I was a very skeptical person. I hold reserve on many things. Especially for those things that do not flow my way, ideas and thoughts that I can not comprehend. ( I am still today in some ways, I need a lot of proofs before I can agree on things. eg. 1) What are in the mixed cheese: mozzarella? Or just mixed? 2) What kind of honey that you are using when there is a honey drink in the menu: Australia honey? Pure honey? Sugar honey? Or thick sugar that was what it means? etc. )
One God or the term of Creator was a frustrating idea to me. I used to chase out any one who came into my room, cross my path, proclaiming that ideology.
Spiritual needs? Brokenness? I thought I had it all, and I didn't need it. I could still remember when I was 18, Chin Leng and I were sitting together in the class, and we named all religions that we knew in the world, getting excited about the mysterious ideology, yet together we soundly renounce Christianity and Islam. We were the activists in class. That was 1994.
A year after that, Chin Leng turned into a Christian. I felt strange. It must be very tough for her, so she became weak, and she chose Christ, I thought.
I would never be that weak, I thought. Even if I would, to me, accepting Christ is a humiliation of what I held on. I was a proud girl. So much pride in me...... God has mercy.
In 1998, I reconciled with my father. I began to taste the goodness of being with the family after being long expelled, spiritually and physically. Of course, when I look back now, I was the one who chose to withdraw. I am not getting into that, that's another long story. I began to appreciate what my father had done for me. I began to take a step, to put myself into his shoes, and begin to see things through his lenses. Yet, I could not understand why and how he had settled down with Christianity and turned into a church goer in his 60's. I looked at him, a stubborn man, a strong willed man that had been through so many in life, one who tasted cruelty of the world, one whom my grandma had warned me that this man would break my legs if I go to church when I was 12, out of sudden, turned into Christ and baptized. That was 1992.
Honestly I thought he was a "rice Christian" at that time. Maybe he did that to favor those people, or because of the kindness of the brothers and sisters in the church, or maybe... I didn't want to think about it. The image of my father was a hero, was a jerk. I didn't want to think about it, and I didn't care.
I’ve seen miracles in my father. I've seen miracles in my family.
My father had a hand gun, and a short gun. I remember once, I provoked him so much, that in furious he took out his gun, pointed at his temple, and then he took it off again, shot the door, and then he went off in his car. I can not remember now, when exactly was that incident, but I can still remember the exact spot of the door that he opened his fire. It was an evening, after a evening drama program on TV. I can’t remember now the exact sequences of things, was it sometime around 1990-1991, or 1993-1994? All I could remember was that, I had broken his heart, and drew him to madness. He could have killed me.
I was a prodigal son.
My father still loved me and supported me. I knew that. But we kept hurting each other. Between us, there was lack of trust.
I had not see much physical good that the church had done for us except for my father had been kept rushing us to church on Sunday. I fed up with it, and I said I was not going. But my father was faithful. He went to the church every Sunday, he prayed and he read bible. He would drive all the way to Ampang for home fellowship, and that took him at least one and a half hour drive, sometimes 3 hours because of the traffic. And the cost of the gasoline would pay for a family meal. We struggled in living at that time. He was crazy to me, I thought. Selfish. What was it about "God"?
Despite witnessing healing and miracles among my family members, I continued to be stiff neck.
In 1998, I and my father were able to sit down together and worked things out. We became an emotional support for each other. Still, I refused to walk on his path. I was involved with most of his activities, friends. By being a bright university student, and graduate, I made him proud, and gave him joy. I was in his secular circle, shining like a star. We trod on the journey together, I wanted to be with my father, yet I was blinded to his believe. The most essential thing in life of a human being.
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