To Pray Again

Still a HUMAN?

2011-10-13T07:07:00.000-07:00

I have been a good Christian, but nowadays I have started to drift away from the Kingdom seems like not belong to me. The "Mr.Good Man" inside me is getting away form my soul, Christian cycle does not welcome me since I am not Christian enough, the world does not like me because I am not cool enough for them. Is there a twilight zone for an outcast like me?
Well, all those stupid jerks are nothing but goddamn suckers! When they need something from me, they act to be so nice to me, once I give them the honey they want, they turn their back and let me thrown away like an used-tissue paper.
Is this the world ought to be?
I don't understand.
I can't see, neither can I feel a trace of love in this failing world.
Only disgusting mutualism and stinking hypocrisy I see.
Sigh.
I don't care anymore.
As far as I concern, though I fail in everything I do, I don't want to fail to become a human.
Because I was created to be one.

Not a LOSER

2011-10-09T02:41:00.000-07:00

I had lost in the competition, not being able to perform excellently as how I expected. Well, I am quite used to losing, sounds like I had never won before. It's true that I neither won nor stand out in any of the competitive events. Not that I don't want to, but I hate the fact that I am not able to. In other words, I am good at losing not winning ; I am just a participant to make the winner shine brighter in my dimness, a byplay to make the hero heroic, a side dishes to make the main course look delicious, a green leave that contrasts the beauty of a flower. If this is the role which is given by God, He is the Director and I have to accept whatever He gives, even being a loser in this melodrama.

Little did I know that I am such a naughty one; being a loser, I don't get appreciated for taking the place no one else would take, but I am freaking happy too to see the goddamn long faces that my lecturers gave after I lost. Oops, I am so sorry that I had disappointed you, but don't you think that you owe me a goddamn apologize for making me a loser? My disability does reflect your teaching capability, thus, if I'm a loser , then you are a sucker!

I don't mind losing, but the consolation from those insensitive people deserve little gratitude from me.I can share the joy with my friends, though I am not in the wining shoes, can you? I have the courage to fight the giants even I may look like a pity grasshopper to them, can you? I have the strength to swim against the oceans of odds, can you? I have bravery to pick myself up from the dirt, can you? I have the boldness to stand up for injustice, can you? I have the sincerity to love those who might stab my back, can you? I do all these without a gold medal but all in secret, can you?

If you can't do what I do, then stop calling me loser. Because I am not a loser, just because of a stupid competition. I can't run fast, but I'll never stop running until I reach the goal.Because I am not a loser.

I don't know me

2011-09-23T20:28:00.000-07:00

I was sitting alone in my room, thoughts were flyingeverywhere. Whole day I had been so lost, without emotion and without tears. Iwas sad and disappointed, should be crying then. Surprisingly, there was notear, I was too numbed to shed tears or frown. Nothing could be done for whatwas done. Few weeks ago, I had confronted a goddamn pastor. I remembered mesaying this right to his poker face, “You never mean what you say, so don’t sayanything.” I was always what I said, no fault no hypocrisy you could find inme, the most you could hate my very stubborn truthfulness. I am a changed mannow. Perhaps this goddamn pastor had installed his goddamn hypocrisy in mewithout me realizing it. I was so sick of the system, being grade as averageone. The only solution is to climb up the distinction ladder, yet I wasincapable to do so. Thus, the blame- me- attitude blossomed in the alreadyweakened inner man, defense system collapsed in the wave tossed in the ocean ofguilt and anguish.

Ever since I was born in the world, I had the feelingof being thrown away when I failed to be the brightest star. I picked myself from the slum and struggledto reach the moon. Never one day in my life was the dreams- come- true, but I’dnever give up. Time passed. Things changed. I grabbed a star, though it was notthe brightest but it was shiny still. I thought I would be happy but when I seea passer-by got a handful of dazzlingly shining stars, immediately the curve ofmy lips turning back to its original upside down. I knew I didn’t successfullywrite the history of the year, would definitely be forgotten. I gave up. I gaveup crying, and I gave up weeping. I gave myself up, “This is rubbish,” Ipointed to myself, and I threw me away. And I don’t know me.

where is my fire?

2009-10-30T05:41:00.000-07:00

I was stunned when a non-believer friend threw this question on my face.
Where is your fire?
It is dying out.
I mumbled while my eyes were trying to avoid his.
I felt so ashamed to tell him the answer, but anyhow I told him the truth.
I am tired.
Seriously I think I should ask myself and God about this as well.
I remembered the days when I was jumping praising Him during Sunday celebrations, the mornings I woke up earlier just to pray, the afternoon I spent in orpanange teaching the childeren, the evenings when few of us gathered for prayers, and the nights when I joined the worship practise...and also the piled up books which I should study for the day itself,
were left abondoned on my study desk.
Lord, is this my limit?
I am not satisfied. It must be more than this...
but where is my fire?
Lord, I thirst and I am tired. My soul is crying out for You.
Tell me Lord, where is my fire?
Ignite the fire in my heart again, O Lord. This is for You.
I pray.

Why him?

2009-10-27T04:00:00.000-07:00

Today was the day I really felt like crying in the dissection hall, not because of the irritating formalin. It was all because of him.
Lord, I guess I challenge You too much..is it the way You answer me? I feel so burdened in my heart. Out of so many people, why him?
I neither could understand what he was trying to teach nor feel his enthusiatism to teach us.
Lord, I know I prayed: Stretch me to the maximum.
But, is this truly the way You are stretching me and not torturing me?
I think this is the first time I need to refer at least a few books just to catch up what I missed during the two hours dissection which I had not learnt anything.
I am draining out of energy.
Lord, let me draw strength from You.
I believe that You will never give me a task which is too heavy for me.
Lord, enlarge my capacity for all the challenges lie ahead.
and I wanna to let You know that:
I never regret of challenging You.
I pray for the best to come even though I am in the worst situation now.
Because You are in control of everything.

My Future Decided

2009-10-23T04:35:00.000-07:00

You had been looking for me
in this fallen world
You have found me and You take me into Your house
and You have clothed me with Your glory
without even looking at what is in me
You love me just as the day You had created me
in Your very own image
I am greatly humbled by the life You have given to me
times after times I feel unworthy to have Your love
yet unceasingly You remind me about Your grace
it is more than enough for me
I know that You have wonderful plans for me
though I may not know anything
yet I believe
though I may not understand things that happened to me
yet I believe
though I cried over my pain
yet I believe
though I am burning out just to give You my very best
yet I believe
my future decided
in the Potter's Hand
and this is the same loving Hands
holding me now..

Abba Father, promise me that You'll never let me go...

I love You more

2009-10-20T08:33:00.000-07:00

I was tired, my eyes were half closed.
My spirit is willing yet my flesh is too weak.
Lord, let me draw strength from You.
I used to look at Peter, James, and John a kind when I came across the passage about Jesus in Gethsemane. Why not they stayed up just for another hour and prayed together with Jesus? Why they left Jesus alone when He needed someone to pray together with Him?
Now I undersand. We are just human and we are weak.
I pushed the piled up references books away and once again I opened my Bible.
I mumbled the short prayers and I nearly fell asleep. My heart was burdened with endless exams and tests, assignment and work.
Yet, I prayed:
Lord, let me walk this extra miles for You.
Because I love You more.

A dream or a vision

2009-10-16T19:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I dreamt of my mum.
She was such a cheerful lady and being surrounded by a group of young people. Maybe it was her birthday, they came to deliver their wishes. I was standing at one corner, observing these people.
What shook me was the words came out from my mum.
She declared her faith in public.
I was so surprised, the mum I know is not yet a Christian..but this one, I meant my mum in my dream, was already accepted Christ as her personal Lord and Saviour.
I was so touched to listen to the following statement made:
" I want Christ to root in this house."
And she winked at my two other non-believers brothers...
I pray that this won't be just another dream but a vision , an answer to my prayers.

where are You?

2009-10-16T05:15:00.000-07:00

I had a bad bad day...
and I couldn't see Your hand. I remembered I had prayed and I took that You must had heard me. Yet why things still getting in such a way?
Where are You?
where are You when I was crying in anguish, when my enemies were laughing at my failure, gloated over my shame....
Where are You?

Today, I pray again. Things do not change immediately for the best but one thing that made my eyes welled in tears was You telling me that..........

" I AM HERE.."

Split coffee

2009-10-07T08:57:00.000-07:00

I remembered I saw her somewhere else, but I couldn't remember where I met her. I was quite frustrated because of her smile, no I mean the sacarstic kind of... My favourite white shirt was stained by hot split coffee and she walked passed me.
Then she paused and looked at me.

She is beautiful, if without the grin.
I met her in church before and worship the same Lord, I suddenly recalled.

It's true that I split my coffee, but pity her.
She had split the favor of God from her cup at the moment.

My split coffee is far more cheaper than what she had lost.

I cried

2009-09-30T23:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I cried because I read this:
God didn't make a mistake when He created you.
As I thought He did.

Because of who You are

2009-09-27T22:27:00.000-07:00

Because of who You are

It was a rainy day when the sky was weeping. I threw my sight out of the window and I saw her again. She was looking for something in the rubbish dump; the slippery land burdened her crippled leg. Her shabby clothes were all soaked wet, let her trembling in this chill cold night- Alone. The dirt on her face couldn’t hide the wrinkles on her pale face, not even the overwhelming sorrow could be hidden under the pouring raindrops. Later, she managed to find some paper box to make her a temporally shelter, for this merciless night. No one ever notice her presence, even they did, they just walked pass her; couples huddled up close to each other and sheltering under lovers’ warmth, a business man talking on the phone and cursed the raindrop split on his branded coat. A hysterical housewife was crying on the staircase begging her husband don’t go away, while a spoilt kid was throwing a tantrum over his parents in this fuzzy raining evening. My effort to look for a smile among the crowd was in vain. Unexpectedly, I saw this lovely curve at the edge of her lips. Thinking of this might be my hallucination, thus I rubbed my eyes before I took another glimpse on her- the old lady beside the rubbish dump. Yes, it was true that she was smiling. It was the sweetest smile that I’d ever seen before. Not because she rejoiced over the half-eaten frozen hotdog she found, it was she had a visitor. It was a homeless dirty stray dog. The old lady generously shared her only begotten food with her little visitor. And most importantly, she smiled all the way through.

For your heart will always be where your riches are.

It was her. She might be poor but for sure she is the richest among all. I was more than ashamed
of myself seeing the old lady. Closed my bible, I looked at the reflection of the mirror.

Who am I?

I glanced at my eyes, I remembered he once said I have the brightest eyes in the world, and I believed. No longer were they shiny, but swollen with tears. The day when our lips met, I thought he was the one but I never know that our hearts never join. His fingers once combed my black long hair now holding another girl’s hand. I remembered the days when we were jumping praising Him, and later on both of us walked away forgot His name. That day, when I met him kissing another girl at the backyard of the church, he was still wearing the cross. If a knife could pierce through my heart, betrayer twisted it within my flesh and smirked at the oozing blood.

I was fifteen when he said he loves me and I ignorantly believed in him. He was the Prince Charming among the youth, and I foolishly thought that I could be the princess. Perhaps I could blame Taylor Swift’s Love Story of its imaginary space for romance, or maybe I should curse the bottle of cheap wine and heat at the moment, for giving the pregnancy test kit double pink strips. My pregnancy symptoms couldn’t be hidden from Dad; after all, he is a doctor. On the same raining evening, both of Dad and Mum quarrelled over my pregnancy issue. Neither of them willing to admit their failure as parents, since they are well-known as devoted Christian in the church. Teen pregnancy was such a great embarrassment for the family, and this was what they concerned about.

The 6th commandments stated that: Do not murder.

Dad taught me the Ten Commandments while I was still attending Sunday school. Yet he was the one who suggested abortion as the solution, my heart sunk when I overheard the conversation. Mum wanted me to be sent to Australia so that no one would question anything about me. They were afraid that their position as cell group leaders would be affected by my shameful conduct. The atmosphere was clouded with selfishness. That time, they were both wearing platinum cross. The cross was still shiny but it looked so strange to me at the meanwhile. Suddenly I felt like I was not known them so much that I thought.

Who are they?

Burst in tears, I ran out from the house. It was the deadly evening, when the sky was still crying. I ran down the street when tears and rain had blurred my vision. I heard someone was crying for help, it was she holding an unconscious little girl in her skinny arms. Her little face was as pale as a white paper and long term malnutrition caused her body shrunk. It might be the darkest night in her life, where no hear her, more accurately, people in the city chose not to hear her.

Could somebody help my daughter?

I walked past her and I stole a glance on her. She was hopeless as I did. Her shriek in the stagnant air echoed in the rain, where no one offers her a helping hand. I was one of the deaf.

Who cares?

No one would ever hear our cries, in this dark season. I ran down the street headed to his house and begged him to settle the mess; sadly I was stormed out from his garden like a stray dog. All of his lovely promises withered like the flowers out of the sudden, my world darkened in the midst of heart-brokenness. Before I lost my consciousness, I saw a car speeding on my way...
It was the second time I met her. I was lying on bed in hospital. I looked out from the window and I saw her plucking some white flowers from the garden. Her face was like a zombie, she must had been hit by a terrible tragedy. Suddenly a familiar scene popped up in front of me.

The little girl...

My body was still too weak to move after severe bleeding for being knocked down by a car. I nudged the nurse changing my bandage, asking her about the lady. Frowned with impatience between her eye brown, still she answered.

Her daughter passed away, on the same day you are admitted into hospital. She had asthma attack; most probably she could be saved if someone did Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, I mean CPR on her. It was too late when someone sent her into hospital.

My heart sunk upon hearing this. I couldn’t help to relax my facial muscle when I saw two figures walking into the room. Dad gave a sign to the nurse to leave us room for a confidential conversation. Dad coughed discreetly, before he started.

Chloe, God had settled everything for us.

He pointed a finger to my abdomen. I would never forget the disgusting smile on his face. I was in an emotional conflict to know that I had lost my baby.

Everything is so perfectly planned. You were knocked down by a car and rushed to this hospital. Coincidentally, I was on duty that time. Without anyone notice, I aborted it from your uterus. This issue would be swept under carpet forever. God is good, ain’t He?

A wave of confusion hit my mind. Too many things happened at the same time. Few hours ago, I was pregnant and her daughter still in her arms, alive. Now my womb was empty, so did her arms. All had gone, like the flower in the garden; here today and gone tomorrow, a wave tossed in the ocean or vapour in the wind. Now no more...

Time passed and I never meet her until that raining evening. I took out a fine decorated box; it was my necklace with a gold cross pendent. It was given to me ever since I was born. I thought I had found my identity in it, but I was wrong. The bible never mentions about a gold cross, what I know is it was stained with Jesus’ blood. It is ugly and heavy, and Jesus has bore it for me. I took out my beautiful cross on it that day when I realized this shouldn’t be in this way.

I am greatly humbled by the love God has for me, though His people are truly disappointing in their conduct. Somehow this old lady, perhaps never heard about Jesus, never been invited to church, or Easter dinner, had shown me what love is.

She reminded me who am I.

I am a sinner saved by grace.

I took my umbrella and a plastic bag with apples and bread. I have ears but I was deaf, I have eyes but I was blind, I had a gold cross on my neck yet I had no Christ in my heart. I had lost a chance to tell her about Jesus, and clearly I know there wouldn’t be any second chance every times.

In the raining evening, I walked to her with this prayer in my heart: I want to meet her in heaven.

All for love

2009-08-19T03:34:00.000-07:00

All for Love

The sun shone out from the azure sky, another brand new day, it said. The radiance of sunlight avoided anyone escaping from it. Boldly, its irritating blaze ran into a small dark room. Zion Livingstone reluctantly opened his drowsy eyes, stretched his arms and yawned. Successfully dragging his body out of bed, he stood in front of a mirror. There was something drew Zion Livingstone’s attention while he was brushing his teeth. Neither his messy brown hair nor his scruffy face with overgrown moustache froze him in front of his own reflection; it was a pair of eyes gazed with emptiness. Shouldn’t be a man in his early 30s’ be filled with the exuberance? Especially he was indulging in a kaleidoscopic of colorful world; brushes and paints were the magic tools which he used to express his esoteric inspiration. Standing at the peak of his career kept a stable stream of money, fame, and women, knocking at his door. Yet, Zion Livingstone opened not for all this worldly lust, he was different as he never thought of conforming himself to the standards of this world. Bizarre, was what the world described about Zion Livingstone. Earning big money but hiding in an undersized room; crowning with popularity yet refused to glitter his glamour; going after by countless seraphic ladies yet he locked everybody out of his icy heart. There seemed no way to peep into this tightly bolted isolated door. No one could ever understand Zion Livingstone; perhaps, he himself did not even know who he was now. Staring at the raggedly handsome mirror image, Zion Livingstone touched the platinum cross he was wearing. At least, he had one identity, Zion Livingstone was assuredly His.

********

A light drizzle was falling, birds were not singing while the green stop dancing. Clouded with a sheer of melancholy, Zion Livingstone had his ideas all cluttered up; He fell into the abyss of depression seeing his quivering right hand failed in sketching the marvelous pieces, once again. Throwing his sight at the tiny falling raindrops, a surge of loneliness was suffocating him. “At least, the raindrops know where they belong…” pondering over his imprecise color dance, Zion Livingstone murmured. Closed his emerald green eyes, Zion Livingstone knelt down before the Almighty One, the only place where he could ever rely on. A heavenly voice filled his heart as Zion Livingstone was seeking the Lord in the midst of bewilderment,” My grace is all you need, for My power is greatest when you are weak…” Amidst those tears, Zion Livingstone beheld the words of assurance of his Abba Father. He took a glimpse at the brown envelope, another one at the crumpled painting, both lying uneasily at the same horizon on a glass desk. Two heavy blows at the very same day; pushed this wonderfully talented artist away from the fantasy world of color. One deep breathe, Zion Livingstone took the medical report from the wrinkled envelope. His shaky right hand stopped him from doing the remarkably amazing dance of color. The medical report clearly stated that the dreadful neurological movement disorder; focal hand dystonia was haunting Zion Livingstone. At that point of challenge, he was extremely confused, frustrated, sorrow, bitter, and lost, everything jumbled up at the moment. Again, he threw his gloomy sight through the transparent window. The elegiac drizzle stopped. Zion Livingstone smiled as he looked at the sky, he knew that He had called him to tell His stories. He saw a rainbow. It wasn’t just an original rainbow, but a rainbow of promise, love, hope, arching in the midst of wilderness.

********

Rubbed his somnolent eyes, Zion Livingstone asked of a cup of sky juice from the hospitable stewardess. Looking down from a 4000m altitude in the sky, Zion Livingstone gluttonously captured all the picturesque scenery; be it just a small village or a garden, everything seemed so fearfully and wonderfully made. This twelve-hours flight was an exhausting journey, though unforeseen challenges might ambush this young adventurer, yet it freaked Zion Livingstone not. Clinging on to the Cross, the solemn promise from the One whom he called Abba Father, Zion Livingstone left everything he had behind, spurned the allure of the big city. Quenched his thirst; Zion Livingstone tried to rearrange his recollection during the considerably long flight. Observing the crystal clear water in the glass, he had a self-satisfied smirk on his attractive face. Zion Livingstone remembered how he quit his job as the Creative Artist in Mode Magazine Corporation; by presenting his “masterpiece”, an abstract painting of a Hine’s Emerald Dragonfly with the word “Mnemosyne” written on it, the last piece of his work, he reckoned. Zion Livingstone walked out from the room with his usual serene paces; the shriek of frustration coming out from the room few minutes later only widened his smile, he could imagine how was the grumpy Chief Editor wrathful look upon seeing a piece of childish painting. Not a masterpiece, expectation was unfulfilled and the Chief Editor himself was fooled. First laughter from Zion Livingstone but a sigh followed; Musing on his new journey, an old poem started dancing in his mind- The Road Have Not Taken by Robert Frost. Mumbling the poem, Zion Livingstone did not bother the uneasiness of the passenger sitting next to him. Ignored the attention thrown on him, he threw his on the snowy clouds. An indescribable dashing natural, it was Zion Livingstone after all.

********

The sky was dyed reddish orange at dusk. Old Rev. Kenneth Chris was sitting comfortably on the antiquated armchair. Sipping hot tea from his cup, he threw his sight out of the window. The olive tree standing a few meters away from the window was blocking the light, its illusive shadow smacked on the carpet, adding a trace of liveliness into the sluggish air in the room. Old Rev. Kenneth Chris had to admit that it was a piece of art, a magical kaleidoscope if he saw the shadow at a different angle. “Trust me. It will be a beautiful piece, one day,” A clear voice of a child ran out of his memory box, a gawky kid with such a charming smile, who was missing for the past 15 years in Rev. Kenneth Chris’s journey. As usual, Rev. Kenneth Chris took out a wooden box from his drawer, trying to track the sweetness of the past down. Rev. Kenneth Chris took his spectacles from the table, trying to see clearly the moth-eaten photo in his hand. He smiled as he looked at the kid in the photo; the wrinkles on his face could not be hidden. Those good old days as if one again replayed on the stage, the giggle of the kid still echoing in his ears. How he wished he could hear it one more time, the chuckle of delight of the kid which could melt his heart. Rev. Kenneth Chris coughed discreetly, not to scatter the only begotten pieces that he had, the pieces which were too small to be overlooked, yet too precious to be forgotten. With his shaky hands, old Rev. Kenneth Chris gripped the Hine’s Emerald Dragonfly specimen which belonged to a story from the old box. The well-preserved dragonfly looked so alive, the sparkling wings seemed like they would be spread in any minutes. Their dazzle could not be ignored under the flash of sunlight even they were just the empty skeletons without soul, waiting for a breath of life to wake them up.

********

A few heavy beats dropped on the batter face of the drums, created a piece of junky rhythm echoing in the small church. The salty crystal beads on the forehead of Raj Gopal slipped, irritated his beautiful brown eyes. Reflectively, he rubbed his eyes yet failed to sweep his disappointment away. The edge of his lips had clotted blood; the salty sweat too irritated his wound on lips and perhaps his heart felt more of the pain. It was not the first time the heavy blows of his drunkard father landed on his face, and it was not the first time he ran away from home with a broken heart. It was another gloomy day when his father’s mood swung and Raj Gopal’s mum was unluckily became the victim. The dishes on the hard concrete floor were harshly overturned. Raj Gopal’s heart sunk when his father turned into a monster again, in the rainy day. The crying sky as if mourning for the upcoming tragedy in the family. His father gave his mum a heavy slap across her pale face, and unfairly putting all blame on her. His mum fell onto the floor, silently swallowed every single blows and hurtful words which pierced through her heart. There was enough bruises and scar on her arms and legs, Raj Gopal failed to put off the bellyful of flame upon seeing his mum’s tears and blood again and again. He stood up and fought over his abusive father, yet he had not won this fight. His father was much stronger than he thought even he was crippled. His father was a captain, a wounded soldier in the battlefield and never again would he been called back for service. He lost his strong right leg, his dignity, his glorious days, and his lovely smile, all in the merciless war. That night, Raj Gopal was badly beaten up and he ran away from home again when the sky was still pouring. That night, Raj Gopal met an angel in front of the small church, a white man who kindly opened a door whenever he had no place to go.

********

Zion Livingstone was trapped in a summery afternoon. There was no way for him to look for a glass of cold water in the rural area of Bihar, India. It had been already two weeks since Zion Livingstone landed on this poor land. Some might think that he was insane to give up a much more comfortable life in his own country and ran to this slum dog place. Definitely Zion Livingstone still had his clear mind, he was so sure that he heard the calling. Even Prince of Peace gave up His glorious throne in the heaven and went down to earth, to serve His people and not to be served. This King who graciously laid down His own life even for a lowly peasant became Zion Livingstone only strength through these uncertainties. Though his right hand still juddered, Zion Livingstone’s faith was not moved. Though he had not been doing any painting, Zion Livingstone started teaching in the poverty-stricken land where education was a luxury which they could hardly afford. Zion Livingstone sat under the olive tree and writing his journal where the shadow of the olive tree changed erratically. He tilted his head into the air, not even one candy-floss- like cloud was found, but he saw an old man sitting on a rocky chair beside the church window, pondering over on an old photo. He was Rev. Kenneth Chris; a humble man of God who willingly spent his life in this despised land, still he trusted the Lord would change this land into a harvest land of the lost souls. Hence, he named the undersized church “The Lord’s Harvest”. Truly his passion for Christ was contagious and he spiritually inspired this brave adventurer. Zion Livingstone closed the journal when he saw a tan young man walking towards him. Zion Livingstone smiled as he looked at him; when his emerald green eyes met this pair of innocent brown eyes in the silent air, he knew that this young man would be a story as he had thirsty soul yearning for hope- he needs Jesus.

********

Not bothered of sweat dripping from his forehead, Raj Gopal was focusing on the mathematic questions given by the voluntary teacher from a foreign land. There was so much fun learning Mathematics and English, as Raj Gopal was hungry for knowledge instead of bread. He showed a satisfactory smile when he wrote down the last answer with the only pencil he had. Deep down in his wounded heart, Raj Gopal knew that only education could bring him out of this black void, so he must do it. Besides playing with numbers, Raj Gopal was captivated by the lively storytelling of this white man. Though there was a little language barrier between the Indian kids and this white man, still he managed to bring out the essence of the stories with rich facial expression and body language. None of the curious eyes could escape from the story session. They were intrigued by how a small boy could have killed a giant with just a sling stone, why a man would built an ark just because someone unseen asked him to do so, or maybe what made the lions shut their mouths and not to harm a good man. More and more questions popped up from these inquisitive minds, they had noticed a big hero in the stories he told. A King whose blood spilled for His people and died for sin of the world, and most importantly He has risen and His tomb is empty. Raj Gopal remembered an Indian man told him this before, still he didn’t truly understand why. 8 years ago when he was only a 6 year-old, before he could throw this question, the man left the village and never come back again. The stories again woke his fading memories, this time he was determined to know the answer. Under the blazing hot sun, he ran straight to “The Lord’s Harvest” church after finishing his work. And there, finally he met the white man Zion Livingstone, under the olive tree. In the whisper of wind, Raj Gopal heard a long awaiting answer.

********

The wind carried a trace of peace within. Old Rev. Kenneth Chris was looking out from the window, while the shadow of the leaves was mischievously disturbing him. He noticed a young man under the olive tree, carefully jotting something on a notebook. Rev. Kenneth Chris’s memories were once again being stirred up in the scorching afternoon, where the birds were attentively listened to his heart. “Zion Livingstone…” , he mumbled. He took out the flaxen photo and got an eyeful of it again. They had the same charming smile; he had to admit that, perhaps the same passion for Christ though color of skin was different.25 years ago when Rev. Kenneth Chris first came to this land, condition was far worse than ever. There he met an Indian kid who brightened his days, always so eagerly to find out more of the truth. He was like his own child; they laughed together, shared their heart and had fun together. It was times when he grew up and needed to leave the village for a good purpose, to go after his dream to become a doctor. Not for money, not for fame, but for the people, it’s all for love. Rev. Kenneth Christ has been very proud of his spiritual child, years and years they kept in touch through e-mails and calls. Distance never loosened the bond between them. Many years passed yet the shadow of the cheeky kid never seen, the trace of his adulthood never found in the land. He became a missionary doctor, as what God wants him to be. Not just to ease the physical pain but also provide spiritual medicine to the lost sheep in a foreign land. Rev. Kenneth Chris would not forget the heartbroken afternoon, when the bad news travelled in the stagnant air: the missionary doctor became a martyr for Christ’s sake. Rev. Kenneth Chris failed to hold his tears when he received a wooden box from him; it was delivered before he went to the mission. It was a Hine’s Emerald Dragonfly specimen, come with a photo and a letter. He coughed again, this time with blood stained sputum. Rev Kenneth Chris smiled as he looked at the two young men under the olive tree in the scarlet sunset. The time was near. The air was still and serene when he left with a peaceful smile.

********

The church was crowded with mourning people, those faces with dried tears. The white flowers were gracefully lying beside him. Hymns were sung, strangely accompanied by some unorganized music. An Indian young man was playing drum, he failed to keep the rhythm sometimes throughout the memorial session His brown eyes carried an elegiac portion, flooded with tears. The good old man who opened a door for him when he had no place to go, was called Home. It was not just a door of church, yet it was a door to reach his broken heart. He had had a first taste of warmth from this man and he would never forget that. The drumming was bit disappointing, he tried very hard to tell himself not to cry. Raj Gopal knew his Savior requires more than a song; He looks beyond music and melody and He searches much deeper within. Rev. Kenneth Chris told him so when he first picked up drumming. When everything sounded messy during his first trial and when this young man was the edge of giving up, it was Rev. Kenneth Chris who gave him a pat on his back. Raj Gopal turned to his drum teacher who was sitting at the front row. At the time their eyes met, he was rewarded a smile that would boost his confidence. Zion Livingstone couldn’t play anymore with his right hand, yet he generously taught Raj Gopal and the kids everything he knew. He might have nothing much, but he would give it all to Jesus the best he has. He has found himself from this old faithful man. He smiled as he looked up into the sky, it was still blue, like the same hot afternoon when he first met him. When the music faded in the air, when tears ran dry, the other brand new day quietly arrived. Time would pass but this walk of him would be remembered and God is glorified.

********

There was a wrinkled letter in Rev. Kenneth Chris’s hand.
It read:

Dearest daddy KC ,

I will never forget the day when we planted the olive tree. I am happy to see it is growing stronger each day, and the shadow on it will be a piece of great art.
Me too, a piece of great art of The Lord, is in His service. I will go to the end of the earth to tell his story. It is going to be tough but I know that He is always there for me.
I do not pray for a long life, but a full one, a life that lives for Christ. I do not dream of my name be remembered but His name be exalted.
If there is one last thing I want to tell you, is to say I love you.

Thank you for everything.

p/s: I had found your childhood hero, the Hine’s Emerald Dragonfly. It is as dazzling as you told me. I can't give you a live one; forgive me it is just a specimen.

God bless you.

With love,
Always your son Z

********
The words on the letter was fading, the sweetness of love within was not. There was some cluttered writing behind this letter, with some dark red stain on it.

My dearest son,

When I am writing this, I know I will be meeting you soon. The olive tree is growing stronger, just like you. You are right; it is a piece of art that will always remind me of you. And draw a smile on my face everyday.
My coughing is getting worse by days but I have to stay. This is the promise I have given you, to share Jesus in this land. Till death I will keep it. For Christ’s sake, I count it all as loss, including my life.
Until the day I know I had lost you, I came to realize that I had lost so much without you in the past, there was no way to get back to the good old days. How I wished I could love you more; let you ride on my shoulder, give you one more hug, and tell you more bedtime stories while your biological parents never did. How I wished I could have prayed more for you, or maybe meet you one more time, just to tell you: “I love you too, my son.”

p/s: Thank you for the present, it is not just a specimen but love from you to keep me going. It is beautiful, my son. Thank you for everything.

With love,
Always your daddy KC
********

The Smile on YOUR Face

2009-01-14T04:36:00.000-08:00

The Smile On YOUR Face
That day, I was greatly depressed. I was carrying the burdens that I couldn’t shoulder. Kneeling down before the throne, with a broken heart, I confessed.

“I have sinned, Father. There is a lump of hatred in my heart.” A trembling voice from my mouth was thrown out as I started confessing my sin. I lowered my head as I dare not to look straight to my Father’s eyes. Reddish liquid oozing out from my lower lip as I bite it; it was the smell of blood, not the taste as I like, but it gave me courage at the moment.

Tell me what you hate and why you hate, my dearest daughter? His loving voice was echoing in my ears. A trace of encouragement was found in His voice, not to judge but to heal.

“I am sorry, Father. I hate their smile. The phoney smile on their faces was ugly...” Hesitated, I knew I was not supposed to judge the jokers, for I am neither the Judge nor the Creator. I nearly swallowed up the rest of my words but my Father gently tapped on my head. He wanted me to continue.

His eyes were filled with assurance. He wanted me to split all the bitterness from the bottom of my heart. He is my Father.

I cleared my throat,” They do not mean to smile when they stretch the edge of their lips. They have a purpose for that. They have the rotten inner self yet tried to cover it with this plastic smile, to tell people how good they are, but actually not. They smell like the dead, yet trying to cover the stink to fool the world. Shame on them! ” Frustration was gradually being stirred up and my anger was boiling.

Noticed my overflowed wrath, He cuddled my head and His eyes were telling me that He knew my pain. He nodded His head as He wished me to continue. Not even a little hold back. What He wanted was all.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I continued my case,” They hurt me, Father, after I have done so much for them. It was hard for me to open up my heart to welcome them as part of my life yet I did it. They peeped into the house of my heart like a thief, broke into it to rob my joy like a robber, and stabbed my heart with their swords and tried to kill me like a murderer. Why must they be so cruel to a harmless creature like me? I meant to be friend but I was treated like an enemy; I tried to offer help but they were plotting against me; I tried to build them up but they trash me and tore me into pieces; I pray for them and comfort them in trouble times but they left me alone without a word when I needed them the most.”

I broke down in tears as I touched the most painful part of my infected wound. It reminded me about a sad story and a sad poem written on the forgotten tomb. It reads:
Sleeps, but rested not.
Pleases, but pleased not.
Loves, but loved not.
Dead, as was alive- Alone.

The simplest poem- the most striking effect on my wounded emotion. Will I end up in such pathetic situation? I wondered. Alone in the darkness, where my friends aren’t my friend.

There’s no angel.

Amidst those tears, my Father held me in His everlasting arms close to His heart. I felt warmth and loved. He brought me to His Son.

Talk to My Son and perhaps you will find your way out. His lips curved as looked at my surprised expression.

I saw the nails pierced hands and my heart skipped a beat. He is my Saviour. He has died for me and redeemed me from the Satan. I was excited. As I was pondering over the reason why am I being brought here, my Father handed me a hammer and a few nails.

“I don’t understand, Father.” I scratched my confused head.

Look carefully at the nails, My dear.

I saw some blood stain on it. The smell of the blood woke my sleeping memory up. My emotion fluctuated and salty crystal beads started to roll down. Blood, I could never forget about it- it contains my life. I am one of them, the crucifiers.

The hammer and nails slipped from my shaking hands and dropped on the floor, composing an unorganized melody at the very moment. My legs turned jelly and I threw myself on the floor, weeping for the Lamb of God.

Don’t be sad, My dear. This is why I was sent to the world. I am blameless yet I bear the all the sin of the sinners. Even they are ugly, unrighteous, imperfect, worthless, and unscrupulous, yet My Father loves them and I love them. They hurt me and do not believe in me even though I came to give them salvation. They rejected me and crucified me. The soldiers were gambling for My robe when I drained My last drop of Blood. They were close to the Cross yet far from Me. He smiled.

He lifted my chin. I saw passion shining in His eyes. An indescribable feeling overwhelmed me. I realised that those faked smile was nothing compared to the suffering, at least I got the smile not the nails.

You are saved, My dear. By My strips you are healed. Rejoice, for the suffering you bear for the sake of Me, you will be rewarded when your soul return to Father. You will be crowned a Crown of Life if you fight the good fight and finish the race yet remain faithful until the last. He smiled.

Our eyes met in the air. I have something in my mind. I couldn’t wait to vomit the thought out, but it was jumbled. I mumbled,” but the smile...” I was not being able to construct my sentence, my face turned red. I took another glance at Him, as if I was the little child waiting for consolation.

He read my mind, I supposed. A gentle tap landed on my head. What comfort. He knows that He needs no words to calm my swinging emotion but a touch will do. It works. Then, He pointed at the hammer and nails on the floor.

I had born all this for you because I love you. You are forgiven because I love you. Do you love Me?

An very easy question, yet not easy to answer. I knew there was something hidden, still I gave Him my very honest answer.

“ I love you.” Face to face I said it. A great relief followed. These three words weighed more than a ton.

He smiled. Forgive them. He said.

Forgive them? But they had caused me unbearable pain. I struggled, it’s hard to let go. Unintentionally, I bear them grudge, the hatred piled up and polluted my soul. I stole a glimpse on His gracious face. I took His hands and examined them closely, it is all for love.

Yes, all for love. Father gave the world His only begotten Son. I was one of them but now Father and I are reconciled. Why let the insincere smile darkened my days? Why let hatred accumulated take away my love for Him? Am I not loved Him? No, I love Him.

It was time to make a choice. I stood up from where I fell down, had the hammer and nails in my hands. He led me to the Cross, and I nailed my sin on it. Every batter on the nail, I felt the torment as if my flesh and bones were slashed and torn apart. I was hammering all of them with all my strength. When I had done and I turned to my Father and His Son. They replied me with smile.

“Can you do something for me, Father?” I asked as I wiped my forehead and gasping for air, and I continued without waiting for His answer.

“I pray that for everything I do for you, will be able to draw a big smile on Your face. What I want is a smile on Your face...”, I poured out my desire. “...and a gentle tap on my head... Everyday. ” Finally, I said it out. I found no reasons why should I rob my joy by looking at the plastic smile when I could have something better. No, I mean the Best.

He smiled. It was a big one.

I captured this moment in my mind. This is the reason from keeping me going no matter how rocky the journey is. I need not the crowd to remind me that I am not alone; I need not the people to tell me how loved I am, I need not the plastic smile to tell me I am accepted. I already have the answer.

The smile on my Father’s face.

A Gift

2008-10-24T06:21:00.000-07:00

A Gift
Leoz Jonah was sipping hot coffee from his favourite yellow mug, enjoying the satisfactory from the aroma of the thick brown liquid. He took a glimpse at his wristwatch; it was 4:11 am. A brand new day had silently arrived yet he did not realize it. “What a long exhausting night,” Leoz Jonah throw his sight far away from his office window and gluttonously seeking for the sign of a new day. 8 hours of fighting with the Death Evil with his remarkably outstanding surgery skill, a suicide patient was given a second chance to see the sunrise of tomorrows. Jonah Dawn relieved a sigh, thinking of the greatly depressed suicidal patient. Deep in his heart, he was praying earnestly for his patient’s emotionally and physically recovery. A calm voice arouse in his heart, this was a voice that had given him words of encouragement, and a bellyful of disappointment, 25 years ago. “Heal your patients with double-edged sword...” Leoz Jonah smiled at his old days, and the beautiful sunrise. Sunrise and sunrise, the everlasting beauty of the sun still conquering his heart; Years after years, the scattered pieces of his stories still occupy a place in his memory box while his hair was started turning grey. He took out a moth-eaten small rectangular paper box from his table drawer: it was a gift, a gift that supposed to be presented to someone. As he blew off the dust on it, he unlocked the memory box of 25 years ago. He took out a book from it, and slowly flipped the fragile pages.
********
.
It was a sunny day. Birds were singing on the branches, celebrating the good weather; Winds were directing a graceful dance of the grasses, adding on colour to the extraordinary symphony. Jonah Dawn’s heart was filled with joy, for him, everyday was provided with opportunities and at the same time, the uncertainty gave him a sense of adventurous. This optimistic characteristic really promised him a quite-smooth-sailing in his college life; neither a mountain of biology reference books and assignments could ever stop him moving on nor the sophisticatedly complicated calculus could put off the burning fire in his heart. Having realised he would never be an eagle; he strongly believed by exerting more effort in his studies, he could make a difference in his future, even though he was just a chicken. Through this journey, he was not walking alone. With him, there are Philip Leon, Stephen Timothy, and Don Amos. They were once strangers using the same road everyday yet they did not know each other, however, there was one very special person who tight them together. He was the illusive magician who had successfully ignited their enthusiasm towards debate and the great chemist whom Jonah Dawn admired; He used none of the colourful chemical substances in laboratory yet he could initiate an invisible chemical reaction which melted their icy heart walls, leading to the formation of a wonderful relationship- it was called friendship. The very first page in Jonah Dawn’s stories book was written, when he first met this extremely unique person.
********
..
“Good morning, Mr Speaker sir. As the Prime Minister of government team, I would like to define “terrorists” as a group of people who have different ideology and they use hard methods such as bombing and nuclear weapon attack to impose high profile influence in the society...”, Jonah Dawn took a deep breath before he continued. He took a quick glance on the yellow shirt guy who was sitting right in front of him. Jonah Dawn’s confidence was collapsing when he noticed that guy was shaking his head, he wanted to continue his speech but those words could not be thrown out as if they were stuck in his throat. He froze at the spot and there was a long hesitant. Four pairs of eyes were focused on Jonah Dawn; three of them were trying to give encouragement, but the last pairs of emotionless eyes, Jonah Dawn could not fathom out what message they were carrying. This was their third mock debate, a preparation for Jonah Dawn, Philip Leon, Stephen Timothy, and Don Amos, before they went for a battle- the battle of minds. The whole training process was not an enjoyable one; 15 minutes for brainstorming and 7 minutes to present arguments. Jonah Dawn was having a hard time to cope with this exhausting training. His optimistic was started to turn sour as he realised his poor command in English would stop him to spur forward, and he started wondering whether he could be a debater. Jonah Dawn failed to continue with his speech, he folded the paper in his hand and went back to his seat. Feeling defeated, the intention of running away began to sprout out.
********
…
Philip Leon threw himself onto his soft bed. A tedious week again with endless tests and infinite assignments, and he was using 85% of his energy in saturating his brain with required general knowledge for debate. Within two weeks time, he was going to make his dream come true. A dream of becoming a debater, standing on the stage to present sound arguments, to give concrete rebuttals to trash the opposition teams down. Philip Leon found debate very interesting as words were used as weapons to fight against each others. No blood no pain throughout the process of winning the trophy. Philip Leon was a talented debater, even though he was a newbie in the game, he played well for each game he involved. There was a big contrast between Philip Leon and his partner, Jonah Dawn. They met each other because of debate and their friendship was nearly broken because of the same reason. While the fire of debate of burning within Philip Leon and pushing him to move forwards in a frantic speed, somehow he forgot to look around to seek his partner, to see how far he had been left behind, or to pull him up when he had fallen. One week before the debate tournament, he was surprised by his partner’s decision, a sudden voice to tear down their covenant to run after their shared dream. “ I cannot run the race with you anymore. You could have been better without a lousy partner like me.” The solemn voice of Jonah Dawn was playing in his mind. At the midst of wilderness, a message was sent to the yellow shirt guy, their couch their senior, Joash Marvel.
********
….
Stephen Timothy bite into his egg sandwich, at the same time, he was trying to solve a very complicated question. “There is no time to lose.” Stephen Timothy kept reminding himself. He was busy scribbling on a piece of paper while his teeth were grinding his lunch: two regurgitations were taking place at once. It was a hectic life and he found it difficult to keep up with others’ paces, especially when he took a brave step to join the debate competition with Don Amos. Stephen Timothy’s determination was shaking when he took himself as a turtle among sprinters, seeing that there was only minor improvement shown by himself throughout the debate training session. Messed up in a step, Stephen Timothy failed in solving the question. He scratched his head in frustration; a thought to pull out from the debate sprang out. All he wanted was to get everything right on the track. He looked at his previous chemistry test paper; he only scored a mere 45%. He sighed. He took out his hand phone and typed two messages: respectively to Joash Marvel and Don Amos. Silently, he talked to Him:” You chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment you know where I am. I am not ready for this challenge, give me more times to grow, o Lord.” Having fed by the words of God, he soaked himself into the fantasy world of Core Mathematics after keeping his dream in his secret box.
********
…..
It was a rainy night. The drops from sky carried strong elegiac feeling .Don Amos was taking a shower. The little bathroom was filled with the fragrance of shower gel that he used. It was Don Amos’s favourite lavender’s smell, an anti-stress antigen. He smirked at himself, yes, he needed to combat with his overflowing anxiety and stress especially after nodding his head as a sign of agreement to be Stephen Timothy’s debate partner. The debate training session was a nightmare; it revealed their weaknesses nakedly in front of everyone, and they had to be prepared to be criticised mercilessly by the short guy whom had rich debate experiences. Don Amos had forgotten how many times he had been discouraged after every mock debates, he wondered how broken his heart could be. His zeal for debate was gradually decolourized due to the lonely journey, being forgotten and left in the lurch. Having a hard time of struggling, he let himself hit by the freezing cold water, trying to loosen his over-stretched nerves. Perhaps, God felt his sorrow and decided to give him a break; Don Amos received a message from his partner:” Don, I wish to stop here. I cannot continue any further. I’m sorry for letting this race unfinished...” Don Amos looked at the dark sky, there was countless of blinking stars. It was a peaceful night that led him into a deep thought. “It is finished.” Don Amos murmured. Silently, an angel blowing a gentle breeze to wipe the crystal beads on his face. It might be an end of the path yet there was another waiting for him, long time ago, even before he was born.
********
……
It was a dead silence in the room. Joash Marvel’s pale white serious face made him looked no more than a ruthless dictator. It was a terrible night for him. All four of his sheep caught him with great surprise by telling him their decisions to pull out from the debate tournament. He was driven by disappointment; all this while he had been sacrificing his precious times in couching his four juniors and taught them generously whatever he knew. He was deeply depressed, thinking of the way he had trained them. “Am I too harsh towards them? Have I given my best to them all this while?” These questions were turning around in his mind. Terribly struck with dismay, he knelt down on his knees and sought the Almighty One. Feeling the presence of the Holy Spirit, he heard a voice:” My son, even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty. Rejoice my son, and believe in me.” Comforted, Joash Marvel pondered over the two messages that he had received from his juniors. He made a decision, or perhaps God made it for him. No one knows .A gentle press on the key pads of his PC, Joash Marvel never know it was the message that changed everything.
********
…….
The park was filled with giggling of four kids. They were jumping here and there, chasing after one another happily. At the corner of the park, there was an unhappy young man sitting on the swing. Laughter and sorrow clashed in the peaceful evening, stirring up the uneasiness in his heart. Today, he made a cowardly decision, he chose to run away; he ran away from facing his giants, and he let his cowardice conquering his soul. “Jonah Dawn, you are a chicken!” A satanic voice was trying to push him to the abyss. Tears was burst out from his eyes, mixing with unimaginable disappointment; Being disappointed by his own gutless action, and the absent of words of encouragement from a special person. Deep in Jonah Dawn’s heart, he was not really wanted to give up in the first place. He was a man who always kept his words and breaking a promise was definitely against his principle. Driven by the curiosity on the depth of friendship and the longing for words of encouragement, however, Jonah Dawn put everyone into a test. It was a stupid mistake. He forgot to measure the value of himself before setting the test and now he had to bear the heavy consequences of it. Yesterday night, he read a message. “ I wish to talk to you personally. Meet at X-Cafe, 7am.” It was a message that appeared on Philip Leon’s hand phone’s screen, only. Jonah Dawn had been waiting for a similar message to come in, yet his hand phone remained silent, for the whole night.
********
……..
Jonah Dawn’s eyes was trying to avoid meeting Joash Marvel’s, it was six months after the battle of minds. All the bitterness was being stirred up whenever Joash Marvel’s shadow was seen, voice was heard. Understandable, no one would like to see a person whom was a reminder of one’s failure. Joash Marvel was the haunting ghost for Jonah Dawn, a person whom Jonah Dawn wished he could evaporate from the earth. However, the Creator was a joker, whom wisdom was difficult to be fathomed and far beyond Jonah Dawn’s understandings. Almost every single day after the unhappy event, Joash Marvel appeared in front of Jonah Dawn, jumping here and there like an over-excited short leg frog. Interestingly, God did a miracle by putting Jonah Dawn in Joash Marvel’s home church, as if a Father swinging a disgusting frog in front of a screaming daughter- During the particular Sunday service, Jonah Dawn was deeply touched by Holy Spirit. He forgot how much tears he had poured out through the service, yet he still remember the reassurance from God. “I know I have the plan for you, they are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” A gentle voice arouse from the bottom of his heart as Jonah Dawn was worshipping. God’s work was indescribable; Jonah Dawn had to admit it. He never think that he will settle down in New Life Restoration Centre, a place which he could call as a home, a place where he could trace a trivial sense of belonging. After all, he just tried to be sporting and accept the invitation from his friends, Philip Leon and Stephen Timothy, in the beginning, he never expect the result.
********
………
“Lord, I’m amazed by you. Lord, I’m amazed by you, how you love me…” Jonah Dawn was crooning gently in the balcony. He was worshipping in the morning when the sun still had not wake up. It was exactly one year after the painful experience; Jonah Dawn had grown stronger in Christ and had tried his best to give Him undivided attention. His wound was gradually bound up by the Healing Hands, yet Jonah Dawn knew there was something missing, when he realised that he failed to face Joash Marvel. The Almighty One spoke to Jonah Dawn through a book which lied on Philip Leon’s writing desk, a meaningful book entitled “The Kite Runner” by Hussein Khalid, a book which owner named Joash Marvel. Perhaps God knew Jonah Dawn’s “must-read-every-good-book” habit, and He purposely placed one on Philip Leon’s desk, on the day when Jonah Dawn was wondering whether he should join the battle once again, his eyes were attracted by the book. He greedily picked up the book and swallowed everything in his mind within two days, and he found something that touched his soul-the similarity between himself and Amir, the main character, they were both coward. They flew away from their giants yet Amir had successfully made his redemption in the end. The ending of the story intrigued Jonah Dawn to do the same thing, fight and win him back. Jonah Dawn looked at the beautiful sunrise, he had made a decision. “May your kingdom come, may your will be done…” Jonah Dawn prayed wholeheartedly.
********
……….
The clock sounded 4:15pm. It was going to be Jonah Dawn and his partner’s third round in the debate’s tournament, few more minutes later, the motion would be released. The stagnant air was suffocating the debaters. Jonah Dawn was trying to cool his spine down by singing praises to Him, “I have got the life, I have got the melody, I have the Word, the Word of God; that set me free…” A gentle tap on his shoulder woke Jonah Dawn; he turned his eyes to the dark guy sitting comfortably beside him. Their eyes met in the air, and they smiled. The dark guy was an angel sent by God, Jonah Dawn supposed. Three days before the application submit deadline, Keith Krishnan approached Jonah Dawn and asked him to be his partner. Jonah Dawn bitter past was being stirred up by the coming of the battle, he was not confident towards his capability, all in all, his endurance to finish the race and stand up from where he had once fallen. Once again, a solemn voice reminded Jonah Dawn: “My son, I will not let the defeated remain defeated.” Jonah Dawn asked Keith Krishnan to meet up; he was thinking of pouring out his past on his going-to-be new partner- Keith Krishnan had the right to know before they started to run the race together. Before the motion was released, Jonah Dawn managed to take a glimpse on a yellow card, which was written by a special person, one year ago.
It read:
Dearest Jonah,
Cast your eyes on the mountains,
And see the chariots of fires,
And the legions of angels that fill the horizon.
Look, see, and know that the Lord is good. For He never fails, never short changes us, and never hides the best thing from us.
Joash
“God is good all the time...” ;Jonah Dawn murmured.
********
...........
It was a peaceful afternoon. Jonah Dawn looked at the blue sky, he saw an aeroplane. He could not hold back his welled eyes; and his precious tears dropped on his black cotton shirt. He could feel his contented soul souring high in the sky like an eagle, breaking free from the sorrow bondage and enjoying the fruit of freedom. Jonah Dawn and Keith Krishnan lost in the battle of minds, yet they managed to crown the honour as finalist. They had fought a good fight and finished the race, they supported each other through the rocky journey, and together they had fought like warriors. Looking at the trophies in their hands, they smiled again. Not at the shiny trophies but the walk they had embarked on, and the miraculous work which God had done on them. No one expected the ending, not even themselves. Obviously, God had chosen them to shine for Him and glorify His name in the heaven, even though they were only broken clay pots. There were three darling angels standing right in front of Jonah Dawn, they were not the winged creatures but they were the people who had given Jonah Dawn full support while he was running the race, they were Philip Leon, Stephen Timothy, and Don Amos, the people with angelic hearts. The winter season for Jonah Dawn had silently passed by, his spring times was coming. A blossom of new friendship with Keith Krishnan and the joy of the restored friendships; were causing a big gay flood within Jonah Dawn. There was one last thing that Jonah Dawn had to do: to face his ex- haunting ghost once again, and hand him one little thing, the most valuable gift which Jonah Dawn wanted to give Joash Marvel all this while. Jonah Dawn took a look at his trophy, he smiled again. “This time, I will look straight into your eyes...” Jonah Dawn told himself.
********
The unfinished coffee was cooled down in the adorable yellow mug. Leoz Jonah slowly put down the old book in his hand. It was his very first book, which entitled “A Gift”. Ironically, it was a gift that he failed to give to the targeted person, Madam Sherry, his English lecturer during his freshman year in Manipal University, India. It was not because Leoz Jonah liked her very much but it was her who taught him about reality, something closer to the real life, something we called favouritism. How much Leoz Jonah wanted her lecturer to realize that her attitude was nearly ruined his life by writing him off from her “apples list”, and throwing her cruel criticism with a smiling face. Leoz Jonah was always her targeted bull eyes for his never ending enthusiastic to debate with the lecturer. Leoz Jonah felt the strong urge to voice out his thought whenever he disagreed with Madam Sherry. Perhaps this was an inborn characteristic; Leoz Jonah was the flying dove, refused to be bound by constraint. Leoz Jonah’s principle was” no one should be forgotten, everyone is precious no matter who you are” Thus, he wrote his contradict idea in his book. Deep inside Leoz Jonah’s heart, he wanted to send this message to the lady whom left a great impact in his life in a very special way. He took out a piece of old newspaper from the box; it read” A lady was killed in a car crash…”.Leoz Jonah signed. One day before Leoz Dawn submitted his draft, Madam Sherry left the world; God brought her back to where she belonged. Having no opportunity to hand her the gift, Leoz Dawn changed the ending of his very first story. He had no chance to present the gift, yet Jonah Dawn had. He threw his sight at the beautiful morning, he smiled.
********
Simple words of mine:
It is my journey, not a beautiful story, yet a walk to remember. It was once started with unfulfilled expectation, bitterness, sorrow, and a broken soul. Worthless and imperfect, were my reflection. I wonder, how many times I had broken His heart, still Jesus loves me, and holds me in His arms. I wonder, how many times I had turned away from Him, still Jesus forgives me, and gives me other chance. I was redeemed for He has paid the price. I see this as a GIFT, the most precious gift a Father would give to His beloved children. He taught me how to forgive, how to love, how to give. Walking on this journey of faith, I am glad that I am walking with Him, I am not alone and I’ll never be. I pray that more and more empty souls will receive the GIFT with their hearts and start a journey of seeking the GIVER.
Amen.

A Silent Odyssey

2008-07-18T05:14:00.000-07:00

A silent odyssey

I

Life would never be an easy expedition for John Watson. He had no physical impairment; he could read the most brilliantly written journals, he could smell the fragrance of elegant bouquet of roses, he could listen to the enthusiastically played music, he could enjoy the cordon bleu cuisines, and he could croon a sentimental tune. Yet, he had been stumbling through his way up till to the point where he was. Having driven by the unspeakable distress, he thought of setting himself free- Free from every single suffocating constrains. It was not an ABC for John Watson to step into a debate team, especially when he was a dyslexic speaking sufferer. The excitement of tasting new flavor experience became the sole inspiration of John Watson. Deep in the bottom of his heart, he always knew that his participation would be looked as a joke when there were countless of genuine debaters joining the exhilarating battle of minds. Throughout the whole enervating of debate training, John Watson was terribly lost. Sadly, there was no one to comfort him and no one was there to give him a portion of encouragement during the sorrow moments. Neither angel nor his respectful couch offered him any constructive guidance. John Watson did not really mean to break off his commitment towards the debate team members, his ultimate purpose was to test how much did he mean to his friends and couch. And he had been given an extremely heartbreaking response. Terribly disappointed, John Watson kept his dream of becoming a well-trained debater. All the more, he collected the pieces of his abruptly smashed heart and continued walking on the thorny journey. While life seems so meaningless in his view, until he met a quiet boy with a mockingbird in the rain, “ There must be more than this, my days when I’m still breathing…” he murmured.

********

No one would ever believe that, even Amy McGee herself couldn’t believe that John Watson was the one; a thief who had successfully stolen her heart, an intruder who dashed into her without alarm. That was the first time where Amy McGee saw John Watson debating with sparking passion and bellyful of conviction even his inborn speaking disorder couldn’t put off the fire of his enthusiasm towards the battle of minds. Amy McGee had been attending to the same church as John Watson. She first met John Watson at World Harvest Church but she did not really put him in her memory box as he is unnoticeable in term of his appearance. And this was one of the common things they were sharing- insignificance. Ever since Amy McGee had discovered the presence of this aspiring debater, she gradually witnessed his mushrooming inner beauty. The more she knew about him, the more she couldn’t hold herself from falling for him, and the more she knew that he was simply too unreachable for her. He was as if like an eagle, waiting for an appropriate time to spread his wings and soar high in the blue sky. Samantha Best was the other eagle in World Harvest Church, a talented musician possessing a remarkably outstanding elegance. She was the dedicated debater like John Watson, both pursuing an astonishing zeal in minds’ wars. They were flying under the same remarkably spacious sky. When the time she saw the sparkles out of John Watson and Samantha Best’s debates, Amy McGee knew that she would only be the third person who would never had a chance to squeeze in between. It was always an anguished moment while we set our eyes on someone or something which already been marked of ownership, Amy McGee knew that it was time to let go the jewel whom did not belong to her. “Let’s the wind blow off the aroma of the blossomless love. From now onwards, Jesus will be my only lover…” Amy McGee shouted aloud in her heart.

********

III

Samantha Best threw her drained-out body onto her comfy bed. It had been a torturing week with overloaded undone assignments and unrevised text books due to the hellish debate training. Debate was once her whole universe, the main source of her secret satisfaction when the time she saw the defeated faces of her opponents. It had been a great time for her by standing on top of all and always be acknowledged as No.1. She created the most wonderful melodies while she let her delicates fingers dancing on the piano keys. Her angelic voice melted every stony hearts, except for one person- Orson Best, her younger brother. Orson best had lost his privilege in listening to beautiful sounds since he was born. Sarcastically, Samantha Best might harbor plethora of compliments from all over the directions, she failed in earning a simple praise from her only begotten brother. Ever since Samantha Best’s father dumped his pregnant wife and 7-years old little Samantha Best and gone off with his underground-affair mistress, Samantha Best’s mother lost her mind and always got herself drunk without considering the baby she was carrying in womb. She cried and shouted out of the bottom of her broken heart for someone who broke their love covenant. All this tragedy had mercilessly robbed Samantha Best’s precious childhood and her natural conscience forced her to grow stronger and faster. She was disappointed by her father’s selfishness, she determined not to disappoint herself in any circumstances. Throughout the past 11 year of harsh life, she had been pushing herself to be the No.1 in everything she did- debate, academic, music, and piano. She successfully put her self-imposed targets into reality yet she felt the emptiness in her heart. She was lost in the midst of wilderness and loneliness was conquering her soul. She realized that she was somebody yet she never had anybody. “What on Earth am I here for … ” She was wondering.

********

IV

While the youth were grumbling about the unbearably annoying hot weather or endless tests, there was always a young boy who sat at the corner of the class drawing on his sketch book. Orson Best was his name but he would never know that how wonderful his name sounded. He was fully concentrated on his piece of drawing as if he was the only one existed at the very moment. After he finished the final touch, he closed the emerald green colored front cover. The sky was purple and the sorrow was contagious to the empty souls. Every single day on the earth seems like a replaying drama for Orson Best but he treasured each and every second. Even though he couldn’t hear the most beautiful melodies yet he could hear the sound of brokenhearted, his life might pursue elegiac qualities yet the hardship of the journey neither burn him out nor bury his unnoticeable talent. He did not discover this view personally but because of God sent an angel to reveal this hidden meaning of life. Few years ago, Orson Best saw a girl who was trying to save a mockingbird from being stoned dead by three naughty kids at the playground, when he was on the way to World Harvest Church. That day, he believed that he did see an angel, a beautiful angel. He knew the angel, the quiet girl from World Harvest Church, Amy McGee. Nobody would notice her due to her unattractive outlook, the glitter from her inner beauty was glorious, even his all rounder sister, Samantha best would look dim in terms of inner beauty. The great lady of the Almighty taught him many thing- to love, to give, to forgive. Orson Best felt so blessed by having Amy McGee and his new-found friend, Memo, the mockingbird who couldn’t sing. Thus, he was so encouraged to be a blessing to other. This wasn’t a joke but a commitment to Father God. Yesterday he and Memo saw a guy standing in the rain and he could feel the pain of his heart. Without hesitation, he went to him with Memo. He tapped his shoulder and showed him a piece of paper which written “ REMEMBER , JESUS LOVES YOU.”

********

This life is not about you, it is not about me, and definitely it is not about us.
It is about God.
We may stumble yet we will never fall.
Remember, Jesus loves you.

The X-Zone

2008-06-15T04:41:00.000-07:00

Trembling in a horrofic fear, i'm surrounding in a seemingly endless darkness. My heart beats hurriedly as i'm gasping for oxygen. The layer of dead freezing mist is almost suffocating me. A heartbreaking torment comes from my chest. I bite my lower lip to avoid any groaning due to this unimaginable pain. A crystal bead drops on my lips, salty it tastes. Ironically, i couldn't differentiate wether it is my tears or sweat. I close my eyes and lean on the wall. Having all the memory mess up, i need to rearrange them. While i'm breathing in and out, i can feel there is something oozing out of my chest. I see the colour of the fluid under the silverish moonlight. It's red and it smells like blood. Now i remember what had happened. All the bitterness and sorrow burst up into my chest, it's time to pay the price...

******
It was a tragic start at the moment i was "born". I was embeded in big tube with jelly-like fluid. I saw a few men with white lab coat around me. Feeling dizzy and exhausted, my next involuntary reaction was closing my eyes. The next time when i opened my eyes, i wasn't in the big tube containing some disgusting jelly thingie but i was on a bed. Even i was a new-born, i'm not a baby but a young adult. There were many "others" in the giant tubes, as i managed to catch a glimpse before i closed my eyes. " Planet P...", i mumbled as i saw a logo on the wall. Before i could have a clearer glance at the uniquely devised logo, a flat and expressionless voice interupted me.
" Mr. Leoz, i'm Dr. Robert Jetro, your personal counsellor. " A respectful old grey-haired man with white lab coat appeared in my sight. I noticed that Dr. Robert Jetro wasn't alone. A young lady was beside him. She had a long brown hair with fair smooth skin. " Ms. Vinz is your partner. " Dr. Robert Jetro introduced in a motionless voice. I breathed in the unpleasant air. " Both of you report yourselves in hospital tomorrow at 9 o'clock." Dr. Robert Jetro left us a monotonous order in a stagnant atmosphere.

******
Vinz was the most charming doctor in Hospital Pluto, by possessing the most mysterious cobalt-blue eyes, i reckoned. Perhaps it was the fault of my body chemical reaction, i failed to remove my crimson-red eyes from her, it seems like i was predestined to fall for her. I believed that my heart had been stolen at the first moment she appeared in my sight. She stole my heart, still, i had my mind. I could smell something inexplicable through her icy-cold gaze. Revenge? Jealousy? I had no idea. Having convinced myself not to bother the tide of antagonistic from Vinz, i warmly welcome Vinz into my life without considering the consequences. Because i did not realise that, there was a price to pay, an exorbitant price.

******
" Dr. Leoz, congratulation. You deserve the honour." The Director of Hospital Pluto shaked my hands while presenting me the certificate. Humbly, i received the certificate in front of my colleagues, eventhough it wasn't my first time. Two weeks ago, i had done a transplant surgery of human's brain on a brain-damaged human. It was considered a giant step in medical field. I took a quick peek at my colleagues, i could hear the most enthusiastic clap from the devious faces. I took no attention on the green-eyed monsters, " i'm used to it. " But at the moment my crimson-red eyes met a pair of cobalt-blue eyes in the air, this was the only reason for me to smile. My partner, Dr. Vinz was looking passionately at me. I smirked at my angel. For me, she was different. She helped me and cared for me without condition. Nobody would do this in Hospital Pluto.

******
Reluctantly,I looked at my watch, it was 2:15am. I was wondering why i was demanded to attend a private meeting. Being worn out after carried out a 6 hours major surgery on a heartattacked patient, i was thinking of sipping a cup of hot cocoa in my comfortable condominium, but an unexpected phone call disturbed my plan. " I'm sorry for calling you at this late time but there is something urgent from The Leader." " Our special sergeon is terribly wounded in an accident..." Dr. Robert Jetro explained uhhurriedly. " We need you in our group and this project is strictly confidential." My face turned solemn and confused. I believed that Dr. Robert Jetro had intruded my mind password and he kept saying," You are chosen to replace the former special surgeon as you are the best among the best..." Dr. Robert Jetro swallowed the last word and i thought i had heard something. But he continued, " so, get yourself prepared and report your presence tomorrow." My shagged eyes became bright.

******
My sudden disappearence from Hospital Pluto drew nobody attention. As i had been acquainted with the coolness amongst my colleages, thus no pain within my heart. Yet, there was always an exceptional case, Vinz. I could feel the strong urge of unwillingness to leave without her. " Can Dr. Vinz works with me? I mean she is my partner after all..." I asked of Dr. Robert Jetro when i received the unforeseen order but my only request was cruely rejected. " Dr. Leoz, what we want is the best, the most talented, not the mediocre. Do i make myself clear? " Dr. Robert Jetro's long face was even longer. I put a small piece of yellowish sticky note on her laptop, i thought she deserved to be informed about my leaving. " Vinz, meet at the rendezvous, 1:30pm. Love, Leoz. " I took a last glance at the note before i left.

******
" Welcome, Dr.Leoz. " I met Dr. Robert Jetro at the entrance. " Let me show you your new working place" He made me a sign to follow him. It was the most gigantic laboratory that i had ever been. And the apparatus were thounsand times more sophisicated than my previous laboratory. " This is surely an eye-opening tour." I told myself. Dr. Robert Jetro led me to a high security bronze door laboratory, X-zone. " Before u step into this lab, i want to remind you: this project is superbly private. Nothing related to the project could be published or told." His grave look already served as a great warning. " Yes sir." I answered obediently. As Dr. Robert Jetro inserting the password, an infra-red scanned through his grey iris and my cobalt-blue iris. Within a few second, the enigmatic veil was revealed behind the mysterous door.

******
" Here, i had bought you your favourite expresso." She knew that i need caffeina to stimulate my brain cells. Vinz gazed at me and was waiting for a satisfying answer. My mind was fulled with the scene where there were plenty of giant tube with jelly thingie covering a human. I was stunned with what had appeared in front of me, this was something familiar to me but i just could't get the complete puzzle. " The X-zone..." i murmed. An inituitive sense was telling me i had some connection with that. Perhaps my mind absence annoyed Vinz, she was kind of impatient, " Why you leave Hospital Pluto? Tell me. " " I am being promoted as a special surgeon in Perfect Horrizon. " I could hear Vinz's heart dropped into the abyss of disappointment. I shouldn't tell her about this but i had no intention to hide anything from her. Working with the top medical experts from Perfect Horrizon was Vinz's dream but now i was the chosen one. Praying silently in my heart, i hoped that this incident would not bring impact towards our friendship. " Congrate, Leoz, you are always the best. I still have a few appointments with my patients, see you. " Vinz left without giving me a desirable warm hug. I noticed a trace of insincerity at the edge of her lips. Maybe i was drained out due to the strenuous job.

******
It was the third months i worked with Perfect Horrizon. The genius of my operating skill amazed my colleagues in Perfect Horrizon. But there was plenty of question marks in my mind regarded to the new job. I worked as an ordinary doctor in the morning from 7:00am to 12:00pm. My true mission started at the midnight in the undergroud laboratory. Eventhough my "patient" was not the same like us, she was a mutant. She owned a pair of snow-white angel wings, other than this, she was perfectly a lovely lady. But, her crimson-red eyes intrigued my nature curiosity to investigate about her background. Dr. Alfred John, the former special surgeon and his odd disappearence must have something to deal with the project. But, every single detail about him was delected from the computer sources. Someone purposely did this. My dogged determination bore fruit when i accidentally dropped Dr. Alfred John's watch which was put in a drawer. I was using his office since i replaced him. It was an expensive watch but there was something else which drew my attention, a tiny memory card. A big fortune or a big disaster ahead.

******
" 10 Oct :The Leader had undergone an experiment of injection rearranged genes to human. 86 of them who born with desirable traits, whom were the decendants of legendary figure, had been illegally prisoned and became our specimens. None of them survived after the injection of genes except one..."

"17 Oct :Sarah Emerson, the decendant of the mad scientist, Professor Albert E.J. This was the detail i secretly found. I never expected any survival out of the inhumane experiment. But, Sarah Emerson has a particular antigen which helps her in defending her organs from the foreign substances.Surprisingly, the cells of her backbone is mutated. Her changes still under observation..."

"30 Oct :What a miracle, Sarah Emerson has a pair of wings! Most importantly, she is still alive. I'm awfully guilt-ridden everytime my eyes meet her crimson-red eyes. She is as if a fallen angel whom trapped by the cold-blooded mad scientists. I hope they won't end her life..."

"5 Nov : I couln't believe it. They are going to "kill" her and make her a rich genes pool. Those razy bastards want to create " designed human " by using the high quality genes from Sarah Emerson. I wish i could save this angel... my angel..."

"17 Nov :Damn fucking monsters, how could they euthanized Sarah Emerson without my knowledge! If only i could kill them, or The Leader...to save Sarah Emerson. I think they already notice my swinging loyalty. I'll stop this project, Sarah. I couldn't stand to see anyone suffer for the stupid desire to create a perfect world... i promise, Sarah. "

"20Dec :Those merciless morons have been cloning some " designed babies " out of Sarah's genes. They are nuturing the test tubes or perhaps..giant tubes babies...There are 50 of them. I hope they won't do harm to these innocent life..."

There were some blank space in the diary and it continued after 24 years... on the day i was born.I couldn't remove my eyes from my computer screen and they were gluttonously swallowed every single words of Dr. Alfred John's diary.

" 1 Dec 1989: Eventually one of the giant tube baby grows into mature stage. 30 of them had been eliminated due to some imperfection during the growing processes. At last, this new life comes to our world safetly. This baby is a his, whom once was a clump of cells and attentively genetically modified by me. His crimson-red eyes remember me of my angel Sarah. I'll never drop this precious memory fragment..."

"4 Dec: This young man lost conscious when he woke up, his good-looking face was mixing with unspeakable confusion. If i were him, perhaps i would had bewildered by the sign in front of me after sleeping in a giant tube for 24 years. The Leader wanted to make him a genius doctor which is a most needed profession...But i believed that The Leader is blueprinting some evil plan.... All the information and knowledge was inserted in his brain. What a poor young man, born with Einstein's intellegence and artificial perfection in various aspects, yet without love, not even in a micro unit. Dr. Robert Jetro will be his personal counsellor. His name is Leoz, means "Life" . God bless you, my son..."

My tears flooded when i reached this last part. I wished Dr. Alfred John would have written more than this. I wished i could dig up more and more about myself. I wished i could have a lovely family. I never imagine that i could be a genetically modified baby from a mutant...Sarcastically, my " mother " was my " patient" , no, or i should call her my specimen. "What the hell is going on ?" It's frustrating to discover some unbelievable truth which has been purposely swept under carpet. I couldn't be convinced by the fact that i was a designed object, i couldn't put off my wrath that i was using my "mother" as specimen, and i couldn't hold the grief that i was working with demons. Having these jumbled emotions pouncing on my heart, i threw a fist on my computer screen. Flesh blood dribbling down of my cut fingers together with complicated feelings.

******
My watch was tickling heavily,as if it carried my burden. It was 10:28 pm. I was waiting for Vinz. It had been a long time since i last met her. I knew that she was now the best doctor in Hospital Pluto. Expected. Vinz was the only best friend i had, and there was nothing i would hide from her. I trusted her whole-heartedly as she was a good listener and a loyal secret keeper. Automatically, i felt like sharing the biggest secret with her while driving by unimaginable despair. 2 minutes later, Vinz show up with her outstanding elegance. " I have something to tell you, Vinz...Something serious. " As I was about to pour out my bitterness, i turned my back to her. This was my habit, it was a sign to tell Vinz that i trusted her and i would leave my back for her to take care of. " Sadly, Leoz miscalculted one thing, human change, so do i. I know everything about you..." Vinz uttered cunningly. I felt a sudden pain in my chest while i started the converstion. Unexpectedly,Vinz stabbed me from behind with a laser knife. " You cannot ran away anymore, The Leader knew about your secrect and ordered me to kill you, Leoz..." Vinz wasn't Vinz...I smelled revenge, jealousy,envious, greed from her .I was stunned. My reflex action saved my life by pushing Vinz away and i started to run for life. I could hear Vinz's Machiavellian grin, " They will hunt for you, hahahaha...."

******
This is the first time i had made the wrong judgement and i have to bear the price. Vinz deceives me from the beginning yet she pretends as the most trustworthy friend after all. Undeniable, she is the best actress and i foolishly gave her my whole heart and my back. Truth always hurt and the pain is killing me. This is the first time Vinz looks like the demons and she smells like them, stink. I take my badly wounded body to the X-Zone and set up the destrustion mode. There are 19 of my brothers who are being nutured in the giant tubes. " Please forgive me, brothers. I don't want you to become puppets of demons. " I fail to hold my tears. I take the first and the last kiss on my "mother's" forehead. I believe that she would agree with me. The X-Zone shouldn't exist. No one should become the victim of human's endless desire..X-zone is where no true friendship...where love is totally forgotten...