Reading journals on the first week of Uni is a little weird, but such is life, I guess.
I'm glad that this semester did not give me as much issues as last semester. I'm trusting that this sem would be one more relaxed as compared to the last sem. I don't have to worry about group members at least that is certain and removes one of last sem's biggest stressors. I also don't have the subject dilemma since I settled it last sem.
One great stress for this sem would be the short sem though. 16 weeks worth of a course is crushed and compressed into 8. I've survived it once, I believe I can do it again...hopefully.
Things seem to be looking up. The negative thoughts are leaving. Well, at least I'm free for the moment. I know I gotta stop thinking too much, but sometimes my brain is a scumbag.
Good news is that soon it's going to be the long holidays and gives me a well-deserved break. I'm going to start planning for the sem break...I haven't planned anything since last year's let down. Time to change that.
But before I get too far, I got to get to the present. This semester would be stressful for sure. I'm going to have to read up on a lot this sem. Taking two study subjects might prove tiresome but I'm willing to take the risk.
I'm thankful for my timetable even though I hated it earlier. This timetable gives me the ability to plan proper hang-outs - and hopefully I'll get to go out with the people I want to. It's been some time since I've seen some friends. :)
Well, cheers to a good semester!
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Do the Saved need Saving?
Because of something that happened to me recently, this question popped into my head:
Do the saved need saving?
Hebrews 10:25 states: "Not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."
But do we still do this in the modern "maggi-mee" generation? Nowadays I see more and more events to lure people into the Church - we have concerts, plays, rallies, and such, but what happens after the person is saved? Follow up is a rare practice in our modern world. When you are saved, everyone assumes you are alright on your own. If you need anything, you can ask for it. How rare have I ever heard anyone tell me, "Hey, you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?"; instead I often hear the "How are you?" and the classic response, "Alright". Oh, how I sometimes wonder what would happen if I answered that question truthfully. Would you stay and listen attentively, or say you have something else that needs to be done?
Many Christians still need saving, not from the question of their faith, but from their question of their fellow brothers and sisters.
For me, who bothers about my place in the church? After all, almost everyone sees me as a Pastor's kid, a Reverend's boy, and the "He-doesn't-need-saving" kind. Even though my "soul is secure", my faith is "solid", I'm a "good" Christian boy, I still need encouragement, I'm still human, I still need friendships.
This is not a question of faith, as I said earlier. It is, in fact, a question about Christians. Why are we so double-minded? We portray to the outside world that we are a caring community, but that's just our screensaver. We wear smiles every Sunday, but those who know us, know that somewhere behind that mask is an individual suffocating in his own facade.
I've tried to be initiative even though it ran against my personality. I tried to reach out to those corner kids, those with one leg out, because I know what they are going through. I tried to be the welcoming one, but I'm drained - I'm tired now. I'm tired of forcing a smile on my face.
It feels like everyone's efforts are on the people walking into the main entrance of the Church, while they fail to notice those who are sneaking out the backdoor.
What wake up call do we need to start being a community again? Even though we are saved, we still need saving.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Have a little faith
Out of the blue last week, I decided to buy a book when I was at Popular. This was the first time a bought a book this year besides my textbooks. I bought two books that day: The Hobbit and Have a Little Faith. I haven't started the Hobbit yet because I have yet to finish reading Lord of the Rings, but I finished Have a Little Faith in three days...
Until now I'm not sure what compelled me to buy that book. The title popped out when I was going through the 50% less pile. I'm glad that I picked it up.
The book is written by Mitch Albom and his experiences with his Rabbi and a Pastor. The book is filled with life lessons that we often follow but never know why. One thing I've brought back from the book was a reason why many of us believe in a god - we need someone to turn to when we are in our darkest moments. Who do we blame when something unforeseen - like a death of a loved one - comes crashing to reality? Who can we ask for comfort?
Just like any beginning, the book started with a question. This question inspired Albom to write this book. A Rabbi's request for Albom to do his eulogy turned into a lesson on life. A lesson that would break religious barriers and show the difference between religious faith and religious hate.
The movie that came out showed some stories that were not in the book. The movie showed more about Pastor Corvington. He is a clear example of how God can take one messed-up man and change him into a vessel. I would have thought that the movie would end with Albom giving the Rabbi's eulogy, but it ended in the church... It ended by telling that just after a year since the publication of the book, Pastor Corvington died. But before he died, he did all he could do to appreciate the grace that God has given him. Both the book and the movie are a challenge to me - to do the things that I can to help those that I can...
Maybe that's what we all need... we just need someone to challenge us and to have a little faith that it can be done.
Until now I'm not sure what compelled me to buy that book. The title popped out when I was going through the 50% less pile. I'm glad that I picked it up.
The book is written by Mitch Albom and his experiences with his Rabbi and a Pastor. The book is filled with life lessons that we often follow but never know why. One thing I've brought back from the book was a reason why many of us believe in a god - we need someone to turn to when we are in our darkest moments. Who do we blame when something unforeseen - like a death of a loved one - comes crashing to reality? Who can we ask for comfort?
Just like any beginning, the book started with a question. This question inspired Albom to write this book. A Rabbi's request for Albom to do his eulogy turned into a lesson on life. A lesson that would break religious barriers and show the difference between religious faith and religious hate.
The movie that came out showed some stories that were not in the book. The movie showed more about Pastor Corvington. He is a clear example of how God can take one messed-up man and change him into a vessel. I would have thought that the movie would end with Albom giving the Rabbi's eulogy, but it ended in the church... It ended by telling that just after a year since the publication of the book, Pastor Corvington died. But before he died, he did all he could do to appreciate the grace that God has given him. Both the book and the movie are a challenge to me - to do the things that I can to help those that I can...
Maybe that's what we all need... we just need someone to challenge us and to have a little faith that it can be done.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Will you remember me?
It seems that one is so easily forgotten in the midst of people. It shouldn't hurt that much.
It shouldn't hurt when people leave you out of conversations. It shouldn't hurt that when they do, they discuss about doing things for other people, but not for you...
It shouldn't hurt that the very people in whom you depended on were not the people you thought they were.
Maybe I think too much, maybe it was a bad time, but I think it's a little of everything. I've done my best to stay the strong one, I've tried my best to be the constant presence, but being constant means you get forgotten. It's like Newton's First Law of Motion: An object will remain at rest or in motion unless a greater force acts upon it.
"remain at rest or in motion" They are one of the same force. You can be the nonexistent presence and people will remember you, you can be the guy who visited once, and they'll still remember you. You can be the irregular visitor for all I know, but what if you are the constant? Being the constant is as good as being the unnoticed. What if you feel constantly neglected? I've given all I've got, I've attended all that needed attending, I've spoken all that needed to be said, and yet, why don't I feel like I've even made one miserable dent in the lives of the people that I care for?
You ask me to contribute and I do, but what do I get in return? I've invested, I've given, I've paid, I've done everything that can be done for everyone that ever meant a thing to me. Where is my reimbursement? I know true friends invest and expect nothing in return, but they still get at least the comfort of knowing that!
Sometimes I feel like disappearing just to see if I am missed. I've tried it once, twice, but when I returned, no one bothered asking, "What happened to you?" It turns out being a constant also meant being unnoticeable. After all, 'I'm ALWAYS there'. No one bothers to ask, "Are you going to this, are you going for that?" Why? Because they ASSUME that I'll be, and if I don't go, it doesn't matter...
Those that leave overseas are remembered more than me, those that left are more remembered than me, those that have done so little are more remembered than me. I'm hurt beyond anything I've ever felt, I'm lower than any low I've ever been in...
But I won't show it...
Being the observer has taught me one thing: it's that if they care, they'll bother. I don't have to burst for people to take notice. I don't have to yell for people to look. If I've truly invested in these people, then I would say now is the testing time to see whether I've invested in the right things...
It shouldn't hurt when people leave you out of conversations. It shouldn't hurt that when they do, they discuss about doing things for other people, but not for you...
It shouldn't hurt that the very people in whom you depended on were not the people you thought they were.
Maybe I think too much, maybe it was a bad time, but I think it's a little of everything. I've done my best to stay the strong one, I've tried my best to be the constant presence, but being constant means you get forgotten. It's like Newton's First Law of Motion: An object will remain at rest or in motion unless a greater force acts upon it.
"remain at rest or in motion" They are one of the same force. You can be the nonexistent presence and people will remember you, you can be the guy who visited once, and they'll still remember you. You can be the irregular visitor for all I know, but what if you are the constant? Being the constant is as good as being the unnoticed. What if you feel constantly neglected? I've given all I've got, I've attended all that needed attending, I've spoken all that needed to be said, and yet, why don't I feel like I've even made one miserable dent in the lives of the people that I care for?
You ask me to contribute and I do, but what do I get in return? I've invested, I've given, I've paid, I've done everything that can be done for everyone that ever meant a thing to me. Where is my reimbursement? I know true friends invest and expect nothing in return, but they still get at least the comfort of knowing that!
Sometimes I feel like disappearing just to see if I am missed. I've tried it once, twice, but when I returned, no one bothered asking, "What happened to you?" It turns out being a constant also meant being unnoticeable. After all, 'I'm ALWAYS there'. No one bothers to ask, "Are you going to this, are you going for that?" Why? Because they ASSUME that I'll be, and if I don't go, it doesn't matter...
Those that leave overseas are remembered more than me, those that left are more remembered than me, those that have done so little are more remembered than me. I'm hurt beyond anything I've ever felt, I'm lower than any low I've ever been in...
But I won't show it...
Being the observer has taught me one thing: it's that if they care, they'll bother. I don't have to burst for people to take notice. I don't have to yell for people to look. If I've truly invested in these people, then I would say now is the testing time to see whether I've invested in the right things...
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