Reminiscing Truths ⚓

  January 16, 2021 | 10:16 PM “But it ain't our feelings we have to steer by through life--no, no, we'd make shipwreck mighty often if we did that. There's only the one safe compass and we've got to set our course by that—what it's right to do.” ―   L.M. Montgomery Ever since falling in love with Anne Shirley—and Captain Jim!—back in high school, I have gone back to this quote over the years time and time again. I’ve literally lost track of how many times I wrote this line down somewhere, everywhere—written in small memos, hand lettered on watercolor paper, penned in my journals, typed in my Notes… Like I said, countless. I think aside from Augustine’s “You have made us for yourself” quote, Montgomery’s is the only other quote that’s ever perennially close and dear to my heart. And I bet it’s pretty obvious why. There are just so, so many times when my feelings are extremely contrary to what’s right to do. A lot of days in teaching felt like having to drag my feet a

All throughout Biblical and church history, we would always read about mighty men of the faith who were sincerely devoted to God and had shown lifelong pursuit of God’s will and glory. We would read from Psalms David’s Psalm 19:7-11, The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul; the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple; the precepts of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes; the fear of the LORD is clean, enduring forever; the rules of the LORD are true, and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb. Moreover, by them is your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward. We could sense from these verses how intimate David was not just with God, but with His law—His word. He doesn’t just read them because it’s required or because it’s expected of him as a king. He meditates on God’s law (day and night

To all my unbelieving friends, I’m sorry. For so many things. I’m sorry for not being brave enough. Sorry for not being the kind of friend you need the most. I’m sorry for letting so many opportunities slip by while being well aware that it might well be the last one. I’m sorry if you felt safe and secure and if you’re placing your trust in all the wrong things. And I’m sorry for knowing better and yet not doing better. I apologize for having the treasure of the good news—the only thing you need!—and keeping it all to myself. All because I’m not brave enough. All because I lose the battle that’s first fought in the mind. Sorry for being weak. I’m sorry for knowing that you don’t know Christ—and acting as if that’s okay for now. As if we still have time when, in reality, that’s never guaranteed to us. Sorry for knowing that your image of God is something different from the God of the Bible—and not telling you all about it. I’m sorry for failing to point you clearly to the one truth that

It doesn’t take an expert to notice that in the span of almost 7 months, the world has drastically changed. From your everyday-normal activities, it’s like the world has suddenly shut down or gone into sleep mode. Such a steep turn in history. Of course, all sectors are inevitably affected—including churches. I could still remember March 15—several months ago, but it felt like a lifetime ever since. That week was the first implementation of the ECQ, and while SGC was able to gather as a church then, people from the south like us weren’t able to come due to border restrictions. What we all thought would be a month of non-gathering stretched on to two. Three. Seven months. A lot has changed since the first lockdown. In our church life alone, we haven’t had physical gatherings since March; we left our church building that we’ve had for seven years. And on the individual level, the pandemic has been nothing short of a super magnifier—of the heart, the intentions, the priorities in life. It