I don't like to get too spiritual in my posts and I'm really not efficient in theology. But once in a while--when life gets a lil' tough, God shows me a lot of grace. So much of it I just have to share it on this blog.
Recently, I read about Saul in the Book of Truth. I Samuel, Chapter 15 is entitled The Lord rejects Saul. My first reaction: Ou, REJECTED! Second reaction: by God? Oh man, that would really suck!
It's already bad enough to be rejected by humans. Can you imagine what it's like to be rejected by God?
Your Creator rejects you.
Being rejected by God is completely different than what it's like to be rejected by a stupid boy from high school or the parents of my students or the judges from that singing competition.
When you're rejected by people, it's easy to just brush it off or blame it on their incompetence. They don't know you, they have their own agendas in mind, they don't really care to know you, they are just being mean...etc.
When you're rejected by the One who has breathed life into you, the One who knows you, the One who gave you your talents...You cannot brush Him off.
It is like watching an inventor setting his invention aside in the dusty "not-working-well-stuff" corner.
Think about what God goes through. I am made in the likeness of Him. When He rejects me, He is rejecting Himself. What a big blow on His...oh I don't know, pride? So, why does He go so far out to reject us just to hurt His own pride? Dare I go a step further by asking why did He even bother to create us?
He knows me, I am His agenda in mind, and He really cares to know me...If someone is incompetent in this relationship it would be me.
How much has He suffered because of me? The times when I worried more about being rejected by people than being rejected by my God.
After reading about Gods rejection, His acceptance has never tasted so sweet,so refreshing...so powerful!
He WANTS to accept us. He admires us the way we are created. We have the free pass to receive Gods acceptance everyday. Unfortunately, all of us fall short of His glory. But fortunately, we have all been given a chance to choose--to choose if we want to work really well, or just kinda well, or not well at all.
What a God He is.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Morning Run
It's official, I love morning runs!
Perfect temperature, not crowded, no cranky drivers...it's great.
Add my forever boyfriend aka my husband into the mix, I'm in for a great run.
Ah...it's going to be a great day!
Happy Wednesday, everybody!
Perfect temperature, not crowded, no cranky drivers...it's great.
Add my forever boyfriend aka my husband into the mix, I'm in for a great run.
Ah...it's going to be a great day!
Happy Wednesday, everybody!
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Trusting
..that it will all work out in the end.
Nothing makes sense at this point, but I just have to keep doing what I am doing.
Small Goals: Work hard and save money for Audio and Video Recording/ Competitions/ Applications
Big Goal: Get the hell out of Minnesota and get more training.
Bigger than Big Goal: Learn to glorify the Creator of my gifts
Do...do..do!!
Nothing makes sense at this point, but I just have to keep doing what I am doing.
Small Goals: Work hard and save money for Audio and Video Recording/ Competitions/ Applications
Big Goal: Get the hell out of Minnesota and get more training.
Bigger than Big Goal: Learn to glorify the Creator of my gifts
Do...do..do!!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Where do I come from?
It's been a while since I've been "home".
Just recently, I made a quick visit to the Malaysian Consulate.
I NEEDED to renew my passport. (Boring task, but utterly important and expensive)
Being in that little piece of Malaysian soil, I somehow got in touch with the Malaysian in me.
I had no idea how Americanized I have become.
A foreigner in my own country. What a thought...
While I was there, I forced myself to read the Malaysian magazines that laid on the table next to me.
They were the toughest articles I have read in a long time. Not because they were difficult literature, but because they were written in a foreign language--Malay.
The lady who sat opposite to me made an effort to talk to me.
Not because I was a fellow Malaysian neighbor, but because I looked lost.
She spoke to me in English. I tried to continue the conversation in very broken Chinese but she insisted to continue in English.
A foreigner in my own land...
9 years ago, I had a long conversation with my ex-boyfriend nights before THE move. I remember how mortified I was by the thought that I would be AMERICANIZED. We laughed about how I would return to Malaysia with an American accent. We entertained ourselves with the thought that we would not see each other for ten years. "NO! That's impossible! Ten years' a long time!"
Hah, how we laughed.
Last Tuesday I felt Malaysian, and very quickly I became that foreigner among Malaysians.
Where did I come from?
I come from a land far away,
found my way to the land of dreams.
This way I did not choose
Never did I pursue.
And yet, here am I.
In awe of what I have become.
To my surprise
I have slid into a different skin
Where did I
where DO I come from?
Is it such an important question afterall?
My home is where my heart is.
I come from where my heart belongs.
This is my song, oh God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine;
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine
We sang this in church today
and I choked up..
Just recently, I made a quick visit to the Malaysian Consulate.
I NEEDED to renew my passport. (Boring task, but utterly important and expensive)
Being in that little piece of Malaysian soil, I somehow got in touch with the Malaysian in me.
I had no idea how Americanized I have become.
A foreigner in my own country. What a thought...
While I was there, I forced myself to read the Malaysian magazines that laid on the table next to me.
They were the toughest articles I have read in a long time. Not because they were difficult literature, but because they were written in a foreign language--Malay.
The lady who sat opposite to me made an effort to talk to me.
Not because I was a fellow Malaysian neighbor, but because I looked lost.
She spoke to me in English. I tried to continue the conversation in very broken Chinese but she insisted to continue in English.
A foreigner in my own land...
9 years ago, I had a long conversation with my ex-boyfriend nights before THE move. I remember how mortified I was by the thought that I would be AMERICANIZED. We laughed about how I would return to Malaysia with an American accent. We entertained ourselves with the thought that we would not see each other for ten years. "NO! That's impossible! Ten years' a long time!"
Hah, how we laughed.
Last Tuesday I felt Malaysian, and very quickly I became that foreigner among Malaysians.
Where did I come from?
I come from a land far away,
found my way to the land of dreams.
This way I did not choose
Never did I pursue.
And yet, here am I.
In awe of what I have become.
To my surprise
I have slid into a different skin
Where did I
where DO I come from?
Is it such an important question afterall?
My home is where my heart is.
I come from where my heart belongs.
This is my song, oh God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine;
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine
We sang this in church today
and I choked up..
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Her Every Tone is Musics Own
It's my birthday today. Last night, Alec decided to surprise me with flowers and a Ginger Crystallized in Dark Chocolate bar after work.
Little did he know there was a love poem inside...It's quite beautiful. I would love to type it all in here but I'll save some sappiness and get to the best part.
Her every tone is music's own.
-Edward Pinkney
I love that.
It's a laid back birthday this year. A cup of coffee on a beautiful 72 degree morning. Baking a birthday pie. Then off I go to a delicious Malaysian dinner with the in laws and my sweet sweet sister.
To top it off, I found this beautiful clip of Pavarotti singing. Enjoy!
Little did he know there was a love poem inside...It's quite beautiful. I would love to type it all in here but I'll save some sappiness and get to the best part.
Her every tone is music's own.
-Edward Pinkney
I love that.
It's a laid back birthday this year. A cup of coffee on a beautiful 72 degree morning. Baking a birthday pie. Then off I go to a delicious Malaysian dinner with the in laws and my sweet sweet sister.
To top it off, I found this beautiful clip of Pavarotti singing. Enjoy!
Monday, August 8, 2011
On My Love
If there is a song that describes my love,
It would have no words.
Just a melody.
Every part of me hears it and cries.
Simple but complete.
He touches me.
He is my love.
It would have no words.
Just a melody.
Every part of me hears it and cries.
Simple but complete.
He touches me.
He is my love.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Positive Toughts
The need and urgency of positive thinking for one who was born a pessimist is utterly important.
I am an awfully negative person. Always self sabotaging. As Audrey describes this syndrome--I am the first in line to throw tomatoes at myself.
I never once think that I am good enough. I find it ridiculous that one can ever think in such perfect and satisfying ways of herself.
Having positive thoughts about myself has been the toughest challenge as an artist. I think all artists who sincerely care for their art will agree with me. You spend all night dreaming, practicing, and living in your art. You can't help but to want to make it the best out there. Yes, we are all perfectionists.
Somewhere along the line, you must acknowledge the hardwork you've invested in your art. You must realize that you are not perfect and not everyone will love what you do after all. And it's alright...
Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. So am I. I am entitled to my own opinions.
The fact is, in my life, my opinions matter the most. I write my own script.
So why let negative things in life bog me down? They don't matter if I don't believe in them.
I believe in creating art to make this world a better place. I believe I can be the best out there. I believe I was born to do this. I believe that opera is worth saving. I believe in making the best out of my talents.
What I believe matters the most.
The more I learn to do this, the bigger my world becomes. I know so little. Ironically, I find that comforting. It is good to learn that you will never stop learning.
There is no limit to life.
I am an awfully negative person. Always self sabotaging. As Audrey describes this syndrome--I am the first in line to throw tomatoes at myself.
I never once think that I am good enough. I find it ridiculous that one can ever think in such perfect and satisfying ways of herself.
Having positive thoughts about myself has been the toughest challenge as an artist. I think all artists who sincerely care for their art will agree with me. You spend all night dreaming, practicing, and living in your art. You can't help but to want to make it the best out there. Yes, we are all perfectionists.
Somewhere along the line, you must acknowledge the hardwork you've invested in your art. You must realize that you are not perfect and not everyone will love what you do after all. And it's alright...
Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. So am I. I am entitled to my own opinions.
The fact is, in my life, my opinions matter the most. I write my own script.
So why let negative things in life bog me down? They don't matter if I don't believe in them.
I believe in creating art to make this world a better place. I believe I can be the best out there. I believe I was born to do this. I believe that opera is worth saving. I believe in making the best out of my talents.
What I believe matters the most.
The more I learn to do this, the bigger my world becomes. I know so little. Ironically, I find that comforting. It is good to learn that you will never stop learning.
There is no limit to life.
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