Gentle, quiet days

You know you're too busy...

...if you've forgotten the last time you saw a sunset.

...if you don't remember what it feels like to answer the question with "How are you?" with anything but "Busy but good!"

...if you've forgotten what a home cooked meal feels like.

...if the only thing your conversations revolve around is work.

Not too long ago, I was having one of those "too busy" seasons. I told myself I was being productive, that this was normal, that I was busy because I was being a useful person. But as anyone who has been too busy knows, there is nothing productive and normal about feeling constantly rushed, hurried, impatient, and edgy.

I'm thankful for a boyfriend who cares enough to speak the truth to me, even if it sometimes stings. "You know, there's this saying - beware the barrenness of a busy life," he said to me, following one of my mini-breakdowns. I was feeling exhausted and drained - physically and emotionally - and I was in reactive mode,  simply responding to urgent things that needed to be done rather than taking charge of my to-do list and operating from a sense of vision and priority.

At times like that, you know it's time to pull the emergency brakes... or risk hurtling full speed towards disaster.

It's not easy making space for downtime - there is always something to do, something to meet up with, some errand to run, and the list goes on.

Fortunately, I have an amazing boyfriend. In full support of me getting some sanity back into my life (for his own sanity as well!), he cleared his calendar just as I cleared mine, and we took a little trip on a Saturday morning for some time out and just doing nothing together.

Days like these are seriously underrated. People don't talk enough about what a world of good it does - for clarity of mind, for renewed motivation, for one's self-esteem, for one's sense of purpose - to have days of just taking the time to rest, to recharge, to unplug from all the doing and to just be. 

To take time for a cuppa without a phone in hand, trying to reply e-mails at the same time, but to look another person in the eyes and have a full conversation without being interrupted by notifications and message alerts. Days where the noise of the world fades out, even if only for a little while, and you hear your heart whisper a little bit louder. Days that are gentle enough to remind you what breathing feels like.

Days to lose track of time, and enjoy the sweet simplicity of the bright blue skies, the scent of rain, and little trinkets of nature. To get lost in how small I really am when I look up and look around. To remember that in spite of my accomplishments and titles and my occasionally inflated sense of self-importance, I am only a small part of a bigger picture.

Days for holding hands... and for knowing that my heart is held as well, safely in the arms of a Creator who created me for doing good works - but also for enjoying the rest He gives.

“Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls." -Jeremiah 6:16

It dawned on me recently that I've been working for almost 3 years now. In recent months, I've started giving a portion of my income to my parents every month, I've signed up for an insurance policy, and I will be paying income tax for the first time this year! 

In the crossroads of growing up and learning what it means to be an adult (ohmygosh!), I'm realising that it's not the big, life-changing moments that define the kind of adult I'm growing into. It's the little actions, the every day tasks, the simple conversations with those around me that form habits, perspectives, and patterns of thinking and acting. 

I earnestly want the habits and patterns I'm forming to be the good ones. I want to be the kind of adult in the future that I would want to have as a mentor today.

And so I'm learning that rest is an important discipline to cultivate! Better now at the peak of my health than later, when it might be too late to reverse certain effects of neglecting to rest. I want the years that go by to produce in me a soul that is fuller, livelier, more at rest, more contented, more peaceful, rather than a soul that has allowed bitterness, cynicism, tiredness, compromise, or disillusionment to creep in. 

"Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls." -Matthew 11:29 

Learning how to be me... from the One who knows me best

When I first started working, I took one of those behavorial tests that tell you which of four temperaments you tend to lean more towards - the dominant, driven type, the caring, nurturing type, the sociable, extroverted type, or the analytical, logical type. I was an extreme analyser, leading towards the dominant side of the scale. Throughout my uni and college life, the words people tended to associate with me were "ambitious", "driven", and "independent". A few months back, though, I took the test again and to my surprise, I found myself in the quadrant of "nurturer".

In my previous relationships, people always saw me as the one who "wore the pants", the one who kept the relationship moving forwards. If there was an issue about needing space or not getting enough time or attention, it was always me who was needing space and the other person complaining that I was too busy. These days, I find myself worrying that the tables have turned, that I am the needy one constantly needing to be reassured instead.

A year ago, if you asked many of my friends what drives me, they would doubtless say my work. Work consumed so much of my life that to many of my friends, "Crystal" and "FrogAsia" (the company I work for) became synonyms. There was seldom a time you would see me without my laptop, in case something urgent needed to be done. These days, people have started asking me on weekends, "Wow, no need to do work ah?" And it's not so much that I'm doing less work, more of I'm learning to manage it better, and it's just not the biggest priority in my life.

Recently, someone asked me if I liked babies. I hesitated, because I really didn't know how to answer. "Well... Now I do I guess but that's only a recent thing - I never really liked babies until recent months." She looked at me and grinned. "The maternal instinct is kicking in, huh???"

The past few months have been surprising months. Okay, to be completely honest, they were also frustrating, fearful, and scary months as well. I feel like I've been having identity crisis after identity crisis. "But I'm supposed to be this constantly on-the-go, efficient, Queen of Productivity - why do I just feel like staying at home these days??!?" "But I'm supposed to be this practical, logical person - why is something as small as this eating me up so much???"

And then there's getting used to being in a relationship again. When you date a prolific runner, you tend to get plenty of comments along the lines of, "Oh, so you must run too!" or "Oh, so are you forced to run too???" Yeah I run, but I was running before I met him! For awhile, those comments really bugged me, because I wanted to be known as my own person, not the girlfriend of a hardcore runner who also runs... I mean, I have my own identity, whether it's to do with running or not!

But amid all the mini crises and meltdowns and the "OMG who is Crystal Cha?" and "I don't know who I am anymore!", it's also been a precious, precious time of just having all the masks and walls I hid behind taken apart, and in that falling apart, discovering who I really am, and discovering what it means to have my identity rooted in Christ alone.

Finding my identity all over again

I'm learning that just because I was once seen as this independent, strong girl, doesn't mean I always have to be. In fact, whatever people see me as will always change. So what if I work for a certain company now or I'm dating a certain person now? In ten years time, I could be working somewhere else, and instead of being someone's girlfriend, I could be someone's mother. My roles are always going to change, and if I let my identity be rooted in them, then my identity will always be a shaky, uncertain one.

I'm learning that the only real identity I can always be secure in is in knowing whose I am. In knowing that I am loved and cherished and chosen by God. In knowing that no matter what I've done, He sees me as precious and priceless. In knowing that He has called me to be exactly who I am, where I am, no more, no less.

And being who He's called me to be means being the best whatever I am at this season. I don't always know how to be a consistent worker. I don't always know how to be a servant leader. I don't always know how to be a committed daughter, a loyal friend, or a supportive girlfriend. But He knows, and He's teaching me.

All the "10 tips to motivate your team" and "5 steps to making your man happy" I can read are not going to teach me what only He can. All these tips might help me do and say the right things, but they're never going to teach me to have the right heart and the right attitude. They're never going to teach me how to love more selflessly, how to be more patient, how to be more understanding.

All the books and conferences in the world aren't going to teach me what I really want to know - how to be a woman that's tender and vulnerable, while still being strong and capable, how to submit my dreams and desires to another person's leading while keeping my own identity intact, how to rest and wait on Him without getting complacent, how to step out to the next level without getting ahead of myself prematurely. Only He can teach me those things, and I know He's doing it - in the uncertainty, in the confusion, in the doubt. He's taking apart who I thought I was so He can show me who I really am.

The humbling message of grace

"Jesus replied: “A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests.  At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’

"But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.’

"Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.’

"Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.’

"The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.’

"‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’

"Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full. I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet.’" // Luke 14:16-24 

The message of grace is a humbling one.

Jesus tells a parable about a wedding celebration. Many of the properly invited guests make excuses. Other less obvious guests are then invited.

If we looked at God's grace through the lens of this great banquet, this lavish celebration that has been prepared for us - then we either fall into one of two categories:

1. We were properly invited to this feast, but our false sense of entitlement and self-importance causes us to miss out on enjoying it because we are too caught up in other 'more important' things. 
2. We never deserved to be invited to this feast, but the invitation is extended to us nonetheless. 

Either way, the message of this parable is quite an offensive one. Either we're people who think we're too good for God, or we're people who know we're not good enough for Him but yet we're given the chance to enjoy life with Him anyway. Either you're a self-righteous, conceited modern-day Pharisee, or you're a outcast, a misfit who's only been invited because someone else turned down the invitation.

You don't get 'some grace'

One of the writers of the Psalms wrote the words, "A single day in your courts is better than a thousand anywhere else! I would rather be a gatekeeper in the house of my God than live the good life in the homes of the wicked."

Maybe he wrote those words because he completely understood message of this parable: that grace is grace, no matter how it comes. Even if on the outside grace looks like a secondhand invitation, the moment you get a taste of grace, there is no difference. You don't get 'some grace'. When you let grace in, it invades your life and you are never the same again. It's an all or nothing thing.

It's something the Canaanite woman who knelt at the feet of Jesus, asking him to drive a demon out of her daughter, understood. She, an outsider, interrupted Jesus' ministry to the people of Israel to make a request of him and he told her he had more important priorities that came first. "It is not right to take children's bread and toss it to the dogs," he said.

The woman had a choice to be insulted that Jesus was comparing her race to dogs. But she understood the plain and simple fact that it was true - she did not deserve grace, and Jesus did not have to give her what she asked for. She understood the nature of grace and so she replied replied, "Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their Master's table."

Even if I get the crumbs, the leftovers, it is enough, she was saying. Just like the woman who reached out to touch the hem of Jesus, saying to herself, if I just touch Him, I can be healed. And in response, Jesus gives them exactly what they ask for, calling them women of great faith and even calling them "daughters", a term loaded with meaning and affection, speaking of endearment and closeness and intimate access.

Grace is offensive for those who think that rewards should be based on merit, that favor should be earned or deserved. But grace is for those who know, rightly, that actually, life doesn't owe me anything. Actually, God doesn't owe me anything. Actually, no matter how much I try to do the right thing, I still screw up. Actually, a lot more people care about me and love me than I actually deserve. Actually, I know the thoughts that I think when I'm alone and the way I self-destruct if left to myself and I marvel at the fact that in spite of my weaknesses, I still am where I am today.

Not in a self-condemning, self-pitying way but just in a matter-of-fact, that's-the-way-it-is kind of way.

All you need is one touch

For people who see themselves as they really are, no airs of self-importance, no hiding behind titles and possessions and popularity and reputation and achievement and all the things that make people feel good about themselves, grace is so amazing that if I can get even a hint of it I know it will change my entire life. I know I just need to get a little bit of goodness and patience and joy inside of me and I know it will spread to all the different areas of my life.

One day is all I need, wrote the Psalmist. One touch  is all I need, said the woman with the issue of blood. One crumb is all I need, said the Canaanite woman. Because they know that actually, there is no such thing as a little bit of God, a little bit of grace. If you get a bit of it, you get everything. If you say yes to Jesus, you get His entire kingdom. You don't have to understand it. You don't have to earn it. You don't have to deserve it. All you need is a small taste, and it will change everything.

"Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance." -C. S. Lewis 

The art of rest

There are times a crisis hits, and times we cry out for a breakthrough.

And then there are times that we feel almost guilty asking for a breakthrough, almost ashamed of ourselves for not being able to cope, because after all, we're not going through a storm - surely we should be able to hold it together. Yet slowly we feel that we're sinking, being pulled under by meetings, deadlines, to-dos, and day-to-day demands on our time and energy. Like quicksand, this often happens a bit at a time that we don't even realise it, and all of a sudden we find ourselves neck-deep in over-commitment, double-booked calendars, and frenzied multitasking.

At times like that, it feels foolish to ask God for help. Surely I should be able to manage my time better, discipline myself better, continually bask and abide in His strength and presence and love - if other people can cope with the same demands and pressures of life, why can't I? Who am I to ask for special favour and respite from the busyness when other people have to deal with so much more?

But I ask anyway, because I've read that His burden is easy and His yoke is light. And I've heard His voice saying, "Come to me, all ye who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest". So in the midst of my frantic day, as I try to hold it together on this outside, my heart inside is begging God for just a bit of space to breathe.

That's all, God. I'm not asking for a giant miracle or a fiery pillar in the sky. I'm not testing you by setting out a fleece and asking you to prove to me that this is where I'm meant to be, this is what You've called me to. I know You are real. I know You exist. I know You have called me here. It's just my heart is heavy and my hands are tired, and I just want to know You're going to hold me if I start to fall apart. 

And He answers. Not by a bright, blazing message in the stars, not in a mighty voice or a wondrous sign, but in the still, in the quiet. In a meeting that ended unexpectedly early. In a slow drive home and space alone, to think and reflect. In half an hour to grab some coffee and read - slowly, savouring each word, without skimming or speed-reading like I've become so good at doing. He answers in creating time to take a dip for the very first time since I've moved house in the swimming pool at  my condo. In the first home cooked dinner in months, in being able to sit in the living room and listen to my younger brother practice his guitar and realise how good at it he's become.

As I submerge my body beneath the cool water and the noise of the world fades to silence, and all I hear is my breathing and the sound of air bubbles climbing their way to the water's surface, as I listen to gentle melodies strummed from the guitar, as I slide my fingers over the textured pages of a book and inhale its old, familiar scent, as I hear pots and pans clanking and smell a hearty meal cooking away, I feel a little bit more human, a little bit more myself.

The good can be the enemy of the best

I'm reminded of a prayer that an Elizabethan sea captain and legendary explorer once prayed:

Disturb us, Lord, when with the abundance of things we possess we have lost our thirst for the waters of life; Having fallen in love with life, we have ceased to dream of eternity. And in our efforts to build a new earth, we have allowed our vision of the new heaven to dim.

The good can be the enemy of the best, it's often been said. And it's in this feeling like falling apart that I'm learning not to lose sight of what really matters. In my efforts to lead a full, productive, meaningful life, I need to remember the importance of things like rest. I need to pay more attention not to what the world is saying - that I need to do more in order to be more, but to what He's saying, and has always been saying: that His final gift of creation, His pièce de résistance, is rest. His fourth commandment, the command that bridges the first three (how to relate to God), and the remaining six (how to relate to other people), was given to help us relate to both God and people better.

"Remember the Sabbath, to keep it holy..." By honouring the Sabbath, a day of rest, of surrender, we are recognising that the world doesn't go round because of our efforts. We are acknowledging a greater Source to it all. We are remembering that our time and our days don't belong to us, but to Him. That it is our duty to steward that time wisely. That in our efforts to make the world a better place, it is still not our home, and only in knowing that are we able to let go of the cares and worries of this world and find a deeper, truer rest that comes from knowing where we're going.

In today's 24/7 world, we feel almost embarrassed to admit that we need a break. As if resting is something only slackers and lazy people people do. But it takes a certain strength and grace to go against that current, just drop everything, and tune out to reconnect with what really matters. Yes, God gave me extra time today, but I also had to do my part - I said no to other things I could have filled it up with, and I cleared my calendar for dedicated rest.

It is an art to carve out pockets of time and space for your soul to just breathe. Popular author Stephen Covey calls this art "sharpening the saw", and this ancient art is probably the antidote for all of our 21st century problems - burnout, the collapse of relationships, depression, and all the modern illnesses related to chronic stress.

"Come to me, all ye who are heavy laden..." This invitation is open to all, if only we would take it. He is always there, speaking in the silence, if only we would listen. 

Turning 23, a lot of angst, and a God who's big enough to handle all of it

The past week was one of those weeks I found myself questioning why I do what I do - why do I strive to give it my best at work? Why do I wake up early to run? Why do I continue to serve in church when my schedule is already so packed? I realised that I do these things because I see a bigger picture and I am driven by something bigger than just me. I don't trust myself to always know what I want and I don't trust my emotions to lead me down the right path - but I trust that even in the exhausting days and pent-up frustrations and the not knowing where I'm heading, He is in control and He's penning through my life a story of His grace and goodness and faithfulness.

The past week, I also turned 23 and was showered with much love from precious friends. Yet in the midst of it all, I was struggling to find meaning in various things I was doing. There were many other ways I'd have liked to spend my birthday instead of being absolutely drained - but I'm glad for this week, because it reminded me, as I enter a new year of my life, that this is when the rubber hits the road - when the dream job or the awesome hobby is suddenly not so 'fun' anymore... when the limitless energy to serve, the boundless ideas to kickstart a new project at work just suddenly seems to have run dry... when you just don't feel like doing all the things you used to want to do anymore... yet you know you wouldn't be anywhere else doing anything else. This is when the commitment kicks in and you go by faith, not by feeling.

At the beginning of this year, I wrote two words in my journal that I wanted to work on becoming in 2013:committed and faithful. As I turned 23, I was so reminded that it isn't easy to become a person who is committed and faithful. It is so counter-cultural to the way the world works. We abandon things that don't seem to be working out, we bury dreams that seem to have died, we jump ship the moment something better comes along, we get distracted by bigger, better, fancier things that catch our eye. And sometimes, we seem to be committed on the outside. We stick to things. But our hearts have checked out a long time ago, and it becomes just a routine. I so don't want a life like that! I don't want to be a quitter, I don't want to operate at 5% of my potential because I'm so busy spending the other 95% of my energy on frivolous things, and I sure don't want to go through the motions.

But man, this commitment thing is such. hard. work! Some days I feel like I'm just wrestling with God - wrestling with the situations He's placed me in and the things He's asking me to do, and sometimes it just feels like my angry prayers are bouncing off the ceiling. But when I'm all ranted out and cried out, I ask myself, where else would I go? Where else would I find life, and hope, and peace, and joy? There are times I think to myself, you know, it would be so easy. So easy to just put on a catchy pop song and tune out. So easy to watch a movie and forget about my troubles for awhile. So easy to turn on the computer and look at images that just numb my emotions for a little while. So easy to lash out my frustration on others. So easy to do things the world's way and get a little bit of respite from the exhaustion of day to day living. 

I know I could do that, and it would make me feel good. For awhile. But it never lasts. There is only One person I can cast, and keep casting, all my cares on, who never gets tired of hearing me rant and never gets overwhelmed by the amount of tears I cry, who never holds my anger with Him against me the moment I come crawling back like a child with nowhere else to go. Yes, He asks hard things of me sometimes. But in every challenging circumstance, every painful situation, I know He is doing a deeper work in my life. Sometimes it feels like open-heart surgery, yes, but that's because there is so much in my life He wants to prune away, to remove, to reshape, to remould, because He wants to make me the best I can be, and He can't if I keep holding on to those things.

What helps me on days I feel like I'm falling apart is knowing I'm not alone in feeling this way. It helps to know that believers everywhere have wrestled and struggled with these same questions, fears, challenges. And even on days when it feels like no one at all understands, He is there. Helping me to find the courage to leap before I've seen, to trust that He will be there to catch me. Helping me to sow where it looks, on the surface, barren and dry.

The past week, the one song that's kept me going is We're Not Alone by Elevation Worship. I love the lyrics of this song, and I pray that if you're going through an especially tough season, you'll be reminded that the tough times won't last, but His love endures forever.

Though our hands are tired
Our eyes, they look for you
Even in the dark
We will follow after you

Our hearts are hopeful
Our faith believing
We're not alone, you are here
Your promise tells us
You're always with us
We're not alone, you are here

When the ground is dry
Our hope remains in you
Even in our pain
We believe that you will move

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