A Beautiful Song:)
I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side
I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me
I can only imagine
Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son
I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine
Thursday, November 13, 2008
exams
I was rather stressed out abt Os during the period before the beginning of it. Kim told me to read this blog post
http://www.xanga.com/strivetobeholy/669221827/item.html
From the blog:
[Hey friends,
Today i just want to share with you the things God has been speaking to me about lately.
Over the past few weeks, I've been experiencing a kind of defeatedness. Ive been striving to do well in my studies, trying to do well in my cca, trying to do well in all that i could possibly. Everyone had something they were good at, and basically i have been trying to find exactly what that was for me. I guess in the pursuit of finding something in which i can boast in that was of my own merit, i allowed many strongholds that the enemy eventually used to bring me down. So finally my mark on the scale of achievement descended to zero, upon the emotional reaction and perceptions from a snowballing of events and basically i was crushed.
"give up"
"they are all condemning you"
"give up"
"how could you have thought you could have done it"
"give up"
lies of the enemy, that plagued my mind as my anger bubbled, and i allowed it to manifest in me. There was no place for that queit voice who said "youre better than this", and even thinking it made me feel like a loser. A loser's attempt to make himself seem less of one.
---
A timely reading of the book of Isaiah caused me to realise why God has allowed me to go through all this.
11 The eyes of the arrogant man will be humbled
and the pride of men brought low;
the LORD alone will be exalted in that day.
12 The LORD Almighty has a day in store
for all the proud and lofty,
for all that is exalted
(and they will be humbled),
-Isaiah 2:11-12
I guess one of the biggest strongholds that i had was my pride. My pride was the moving force that caused me to want to be someone, someone who had something to my name, something i could boast in, even if not outwardly. I needed an assurance that i felt God did not give, because i thought that those achievements i sought would grant me that assurance that i thought i needed. But God told me otherwise, and i believe that he caused me to go through this time so that i could see my weaknesses as starkly as possible, and see how i was nothing before him. Vulnerable and broken, then i would come before him, when he took away all my pride.
God does not want us to build our dependence on a worldly merit because God loves us and hates that we choose to create our standards in a way he has not designed. And in doing so, God has to be discipline us in the harshest way possible. So we stop in our tracks, and so we realise that life was created not for this wild goose chase that may possibly be the devil's ploy to distract us from what is good.
Friends, i hope today that when we receive those lies, we will not entertain it. We will not see the need to let our achievements be the cornerstone of our being. Our cornerstone is God, and should we reject it, we will crumble, and so i just want to tell you indeed, that God loves you and no matter what anyone might say about you, or make you feel, God thinks otherwise. ]
and it encouraged me greatly.....I realised that i was not placing my trust in God to help me thr my exams but relying on myself.
This is a prayer i edited and combined from that website.
Dear Lord,
grant me the right attitude towards my exams that when I study, we want to glorify your name. Give me the strength that I may press on with perseverance that I can endure good health and may study effectively. Help me to be single-minded when I study and remove all other thoughts, distractions and anxieties. Give me the power to concentrate and the ability to understand as well as remember. Show me the way to study intelligently, to know what is important and what is not. Provide me Lord, with quality time in my studies. Remove all the tension and fear that is in me. Fill me with Your confidence and teach me to draw strength from You each day. Let me learn to trust in You during such periods and be with me when I am in the examination hall. Grant me clarity and sharpness of thoughts. and despite exams, i pray I'll not neglect spending time with you. Give us a balanced diet between my studies and service for you. As we study i pray that You give us wisdom to absorb what we learn, and not let our work go unproductive. I pray that even as we feel weary and tired, Lord, that You will sustain me in this time of revision. Father, if I feel like nothing is going into our head and I feel helpless, i pray that we will all turn to you for strength, Lord. I pray that You will empower us with wisdom, for it is said, that if we ask You for wisdom, You will not withhold it from us. Lord, I want to commit our studies into Your hands, and may I bring You glory though the way we study. I pray that we may not be motivated by competition that we seek to please you instead, and to remain humble and not be complacent or boastful even if I do well for glory is not for us. Let past failures not hinder me and make me feel like our hard work would be for nothing anyway. I pray that You be with me through this exam season and constantly encourage and spur me on. I thank You for granting me a good education and i hope that we all work hard because we should put our best effort in all that we do so as to please you. We thank you Lord that we may have this relationship with you and help us to remember that it is for eternity and my achievements will fade away. Help me not to seek assurance in my results and will not let my achievements be the cornerstone of my being. Our cornerstone is You, Lord. Remind me that there is nothing I can’t do with You with me.
in Jesus' Name I pray Amen
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Joshua Harris's Dream
A copy of the story THE ROOM by Josh Harris showing that life is only short and
we must live
for things that last. I felt compelled to share this story which moved me.
The Room ...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed".
The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I Have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed At." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled At My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done In My Anger," "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath At My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't mattered now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared With About My Belief In Jesus." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.
I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.
"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished!" I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
this is also another way to view the Gospel.....
we must live
for things that last. I felt compelled to share this story which moved me.
The Room ...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed".
The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I Have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed At." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled At My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done In My Anger," "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath At My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't mattered now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared With About My Belief In Jesus." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.
I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.
"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished!" I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
this is also another way to view the Gospel.....
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