It is the Year 2051
Mankind's post-modern standings have reached far beyond predicted capabilities.
With the advance in research and technology we are at an unprecedented peak in our development.
Mankind has reached the peak of their success, bringing into reality what previously seemed impossible, even the extent of forming organic life from inorganic substances and pushing the boundaries of physics to its absolute maximum.
Such successes have allowed our global satellite communication systems to tap into the frequency of Heaven and communicate with the Almighty God himself.
Man has realised that with such success and power that there was no longer any need for a God to control their lives. So the citizens of Man approached God with a petition to overthrow Him.
"No longer will a God have any say in our lives but We ourselves will control the earth with our own hands."
God replied to the petition of Man with a simple challenge:
"Since the beginning of time I have created Man in my image, I have molded you from the miry clay and breathed life into you. Your life is my symbol over this earth and so, if Man can do likewise then I shall withdraw my sovereignty."
Excited by this challenge Mankind gathered from all over the Earth and brought with them the greatest technological advances. They begin to joyfully collaborate at the now possible feat with their latest technology and scientific research. Thus, with their equipment ready they gather clay from the earth and are just about to create life when God intervenes.
"Go get your own dirt" He says...
._. what? how?
LOL
Oaks of Righteousness
'...and they will be called Oaks of Righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.' - Isaiah 61:3
Monday, March 15, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
What if?
It was about evening, still somewhat bright and mildly windy.
A reunion gathering was happening at my high school so I decided to attend.
I left the house and started walking to my school. I headed passed the tennis courts and crossed the oval and headed towards gym, where the reunion was being held.
I walked into the gym, and there was greeted by all my high school friends and teachers. Nothing really interesting happened that night: same friends, same teachers and same school, just that everything was older. What did stick out to me throughout the night was a young teenager that I didn't know. It didn't seem like he was with anyone, so I went up beside him and we started talking. For the rest of the night I just talked to him, got to know him, his name, who he came with amongst other things.
As the night came to a close and I was getting ready to leave, I said goodbye to him and began to leave. However, I didn't get very far before I turned around at the sound of him arguing with his parents. I watched the remainder of the argument between him and his parents before chasing after him as he stormed off away from his parents.
I convinced him to stop running and tell me what was going on, he simply replied 'I just want to get away from them' and kept running. I followed him, glancing behind to see his parents not too far away. After coming up some steps, his parents seemed to have slowed down. The father couldn't run any further, and midway up the steps, in the short moments before collapsing backwards, reached out for his son. He fell into the arms of the mother, who unable to support his full weight, fall back also.
The chase ended. The boy stopped running at the sight of his parents collapsing. I looked at the parents as they cried in each others arms at the steps. I looked at the boy as he looked at them. His eyes full of abandonment, his eyes looking to abandon them. He turned around and began walking away from his weeping parents.
At that point I grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him back to where his parents were. They were crying, yet he was barely looking at them.
They said that he's left them before, drugs and alcohol pulled him away. They said that he's leaving them now because he doesn't want to be with them, and that he's running away from them.
Then the father said he doesn't have much time left. In his fragile, teary state he uttered three words that pierced my heart.
'I have cancer'.
At that point my heart grew heavy, like a wrench hitting my chest as I began suffocate trying to swallow the three words. My vision became blurry from the unstoppable tears that began to water my eyes.
My heart felt so contrite.
I began to cry.
I cried, not for parents, not for the dying father, not sympathetically for the boy, but for what if.
What if, they weren't his parents but they were mine and I was the boy?
What if, my dad had cancer and was dieing in my mums arms?
What if, they were dieing and all the while I was running, trying to get away from them, trying to leave?
My alarm went off, it was 7:30am.
My eyes opened to the sight of my bedroom door, my vision was still blurry from the tears I cried and my heart was still heavy from feelings of conviction.
It was a dream. It was a nightmare. It was a painful feeling to wake up to.
Yet the gravity of the reality behind the dream hits me. My parents are completely healthy and I cried so much at only the thought of them dieing. I can't imagine a reality of waking up to this feeling everyday, waking up to the knowledge of my parents actually having cancer. I can't imagine losing my parents...
Beneath my heavy breath I uttered a small prayer to God - Sorry Lord, forgive me, make me a better son.
Perhaps we should appreciate our parents more.
You don't truly know what you have until its gone.
When was the last time you told your parents that you love them?
A reunion gathering was happening at my high school so I decided to attend.
I left the house and started walking to my school. I headed passed the tennis courts and crossed the oval and headed towards gym, where the reunion was being held.
I walked into the gym, and there was greeted by all my high school friends and teachers. Nothing really interesting happened that night: same friends, same teachers and same school, just that everything was older. What did stick out to me throughout the night was a young teenager that I didn't know. It didn't seem like he was with anyone, so I went up beside him and we started talking. For the rest of the night I just talked to him, got to know him, his name, who he came with amongst other things.
As the night came to a close and I was getting ready to leave, I said goodbye to him and began to leave. However, I didn't get very far before I turned around at the sound of him arguing with his parents. I watched the remainder of the argument between him and his parents before chasing after him as he stormed off away from his parents.
I convinced him to stop running and tell me what was going on, he simply replied 'I just want to get away from them' and kept running. I followed him, glancing behind to see his parents not too far away. After coming up some steps, his parents seemed to have slowed down. The father couldn't run any further, and midway up the steps, in the short moments before collapsing backwards, reached out for his son. He fell into the arms of the mother, who unable to support his full weight, fall back also.
The chase ended. The boy stopped running at the sight of his parents collapsing. I looked at the parents as they cried in each others arms at the steps. I looked at the boy as he looked at them. His eyes full of abandonment, his eyes looking to abandon them. He turned around and began walking away from his weeping parents.
At that point I grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him back to where his parents were. They were crying, yet he was barely looking at them.
They said that he's left them before, drugs and alcohol pulled him away. They said that he's leaving them now because he doesn't want to be with them, and that he's running away from them.
Then the father said he doesn't have much time left. In his fragile, teary state he uttered three words that pierced my heart.
'I have cancer'.
At that point my heart grew heavy, like a wrench hitting my chest as I began suffocate trying to swallow the three words. My vision became blurry from the unstoppable tears that began to water my eyes.
My heart felt so contrite.
I began to cry.
I cried, not for parents, not for the dying father, not sympathetically for the boy, but for what if.
What if, they weren't his parents but they were mine and I was the boy?
What if, my dad had cancer and was dieing in my mums arms?
What if, they were dieing and all the while I was running, trying to get away from them, trying to leave?
My alarm went off, it was 7:30am.
My eyes opened to the sight of my bedroom door, my vision was still blurry from the tears I cried and my heart was still heavy from feelings of conviction.
It was a dream. It was a nightmare. It was a painful feeling to wake up to.
Yet the gravity of the reality behind the dream hits me. My parents are completely healthy and I cried so much at only the thought of them dieing. I can't imagine a reality of waking up to this feeling everyday, waking up to the knowledge of my parents actually having cancer. I can't imagine losing my parents...
Beneath my heavy breath I uttered a small prayer to God - Sorry Lord, forgive me, make me a better son.
Perhaps we should appreciate our parents more.
You don't truly know what you have until its gone.
When was the last time you told your parents that you love them?
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
My Prayer
To the God of this universe, God above
To the God of my life, the God I love
A prayer to you I wish to express
A prayer to you, my heart in distress
This life I'm no longer living but is consuming me
This life I'm dieing, this death unintended to be
Everything that surrounds me feels like its falling apart
Every pillar inside of me crumbles at this darkness in my heart
I hate my life and what it's turned out to be
I hate myself and every part of me
This hurt, this pain, this loneliness I'm going through
This anger, this resentment and ignorance I feel towards you
To a God who promised but is never there
To a God so distant, a God who doesn't care
God I pray you would listen to these words and hear my cry
God I pray you would feel these hurts and mend this broken life
See these tears of mine and answer my plea
Answer my prayer to you as I pray on bended knee
To the God of my life, the God I love
A prayer to you I wish to express
A prayer to you, my heart in distress
This life I'm no longer living but is consuming me
This life I'm dieing, this death unintended to be
Everything that surrounds me feels like its falling apart
Every pillar inside of me crumbles at this darkness in my heart
I hate my life and what it's turned out to be
I hate myself and every part of me
This hurt, this pain, this loneliness I'm going through
This anger, this resentment and ignorance I feel towards you
To a God who promised but is never there
To a God so distant, a God who doesn't care
God I pray you would listen to these words and hear my cry
God I pray you would feel these hurts and mend this broken life
See these tears of mine and answer my plea
Answer my prayer to you as I pray on bended knee
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Picture this...
Picture this... That your heart is like a mansion
Picture what it might look like.
Maybe your mansion is quite big, for some of us its like a grand estate, for others maybe not so much.
How many rooms would there be? and what would they look like?
Imagine a guest room.It's the place for people you meet, where newcomers stay.
For some of us,it's a huge room and has chairs, tables, food and even gifts for your guests, your acquaintances. It's warmly decorated with jokes and smiles. For others, the room is dull and empty. There's no effort put into this room and the only thing it has is an air conditioner that's set to cold and bitter. It's not very welcoming...but after all, it's the only room you entrust access to everybody.
Then Imagine the trophy room.
For some it's filled with awards, distinctions, accomplishments and things we are proud of, things we want everyone to see about ourselves. Some of it's good, others not so good. Yet for others, this room has hardly anything. Empty because we have nothing to be proud of? Or empty because we're not proud of anything? There's a difference.
The library, the place of knowledge, education and the accumulation of curiosity.
For some of us it extends many hallways and you need a ladder just to get to every single book and it's where we spend alot of our time, reading, learning, re-reading and re-learning. Others of us, it is but an old bookshelf that you never touch and collects more dust than it does books.
The entertainment room.
In here we keep our TV's, computers, console games, ipods and cell phones. Or maybe our sketchbooks, artworks, guitars and fish tanks...fish tanks??
Warcraft probably lives in here.
Some of us spend too much time here because not only does it hold our possessions, but our obsessions as well. Others don't even have this room...How boring.
The kitchen, bathroom and toilet.
...I don't really know what they represent but they're just there. After all I guess we all need to eat, shower, pee and poop. Some things in life we just can't avoid.
And then there's the basement. The storage room of things we can't get rid of.
Our past, the hurts and pains, our fears. For some of us, we pack them into boxes and we tape it shut. We put a 'do not open' label over them and seal them away, away from the rest of the house, away from everybody we know, and most of all away from ourselves. For others, this rooms full and messy with regrets and dissatisfaction. Some of us sleep here.
The second bedroom.
This room's reserved for a special someone. Only the ones we love stay here.
Is it empty? empty because you've locked it after the last person that was in there? or empty because it's never been opened in the first place.
Maybe this room is a mess - A mess because you let just about anyone in here and so too many come and go. A mess because you never clean it up.
Finally, the Masters bedroom.
A signature of the owner, it has the keys to every single other room in your mansion, even the basement.
Is this room yours? Or does it belong only to the Only One? Think...
Picture what it might look like.
Maybe your mansion is quite big, for some of us its like a grand estate, for others maybe not so much.
How many rooms would there be? and what would they look like?
Imagine a guest room.It's the place for people you meet, where newcomers stay.
For some of us,it's a huge room and has chairs, tables, food and even gifts for your guests, your acquaintances. It's warmly decorated with jokes and smiles. For others, the room is dull and empty. There's no effort put into this room and the only thing it has is an air conditioner that's set to cold and bitter. It's not very welcoming...but after all, it's the only room you entrust access to everybody.
Then Imagine the trophy room.
For some it's filled with awards, distinctions, accomplishments and things we are proud of, things we want everyone to see about ourselves. Some of it's good, others not so good. Yet for others, this room has hardly anything. Empty because we have nothing to be proud of? Or empty because we're not proud of anything? There's a difference.
The library, the place of knowledge, education and the accumulation of curiosity.
For some of us it extends many hallways and you need a ladder just to get to every single book and it's where we spend alot of our time, reading, learning, re-reading and re-learning. Others of us, it is but an old bookshelf that you never touch and collects more dust than it does books.
The entertainment room.
In here we keep our TV's, computers, console games, ipods and cell phones. Or maybe our sketchbooks, artworks, guitars and fish tanks...fish tanks??
Warcraft probably lives in here.
Some of us spend too much time here because not only does it hold our possessions, but our obsessions as well. Others don't even have this room...How boring.
The kitchen, bathroom and toilet.
...I don't really know what they represent but they're just there. After all I guess we all need to eat, shower, pee and poop. Some things in life we just can't avoid.
And then there's the basement. The storage room of things we can't get rid of.
Our past, the hurts and pains, our fears. For some of us, we pack them into boxes and we tape it shut. We put a 'do not open' label over them and seal them away, away from the rest of the house, away from everybody we know, and most of all away from ourselves. For others, this rooms full and messy with regrets and dissatisfaction. Some of us sleep here.
The second bedroom.
This room's reserved for a special someone. Only the ones we love stay here.
Is it empty? empty because you've locked it after the last person that was in there? or empty because it's never been opened in the first place.
Maybe this room is a mess - A mess because you let just about anyone in here and so too many come and go. A mess because you never clean it up.
Finally, the Masters bedroom.
A signature of the owner, it has the keys to every single other room in your mansion, even the basement.
Is this room yours? Or does it belong only to the Only One? Think...
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Goodbye
Tears that flood the corner of my eye
At thoughts of you no longer by my side
Overbearing, enough to make me cry
So please, don't ever say goodbye
At thoughts of you no longer by my side
Overbearing, enough to make me cry
So please, don't ever say goodbye
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Why God would look old...
As I was sitting here, I thought about how boring it would be for people to read my blog if I filled it with diary entries of my day and every moment of my life and the emotions tied to it.
For myself personally I'm quite sure no one wants to know what my day was like.
But then it got me thinking...pondering.
If the very details of every persons life was inked onto pages, or typed onto blogs. Could you imagine, how big and numerous those volumes and/or blogs would be?
If God, being God knows everything about us I'm sure he must have read all of our journals and blogs.
Doing such a feat makes so much sense as to why our impression of God would be this wrinkly old man with bad posture, horrendously long hair, mustache and beard, who wears white clothing and lives in the clouds... or he could look like Morgan Freeman.
He would have horrendously long hair, mustache and beard because surely all that time spent reading up on our lives means no time to trim his hair or shave his mustache and beard. If God cares more about whats going on in our lives than keeping himself well groomed, perhaps we too should care more about life and less about looks.
He would have wrinkly old skin and most likely bad posture, because he's so stressed about us and the things we go through, the overwhelming emotions that make us cry, and the feelings we feel when no one else is around. Yet he sees, and he worries, and he gets wrinkles and bad posture from reaching down too much.
He would have white clothes probably because no other colors would last as long as white does, cause after a while everything would fade to white right? go for what lasts, not what looks good =P
I don't know why he would live in the clouds... But he probably has his head in the clouds since its probably filled with so much junk we ink down, yet he reads it anyway haha.
Makes me kinda glad my impression of God is an old wrinkly man with bad posture, horrendously long hair, mustache and beard, and live in the clouds. It means that we're more important to him than he is to himself. kool =P
For myself personally I'm quite sure no one wants to know what my day was like.
But then it got me thinking...pondering.
If the very details of every persons life was inked onto pages, or typed onto blogs. Could you imagine, how big and numerous those volumes and/or blogs would be?
If God, being God knows everything about us I'm sure he must have read all of our journals and blogs.
Doing such a feat makes so much sense as to why our impression of God would be this wrinkly old man with bad posture, horrendously long hair, mustache and beard, who wears white clothing and lives in the clouds... or he could look like Morgan Freeman.
He would have horrendously long hair, mustache and beard because surely all that time spent reading up on our lives means no time to trim his hair or shave his mustache and beard. If God cares more about whats going on in our lives than keeping himself well groomed, perhaps we too should care more about life and less about looks.
He would have wrinkly old skin and most likely bad posture, because he's so stressed about us and the things we go through, the overwhelming emotions that make us cry, and the feelings we feel when no one else is around. Yet he sees, and he worries, and he gets wrinkles and bad posture from reaching down too much.
He would have white clothes probably because no other colors would last as long as white does, cause after a while everything would fade to white right? go for what lasts, not what looks good =P
I don't know why he would live in the clouds... But he probably has his head in the clouds since its probably filled with so much junk we ink down, yet he reads it anyway haha.
Makes me kinda glad my impression of God is an old wrinkly man with bad posture, horrendously long hair, mustache and beard, and live in the clouds. It means that we're more important to him than he is to himself. kool =P
Monday, March 1, 2010
Sorrow
Sorrow
From the scar of painful memories locked inside your head
To the stain of tears that flood your pillow and bed
Such suffering that grips your heart so tight
And makes you wish you could leave this world behind
† Sorrow
From the scar on hands of one you can never forget
To the stain of blood on him who took your place instead
Such suffering that leaves your heart contrite
And makes you realise for you He left this world behind
From the scar of painful memories locked inside your head
To the stain of tears that flood your pillow and bed
Such suffering that grips your heart so tight
And makes you wish you could leave this world behind
† Sorrow
From the scar on hands of one you can never forget
To the stain of blood on him who took your place instead
Such suffering that leaves your heart contrite
And makes you realise for you He left this world behind
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)