Shadow of the Cross

Near the end of the year 2008, I fidgeted in my plane seat, on my way home to the Philippines. And as I sorted through my hopes for the year to come, I realized that the only desire worth having would be to live with a constant awareness and assurance of Christ's redemptive sacrifice. I scribbled down these words as I went through the air...oh Lord, in every day to come, please keep me near the shadow of the cross!

Verse 1:
You are Lord of heaven,
Owner of all things,
Author of each harmony
Humankind can sing;
Yet you left Your heaven,
Came to die for me,
Paying all redemption that
I might be made free.

Pre-chorus:
Lord, You loved in such humility...
Help me now to be as You would be...

Chorus:
Keep me near the shadow of the cross,
Make my soul abandoned to its frame;
Help me count all gain to be as loss,
So I'd live to glorify Your name.

Verse 2:
I was born a sinner,
Living selfishly,
Proudly thinking I could own
Self-sufficiency;
Yet You loved this sinner,
And Your love bestowed
Grace that led my eyes to see
All that I now know.

Strength Each Day

In the midst of personal aspirations and external expectations, it can be easy to be disappointed about the results of our strivings. Yet with careful thought, one realizes that God is so much closer when we feel the need for Him moment after moment, day after day. God gave me this poem in the heat of college pressure, and it will continue to be my encouragement in days to come.

How often in our hearts we hope,
That we might shine in all we do,
Yet somehow, though we strive and grope,
He would not let our dreams come true.

For there are times we have the need
To know we've come to our end,
That we might learn to fully heed,
Our one and only, truest Friend.

His strength shall be our lasting aid,
His joy shall be our constant song,
And when 'fore Him our cares we've laid,
We've strength each day--however long.

Stay in the Castle

In a booklet entitled "Stay in the Castle," a Christian author writes of the importance of waiting upon God's timing for the perfect romance. It is an inspiring tale, and as our collegian (college girls' organization) staged this little story, I was moved to write this song. May every young lady truly learn to stay in the castle, trusting and waiting for our Father's perfect plans.

You dream about that special day,
When love will finally come;
You dream about how he would say
He loves you as his own.

That sparkle in your eyes
As they look beyond these walls,
Awaiting every sunrise,
But child, please realize…

That I have plans for you,
More than all your dreams-come-true,
And more than anything your heart
Will have you do.
However long it takes,
I will never make mistakes,
Stay in the castle
With Me.

Packets of Oatmeal

Although a composition I wrote for English class, this personal narrative lies close to my heart. Perhaps it did get me a good grade, but I know that it was more than that. The lesson I learned in the story is a lesson I am still learning today, and perhaps a lesson I will be learning for life.

“We’re here!”

Voices reacted in unison as my family filtered into the crowded restaurant private room the evening before we left for the United States. Since my parents would be dropping me off for college there, that evening comprised the last “complete” family reunion for a long time.

“Are you ready?” people repeatedly asked me.

“Yeah, I think so,” I would reply.

I did think I was ready. After all, so many people had already given me everything I needed. Yet, I did not know that I was going to bring with me a reminder of the most important thing of all that night.

The initial commotion gradually subsided. Everyone—aunts, uncles, and cousins, adults and infants, Grandpa and Grandma—gathered around the circularly-set tables.

Although there was still no food, many things cluttered the tables. There were colorful placemats, hand-painted tea cups, dainty platters, nice little chopsticks, and in the midst of them all, some packets of instant oatmeal.

The presence of those boxes looked strange to me as I sat down, but I was too busy chattering to give it much thought.

“Do you have a computer yet? Clothing? Shoes? Suitcases or bags?” the questions continued.

I continued to answer in the affirmative. I already had everything I needed. Then whenever they mentioned something that I did not have, I would decline to receive it, mostly because those items were too heavy or too bulky to carry overseas.

I prattled on with everyone around me, until Grandma called me. Then I realized that I had not talked to her the whole evening.

“Yes, Grandma?”

“Take these,” she thrust the packets of oatmeal over to me, her voice slightly shaky, “You can have them in your dorm when you’re hungry.”

“Oh, but Grandma, you didn’t have to! I wouldn’t need them,” I began to decline again, but she continued.

“Oh, these won’t take too much space in your luggage. They won’t be heavy. You could slip them in between your packed items,” her teary tone intensified, “You could bring them so that you don’t go hungry.”

My instinct told me to decline. After all, I really did not need the oatmeal. Yet when I looked at Grandma, then at my parents’ wise gazes, then back at Grandma, I started to realize the point.

“Thank you, Grandma,” I received the oatmeal, emotion beginning to grow in me as well.

I didn’t need the oatmeal, and I still don’t. Yet Grandma needed to show her love, and I needed her love. I could have been ready with everything, but all that everything would be meaningless without my family’s love.

Now, I still don’t need the oatmeal, and they just sit inside my drawers. Yet seeing those little packets remind me of Grandma, and of the love from home that I will always need.

They are worth far more than everything else because they are more than packets of oatmeal. They are packets of love.

Are You a Stranger or a Friend?

Perhaps it was reading too much Pride and Prejudice, or maybe it was reciting to much Victorian poetry. Whatever the reason was, I composed this poem with an Austen ballroom in mind. It is a rather inconsequential poem in terms of content, but it still did make me practice a complicated rhyme scheme and the depiction of a particular moment of thought in human interactions.

I saw you right across the room
And knew you right away,
Within a crowd of coats and plumes
My eyes still somehow lay
Upon your face, your countenance,
Your actions, words, and bends,
Then to my heart I asked, perchance,
“Are you a stranger or a friend?”

I saw you walk towards my side
With smile upon your face,
But as you walked your youthful stride
Below the ballroom’s daze,
My heart pulled back in hesitance,
My hand I could not lend,
For then I asked myself, perchance,
“Are you a stranger or a friend?”

I knew you not, yet you I knew,
A paradox was done;
Familiarity in you
Was equal parts to none.
So I smiled back and walked away,
The audience thus did end,
So now I cannot ever say
If you were stranger or a friend.

Nothing in the World

I seldom write pure lyrics, lyrics that do not resemble poetry in any sense. But with this song, the words flowed out of me so naturally as I composed beside my cousin Theodore. I remember that evening of composition very well, just as I remember the song very well. Truly, nothing can satisfy once one has been found by the One who finds.

Time and time again,
I’ve felt a longing deep within,
Trying hard to find my place
Within this world of sin,
Time and time again,
I’ve searched my dreams all over
Saw them formed, fulfilled, and lost…

Until the day I said
I couldn’t do it any more,
His love called and restored me
To all I should be living for.

And so I found by being found,
And I was freed by being bound,
And bound to Him I’ll always be,
For in His goodness I am free.

And nothing, nothing in the world
Could ever satisfy,
For Jesus, He is everything
I’d ever want in life.

Your Work Continues All the Same

One of the most dramatic chapters of my life is coming to an end. And as I settle down to college life soon, routine will come again. While I look forward to it all, I know that perseverance will be tested in routine life, and I know that God's hand might become humanly less easy to trace. Yet, just as in this poem that I wrote for my best friend a few months ago, I shall still have motivation to do my best. And as I tentatively part from this blog...this is my good wish for all my readers, no matter your duties comprise family, work, studies, church, or otherwise.

Each morn, each hour goes passing by,
Each word, each task, each smile, each sigh,
Each tiring deed, each daily need,
“Lord, is there more?” I cry.

A smiling face to greet the day,
A tender word a friend should say,
Still don’t remain; life stays the same,
“Lord, is there more?” I pray.

My duties day and night I do,
I stay obedient and true,
Yet there’s no fire, no keen desire
To draw more close to You.

Lord, help me trace Your loving hand,
Lord, help me hear Your voice’s command
Through each small thing each hour might bring
To make me understand

That though each day may lack the flame,
Your work continues all the same,
And I must strive, each day I live
To glorify Your name.