14:14.

Some part of me, some times, want to somehow grab all of these and perserve it some way. All of these that I look upon when sitting by the window in the most beautiful day that has been for quite a while in a cold winter (I'm in a tee and berms, like whoa). The Saturday Vic Mkt crowd with their trolleys and boxes and bags, crossing the roads that make up the junction in front of the house; the blues skies and clouds straight out of The Simpsons; the trees in their various incarnations which are for now bare and brown almost elegantly. And in this world, the life that I have been able to lead - the quiet days; the time to just sit with God and myself, to feel; the company of the friends I have made. Going to church and enjoying it so much; being in the company of people who loves God so much and also hanging with every one else.

It's like everywhere I go, I see God, like how that Rich Mullins song goes.

Dearly love my family I do, but yet living apart from family is enjoyable.

Those bubbles of joy that wells up inside and burst, manifesting in uncontrollable laughter at times accompanied by jumping around, are oft and embracing.

It's so easy to want all of these to last. To want this life to last and continue. But I don't want to reach out and frantically try to clutch this bliss, surely its very nature will dissolve in my hands and elude my attempts. And if any thing, inside of me, I do know well that there is a time for every chapter, and to stay somewhere or do something beyond its time would be ruinous.

I realise how every thing that has been before in my 23 years seem so far away. School, Mass Comm, even journalism, all those stuff, bylines, photos, career, the life I led at every stage before, they all seem so long ago.

Many uni students in their final academic year ponder over stepping into the working world proper for the first time but no one speaks of the strangeness of being in industry, then uni academia, and facing anew the cliff, the crossroad, the junction.

I'm 23. Honestly, I don't truly know what that is supposed to be about. I don't quite care about the usual conventional expectations of age here, and I do not think 23 has to mean the usual corporate aspirations or supposedly grown up habits.

But 23... I'm flabbergasted. Yesterdays seem far away, yes, but yet again, I think of a passed milestone and wonder if it was that many years ago. This is when my being go into and just is in a place and moment, feeling a still something I have no words for.

I think I feel the rat race reaching out to me and I feel as if I should be striving like I did when I was in poly, striving to get freelance jobs, to gain experience in the art of writing. And perhaps I feel slightly disturbed by this feeling.

Aware, I just feel very much so aware that I have a life in Singapore, and I have a life here. Both are me. There really isn't a choosing between the two. It's not even these are, but this is.

And thus I live.

02:22.

Drummed for the first time this semester - the fourth or three-and-a-half time so far since May - just now. My arms are tired, there's really something wonderful, liberating and so very enjoyable about being able to smash cymbals and hit skins loudly, probably almost as loud as I can.

If you know your Christian songs, check out the song list:

Every Day, Hillsong
Big, Planet Shakers
This Is How We Overcome, Hillsong
Lift Up Your Eyes, Planet Shakers
Forever, Hillsong
How I Love You, Planet Shakers
Worship Forevermore, Planet Shakers 

Nope, not an easy set at all. Very fun songs to play though... if you know your stuff. There's a 6/8 song in there too, and I only ever drummed one 6/8 song before ever, and that was in July Camp.

It's hard to say whether it went well or not 'cause I can't really judge, I suppose. And when I play, I'm caught up enough that I don't quite notice every thing or have spare mental facilities (um) to detach and evaluate myself and people. Not that intensely any way.

But I'm happy. Very tired, about to crash, sleep, zzz, in about five minutes.

Nights, people.

23:10.

I want to re-read The Little Prince. Darn, I can't remember much of it at all.


You are the fox.

Saint Exupery's 'The Little Prince' Quiz.
brought to you by

20:43.

Article on City Church in Herald Sun.

22:15.

Over at the photoblog - some photos from July Camp. Here.

12:08.

It's hard to love the weather when you are down with a fever, sore throat and the sniffles. Plus a tummy that's acting up major. This must be the fourth time I'm falling sick here and with basically the same symptons. So instead of being at my philo tute, I'm nursing a mug of barley here, along with a heavy head and a grumpy disposition with the question, should I go for my next one-hour tutorial?

I hate being sick. Hate.

22:35.
 
*boggled mind*
 
A random search on Google turned up this. It's some forum thing where pros and cons of academic courses are discussed... scroll down, and you will find the poly I came from and my name (?!!) cited - along with other properly famous folks who went through the same school - to back up the prospects of the course.
 
?!!

19:59.
 
Don't quite know what to make of this.

18:19.

Zombie PCs.

*shudder*

12:01.

School starts today. And I'm officially due at my first lecture of the semester (Understanding Philo: Themes from Pop Culture) in about 90 minutes time.

Full results for last semester is out:

Popular Music & Society - Distinction
Race Ethnicity & Racism - Distinction
Reading Media Texts - Distinction
Asian Modernities - Higher Distinction

I'm trying to close my gaping mouth. Thank you, God.

22:35.

My firstfruits, the thing that is most precious to me, I give it to You, the Keeper of my faith, the Lord of my life, the All Consuming Fire.

Even this, even this, this desire for full-time, the tears I cry and all I feel, even this, I give to You.

Sanctify it, Lord. Sanctify me. Never let it be that I take a good thing and wrong it with my self. Never let it be that I dishonour Your Name that way. Take my heart, take all of it, use me Lord.

In whatever way. My dreams are yours. And as I lay them on the altar and Holy Spirit, You do your work in me and with these, I trust You will ignite in me Your will, You will give me big dreams, You will return to me, speak into my life, put into my heart purified things of You.

Amen.

22:06.

Just came back a while ago from City Church's 1830 service. For the past couple of weeks, partly due to the lull of holidays, I have been attending Church Of Christ on Swanston Street at 11am, then going to City Church - more commonly known as the Planet Shakers church - in the evening.

July Camp's speaker Matt Fielder is from this church too, except he is at the Adeleide's youth ministry Universe.

This was my fourth or fifth time I attended City Church, but yeah, details like that you don't quite need to know.

I guess I wanted to share how that, even now as I sit and type this, I feel something pulling at my heartstrings, how I almost feel like crying. Church is not about the songs, not about the style of praise and worship, not about denomination and such. But singing with a crowd of people "You are all that I want, You are all that I need, You are all that I live for in this world" to the only Person I really ever need in all of life, my best friend, Jesus Christ, was phenomenal.

No, it's not unusual or uncommon to be in such a setting... I could go into a ramble here but I will stop. I suppose I'm just awed, awed by how real God is. How real and how close the Creator of the universe is to us, His children. And when I sung just now, I half-shouted and at times, did shout out the lyrics. And when the pastor asked the congregation to kneel down as and if we feel like we want to surrender our lives over to God, I think I am just immensely touched at the knees that bowed. My stomach kind of crunched - I'm describing this terribly - but sometimes when I'm in the presence of God, my hands shake (and they shook), I tremble as my earthly body makes contact with the supernatural Lord of the universe, and inside of where my tummy is, I kind of constrict.

On a lighter note, I don't think I ever jumped up and down in three-inch knee high boots before.

Jesus, Jesus, how I love You.

And Lord? I love these people here. I don't know them well. They don't know me well but I love them and I want to serve them. Help me be Jesus to them. Let me be your instrument of love and power, peace and joy.

I'm in love with God and I never want this to end.

01:45.

I want to dance with God and never let go. Waltz and lindy hop, ballroom slow dance, holding You close and being held close. I want to love You, be in love with You, always adore You. I want to be beautiful for You. I want to see You. I want to know my Maker as I am known.

I want to know You.

23:55.

Five minutes and I move into a new year. 22. 22. 22. 22. 22. 23.

Am sitting here doing something I've done regularly thus far this year, nursing a cuppa black tea at the kitchen table, laptop facing me, fingers moving to construct the sentences in my head.

I've absolutely no idea what I will be doing on my birthday and whatever it is - even if it's nothing - it's quite fine by me. But instead of getting ahead of time, let me chronicle instead the day that is even now, in the passing.

During July Camp, the Ocfers celebrated some of the July birthdays. Three to be precise, one being mine. Just now, it was July Camp testimonies and sharing session. When the time came for stuff to be wrapped up and the last testimony to be shared, some folks started chanting my name. After a period of looking half-mortified, I got up to share. At the end of what I had to say, as I got up to get back to my spot in the corner, one of the sisters rushed up to stop me. Lights went out, and a birthday cake with four candles appeared as people broke into a chorus of Happy Birthday.

These are sweet folks. And like I told them in my sharing, they are my family.

One of the greatest things about being a Christian is that Christians never say goodbye. Not literally, I mean of course we use the word goodbye like everyone else but we never really say goodbye. I may meet a fellow believer at the other end of the world for a day, and never see the person again but I know I will see him or her one day - when I stand in the presence of Almighty God, with the angels crying Holy Holy Holy, when every tear is wiped dry and every thing is finally perfect.

I never understood the depth of the words "Lord Jesus come" until I stood at a place where I felt God's heartbeat for the lost and glimpse the state of the world and how much we, how much I need God so.

It's 12.20am now. Happy birthday, S k y e T a n.

And that's the first time I type my name in this blog since I moved to this space.

What is this post about?

After the session just now, I was actually thinking I wanted to try to articulate somewhat the experience of July Camp. I did so for Easter Camp and somehow, every thing was really clear then. It's not so for July Camp. There was a night when I walked out to the edge of the forest, look into the trees and up at the sky and silently screamed "Why"; a time when I walked to the ladies after a sermon and in the enclosure of a cubicle, allowed tears to fall as I trembled from emotions welling up from inside of me; when I went to sleep tired physically by the emotions spent in the day.

Then there was the peace that came on me the last day. The indescribable peace of the Almighty, covering me. An assurance - maybe not an answer - was given in the ministry of the Holy Spirit.

The three guidelines I went into camp with were fulfilled in some capacity - I served, I learnt to love, I was humbled.

Every praise and worship session, God's presence was real. So extremely real. And I felt so very much that that was where I belong. This - in the presence of God - is where I belong. My knees bent, doing so as if before I even made a conscious decision to, tears flowed, I can't describe what my heart felt. How I felt. Except that I was surrendered, and that was where I belong. Where I always want to be. Whether praying for others, on the floor, knelt down tears wetting the floor which I was burying my face into, worshipping, listening to the sermon, or observing how God moved among my sisters and brothers.

It was good. Good stuff.

I, we met God.

Spiritually, I felt that I was set on fire in the heavenlies. Fire consecrates, cleanses, prepares the way for a new crop and harvest. Fire burns away the old and unlovely, the things that have cease to bear good fruit, the dead. In the single-digit temperature of Adekate Camp, I was warm. Physically.

And I was empowered and affirmed spiritually. Though I lack the words to tell you what happened or how I know these.

But here's something else I do have more words to employ with. I have never as clearly wrestled with my calling with myself and God. And in this new year, this is what I seek to know - my calling to ministry.

I won't blog now about how I had always felt a call to full-time ministry. But I would say for a while, specifically after I entered into the media industry, it had been hard for me to see it. For the period I was in the paper, I knew that God had called me there at that time. And I know still that the media needs Christians to shine their light in the industry and using the industry as a mean, shine out of the industry too.

To cut a long story short - and cut short the rambles which I am extremely capable of rendering - I have laid down the desire for full-time at the cross.

I do not mean I am giving up my desire to serve full-time. What I mean is that I'm surrendering this to God, to be sanctified and dealt with as He pleases and if He then wills, He will affirm it in me with a fire.

See, I want to be in God's perfect will.

I'm serious. So I will lay bare my heart and lay down my desires. And even in a good thing like wanting to be in full-time, I will say Lord, Your will and not mine be done because at this point, I cannot be sure how much of me and how much of God makes up my previous conviction and (still) current desire for full-time ministry.

Whether I venture back into the "secular" world or I do full-time, it will be hard and easy in almost the same measure. I have desire and love for both. But while I laid down journalism after a short struggle, I know laying down my desire for full-time ministry requires more. But I have made the choice to do so. And I have done so. And unless You convict me otherwise, I won't push for it. But whatever it is, I want to know my calling. And whatever it is, I will serve You.

I'm 23 years old.

I want to know my Maker as I'm known.

Sunset, 1st day at Adekate Camp (June 30th).
copyright.skye.t/

Sunset, 1st day at Adekate Camp (June 30th).
copyright.skye.t/

18:49.

I baked an apple crumble today, cut it into eight pieces and um, finished five pieces already. And I enjoyed the process of baking so much I'm looking forward to baking the next one.

Besides such tales of my domesticated ways, I have been enjoying having the house to myself. G's at Sg, H's at Sydney and me, I enjoy the nice change of having the whole place to myself, no offence to the housemates of course.

I spend a lot of time sitting by the window, legs propped up on another chair, drinking a hot drink, reading my Bible, or just staring outside and talking to God or thinking, sometimes singing a song to the Lover Of My Soul, Jesus Christ.

July Camp was rather amazing. Some of your probably wonder what I mean when I speak of the presence of God. The presence of God was so real at July Camp that my hands were heavy, my arms were heavy, the air was thick with the Holy Spirit. When I moved my hands, the air was heavy with the Glory of the Almighty.

We sung of Consuming Fire and I felt physically warm despite being in under-10 degrees winter country weather.

God is real. Jesus Christ is real. The Holy Spirit is real. And He wants to be involved in your life.