Church-hunting

What do you look for in a church? That was the question I was asking myself today. I'm still searching for a church I can attach and belong to. I visited an AG church today (thought of mentioning the name, but figured it would be suicide in the public domain. ;p), but again, it didn't seem to "fit" me. *shrugs* I was forced to admit this morning that I actually had no "criteria" with which to "evaluate" (if I may use that word) whether or not the church is "what I am looking for". Just what am I looking for?

I didn't like what I saw last week either (at another church which I shall be careful not to name). The church, the pastors, the congregation, the youth, the worship....everything just didn't "feel right". The worship was very mechanical and dead. The preaching felt extremely "showy" and "put-on". Above all, I sensed a very cold spirit in the church. I decided to cross that church off my list.

Then, midway through last week, I got a call from the pastor of this AG church who was contacted by one of our church members and asked to get in touch with me. I jumped with delight when I heard it was an AG church, and they were, furthermore, willing to send a van to pick me up. I awaited the arrival of Sunday with eager anticipation.

I'm sad to say that my expectations were not realized. I had hoped for a fair-sized congregation with at least a few young people, and a style of praise and worship similar to PCC. I was disappointed. They sang hymns (very vociferously, though, I must add), and there wasn't a single young person in the 60-strong congregation as far as I could see, and the preaching and teaching were too "charismatic" for my liking...i.e. an overuse of "amens" and "hallelujahs", and, this is really odd, Scripture. Yes, an overuse of Scripture. They just kept quoting Scriptures, whole passages and chapters, with no contexts, no exposition (except for a brief "amen" or "hallelujah" or "somebody needs to PRAISE THE LORD-ah!")...I lost the preacher's train of thought after roughly 20 minutes. I tried very hard to deduce where he was going with all those Scriptures and hymn quotations and how they tied together, but I couldn't.

Sigh...

I was forced by my frustrations to examine myself and my motives and expectations. Just what am I looking for? Why didn't I like the churches that I have visited? What exactly am I looking for? What would make me stay?

I'm afraid to admit, I have yet to come up with much to answer those questions. Much of what I am expecting is based on "feeling" (I prayed a lot on this, for God to lead me to the right church). Some of the concrete things are a strong expository Bible-based environment, vibrant, contemporary praise and worship, strong male spiritual leaders, strong families, a genuinely warm congregation...but are these expectations fair? Would God just as well lead me, want me to join a church that fails to meet these expectations? Would He have a ministry in mind for me there?

But then again, what is the main purpose of me attaching myself to a church? The first thing that comes to mind is fellowship. The fellowship of the saints. I need fellowship: good, solidly Christian brothers and sisters who can encourage me and keep me accountable and build me up in the faith...true believers whom I can serve God with. The second thing that comes to mind is covering. I need accountability to authority, and I need a place to serve, a church to belong to.

Sigh...

It's just all very new and alien to me, this "church-hunting" business. I'd appreciate all the comments and advice I can get...

How will I know if I've found the "right" church?

But not all of it lah

Ok. I think my previous post might have given some the impression that I am settling in and never coming back. Hold that thought. Notice the conspicious absence of glowing references to food.

I wouldn't say the food here is terrible. I wouldn't say it's half bad either. In face, I'd say the food in the cafeteria is top-notch. But nothing compares to a hearty plate of nasi kandar, or a platter of steaming soft chappatis, or a nice hot bowl of pan mee. And I still get laughed at for eating my rice with a fork and spoon. Apparently "everyone" eats rice with a fork.
I do miss home. A lot. I miss the food, the people, the culture...everything. Yes, even the brainless drivers. Because they're what I'm used to.

Crossing the road here is an alien experience to me. Drivers actually slow down and come to a stop to let me cross even before I my foot touches the pavement. I don't know why I get so embarrassed when they do that, but I do. I blush and say thank you and hurriedly cross the road. o_O

Oh, praise report! I managed to get up at 6:45 this morning! I'd say it was the power of prayer and the grace of God, because before my alarm rang I was wide awake. This morning was fabulous...I'm getting more and more insights into the immeasurably glorious character of God through the Psalms, and I started meditating on one of the Commands of Christ today. I plan to focus on one of the 49 commands each week, then repeat the cycle. "If you love me, keep my commandments". Captivating catch phrase for the cover, dontcha think? ;)

Assignments are slowly but surely coming in, and so far my head is still above the tide.
I'm getting some nudges from God toward the direction of Family Psychology after learning this morning about the profound effects that ineffective or dysfunctional parenting has on children. The immortal words of my venerable casually dressed professor are still ringing in my head: "We raise adults, not children". The result of a dysfunctional home situation is not a dysfunctional child, but an ill-prepared [malformed] adult. Scary, huh? No wonder God places so much emphasis on the home (husbands love your wives, wives submit, children obey your parents, fathers provide, etc.). Veeeery in-te-res-tingggg...

Ish. I have no idea how to end this post. So much for unity and coherence (learning that in Comp. I). So, er... End! ;p

I'm lovin' it

Yes, I know it's a cliche. I killed myself over that title already. I'll change it when I think of better one, one that more aptly describes my current disposition. For tonight, for the first time, I feel good!

There's something about a good long ping pong game that gets the adrenaline pumping and the pleasure centres of the brain going. A good jam with a fellow guitarist does the soul good as well.

Tonight, for the first time, I feel that I fit in here. I feel "in the groove". I feel a sense of belonging, of fitting in. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I am communicating better. Maybe it's because of the handshakes and Spanish that I'm learning. It could be because of the long talks I'm having with my roommate (He's an atheist that is having questions about Jesus posed by his New Testament class).

Familiarity is sweet. As I become more at home in these new surroundings, accustom myself to the way of speaking, get into a routine...

Oh, and the quiet time! The solitude I get in the mornings! Early rising is pure bliss, I tell you...I get up at 7 every morning, take a shower, then head off to the cafeteria for breakfast with God. Just me, a bowl of fruit and yoghurt, my Bible and Psalm book, and God. Loverly. I treasure those times. My hunger and thirst for righteousness grows with every day that passes. God is faithful to complete the work that He has begun in us. I know He carries me, for I feel His hedge of protection around me. He leads me by still waters and restores my soul. He keeps my foot from evil, and my eyes from unclean things. I will rise even earlier from tomorrow morning, for the solid half-hour that I have in the mornings with God does not suffice. I hunger for more.

I think I am getting the hang of scheduling as well. There is much gratification in setting a schedule and to-do list and ticking off each item on your list. There is satisfaction in hard work, in completing assignments, in studying. Initiative is what I am learning. Self-motivation. Or rather, Spirit-motivation. For I play, work, and study as unto the Lord, and not unto men or myself. His glory and smile is my delight and goal. The joy that comes from knowing that at least some of my actions is bringing a smile to the Father's face is unspeakable. Exquisite. Euphoria.

I'm loving it. And licking my chops for each day, raring to go like a stallion.

My space

This is my space. My loft. I've always dreamed of having this room arrangement. I love it! This is a slightly outdated photo. I've recently raised the bed several inches, maybe a foot, higher, so I don't bump my head when I'm working at my workspace. Sweet, isn't it? Go ahead and drool, people. Drool with envy. Just make sure you don't covet, cos it's MINE, ALL MINE, ONLY MINE! Muahahahahahaha!!!!

Er. Yes, I'm still breathing, thank you very much.

*Throws up hands in defeat*
Okay, okay, I'll admit it. I broke my promise. I've broken faith. I've failed. I told people that I'd have heaps of time to blog. I said I wouldn't mass mail, that I'd keep them posted on the goings-on in my life through my blog. I promised to let them know I was still alive, to post pictures on my blog of me and others.

Well, it didn't happen. Why?

I shall here and now make a lame attempt at explaining my silence on the blogosphere.
First, when I arrived, I was homesick; terribly homesick. And the airlines somehow managed to leave one of my bags behind in Dallas. I arrived in the U of O with one bag (the other bag contained most of my clothes, books and barang-barang) and a very sore lower back extremity (16 hours is a long time to stay seated.). After some hours of orientation and documentation, I picked up my laptop from the International Office and headed to my room. I had brought all my data over on 2 DVD-RWs, one containing pictures and documents, and the other containing my music collection. Guess what? My laptop read those DVDs as blank, ready-to-be-written-to DVDs. I wasn't too happy about that, and it did nothing to improve my already sour mood (thanks to the airlines).

Morose and homesick, I trudged over to the International Office at 5 pm to join the other internationals for dinner at the local Chinese restaurant. It didn't help that most of them preferred to speak Spanish and did most of the time, very neatly excluding me and my Vietnamese roommate from meaningful social intercourse. Of course, the food at the Chinese restaurant had to be too-salty and too-greasy.

I was pretty miserable that night, to tell you the truth. I also discovered to my horror that the shower rooms in my residence hall were devoid of any doors or locking mechanisms. All that separated bathers from prying eyes, hands, or cameras was a curtain. And they didn't even bother to provide a hook to secure the curtain. Yes, sir, I wasn't a very happy camper that night.

But you know what? My mood didn't really reflect what I'm writing here now. I figured this out: that everything happens for a reason (ARGH! Can't believe I just uttered a cliche! *clutches head in despair and disgust*), most especially what is uncomfortable. I learnt two lessons through that lousy first day, and I wouldn't trade those lessons for anything. I learnt, first, to have patience and to look for the positive (hey, at least I had my toiletries and a small face towel to perform my basic hygiene processes with! And my mother had very wisely packed 3 pairs of underwear in my CD jacket, of all places!) in a swirl of negatives, and secondly, to give thanks in all situations. It took quite a bit of my measly wimpy strength to lift my face up from the muck of self-pity and take a good hard look at Jesus. When I did, the words of the song really came true. "Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in His wonderful face, and the things of the earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace". My problems shrank in the presence of a Mighty, In-Control, Ultra-Creator God who loved me.

I prayed really hard for my DVDs to be ok, but my lappy just refused to read them. I accepted that and thanked God for an opportunity to rely on Him. And at least I wouldn't have to spend all the time I would have spent uploading and organizing all my data. And I'd probably have spent a good few hours looking over my old photos and crying buckets out of a lonely homesick heart. So it's probably just as well. God knows best, anyway, and I truly believe He is in control.

I also prayed really hard for my bag to arrive, but it didn't for 3 days. On the 2nd day, the airport actually recieved my bag, but inexplicably sent it back to Dallas. o_O I learnt not to pressure people (the indefatigable Eric Leon was helping me with my bag), and I also had valuable practice in the fine discipline of waiting and delayed gratification. My phone decided to run out of battery on my second day, and my phone battery charger was in the other bag in Dallas. To exacerbate things, I had to send my lappy for a PC Health check which, in keeping with the general heat of things, lasted for slightly more than a day. The wait was exquisitely painful, let me tell you, for a person who has been so used to convenient free access to a personal computer. I was cut off, essentially, from my parents. No mobile phone, no Skype. My parents don't do very well at email, and I had no calling card to call them with.

In the midst of all this, I had to worry about my room, what I needed to buy, school supplies, and the thick wad of cold cash that I had in my document bag which I sorely needed to bank in. My worries lessened when Eric the Brick very graciously brought me to the First Security Bank on Thursday morning to open a bank account and deposit my cash.
If my memory fails me not, my bag finally arrived on Friday night. I literally fell all over my bag, so glad was I to see it and its contents. The bag was slightly worse the wear for all the traveling it had done: the top handle was gone, and so were the wheels at the bottom. But it was intact, together with its contents. Delayed gratification really is heightened gratification. The long wait increased by far my appreciation of the contents of the bag: my clothes, my beloved books, my PING PONG BAT...etc.

All that hoo-ha about my bag and my DVDs, and my inability to communicate with my comrade internationals notwithstanding, I have been thoroughly enjoying myself. There is much to thank God for, including the delicious soundproofed piano rooms that are FREE and available for use at any student's pleasure within reasonable hours, my roommate's compatibility with me, the very-friendly people here who make sure no one feels lonely and homesick for long, the salad and sandwich bar that gives me relief from the heavy meat-and-potato main courses, the PING PONG table in the student center, the ubiquitious computer labs with FREE printing facilities...the list goes on and on. Give thanks in all situations. I'm learning how easy it is for me to complain and overlook the small blessings and the thought and love that go into them from our Loving Father. It's so easy to focus on what bothers me and forget that the Shepherd is watching over me and leading me. It's so easy to think of me, myself and I, to get angry about not getting what I want, not being treated the way I want to. It's scary and disgusting sometimes, when the Holy Spirit helps me see myself as I really am, sinful and repulsive. It doesn't take much to humble myself when God helps me see myself as He sees me. At times I get overwhelmed at His love and mercy, at how much He loves me and pays attention to a worthless rat like me. But I have a hunch that that is exactly the point: the greatest gratefulness comes from an undeserving heart.

One of the many new things that I am having to face is whole chunks of time at my command out here on my own. It is daunting indeed to have all this freedom on my hands. My schedule is my own to make and create and edit at my pleasure. Of course, I cannot bring myself to say that my time is really "my time". It's God's of course. But, true to His nature, He's entrusted it to me as a stewardship. I suddenly find that I have no physical person to answer to about how I use my time, no more mother to tell me what to do, no more father to shake his head in disapproval at what I do or don't do. My heart yearns for that now, sometimes. But I realize this is all part of growing up. If I want to be a real man of honor for God, I need to learn how to use my time wisely. And I can only really learn that if I am faced with decisions I have to make on using my time.

Next up is money. Banking is new to me. Recording expenses isn't, but budgeting is. I'm still learning the ropes on that one.

I foresee much more stretching in the days, weeks and months to come, in all areas and facets. Classes are starting to gear up, and assignments will be piling in hard and fast very soon. My mind is itching, rearing to go, stamping like an impatient snorting stallion in his stall. My spirit also stands ready, sword and shield in hand, resplendently arrayed in the shining armor of light.
Hm. I shall have to write at least once a week la ah? Just to let people back in Penang (and Australia! ;p) know that I'm still breathing. ;)

In Changi

Ahh...2 hours of the longest day of my life thus far have just transpired. I am now in Changi International Airport in Singapore. Landed approximately 45 minutes ago. Now abusing one of the free (yes, FREE!) Internet portals. Kudos, Changi! ;)
I seem to have a problem with processing large chunks of information. I told that to my dad, referring to my apparent inability to fully comprehend the magnitude of my current situation. The fact that I was leaving Penang for 4 years to go alone to a small town in Arkansas, US, to study Psychology at the University of the Ozarks simply refused to sink in. That was 2 days ago, if my memory serves me right. Hm. Not that it has a stellar track record of doing that, but anyway...
My debilitating defect was blown away this morning at the departure gate of the Penang International Airport. The moment I threw myself into my dad's arms for a good-bye manly bear hug, it all finally sank in. Strange, you know. When I woke up this morning, it all still seemed so unreal. No feeling. Maybe a smattering of excitement, nothing more. Left the house at 7 a.m.. Said good-bye to my room, piano, house etc. Still no feeling. Got into the van after loading up my 70 kilos of luggage. Still no feeling. Prayed on the way with Dad and Mum. STILL no feeling. (That was where we cried when my sister left for Aussie - praying in the car on the way) o_O What's up, Joel? What's going on with your neurons?
Arrived at airport, checking in luggage, had breakfast, met the well-wishers (love you guys!!!). STILL no feeling. Maybe a bit more excitement. Joel, you insensitive clod!! You're supposed to be all choked up about leaving, etc. Tsk, tsk.
Took pictures, then began hugging people good-bye. Okay. Tears began to knock on the doors of my eyes, but they didn't exactly barge through. Hugged everyone, then came to my parents. BANG! It hit me like a ton of bricks. I sobbed like a cow in my dad's firm embrace, and sobbed some more when I heard those four special words: Daddy's proud of you. (Okay, tears stinging my eyes again. You have no idea what those words mean to me.)
So, anyway, the ton of bricks stayed on top of me till 30 minutes after I entered the plane. I learnt this, though. Tears, God, and writing all go together. It's like God created all of them in a package - a suite. They were all meant to go together. Had a good long cry (still not entirely sure why, but who cares?! :p) and thoroughly enjoyed the 30-minute worship session. Yes, worshipping while bawling over leaving. Hm. Perhaps I should have myself analyzed first before I attempt other people. (I'm majoring in Psychology by the way.)
Most unfortunately, the moment has passed. Reality has again deserted me. I guess it'll hit me again when I step on campus. For now, the predominant emotion is hunger. Is that an emotion? Ar...do I see the word "food gallery" in the distance? FOOOOODDDD....

My terrapins are gone!

Gone. Both of em. One buried 1 foot underground after succumbing to my cruelties (dearly departed sometime between 22-24 July 2005), and the other in paradise, in KL with my aunt who will likely feed him at least 3 times a week, a far cry from my, at best, once a week feedings (departed 7 August 2005). :p "The righteous man cares for the needs of his animal, but even the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel". (Go look in Proverbs for it. :p) Tsk, tsk, Joel.

Metaphysics

A recent phenomenon has taken my attention. I've been caught up in a whirlwind of changes this past month, preparing to leave Penang for the US. With all the hustle and bustle, I've hardly had time to get really emotional about leaving and all that, which I surmised should be a normal ingredient of every person's leaving experience. I have had some moments of quiet in which the fact of me leaving Penang knowing that it would not be the same anymore when I next return did have some opportunities to knock on the door of my busy Cranial Executive Office. However, every time this Fact enters the Office and attempts to toss emotional dust all over the chairs and tables and busy workers, a large personal force (can't remember if it's male or female) gently disposes of it (the dust). Or, put it this way: as in the drawing, every time I feel like I'm sinking into a pit of sadness, despondency, etc, I always feel a force grasping my heel, stopping me from plunging headfirst into that spike-filled pit. I named that personal force Hope (and I have a strong suspicion it's the Holy Spirit in disguise ;p). There are times when I'm allowed to sink just a little into the pit, and at such times I feel my emotions beginning to stretch their groping hands toward the controls in my Cockpit, but always Hope is there, the voice of reason, the voice of things hoped for, balancing out my sadness and fear. Hope keeps gently but firmly whispering in my ear during such moments, reminding me of the unspeakably amazing plans of our Father, of what might and can be, reminding me of the promises of the Father to be with me, guide me, uphold me. I'm thankful for this phenomenon, for it helps me keep my head and keeps me from being crippled by my emotions. Don't get me wrong, I do experience emotions! :p It's just controlled. And I guess that's the way it should be. Comments, anyone?