It’s been two months since church camp this year. We went away on a weekend to spend time in the bible and with each other. The theme was Fear the Lord, explored over four sessions. Here are a few things that stayed with me and some reflections.

Have you truly lived?

We are all made to worship something, indeed—be it your spouse, kids, wealth, recognition, acceptance, approval, comfort, etc. You think you live—or it certainly feels like you’re living—when you worship them, whichever is your chosen idol.

However, if you have not praised the Lord, you haven’t really lived. That’s what you’re made for: to notice the details about God and declare them to others. All the experiences and relationships you may have in life are brought to you so you can see God more fully, understand His heart more deeply, and praise Him. Then, you truly live.

So easily impressed

We are so easily impressed by the things God has made. We are impressed by beauty, by people who are eloquent, competent, effective communicators. We look up to leaders who are humble and gentle, people who look good, sound good, appear good.

All good—but even then, I think we don’t really see people for who they are. For if we truly did, we wouldn’t be impressed very much, because the heart is soaked in sin. Even the best men are lacking; motives are always mixed, and self-interest lurks beneath good works and kindness. Appearances do deceive, very much so. Just think of who you really are inside and who people think you are—even the ones who think they know you well.

My church just finished running the 5-week Discover pilot course last week, aimed at (as its title suggest) discovering truth, hope and life.

Week 3 was about “What is wrong with the world?”

In the discussion at my table, no one pointed at themselves—not at first. It moved eventually to the human heart, but the finger wasn’t pointed exactly at our own heart. But when I think about it more, isn’t it true that if your worst thoughts, words, or desires were known, you couldn’t even face people? And that’s not just embarrassment—that is guilt.

We think highly of ourselves and give ourselves all sorts of passes. But once in a while, when we escape being exposed (at the moment when we feel the impending horror of being found out), what a relief that is, isn’t it? Because we are covered, and we know we need to be. And what a reminder that the problem with the world lies right here in my heart, not just out there.

On normal days, we behave as though we believe we are consistent with our own moral standards, which we certainly are not. Take, for example:

• We say others shouldn’t gossip, but we justify our own.
• We expect honesty, but shade the truth when it suits us.
• We’re outraged when people are unfair to us, yet quietly benefit from unfairness ourselves.
• We tell people they should forgive, but we hold onto our own grudges.
• We cry out for justice when we’re wronged, but mercy when we’re the ones in the wrong.

(and the list goes on..)

I am convinced that if we truly knew the human heart, no one belongs on the pedestal. There is nothing in humans to be impressed by, nor anything to envy. Only the sinless Son of God is fit to sit at the throne of your heart and mine.

Yet we put all sorts of people on pedestals (out of our own imagination of how worthy they are), and now and then, a painful awakening crushes us when we realize it’s a mistake. Depending on how high the pedestal is, sometimes it feels like dying in disappointment and grief. Well, that is because you haven’t truly lived to start with. Then, we put another person up there—or sometimes the same person—up the pedestal again (and again). We haven’t learned to praise God alone. We are blind to His absolute beauty and adore filth veiled in pretty packages.

The camp speaker, Richard Chin, said that the right fear of God drives all our other fears. He went on to say that what you treasure reveals your fears, and only the fear of God will eclipse all other fears.

I think that’s right, and I think it will drive out all other loves too. It puts all things in the right order—below God.

What is your concept of beauty?

Richard told a story about his friend, who was engaged to be married, and got into an accident, leaving him quadriplegic. His fiancé called off the wedding (understandably). Now he sits in his wheelchair at church each Sunday, with body and face tilted to one side, saliva drooling down his mouth. Yet week by week, there he is, in the wheelchair up the front, praising the Lord. Richard said: that is precious in the sight of God.

It hit me hard—just how far off our view and estimation of things is from God’s. A sight like that is deemed ugly, and people avoid it. It makes them uncomfortable. Yet that man is pleasing to the Lord, for it is the heart that God sees. It is not only that we think something is just alright that God sees as beautiful. Instead, what we find ugly, unattractive, or repulsive, God holds precious.

I watched a podcast recently about a sister in Christ at a church I visit in Indonesia. She runs an education centre for special needs people and is also known for her beautiful singing voice. A few years ago, I saw her walking into the church and sitting next to me at the back row. I didn’t know what she was about to go through.

She soon contracted tongue cancer (out of all cancers), and half of her tongue had to be removed. Singing and teaching—her life passions—can just be forgotten. Here’s the recent interview (sorry if you don’t understand, it’s in Indonesian):

She shared how she came to see God’s presence with her through it all as the best thing she could ask for. She recounted when she and many others prayed for a relief from the pain, yet it remained,

“But there was a voice in my heart that wouldn’t stop saying, ‘I am with you… If I am with you, Lingkan, what more do you want?’

Only then I realised… all this time we ask God for healing, for less pain, for this and that… as if God is obligated to give us everything because we are His children. No! God being with me is far greater than anything I ask for. What we ask for is sometimes not His plan…

From that day on, I saw that Christ is with me. He is in me. And that is enough.

A pastor friend of mine from Canada wrote to me, ‘Lingkan, what you need is Christ… just Christ…’

I wept, Pak Anton…. because I realised that all this time, what I asked for and what I appreciated was not Christ. It was all sorts of healing… relief from pain… provision… this and that… I forgot the core… Christ. And He has never left me…”

Not once was she angry at God; she had perspective because she knew everything had been His gift to steward well. Now, though doors have closed, she anticipates new opportunities and ways to serve God and others.

“I met someone, a housewife… she said to me, “My husband had a stroke because his brain was always working, always thinking about this and that. And you got tongue cancer because you kept singing, teaching, and so on… that’s how it is, right…?”

And I thought… that sounds like punishment…? But I don’t see it that way. I see every part of my body as belonging to God… if He wants to take it… replace it… do whatever He wills… it’s up to Him!”

“I think… what is really the most important thing in a person?

That they can speak? But if what they say is wrong, a mess, hurtful, if their words are all over the place… what’s the point?

And what if they can see? But if what they look at is pornography or things that are not right… what’s the point?

Then there’s hearing. A person can hear, sure. But if they don’t use their ears to listen to what is good… what’s the point…?”

Funnily, she said people often told her, “Madam, be patient, ok?” She didn’t understand what that meant. She never lost patience with God or anything else during chemotherapy. She didn’t hold a pity party. Although she grieves, she certainly didn’t grumble. She learned from the children she served in her centre, saying her children didn’t go around complaining, ‘I have down syndrome,’ or wailing and sulking away, ‘I have cerebral palsy,’ or whining, ‘I am autistic.’

When Pak Anton asked her if she thinks of her special needs children in her most painful moments, she said,

“I remember them all the time, Pak. But in the moments that hurt the most, the one I remembered was the sacrifice of Christ. What I’m going through is nothing compared to what Christ had to bear on the cross. He didn’t have to do that… for me… a sinner. So the pain becomes something I can bear.

We are fallen humans, no longer neutral, vulnerable to all kinds of things. So of course I can get cancer. People may think, “Well, let it be another kind of cancer, not the tongue.”

But whose wisdom is that? If God wants to do this in my life, this is His right. I’m not even worthy to ask. I’m not the best person, I’m not some special servant that God should feel obliged to protect. As if God should say, “Oh Lingkan can sing, she can teach, so don’t touch the tongue, give her something else.” No, no, no.

I’m seeing instead that God is doing everything so that I may know who Christ truly is, the One who is my Lord. And so I won’t use Him anymore… asking Him to make things enough, to give this, give that.

Let God be the One who leads, who reigns, who shepherds my life.”

Today, when she goes to the market, people often ask her to repeat what she said—her speech is unclear, she said ,’well, it is indeed unclear,’ so she simply repeats it. Eating is painful now, and she must watch what she eats due to her permanent limitation. She is thankful when she can brush her teeth without vomiting, when the hair fall isn’t too much. She counts the little blessings in life.

I see a beautiful soul in her. That, too, is pleasing and precious to God. Meanwhile, to us, looking at the ravages of chemotherapy, with her tongue partially removed and speech slurred, is not a beautiful sight. We miss what is truly beautiful, don’t we?

Flawed but real

One of the encouraging things Richard said was that our attempts to please God are flawed but real. Like a little child who draws a picture of the parents all out of proportion and gives it to them to please them, the parents aren’t going to mock the child or say, “Try better, you stupid little artist.”

That’s comforting, because I often feel inadequate, slow to learn, easily distracted, half-hearted, and just plain stupid. Let alone that the heart is diabolical—not just faltering in weakness but wicked in nature too.

Secrecy safeguards sincerity

That speaks for itself. The more real a relationship with God, the less it matters if anyone is watching. That is freedom. It reminds me of St Francis de Sales, who said:

Walk very simply with the Cross of the Lord and be at peace with yourself.

Go about your cross, and your duty, without needing anyone to know. Then it will be a delight because more things remain only between God and you. It is sweet.

One thing I’ve learnt to do more this year is to be quiet. Not to be quick to pass on the weight God has placed on my hands by blurting it out to others. You think that sharing will give peace? Often it makes you more restless (well, depends on the audience anyway). At least bring it before God first. Grapple with Him first. Time alone with God has done much good for my heart. That’s where He does the real work, which always changes the heart. When I go to Him with the right attitude, I come away with a completely new perspective, and the things I initially brought before Him no longer matter—not as I initially wished, their resolution doesn’t even matter anymore. And when I go to Him not with the right attitude? Well, He will change that too if I linger on. Spend the time with Him and you will experience His work in you.

I see more and more what it means when we say God is in the business of changing hearts and transforming lives. But you must be quiet to hear Him, and willing to be emptied so He can fill the void with His grace. In a world where people rarely pause to think, no wonder everyone is frantic.

The next time you are troubled, take it quietly to the Lord. Remember, He is the first cause of all things, so we can be still. Everything else is mere instruments—even the evil ones—He will use them for good eventually. He is that sovereign. Our sovereign God.