Friendly Fire

Tonight was going to be epic, but it kind of ended with disappointment. It was still fun though. When I got home from work, our church’s senior pastor was over at our house. My family has quite a history with him. In a sense, he’s pretty much my mom’s godfather. My mom’s entire side of the family came to Christ through him because of a simple coincidence. You see, decades ago in Taiwan, he went to look for a certain “Mrs. Hwang”. He rang the doorbell and my grandmother, who was also Mrs. Hwang, opened the door and greeted this stranger. At the time Pastor Kao was still young, so he evangelized with my grandmother even though she wasn’t the person he came to see. Now, my mom’s side of the family are all grounded in church life (some appear occasionally, but it’s better than nothing) and Pastor Kao still has old photographs in his house of my aunts when they were still little girls.

He was very grandfatherly to us, and going over to his house always felt like going home. About a year or two ago, his old age was met with his ailing body and he had a stroke. The affects of the stroke were mildly severe, and he’s still on the recovery path. But thank God that he was able to survive the hardships of the human life. Today when I saw him, I realized for the first time how much of my grandfather before he passed Pastor Kao reminded me of. He is unable to move around on his own and must be helped by the people around him. I had a short conversation with him, but half the time I was distracted by the shock in my heart. I guess when you’re little you always assume everyone around you to be invincible. And I was blessed with a fulfilling childhood, where family members were always around, and family traditions existed.

I saw how fragile the human life is; years ago he can still walk around and join us on our adventures, now he is confined to a wheelchair/walker and must rely on the strength of others. I suppose this is part of growing up; when you realize that you start to lose things close to your heart, but you can’t really do anything about it. All you can do is mourn inside and pray to God that the wound heals quicker this time.

Well, this was a morbid post. That wasn’t the intention though. Last night I fell asleep on my bed at 2AM listening to “At the Cross” on my laptop and talking to a friend (or two, I honestly don’t remember). For the entire day, that song kept playing in my head. In a way it was very comforting and reassuring. When I saw Pastor Kao, for some reason I thought about the second coming of Christ, and how He’s going to reclaim His kingdom. When that day comes, the dead will rise, the mute will sing, the blind will see, and the weak will grow strong. Sometimes we talk about our faith as if it were fairy tales, and if I think with my head, I will probably reject the idea of being confined to a “religion”. There’s an inner compass and a stubborn-ness that just refuses to believe that there is no God. Through all the wonders in my life, I know that You loved me.

“At the cross I bow my knees, where Your blood was shed for me

There’s no greater love than this…

…You tore the veil, You made a way

when You said that ‘it is done’…”

Hillsong//At the Cross