“Worship” – Sugar Fix?


I was reading this article yesterday http://phillipjensen.com/articles/evangelical-worship/ and as it has often been the case, Phillip Jensen’s writing resonated with me. I decided to share it on that social media whose share tanked badly and like flies to a heap it attracted a couple of testy comments. I did however extract a small part of the article in the comments section as I shared it. I wonder if the comments were in response to the extract or the article. I suspect the former.

I wonder though, why the responses were of the “stronger” shades. It was just (to me anyway) an innocuous (because it is objective) article about how worship ought to be consistent with theology and is often a reflection of that. It touched on how worship should be an overall lifestyle response to God and His revelation through His word, as opposed to a narrower sphere within the confines of the arts.

The responses were telling I think of how pervasive the arts and things aesthetics have become in contemporary church scene. The edification aspect of worship has taken on a back seat and certainly the lifestyle (i.e. life changing) response issue has not just disappeared into the background, it has become an irrelevance. It has evolved now to a stage where when a specific song evokes an emotional response leading to behavior which conveys abnormal stirrings, that becomes the measurement of effectiveness, not of the church but of that specific part of that day’s program. A form of spirituality takes precedence over Godliness as taught in the scriptures. The experience of the moment – one that I often term a sugar fix – becomes the focus. In this regard, less is more, I think.  We should strive not for more performing arts type of contribution but less, because in reducing this input, I believe we would be minimising what I consider to be extraneous factors.

 

Up and Down the Hume. Again.


We were up in Canberra over the weekend. To make the drive more manageable and to let us get to Canberra earlier on Sat without too much grief, we took off on Friday and broke our journey by staying in Albury overnight. It was cold and wet and though we got in relatively early, the conditions were such that we cleaned up and went to bed pretty much straight away.

The little black jedi was a bit restless through the night so we didn’t sleep very well and took off a little later than we expected to on Sat.

We got into Canberra just before noon, and it was great to see Kiddo again. She took us to Dobinson’s which has a very good coffee and their burger on sour dough buns were also very good – as were their model-good-looking counter staff. I had mine (burger) with the lot and I was a stuffed pig for the rest of the day.

Which isn’t a smart thing to do because that night we went to a really nice restaurant at the corner of Mort and Bunda in the city, called Dieci e Mezzo. Thankfully that afternoon we went to the National Gallery and we walked around a little bit. My chargrilled swordfish was very nice (washed down with over-priced glass of Pinot Grigio) and kiddo swore her dessert of a lemon torta with a whole range of other stuff (masala infused raisins in caramel -?- sorbet, caramelised something, etc) was worth every morsel-full of calorie – even after a main of falling off the bone-soft veal cheeks. Tress’ pork cutlet as usual, got shared with everyone. Even after watching the very dumb movie Armageddon on tv for the umpteenth time and it was past midnight, we were still feeling stuffed.

Sunday morning we went to the Old Bus Depot in Kingston and got some of Kiddo’s favourite pick me up’s. Later that arvo Kiddo wanted to take us to Brodburger in Kingston, which apparently has the best burgers in town. The very long queue confirmed its status but thankfully the wait was an hour, otherwise I would have burgers for lunch 2 days in a row which would have represented a bit of a risk factor…

We ended up going to Gus’ in town instead, and Tress and I shared a relatively innocuous chicken sanger. We left close to 3pm, and although the goodbyes remain difficult, the knowledge that we’d catch up again in a few weeks over the mid-semester break helped a great deal.

The drive home was a big push – we left Dickson in Canberra after refuelling and didn’t stop till just outside Seymour – some 550km later – and even then it was a mere 5+ minutes’ stopover for more fuel and toilet. We got home just after 9pm, knackered. All that food and driving weren’t what made the weekend really nice. It was just being together as a family again. Including that poor little black jedi. I am very grateful.

 

Proteas 2


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The fully bloomed on the left and the (prettier) not-yet-bloomed one on the right.

Some things in this world look better before it is done…

The Punch Remembered


There is something about the way some parents name their children. Punch Gunalan. Prince Gunaratnam. Maybe these were names they acquired somehow and then remained with them. Punch Gunalan was for a long time, simply P. Gunalan. It was some time after I knew this hero as P. Gunalan, that I found out that “P” stood for “Punch”. I am very curious if that was his name all along or he came to acquire it and if the latter, what were the circumstances surrounding and leading up to it.

I grew up with Punch Gunalan as the household name for badminton. He played both singles and doubles. His doubles partner was Ng Boon Bee. He was lanky and Boon Bee was almost squat by comparison. The enduring image is Punch doing a leaping, overhead smash from the baseline with Boon Bee standing in front of him, head bowed low and presumably ready to pounce on a poorly retrieved defence from the other side. They were champions. Punch was also in his own right as a singles player, a champion. I can’t remember now if he ever played the Indonesian legend Rudy Hartono but I suspect he did and would not be surprised if someone told me he has beaten Rudy Hartono.

Punch Gunalan is dead. The hero of Malaysian badminton for so long – I hope he was well enough to savour the Olympic silver medal feat of Lee Chong Wei recently. There were other names – Tan Aik Huang, Phuah Ah Hua, Saw Swee Leong, Foo Kok Keong, the Sidek brothers, James Selvaraj and now of course we have Lee Chong Wei. They were all national heroes in their time but the one enduring and undisputed and therefore venerable name in Malaysian badminton was Punch Gunalan. Thank God for that unusual name.

 

Good News Bad News


With the party in London now over, it looks like the more fun business of economics and politics are occupying more substantial real estate in the media. I don’t know. Obviously I’d much rather the games in London go on for a bit more.

I recently heard a Phillip Jensen message where he quoted the venerable Billy Graham on the subject of heaven. Phillip offered his own version of heaven, which was Doug Walters hitting a six off the last ball against the English in WACA to win the match – the footage of that six being played over and over and over, is his idea of heaven.

I wish we can have that with Usain Bolt or Sally Pearson.

It wouldn’t be quite heaven for me but it would be far more preferable to other items on the front page now. What are those items now – let see:

Israel sabre rattling against a nuclear Iran. Gillard and her mob finally succumbing to John Howard’s asylum seekers’ response. China and her history rewrites. America, and news of more shooting incidents. Romney and his running mate Paul Ryan.

Give me the London 2012 news anytime…

Proteas


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It is most glorious, in my view, just when it is about to bloom fully, like so. Once fully opened up, it looses much of its splendour.

Doctor Lim and Doctor Lim


When I was a little fella and living in the middle of a rubber estate, there were two general practitioners in Klang town that “everyone” went to. One was Doctor Chong – an effeminate fellow who often pricked my finger apparently to do a quick red blood cell count. I was apparently a little anemic then (maybe 6-7 years old) and I don’t know if there were any Freudian suppression on his part which was seeking to surface in that treatment but the saving grace in seeing Doctor Chong was threefold. He prescribed less nasty medication and in comparison with the other GP, he was cheaper and less combustible.

The other doctor in town was Doctor Lim. He was universally known as Crazy Lim (Tau Hong Lim) because as I said before, he was utterly combustible. He’d get mad at his patients for not following his orders and get off on an abusive trail. I later found out that was for very good cause (and this is what this entry is about). Crazy Lim was a bit more expensive and his nastier medication was often much more effective. It was an established risk and financial management practice that one sees Doctor Chong at the first instance and if the ailment persisted, one has to brave a visit to the asylum and risk a tirade from the very effective but volatile Doctor Lim.

Several years into my in-house practice in a financial services group in Malaysia, my employer embarked on a little venture. Phileo Aviation was incorporated to undertake the business of encouraging rich young men to tinker with recreational aircraft building. The objective of the venture was no doubt manifold including to pander to the obsession of the then Prime Minister Dr Mahathir (the real tau hong doctor I reckon) to propel Malaysia in his own version of the Great Leap Forward. Apparently an objective is to create a profile of Malaysia being involved in the aviation industry. Importing self-build kits for recreational aircraft enthusiasts can in some ways be seen as aviation industry I suppose, although anyone seeking to spend a hundred grand to do this probably deserves a treatment from Tau Hong Lim.

For me, other than the usual corporate secretarial functions that come with a new venture involving a new corporate vehicle and the usual legal documentation, the outcome of this flight of fancy is an acquaintance with another Doctor Lim. Doctor Lim is a highly qualified engineer and he was to head up the venture. It turned out later that another guy was tasked with heading the company from a corporate perspective but many felt that other fellow was really being shown a favour by one of the bosses and the guy with the real know-how was Doctor Lim.

It turned out Doctor Lim was Tau Hong Lim’s son. They had migrated to Australia and from memory the doctor went to work with rural aborigines. Lim Junior wanted to return to Malaysia to work and before anyone could say Van’s Aircraft “Doc” and I became colleagues. He’d come up from the plant to the corporate office in KL and we’d go for lunch with a couple of other colleagues. I’d enjoy a visit to the plant too, as it was close(r) to my home and I’d time the visit so that I could go straight home after. We shared many common interests and the politics at that time was great fodder for many lengthy and interesting conversations. He’d come down to Klang on weeknights and we’d go out for a few beers.

Doc would tell me how Tau Hong Lim would lock himself away in a room and not say a word for days, when a patient died. He cared for his patients in ways few Klang folks knew. That was why he got so upset when patients refused to follow his orders. Doc would recount incidents where patients – in an attempt to save money, probably – would appear at his clinic, often far too late. It was worse when children were involved and parents were careless in seeking treatment early. Those long lunches or late night beers provided insight into a figure I came to admire and respect.

When the Phileo group got intertwined with the lurid and putrid events surrounding the sacking and prosecution of Anwar Ibrahim in 1999, we all knew the days of Phileo were numbered. The crown jewels of the group got sold and the shares in the cashed up corporate listed vehicle got hijacked by some Malay group at ridiculous prices. It was time to leave the group and I went back to private practice for a little while before leaving Malaysia altogether. My contact with Doc slipped away and before too long – when I was finally planning to move to Australia – I lost touch with him completely.

Thanks to facebook, I recently reconnected with Doc. He’s got a kid now – we used to tease him and his wife about having rough sex because she was constantly appearing with sores and aches – and I recently saw a picture of his daughter. I commented on the picture and he responded by saying he too, has been following events re Kiddo’s move to Canberra. We’ve all moved on. Doc and his dad both left indelible marks on my life, albeit at different stages. I knew neither of them over any significant periods of time but theirs were relationships which left marks not for the length of time but for the sincerity and the care they took with others.

Pile them high…


The (last) weekend started with Tress coming up to the other end of the city, where I am. We’re both from opposite ends of the Melbourne CBD – she in Docklands at the western end and I, just off Spring Street at the eastern end. She finished work early last Friday, and came up near my end and we walked around looking for a place to have dinner, had dinner, and went home early and just pottered around the house. The little black jedi was treated to a walk with the both of us in tow, and I thought he was visibly more bubbly and excited. We then got home and I went out to the local Dan Murphy’s for a restock and then we simply spent the rest of the night watching the Olympics.

The next day after the usual round of dry cleaners’, coffee and grocery shopping, we went back and worked on the garden. We removed a hedge plant which was growing into a small tree, and did some cleaning up. To remove the stump – after sawing the tree section by painful section – I swung an axe at it and it felt strangely satisfying to get rid of a tree stump that way… Tress continued working on the garden after that while I bathed the little black jedi, after which I did some vacuuming and the day was pretty much gone by then and we got some food ready for a dinner at some friends’ place. It was the sort of Saturday where one decides to catch up on a long list of housework that has been piling up and it feels great to get them all done.

Sunday was fabulous as we did absolutely nothing other than lunch and a quick shopping to get a new pair of track pants for moi. We went home after that and basically just lazed around the house.

August 3 – Do you see what I see…


August 3rd for Harapan Komuniti will always be a date to remember for many. Lives are inexorably changed and although often seen as for the worse, one believes that there is a sovereign purpose at play and God is laying the foundation for an outcome that reflects His always interesting plans. I have but the slightest inkling of the negative effect the unjust and bloody minded actions of the Malaysian religious authority have on many lives. It is difficult to see anything other than destroyed lives and dreams. Yet I am reminded of the early church persecution, without which the history of gospel extension would look very different. The pool of people Christians can befriend for bringing into God’s kingdom straddle numerous countries and in vast numbers. The August 3rd Harapan Komuniti saga may well be the key event to start the work with this pool.

Dumex anyone?


I was at someone’s home for dinner recently and some plates were used which surprised Tress and I. Dumex here in Australia? It was one of the biggest brands of milk powder in Malaysia when I was a kid and milk powder was a big thing there at that time. Here it is

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