My maternal Grandma passed away last week. Grandma lived a long, full life. All her loved ones - children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren - remember her as a beautiful soul who inspired us and was an example of someone who loved the Lord.
My earliest recollections as a three or four year old at 10 Kennedy Terrace include Grandma and Grandpa. Every morning with the breakfast sunshine streaming into their suite, they would welcome their grandson as he came bouncing in. Grandma would put down her Bible, and take me in her lap as Grandpa filed and snapped the neck of a vial of sweet royal jelly. Grandma would stick the miniscule straw into the vial and give it to me to drink.
Then it would be question time. Grandma would patiently laugh and answer all the questions that filled the mind of a little boy. What's this? A letter-opener. How does it work? Like this. What's this? A paperweight. What does it do? It keeps these papers from being blown away by a breeze. Oh! It's pretty. Why are the windows in this room so tall? Why are there fish behind that glass? Are they your fish? Where do they come from, the sea? How do they eat? Do they bite you if you stick your hand in? Ah, conversation with Grandma! After the questions, I enjoyed watching Grandma practice Tai-Chi sword on the roof-top terrace.
When my own son remarked that Great-Grandma used to sit him in her lap and sing to him, my mind was suddenly overwhelmed with a similar remembrance. I'm told that due to all the time I spent with Grandma in those early years, I actually spoke Swatow, Grandma's old language! Apparently, at times I even told Cantonese speakers that they were mispronouncing their words, and repeated their phrases back to them in Swatow. To this day, I can fully understand anyone speaking in the Swatow dialect although, sadly, I am no longer able to speak it.
One incident etched in my memory was the removal of my first loose tooth. I showed Grandma my wiggly tooth, wherewith she took it upon herself to extract it. She tied one end of a length of thread to the tooth, and the other to a doorknob. She then slammed the door so that the thread tied to the doorknob would take out my tooth. The tooth didn't come out. Instead, Grandma got a screaming, crying, dancing grandson. But all of a sudden it didn't hurt. And as Grandma hugged and comforted me, I suddenly noticed, to my great amusement, that there was a little tooth hanging by a thread off a doorknob! Grandma laughed at it, too.
Years later, when Grandma and Grandpa lived with us for a while at Abbeywood Trail, I observed first-hand how old folks live. I saw how they loved each other and helped each other. Grandma continued to hold me in her heart. When I met with frustration or conflict she was often the first to put her hand to my cheek and wipe my tears. She still read the Bible every day. One day I walked in on her and asked her what she was doing. She told me that she prayed daily for each of her children and grandchildren.
I remember how little-girl sad she felt when Grandpa died. They got married in the days of arranged marriages, yet theirs was truly a marriage made in heaven. She was the epitome of commitment and perseverance - taking care of their children while her husband fulfilled his role as breadwinner. She was truly the noble woman and excellent wife spoken of in the Proverbs. Despite losing Grandpa 16 years ago, Grandma continued to live many years in the home they last shared, trusting in God who gives and who takes away.
I was not there for the final phase of Grandma's life, after she moved to Hong Kong and her memory faded. Stories from loved ones fill the gap. But Grandma had already left her indelible stamp on my life. I am glad she is with Jesus. Every time I hear words in her old language, I will think of her.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Healing
I am irreversibly middle-aged, and I can feel it in my body. There seems to be a steady encroachment of new aches and pains. Even more unsettling is that old pains are getting worse. I've been seen by physicians who've prescribed medications and given lifestyle advice. It helps but I'm not completely healed.
Something the guest preacher at my church said this past Sunday, however, gave me a very helpful new perspective on my understanding of health. Apparently, it has only been since the advent of Enlightenment thinking that the health sciences were expected to diagnose and treat, and so cure someone who is sick. The scientific cure focuses on the disease - the objective side of sickness. Historically however, doctors focused on illness - the subjective side of sickness. They used to care, doing whatever was needed to alleviate suffering, and sometimes cure if science and care happened to converge.
I guess I've been expecting the pain and inconvenience of my condition to be cured, or at least brought under perfect control. There are days when it is well controlled. The reality has been that, as time goes by, increasingly more has to be done to keep it under control. Suddenly, it has dawned on me that my condition may never be perfectly controlled. The aches and pains associated with it will always break through. What the care of doctors has done, however, is enough for me to live fully and function normally.
It helps me to think of Biblical perspectives of healing. There are perhaps three NT words for healing: one has to do with physical healing, a second has to do with restoration effected through the special relationship between healer and the healed (we get the English word therapy from this), and a third often used when Jesus healed others actually has to do with salvation. Apparently, when Jesus heals, it is always in a holistic context - the healing of the whole person, both physical and spiritual. In this light, although my physical health lags a little behind my complete spiritual healing by Jesus, the reality of my spiritual restoration points me forward to an eventual physical wholeness as well.
One more thought. I do not make the mistake of asking myself if I have enough faith for healing to take place. This would be to base my healing on my faith and not on God. My faith is not in a healing taking place but in God's faithfulness, goodness, power and mercy. I don't think that Jesus heals where there is faith, but that his healing provides a chance for my faith to be expressed as an indication of my desire to be healed. Jesus' healing power does not need the cooperation of my faith nor can it be manipulated through either my faith or the lack of it. Bottom line is, I put myself in his care and trust in his loving goodness. It doesn't matter what he will specifically do.
Something the guest preacher at my church said this past Sunday, however, gave me a very helpful new perspective on my understanding of health. Apparently, it has only been since the advent of Enlightenment thinking that the health sciences were expected to diagnose and treat, and so cure someone who is sick. The scientific cure focuses on the disease - the objective side of sickness. Historically however, doctors focused on illness - the subjective side of sickness. They used to care, doing whatever was needed to alleviate suffering, and sometimes cure if science and care happened to converge.
I guess I've been expecting the pain and inconvenience of my condition to be cured, or at least brought under perfect control. There are days when it is well controlled. The reality has been that, as time goes by, increasingly more has to be done to keep it under control. Suddenly, it has dawned on me that my condition may never be perfectly controlled. The aches and pains associated with it will always break through. What the care of doctors has done, however, is enough for me to live fully and function normally.
It helps me to think of Biblical perspectives of healing. There are perhaps three NT words for healing: one has to do with physical healing, a second has to do with restoration effected through the special relationship between healer and the healed (we get the English word therapy from this), and a third often used when Jesus healed others actually has to do with salvation. Apparently, when Jesus heals, it is always in a holistic context - the healing of the whole person, both physical and spiritual. In this light, although my physical health lags a little behind my complete spiritual healing by Jesus, the reality of my spiritual restoration points me forward to an eventual physical wholeness as well.
One more thought. I do not make the mistake of asking myself if I have enough faith for healing to take place. This would be to base my healing on my faith and not on God. My faith is not in a healing taking place but in God's faithfulness, goodness, power and mercy. I don't think that Jesus heals where there is faith, but that his healing provides a chance for my faith to be expressed as an indication of my desire to be healed. Jesus' healing power does not need the cooperation of my faith nor can it be manipulated through either my faith or the lack of it. Bottom line is, I put myself in his care and trust in his loving goodness. It doesn't matter what he will specifically do.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Letdown
To say that my daughter is dismayed and disappointed that the Raptors just lost their 1st round playoff series would be the understatement of the year!
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Employment
Had the privilege of talking to a few college/university students and their parents. Their number one concern right now is getting through their exams. Yet I sense that a very close number two is getting a summer job. It's been many years since I was a student, but I get it. Sort of out on one's own and growing in independence, it is nice to have some money that is self-earned. That little extra cash brings a lot with it: a sense of movement into adulthood, freedom to spend a little to balance all the stress and responsibility of being a student, and a little less dependence on kindly parents.
Looking for that job is a stress all its own. I remember writing the resume, visiting the student employment centre every day, filling out endless application forms, going for interview after interview after interview. Some of the jobs I landed? A coder for a market research firm; an assembly line sorter for the Trivial Pursuit game cards; casual help at a couple of libraries. None of them were very glamourous or even related to my studies. Still, I was so grateful for having the odd summer job. The only thing I can credit myself for in the process was persevering in the job hunt.
If you are out there looking for a summer job, keep at it, even if it's tough slugging. God bless you with something that fits you.
Looking for that job is a stress all its own. I remember writing the resume, visiting the student employment centre every day, filling out endless application forms, going for interview after interview after interview. Some of the jobs I landed? A coder for a market research firm; an assembly line sorter for the Trivial Pursuit game cards; casual help at a couple of libraries. None of them were very glamourous or even related to my studies. Still, I was so grateful for having the odd summer job. The only thing I can credit myself for in the process was persevering in the job hunt.
If you are out there looking for a summer job, keep at it, even if it's tough slugging. God bless you with something that fits you.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Theodicy
Here I am early on Sunday morning. The sunrise is gorgeous. It is going to be a beautifully warm day. The birdsong is lovely, and the air smells of spring. Soon I'll be in church and singing along with people who love God. I think to myself, "This is the way it's supposed to be."
Yet thoughts of the events of the past week, especially the massacre at Virginia Tech, jars my reverie. Senseless, horrific violence, death and tragedy. "This is not the way it's supposed to be."
Confronted with pain, suffering, evil, I've often asked why. Usually, there is no answer. But I know that without faith in God who suffered and died on the cross for my sin, I would have no rationale for life either. The innate ability to say "This is the way it's supposed to be" or "This is not the way it's supposed to be" tells me that there is Someone out there who informs our sensibilities. Someone who is both good and powerful, and could have prevented the massacre but didn't, choosing instead to walk with us through our pain. Who can say what is good or evil among all the experiences of life? Only God. Who holds life and death in his hands? Only God. What can we grasp at when all else is incomprehensible? Only God.
It is senseless and painful. All 32 victims were lives created in the image of God - and hard as it is to say, so was the killer. I have to cling to God and realize that it is at such a time as this that a relationship with Jesus is vital. This is not a crutch. It is the only thing that anchors life. The only other thing I can do is pray for the hurting family members left behind. May God pour out his compassion on them, and draw around them the people and help they need.
In a prayer meeting yesterday, our senior pastor shared from Luke 13:1-9. In light of Virginia Tech, this passage is both appropriate and challenging. It tells us that there really is no explanation, but only the reality that their time had come just as it may come for each one of us with equal suddeness. The passage urgently tells us to turn from sin and trust in Jesus, and to get the message out to the people around us. With the heart-wrenching events of the past week, nothing could be more urgent.
Yet thoughts of the events of the past week, especially the massacre at Virginia Tech, jars my reverie. Senseless, horrific violence, death and tragedy. "This is not the way it's supposed to be."
Confronted with pain, suffering, evil, I've often asked why. Usually, there is no answer. But I know that without faith in God who suffered and died on the cross for my sin, I would have no rationale for life either. The innate ability to say "This is the way it's supposed to be" or "This is not the way it's supposed to be" tells me that there is Someone out there who informs our sensibilities. Someone who is both good and powerful, and could have prevented the massacre but didn't, choosing instead to walk with us through our pain. Who can say what is good or evil among all the experiences of life? Only God. Who holds life and death in his hands? Only God. What can we grasp at when all else is incomprehensible? Only God.
It is senseless and painful. All 32 victims were lives created in the image of God - and hard as it is to say, so was the killer. I have to cling to God and realize that it is at such a time as this that a relationship with Jesus is vital. This is not a crutch. It is the only thing that anchors life. The only other thing I can do is pray for the hurting family members left behind. May God pour out his compassion on them, and draw around them the people and help they need.
In a prayer meeting yesterday, our senior pastor shared from Luke 13:1-9. In light of Virginia Tech, this passage is both appropriate and challenging. It tells us that there really is no explanation, but only the reality that their time had come just as it may come for each one of us with equal suddeness. The passage urgently tells us to turn from sin and trust in Jesus, and to get the message out to the people around us. With the heart-wrenching events of the past week, nothing could be more urgent.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Crash
Ooooh! Nasty! There is actually no glass in the liftgate window. I covered the space with garbage bags fastened with masking tape. Doesn't work very well in the drizzle.
On the way to our annual March break ski trip, we were Dodge Rammed from behind by a big black monster with a flatbed trailer carrying several horses. There was glass everywhere and we had to shake out our clothes that were in bags in the trunk. Fortunately, the boys' skis were not damaged, and we still had a fantastic ski trip. The minivan is in the shop being repaired now. I asked the boys if they were scared by the unforeseen collision. They said, "Well, YEAH!!!" However, no one was hurt. God is our Protector.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Hospitality
I am part of a wonderful fellowship group that meets every other Friday at my home. We always have dinner together followed by Bible study. Usually, I do the cooking for the group that averages 10 adults and a few children. Unless it's been a really busy week, I look forward to making supper. I've always felt a special pleasure from creating an environment where people can talk and ministry can take place. I think this is what the Bible calls hospitality. But it's been only recently that I've come to realize that hospitality is more than just a nice thing. It is something commanded in the Bible, and is vital for attracting friends old and new to Christ and caring for them.
Hospitality fosters spiritual growth - my own and my friends'. It is a meal that is being prepared, not just the feeding of some guests. Regardless of how simple the meal, I've come to realize that it can be a communion with God through his created elements (the food). Someone has said that this is why we say grace before we eat. The detail and creativity that goes into chopping, blending, braising, and tasting of meats, vegetables, sauces and sweets is in itself a celebration of the richness of God's creation. "Everything that lives and moves will be food for you" (Genesis 9:3). A meal nourishes not just the body, but also the soul because it is celebrating together all that it means to be a human being made in the image of God. As I prepare I am loving my friends. We don't just eat, but we love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength by sharing a meal.
The biblical enjoinder to "practice hospitality" (Romans 12:13) is a forgotten command. However, I've found that preparing a meal, creating an environment for conversation both light and deep, and opening my family's home life to others brings a true return of joy. When I feel that I don't want to do it, I remind myself that the sense of work in it is always transformed to transcendent fellowship around the table - and at that moment, I look forward to doing it again. You have to see us there! Our times together are marked by rip-roaring laughter one second, and tender encouragement the next. And there's always dessert after the Bible study.
There are a number of individuals and families I know of who regularly practice hospitality. Perhaps this is why members of our faith community perennially say that the one thing they most appreciate about our church is their fellowship/small group. Hospitality is a spiritual gift that really makes a difference in our community life. I get a lot more out of gathering in a loving home than in the standard church classroom.
Just one more thought on the gift of hospitality. Like any other gift, it is of the Spirit, so there is no need to worry about setting up the right conditions for its use. My house and life does not need to be 100% neat and in order for hospitality to be exercised. Trying to look perfect is missing the point. I love this beautiful picture from Psalm 23: "You prepare a table before me." God is the Source of hospitality. He creates a place for us always - no matter what is going on or who is around ("in the presence of my enemies"). Hospitality is a gift that's always appropriate.
So, when are you coming for dinner?
Hospitality fosters spiritual growth - my own and my friends'. It is a meal that is being prepared, not just the feeding of some guests. Regardless of how simple the meal, I've come to realize that it can be a communion with God through his created elements (the food). Someone has said that this is why we say grace before we eat. The detail and creativity that goes into chopping, blending, braising, and tasting of meats, vegetables, sauces and sweets is in itself a celebration of the richness of God's creation. "Everything that lives and moves will be food for you" (Genesis 9:3). A meal nourishes not just the body, but also the soul because it is celebrating together all that it means to be a human being made in the image of God. As I prepare I am loving my friends. We don't just eat, but we love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength by sharing a meal.
The biblical enjoinder to "practice hospitality" (Romans 12:13) is a forgotten command. However, I've found that preparing a meal, creating an environment for conversation both light and deep, and opening my family's home life to others brings a true return of joy. When I feel that I don't want to do it, I remind myself that the sense of work in it is always transformed to transcendent fellowship around the table - and at that moment, I look forward to doing it again. You have to see us there! Our times together are marked by rip-roaring laughter one second, and tender encouragement the next. And there's always dessert after the Bible study.
There are a number of individuals and families I know of who regularly practice hospitality. Perhaps this is why members of our faith community perennially say that the one thing they most appreciate about our church is their fellowship/small group. Hospitality is a spiritual gift that really makes a difference in our community life. I get a lot more out of gathering in a loving home than in the standard church classroom.
Just one more thought on the gift of hospitality. Like any other gift, it is of the Spirit, so there is no need to worry about setting up the right conditions for its use. My house and life does not need to be 100% neat and in order for hospitality to be exercised. Trying to look perfect is missing the point. I love this beautiful picture from Psalm 23: "You prepare a table before me." God is the Source of hospitality. He creates a place for us always - no matter what is going on or who is around ("in the presence of my enemies"). Hospitality is a gift that's always appropriate.
So, when are you coming for dinner?
