When I was away from home, I forgot what it meant to be Christian.
Actually, that’s not true—when you’ve been a cultural Christian all your life, you go through the motions.
Christianity to you means jewel-bright children’s Bibles alongside Sunday school. It means that you wrap your arms like cresting waves around your brother, you pull him close before the other children can drag you both down.
Being a cultural Christian means that you anticipate the latest VCR tape of the Christian-based children’s animation VeggieTales. And even though you consider yourself a fully-fledged Christian now, having been baptised the week before, you never really get over the novelty and the wackiness that is VeggieTales.
In fact, you show your friends “The Hairbrush Song” on YouTube and wait for them to share in the joy that is an anthropomorphic cucumber lamenting about his lost hairbrush.
Being a cultural Christian meant a fierce protectiveness for my brother and his inability to sit still during sermons, with the added wariness of the sticks and stones and words that came for him when I couldn’t be his shield any longer.
Why were the other kids so mean to him? Why didn’t they understand that he was born different, but we were still called to love him otherwise?
Being a cultural Christian was the feeling of isolation and loneliness, of fear and rejection. I lie to my mother about my church attendance on gloomy Saturday afternoons, I dread attending fellowship, I am terrified of being excluded by members of my small group when we had nothing in common.
What I fear isn’t God himself when I don’t understand who God is in the first place. I fear the culture and what it asks of me.
I am 15 and think I know what it means to believe in God.
Spoiler alert: obviously, I don’t.
I am 15 and think I know what it means to believe in God. Spoiler alert: obviously, I don’t.
My mother used to worry too constantly and incessantly about my eternal soul.
Now that I’m searching for a job in ministry, having abandoned the dreams of my old self to work in publishing, she worries about different things.
She worries about the things we all worry about: money, marriage prospects (for me, obviously), and my spiritual growth.
It’s a completely different set of worries, which used to be constant reminders from her to find a nice local boy who is both Christian and able to speak Cantonese, because she won’t be able to communicate with him otherwise.
It used to be fasting and praying for my continued faith and belief in Christ. Desperation because we’re both so bad at communicating with each other, especially since my faith had become so skewed and twisted.
Before I truly came to Christ, I continued to believe in the religion from my childhood, that God is the One True God. At the same time, being exposed to and seeing more of how broken we are, how religious fanatics can commit serious and violent crimes without a true understanding of the gospel, led me to become disillusioned with an entire institute that seemed to provide excuses and covers for these unspeakable things.
I used to wonder why God would let these things happen in his name. I used to wonder why people could do such inexcusable things, how they could kill and maim each other and still call themselves Christian.
I used to wonder why people could do such inexcusable things, how they could kill and maim each other and still call themselves Christian.
Thanks, mom, for not going out of your mind even though you could really see the crazy in me as I separated religion and faith without knowing how the church should be a manifestation of God’s love: I believed that there is a Creator God and that he alone is sovereign and almighty, but not in the church, not in what they had done to other people.
I didn’t really understand how, as Christians, we are called to speak the gospel in all its offensiveness, and to accept how broken and sinful we truly are.
We don’t actually think of ourselves as bad (or if you’re me, you’ll think of yourself in an entirely different extreme and believe that you’re just bad. Cue the song “Bad to the Bone”?).
But the hope that the gospel gives us is not only that a perfect God, so holy and blameless and so warm and selfless in his love for us, chose to send his son down to die for us as a sacrifice and to take on our sins.
He also gave us a new spiritual family in him, and blessed us with people who we are asked to show his love towards, not just occasionally or when we feel like it, but even when we don’t feel like it. This love can take many different forms, such as encouraging your sister in Christ to take that leap of faith that they’ve been holding back from. It can be calling out your brother in Christ when they’ve not been living their life as a child of God is called to, whether that entails over or under-performing.
By our side we have our family in Christ, who wants to care for us and to walk with us in even the smallest things of life, whether that means swinging by your apartment and dropping off some dinner for you when we know that you’ve been really busy with work, or just sitting and listening to your grief when something huge has happened in your life.
Obviously, not one aspect of that includes hurting other people out of religious conviction, and once I understood better who God is, and what he’s called his people to do, I saw that too.
The one thing that shy introverts associate with parties is danger! Scary! Terrifying! Red alert red alert!
If ever there is the choice, there’s a 1000% possibility that I will be that person. You know, the person that huddles in the corner with their friends, or is busy being Snow White and making friends with all the woodland (ahem, apartment) creatures.
So ICF Welcome Party was a big deal for me. All the people that I knew who were either attending or helping out with the event could be counted on one hand, not to mention the sheer multitude of individuals who rocked up for free pizza.
There was no place to hide, no place where I could be my usual shy self and make friends with the friendly neighbourhood dogs or cats. To top it all off, most of the people gathered there were sharing in their joy and love for the Lord, who seemed to me such a distant figure.
I went home in tears, feeling like so much of a disgrace and a disappointment. At 21, it seemed like I should have this people thing sorted out. It seemed like I shouldn’t be so paranoid about what other people were thinking about me, nor should I be so self-conscious about the way that other people were seeing me. It seemed like there was so much about God and who he is that I didn’t know about, and I wanted to know. I wanted to learn.
I wanted to understand—what was it that everybody else at ICF was seeing, and that I wasn’t?
I wanted to understand—what was it that everybody else at ICF was seeing, and that I wasn’t?
That night, I typed (or spammed, as Sarah will tell you) a very long message to my friend Sarah, telling her of my insecurities and how I yearned to know who God is.
I couldn’t tell you what made me have this desire to get to know God, except that truly, he was calling me to have relationship with him in his perfect timing. Prior to this, I was searching for meaning and control within a life that had been filled with much chaos.
I had attended an Alpha course (a beginner’s course to understanding the gospel and Christianity) with my grandmother, and through an overnight camp that the event holders had organised, was shown how much brokenness, how much sadness and bitterness, how much pain I had repressed from past history. That was a night of pained crying, of body-wracking cries and shudders, of knowing how it’s OK to not be OK.
That was God showing me how I could be healed through him, but when I was asked to place my faith in things unseen, I ran away.
I looked for fulfilment in all the wrong places. Turned to a do-it-yourself form of spirituality, believing in the cultural beliefs of our era, that yes, in fact, you do need to take sole responsibility of your life, and that apart from you, no one else can tell you what to do, or how your life should be. No one else can change your life except you.
(Another spoiler alert: things happen, or they don’t, and you get frustrated and never really find true peace. Your heart never finds what it’s looking for, because it doesn’t understand that that hole in it is very much God-shaped. You chase and chase for things that you think will give you fulfilment, but you only get mad at yourself when you don’t make it, because you think you are your only saviour.)
Of course none of that is true. None of what happened to me after I had decided to follow Jesus, however tentatively, happened because of me or what I had done. None of it could have happened without Jesus.
None of what happened to me after I had decided to follow Jesus, however tentatively, happened because of me or what I had done. None of it could have happened without Jesus.
The parable of the lost sheep is about a shepherd who leaves his flock of ninety-nine to find that one missing sheep who has wandered away.
I could go on and on about how sheep aren’t as unintelligent or slow as we think they are (did you know that sheep are capable of building friendships and sticking up for one another in fights? Really makes you rethink the term “sheeple”...), but the point remains.
Sometimes we wander by mistake; sometimes by choice. But even when we crawl, walk, or run away from God, he’s a patient and loving Father who pursues us endlessly.
Anyone who knows me (or at least, the new me in Christ) will also know of my love for The Bible Project’s videos.
True story: Sarah once lightly teased me and another friend for saying that we would love to binge-watch The Bible Project’s videos. Well, I would, and I’m not ashamed of it, especially when The Bible Project played such a pivotal role in God’s transformation of my previous head knowledge to heart knowledge.
Jon Collins and Tim Mackie, the co-founders of The Bible Project, are dedicated to helping people around the world better understand the Bible and how it ultimately points to Jesus. One of their goals is to help viewers understand the complex themes of the Bible in a way that’s engaging, approachable, and transformative.
We don’t often think of the ways that God will use something, but it’s true that God uses a lot of the things in this world and around us to complete his means. In my case, what I lacked was heart knowledge, and God used The Bible Project’s videos to speak to my heart.
It was Chinese New Year’s, I was traveling with family, I’d gotten to know The Bible Project through a video that one of the ICF student leaders had shown at our bible study group’s first meeting (can you spot her? Yep, this is the friend that would later bond with me over our love for The Bible Project).
Like every Chinese New Year’s, I was stuck in a situation that I’d found myself in over and over again.
This particular situation had repeated itself over the years but in different forms, and I just couldn’t seem to find a way out. I would be sucked into the never-ending conflict that seemed to have no resolution in sight, and I was tired. I was bone-tired.
I was defeated, I was ready to call it a day, and I was desperate for something to change.
There are certain things that I value in my relationships, no matter what kind. Just to list a few, they’re authenticity, respect, and open communication, but the most important would be commitment.
I value someone who puts the work in to maintain the relationship, no matter what that looks like. It doesn’t have to be something big, it can just be a message every once in a while, asking to meet and to catch up.
So, truly, it’s a miracle and a testament to how good he is that the Spirit answered my call when I asked for counsel and advice. He didn’t have to, and I know I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to, if I were the Spirit.
I’d just run away from God even though he invited me to be healed through him, even though he’d just offered this gift of peace within him. And now I’m back, and I’m asking for more, asking what he can give me instead of what I can give (although there is nothing I can offer that would be of value, except my heart) to this God who created me.
I look angry on the outside but have a marshmallow for a heart, so I might have given me one more chance too. But I certainly wouldn’t have given my counsel so freely, nor would I have taken the time to teach myself a lesson, to show myself so patiently and so kindly what the real root of all my problems is.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fresh out of the bath and vulnerable because, hey, I’m fresh out of the bath. I can’t deal with what’s going on in front of me any longer, and so instead of wracking my brain for guidance to give to this person who’s been asking for help but not listening to what I’m saying, I say, Spirit, I need your help.
I can’t do this anymore.
Give me the words to say. Tell me what I should do.
The still voice answers, Stop.
I pause. Today, I am an obedient sheep, not a stubborn ox.
The still voice says, “Stop doing what you’re doing. Don’t do anything.
“Don’t you see that when you try to counsel people, you’re trying to be their savior? Don’t you see how you’re disrespecting them?
“You think that your advice can solve everything, and you get so mad and frustrated when your directions aren’t followed. You think, ‘Oh, it’s so easy, I’ve shown you how, but why aren’t you doing it and coming back again and again to me for help? Haven’t I solved it for you?’
“You don’t know all that’s going on in their lives, and you don’t know their exact circumstances. You have no way of knowing whether or not your advice is useful to those that you’re counseling--after all, you are not God.
"So stop. Don’t do anything. Just stop.”
The realization hits me, and it hits me hard. When I place responsibility for all the things that are going on around me on my shoulders, I am, in essence, believing that I alone can solve all things. I’m believing that with my human capacities, I can do what God does.
To be shown this revelation at a time when I am desperate for release lifts the rock off my shoulders.
Once, my Alpha course group leader shared a vision she had of me in prayer. She saw me pulling a cart that was loaded with scrap metal, symbolic of all these people’s burdens that I had taken on. She saw me struggling to pull this cart, struggling under all this collective weight.
Stop, she said. God is calling you to stop.
I don’t think we have to guess what happened next, whether I stopped or not.
It is a relief to be able to breathe, to not be actively and overly concerned for someone’s well-being, to not be frustrated and bitter at them when they have not done as I have told them to.
It is sobering too, because at the same time I’m shown of my shadow self, of how I’m exerting control over others and manipulating the power balance between us. I’m skewing it towards my favor when I put myself in a position to counsel others, when I offer help so thoughtlessly that it comes at a cost to myself, and it becomes a cost that I disregard.
It’s not the prettiest thing in the world to be shown how you’re so afraid of everyone leaving you that you try to persuade, or even force them to stay… And sadly, life doesn’t really work that way. People don’t work that way.
But when God showed me this, when he confronted me with all the brokenness that was in my heart, he showed me too how much he loves me, and how extravagant that love is.
Shortly after that episode, I went on my first Bible Project video binge. In the process, I was struck by the parallels between Jesus’ story of dying on the cross to save mankind, and how Isaac was rescued by God from being sacrificed. In both stories, you have a loving father whose son means the world to him.
Only in Jesus’ story is that son’s blood spilled, and not even to appease a God who wants to refine Abraham’s faith in a loving gesture that continues to be misinterpreted as merciless and wrathful.
No, Jesus’ blood was spilled for us, for a people that mocked him and renounced him as their king before his death, which was a penalty reserved for criminals.
The lamb of God didn’t have to die as a sacrifice for us, but he did.
God doesn’t have to love me, he doesn’t have to stay with me, but he will. That’s worth all of the control and security and manipulation in the world, it’s all worth giving up for.
And so, God doesn’t have to love me, he doesn’t have to stay with me, but he will.
That’s worth all of the control and security and manipulation in the world, it’s all worth giving up for.
Because now I have a God who loves me the way I am, who also wants to remake me into something better, and who will never leave me or forsake me, even if the storms are rough and the waters are choppy.
Being newly baptized and having worked as a church intern over the summer is wonderful.
It’s wonderful to be able to see how a church operates as the body of Christ, and how different talents and different personalities are bringing together a spiritual family who wants to love and grow each other in Christ.
It’s wonderful seeing how we partner with different outreach programs to bring the light of God into this present darkness of the world. It’s wonderful to volunteer for our own outreach programs, such as caring for children in the week-long Vacation Bible School (VBS) and working to affirm or to introduce these children to the gospel. It’s wonderful too, to be able to walk with brothers and sisters in Christ who are mature disciples in themselves and are discipling other people, but who get lost sometimes and need to be reminded of how good and how glorious God is.
But life isn’t all sunshine and roses now that I’ve become a believer and have become baptized. I still struggle with the things that we all struggle with: relationship problems (boys: more trouble than they’re worth, honestly), finance problems, family problems, even problems with feeling connected to God sometimes.
The difference is that now, I have a good, good Father.
And when life is scary, when life is unfair, when life changes, when life is sad, or when life is good, God is always good.
That doesn’t necessarily mean that there will be no storms, nor that my boat will not be rocked by the waves, but that he is with me and for me, and everything will be OK.
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