I asked.

"Who decides what's right or perfect or normal anyway?"

Santa Claus? (he's not here anymore)

Your neighbor? (he doesn't really care if you had turkey)

The whoever-she-was who wrote that "Perfect Man" article? (she might not even be married)

What's really normal?

Look at our Lord Jesus Christ.

He defied all definitions of what's acceptable and respectable and, yes, "normal" in His time.

He touched the leper. He spoke up for the women. He cleansed the temple.

He set people free.

Look at Mary.

She didn't just break that perfume bottle. She broke all fears of pressure and prejudice and what men in her time felt wasn't "normal" for her to do.

She did what she could and not what people wanted her to do - or not do.

She did a "good thing" for her Lord.

My "new normal" husband doesn't remember to compliment me every time I have a new dress or hairdo.

And he buys pots of plants for me, not bouquet (the botany major in him finds expensive dead flowers sub-normal).

My courageously "new normal" daughter has almost blonde hair, works from home, borrows my shoes (and clothes and scarves), and reaches out to abused and abandoned children..

As mum, I try to be as "new normal" as possible.

My baking sucks.

I'd never done porridge for my baby like all "normal" Chinese mothers would.

But I held her hand through her first ear pierce, took her to a Guggenheim art exhibition, and brought her to Mongolia, China, and the Seychelles on mission trips.

I bet if we allow the "new normals" into our lives every day, we'll appreciate more, whine less, cross more boundaries, and live life to the full.

Let's not be just normal.

Let's be more than normal.

Hi HOW ARE YOU? COME BACK!

I remember my first Christmas party.

Uncle Tommy, mum’s brother, had brought my siblings and me to his church youth Christmas celebration that morning. “Whoever brings the most kids wins a prize,” he announced as we packed into the bus.

We didn’t win (a huge guy with 15 tiny friends did); but we were happy enough with the games, M&Ms and agar agar.

A lady sitting next to me asked for my name. “You’re 13?” her eyes fluttered excitedly when I told her my age in my softest voice possible. “Join my Bible class! Next week come.”

Next week I didn’t come. In fact I’d completely forgotten about her until two months later when I received her card in the mail on my birthday.

On the outside, it had pink and yellow flowers drenched in glitter; on the inside, she’d written in cursive words: “Hi, how are you? Come back.”

When we were little, my family couldn’t afford birthdays. On the rare occasion when there was extra loose change, mum might boil two eggs for us on birthday mornings.

That year, that sparkling card was all I got. But it made my siblings green with envy and me feeling tall and happy.

More important, it helped me to listen better when a chapel speaker at school shared the Christmas story nine months later. That wasn’t the first time I heard the gospel though it was the only time I paid attention, and eventually received Jesus as my Savior.

Dozens of Christmases have since come and gone.

Having lived in Europe, Africa, India, the Philippines, Hong Kong, and Korea, I have observed Christmases in numerous climatic conditions, culture, and hairstyles.

I know the magic of a white Christmas with snow boots, scarves, and a sniffing runny nose; I have also sung “Silent Night” to booming Indian drum-beats, bundled up and bulky in six yards of sari.

But whatever the language or location, smell or sound, I have learned that Christmas should be exactly how it came to me 40 years ago.

Not about frantic gift buying (every year I hunt for, wrap and scotch-tape 37 presents for relatives alone), party dresses, and Christmas menus (one year I baked three turkeys; I hadn’t done turkey since).

But taking the trouble to come out of our comfort zone to go out of our way for others, because Jesus took the trouble to come down to earth and go to the cross for us.

It could mean coaxing that young one to church for the first time; asking for the name of that stranger sitting next to us every Sunday; and hunting down a card with pink and yellow flowers drenched in glitter, and sticking it in the mailbox so that we can tell that someone we haven’t seen for while:

“Hi, how are you? Come back.”

I AM FREE (Reflections from study on Galatians)

I AM FREE

From judgement and judgemental spirit

to justification (Gal 2:15, 5:26).

From self and slavery

to sonship and service (Gal 4:7).

From works of the flesh

to walk by the Spirit (Gal 5:16).

From fleshly affections and affiliations

to the fruit of the Spirit (Gal 5:22-23).

From lusts and empty boastings

to love and bearing of one another's load (Gal 5:26 - 6:2).

I am free.

The only life I have left is Christ's life in me (Gal 2:20).

The only burden I carry

is the bondage to love one another (Gal 5:13).

HOW HAVE THE MIGHTY FALLEN!

Second Samuel began with the death of Saul and David, ever the faithful soldier, crying out, "How have the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle!" (2 Sam 1:25)
The question I have today is "How, indeed, have the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle?"
Well, for David, "the battle" came when the trained warrior and proven strategist least expected it, as all our waterloos will be.

2 Sam 5: David was God's choice as a teen, but only at 30 years old, he became the people's choice. Didn't know it's so hard to convinse man, huh?

2 Sam 6: after almost a century (or at least 60 years), the ark came home, thanks to David. Applause. Great job.
2 Sam 7: the king in the palace offered to build God a house but God in return made a covenant to build his house forever. Applause again. What an honor.
2 Sam 8-10: seven big battles won over his enemies (well, actually two were walk-overs). Can't beat that record, can we?
2 Sam 11: anti-climax. The mighty fell.

Where? In a "safe" place: his palace.
When? At a "safe" time: "In the spring at the time when kings go out to battle" (2 Sam 11:3).
How? Through one innocent walk and one harmless peep: at a woman having her evening bath.

Term break.

This is when many student teams go out on mission trips.
Personally I have been approached by two teams to pray for them daily: one to Mongolia and one in a remote place in East Asia.
And I do, praying daily, asking God for their protection, for divine appointments, for victory over darkness.
But they are not on their most dangerous grounds. The field isn't where the mighty usually falls.

So how have the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle?
Where they feel safest: maybe in the office, our own living room at home, watching TV, surfing the net, letting their hair down, letting their guards down, downloading.
When they are most comfortable: confiding in a friend who understands, in the presence of someone they could be vulnerable with, perhaps even a stranger.
While no one's watching. While there is a fleeting moment of boredom and escape from reality and responsibility.

While everyone's off to war.