Wife Checklist: Seeking the Answers

This counterpart to February’s “Husband Checklist” has been extremely difficult for me to prepare. How dare I publish it while I continually discover so many shortcomings in myself? Yet for the same reason I wrote the former counterpart, I compiled this one with the help of a few male advisors. May the guys be reminded to seek these qualities; and the girls, including me, to pursue them--the qualities, that is.

1. Does she find joy in being a woman?

2. Will I trust her with the training and caring of my children?

3. Will she be a good partner to help me in my life calling?

4. Does she exercise self-discipline over
heart and deeds alike?

5. Does she enjoy making the house a home?

6. Is her outlook submissive or complaining?

7. Does she exhibit modesty in dress, speech, and actions?

8. Would she support me in my struggles
and rejoice in my triumphs?

9. Would I take pride in her hand in marriage?

10. Does she seek to serve more than to gain?

11. Does she pursue inward character
more than outward beauty?

12. Will she help me grow in Christ?

13. Will she honor my parents?

14. Will she let me put God first?

Psalm 138

If I am not mistaken, this was my very first complete versification work, completed seven years ago or so. As an aspiring poet, I became inspired by Isaac Watts' compositions, and I tried my hand with the activity as soon as I got the chance.

I praise You, Lord, with all my heart,
Before all gods I sing;
I bow towards Your holy place
And praise You, faithful King.

You’ve lifted up above all things
Your word and wondrous name;
You’ve answered me and strengthened me,
The kings Your praise proclaim.

All earthly kings must hear Your word,
They sing Your holy ways;
Your glory is magnificent,
I’ll praise You all my days.

Though lifted high above all things,
You look on humble men;
The proud You shun from far away
And turn not back again.

Though hazards cover all my life,
My soul You still preserve;
My enemies You crumble down
As they justly deserve.

Your hand brings me deliverance,
This promise I believe;
Your love forever will endure,
Your presence I”ll perceive.

God's Reply

I had originally intended to keep this precious poem tucked away for years, until when perhaps circumstances and time would be my protection. Yet when I witness so many young hearts being bruised because of impatience or carelessness, I can't help but share it. I do not claim to have permanently learned the lesson in this poem, for I find myself asking God, hearing His reply, getting hurt, then learning to trust again and again...yet fickle as my emotions may be, His reply stands constant and true.

Dear girls and girls-at-heart, this poem is dedicated to you in particular. May we all guard our hearts faithfully and as carefully as possible, for whomever the Lord has written for our future, in His most perfect plan.

The world conspires and says to me
I have to seize what I can see,
And give my life and heart today
To love not guaranteed to stay.

It feels so tempting to accept
This thought that my sane mind rejects,
For though security’s not giv’n,
A temp’ral love still sounds like heav’n.

It’s hard to hold myself against
The charm that my soft heart had sensed;
It’s hard to trustingly forego
Affections he now seems to show.

The time’s not right; I know this well,
Yet still in me emotions swell.
“Lord, can’t I take him, just for now?
If it’s Your will, You’ll show us how.”

Then God replied in tenderness,
So firmly, “Child, would I give less?
Would I give less than what is best,
When I have given you the rest?

“There is a story kept for you,
A story written for your due,
I wrote it with My loving hand,
It’s best—though not what you demand.

“There’ll come the day when you will see
A person made for you by Me;
I know it’s hard to let things be,
Yet I want you to wait on Me.

“If he should be the one for you,
Then let me mold both of you two
Until you’re ready for that day
For love committed e’er to stay.

“If it should be another one,
Then do not rush before I’m done;
In case you love someone untrue,
Someone I hadn’t made for you.

“Just trust Me, child, I love you so,
My love is all you need to know;
Would I retain from you the rest,
When I have given you My best?”

I'm a Cat

These lyrics were originally requested by some friends of mine, but they turned down the piece when they said it didn't fit the purpose. Oh well, at least it was fun writing it. The meter is very loose, so I would hardly classify this as a poem. It is just three verses of playful rhyme, the product of too much Dr. Seuss in early childhood.

I’ve a fuzzy little body,
With fuzzy little paws
That turn when I am angry
To hard, ferocious claws…
I’m a cat, I’m a cat,
That goes meow, meow, meow,
I’m a cat, and a cat am I.

I’ve a wetted little nose
With whiskers all around,
I’ve a sharp and squealing voice
That can make a purring sound…
I’m a cat, I’m a cat,
That goes meow, meow, meow,
I’m a cat, and a cat am I.

I’ve got eyes that shine in moonlight,
I’ve got ears with pointed ends,
I’ve an appetite for fishes
And no mousy, doggy friends…
I’m a cat, I’m a cat,
That goes meow, meow, meow,
I’m a cat, and a cat am I.

My Love Affair with Translation

It never was love at first sight. It was more like an arranged marriage.

I never was given much of a choice. Well, not that my parents forced me to become a pulpit translator, nor did my church. I don’t remember any coercion, but nor do I recall any voluntary enthusiasm. I just know that one statement stands true over the years: “Translation chose me, not I translation.”

I “debuted” as a pulpit translator just a few months after turning 15, but my training came far before that. You know how those young girls in countries with arranged marriages are taught since childhood that they would one day marry in a so-and-so way? It was the same way with me. It’s just that it wasn’t about marriage, but about translation.

At age six or seven, my parents commented often on how their talkative daughter had the potential to become a translator. They didn’t know that my young mind absorbed those comments, as well as their discussions on how to train me sooner or later. There was an expectation lingering in the air for my ministerial future, and nowhere was it stronger than within my own family.

When I was promoted at age 13 to adult worship service from junior worship, my mom advised me seriously. “Wen, listen and learn from the sermons,” she said, “One day, you can be, you will be a translator.”

So I did. I listened, I learned, I observed, and I distracted other translators by my constant inaudible lip movements during sermons. I practiced, I drilled, I jot down notes. Translation was calling me.

The years went by quickly, and I was 15. That December, translation called up for a first date.

A birthday party was scheduled by an acquaintance living nearby, and she hoped to insert some pre-evangelism into the program. It was a family gathering for them, so that there would be both young and old in the same party. My dad would be sharing a short message, and they needed a translator. My mom had another appointment at church that night. Oh…I see.

“Wen, could you translate for your dad tonight?” my mom asked as we all crowded the master bedroom (essentially the only living quarters in the house).

“Um…sure,” I heard myself answer. I was both scared and excited. Something I had only prepared for was actually becoming real. “If there’s a need, I’ll try.”

As my dad acquainted himself with the people that night at the gathering, I sat alone on the side, not eating a bite, pouring over the Bible verses my dad had given me. As if I wasn’t nervous enough, the secular program dragged on as the people drank beer and sang karaoke. I wanted to go home.

When my dad was finally handed the microphone, I took my Bible and stood up next to him. It was late already, and he didn’t even refer to the passage I had so painstakingly studied. It was a 20-minute sharing, but it was enough for me to let out a long hidden sigh of relief at its conclusion.

“How did it go?” my mom’s eyes shined with both curiosity and excitement that night at home.

“Schedule her once or twice a quarter at church,” was my dad’s mechanical reply. That was his way of affirmation.

I caught my breath. It was for real.

A month later, I translated through my first full-length 45-minute church sermon. There were only 60 people in the afternoon service congregation, but they were enough to make me conscious, and to pressure me to a good session.

Apparently, they were also enough to start what I did not know was the beginning of a pattern for years to come. The praises started pouring in.

I never thought myself to be a stellar translator. I never understood why I was considered to be better than others. I was fifteen years old, I was doing what I thought I should be doing, and somehow, people thought I was great.

Most people were simply encouraging me to strive for Him. Others were just honest about how helpful effective translation was to them. A few were flatterers, but it was obvious from their way of talking. From my perspective, however, the results they rendered were basically the same.

I never chose translating. Yet in a way, translating chose me. Over the years, many people have wondered or consulted me, “How do you do it?! And at such an age?”

I usually answer that it is all by the grace of God, which is absolutely true. Skill-wise and training-wise, however, I myself had no idea how I honed those skills. I never strived hard for translation. I just started translating. That’s it. Then somehow, people liked it.

I wasn’t in love with translation at all back then, nor did I even like it a lot. I was apathetic to it, to be honest. Yet somehow, as I translated regularly, as I translated for more people, as I translated for other churches, as I experimented with other languages, the affirmation continued. To my childish and vain mind, that was what made me happy.

It was like wanting a certain boyfriend/girlfriend merely because of the popularity boost that accompanies him or her.

That was what I felt about translation.

As the months went by, however, some things changed. I was realizing that translation did not only give me self-satisfaction or popularity. It demanded sacrifice.

Regular translation meant taking care of my voice full-time, sometimes to the denial of many favourite foods or practices (i.e. talking endlessly). Translation duties required me to travel around with my dad, even if I missed my friends at our church. And once people’s fascination over my “translating prodigy” status began to get old, my pride began to miss the adulation.

If it had been an arranged marriage, then I had gotten over the honeymoon.

For a time span of almost a year, I wallowed in my disillusionment. What was it about translating that I did like anyway? I had lost my passion for translation. Or perhaps it had never been there?

Those months were long for me as I went on from one translation assignment to another, without finding joy in the process of it all. The people were still relatively affirming of my skills, but I wasn’t enjoying the skills at all. My translation skills…those skills that had come so effortlessly to me, were becoming burdens to my selfish teenage heart.

For a while, like a rebel against tradition, I wanted to escape that relationship. I wanted to opt out of translation, because it (or rather, the attention that accompanied it) was no longer satisfying me.

I, along with a few faithful prayer partners, prayed earnestly to God in abundance that year. I did not see the source of my problem. My subjective perspective told me that perhaps translation wasn’t a calling from God. If it were, I would find joy in it, right? It took a while for me to realize otherwise.

Looking back at my own selfishness and childishness, I could only wonder at the grace God showed to me. Instead of taking away the chance for service from an ungrateful girl, He held the hand of His daughter and showed her a far more beautiful picture.

Once I directed my vision to what God wanted me to see, I saw differently.

I saw friends who could not understand English come to our church and react with joy upon every statement that helped them understand the sermon. I saw the beauty of a ministry that could lead people to a clearer understanding of the most important part of every worship service—the preaching of the Word. As the church became more choosy over translators when we merged the two existing services, I realized that I had an edge over others translators even more experienced than I was. I never did anything to gain those skills, but those skills grew on me. They came to me. Translation came to me without my asking. In other words, it was a gift.

Hey, right. It was a gift. It was a special skill given to me as raw talent, then trained in me subconsciously by my surroundings and upbringing. Perhaps it wasn’t a biblical spiritual gift, but it was a present, a present from God.

God gave me that chance to experience the joy of explaining His teachings to those who could not understand. God gave me the skills which became my stepping board to witnessing numerous other ministries and churches at work. God gave me the talent to share His word alongside different speakers, and gain may priceless friends in the different congregations as I do.

Sure, that present came with its responsibilities. Improving my skills require discipline in reading the Chinese Bible, discipline in voice care, the skill of stage confidence, critiquing my own voice recordings, and struggles with pride as I stand in the pulpit spotlight. Every gift, every possession requires stewardship and effort to maintain. Sessions teaming with excellence are often followed by translation flops that spell public embarrassment. The above were just some prices to pay for the joy of reaching people, and the realization of God’s hand in my life and skills.

When I realized where those skills from nowhere had originated, I found my source.

When I realized what those skills could achieve, I found my goal.

I fell in love with translation, and I am still. There are days when we don’t get along; there are days when we are in perfect harmony. Yet still, I love it. I love it not because I enjoy the task. I love it not because it forms my identity. I love it not because it makes me popular, though the temptation may often be very real still. I love it most because it is a gift from the Lord, a result of grace I could never have imagined.

It is something I do not deserve. It is a present that came with many other packages of joy, and it was from the Lord.

Translation chose me, not I translation. Of course it did, because I never would have been wise enough on my own to choose it. Of course it had to choose me first, because it was something I did not deserve. Translation chose me…no wait, God chose me. He just acted through translation. It was and is His grace all along.

I love translation…because I love my Lord—my Giver, my Source, my Goal.

Thy Will Be Done

Due to a belief that works ought to be polished before they are shared, I very seldom post "fresh" compositions, least of all those merely a few hours old, written in the wee hours of the morning. Yet now, I am in no mood to post anything other than what is the cry of my heart.

Daily I pray that Thy will shall be done,
Daily I pray that You will be the One
Who would control all that's coming to be,
Judging with wisdom regarding to me.

Yet when the matters and changes abound,
I lose the answers I thought I had found;
All the best hopes that were filling my mind
All fall apart, far away, and behind.

Lord, I don't want all these things to be true,
Lord, I don't want to think this is from You,
Yet the reality stands in my face--
This is the portion You've given by grace.

Grant me submission, then, this now I pray,
Grant me the strength to be faithful each day,
Grant me a heart that finds joy even now,
Though my affections do not tell me how.

You are my Answer, and You're in command,
I will not try if I could understand,
For I do not, and I've only one call--
"Thy will be done" in my heart, life, and all.

Creation's Ensemble

This is one of my more playful, though supposedly grand, compositions. It is not technically superior, but the personification and imagery capture the imagination. Besides, it resounds with one of my personal favorite phrases. What's not to like?

Verse 1:
Oh let the birds chirp out in chorus,
Let the leaves whisper their song,
Oh let the hills resound their voices
In high praises all day long;
Oh let the brook repeat its laughter,
Let the pebbles sweetly sing,
Oh let creation’s grand ensemble
Raise its praises to our King.

Chorus:
Let creation join in worship,
Let all mankind raise its voice,
Let us marvel in His goodness,
And in unity rejoice.
Let us marvel in His goodness,
And in unity rejoice.

Verse 2:
Oh let the ocean roar its assent,
Let the waves break forth with joy,
Oh let the sunshine glow in worship
As the earth its warmth enjoy;
Oh let the breeze howl adoration
Let the dolphins’ voices ring,
Oh let creation’s grand ensemble
Raise its praises to our King.

Bridge:
For every rock, and tree, and creature
Stands a testimony of
God’s miracles in nature
And echoes of His love.