it took a zombie apocalypse

It’s late but I feel like I need to write anyways for better or for worse.

Let me just back up till Monday.

Friends are my pockets of comfort zones. I really appreciate them when I realise they are people I can be around without any pressure of having to prove myself in any way (except maybe that I’m a nice person and not overly weird or lame I usually keep that for later). Sorry, this is introverted me dealing with group work. Group work can be fun and great, especially if you need help because there are people to help you. What I don’t like about it is the whole trust building thing, and having to constantly prove that you are worth your salt and are pulling your weight. I keep comparing myself to others, worrying about whether I contributed as much as other people and whether I’m being obnoxious or overbearing in any way (I’m usually not, I’m usually the too-quiet one and so I worry about them thinking I don’t pull my weight). And also trying to not make anyone mad or annoyed by me. Just because. I dunno.

They say double consciousness (ie seeing yourself as how other people see you) is an extension from self consciousness (don’t really know what this is) but I’ve been living in double consciousness my whole life lel.

I never thought the day would come where this verse would apply to me:

“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.

Matthew 6:24

Materialistic girl walking.

I never thought I would have a bone to pick with money. It just seemed like the least, weakest evil to fight with because it was so physical and material and external. I thought the hardest enemies to fight would be all in my head.

When it comes down to it, can I actually just not money.

What do I want. What do you want.

Ok, maybe I know what you want. But I’m still ungh about wanting what you want. Ungh.

Time to live the frugal life. It’s not that I absolutely need the moolah. It just means I have to cut back a bit on my lifestyle. Not impossible, but unghhhhhhh.

But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.”

James 4:6

I had been humbled.

Moving on.

Walking to the train station on this unbearably hot afternoon and then the clouds came to cover the sun all the way until I reach the station.

And the whole walk there I was just amazed at how good God is.

And it dawned on me that God is crazy to love me, love us like this. I’m not talking about the weather. I’m saying He’s crazy to even care, to actually bother about me, how I feel, what I want, what I think. Me. Dust of the earth. Dust out of the millions of other dust of the earth (all dat people).

And He doesn’t have to. God, He’s God for crying out loud. Let’s get real. The reality is the created has no say, has no right, has nothing to leverage with his creator. Nothing. The creator doesn’t need to care. He doesn’t need to to do anything according to his little creation.

The fact that he does, the fact that Jesus wept with Mary even though He was going to raise Lazarus from the dead like two minutes later, the fact that He allots us that agency to be an entity in ourselves and respects that, and cares about that, even though He’s God… I’m sorry, that’s crazy. God, You’re crazy.

And it’s not because I’m worth anything for Him to love. There’s this idea that since the Lover loves the Beloved, it is the Beloved who has power over the Lover. Look at all the lovesick boys chasing the girls who got it all together. The loved has power over the lover, right?

Not even. We have nothing worth loving like that. Even if we had anything at all, definitely not enough to demand the love of God. The point is, God, God, allows Himself to love us (and allowing Himself to be hurt over us) is really just… why would you even do that? That’s foolish, a foolish love. That’s stupid.

I’m just amazed. I’m blown away.

Jesus is loving with a stupid love because He is loving me, a nothing.

 I can’t understand this love that keeps me alive, that keeps my heart beating. It is the least beneficial love for Him. He makes Himself vulnerable and lost so much to save me.

Stupid love. Beautiful love. Pure love.

A love, for once, that’s not based on what you can get out of it, that’s not about you. You have everything to lose but love anyway.


It took a zombie apocalypse for me to realise how much You did on that cross for me.

Drama class this week, we did body voting on moral dilemmas. It was an experience, that’s for sure.

We came across this dilemma:

You’re in a zombie apocalypse. You have the vaccine to the zombie virus in your blood, but to extract it for the possibility of a cure, you will have to die a slow and painful death to stop the virus from spreading. Will you give yourself up for the vaccine?

A good number of us drifted to the “Yes” side, the mentality being that:

  • since I was going to die anyway, might as well save the world
  • I’d be recognised as a hero

Some of us didn’t catch it being a slow and painful death and after repeating the question, they edged to the “No” side a bit more before pleading for a quick and painless death. The “No” people were like “it’s only a possibility of a cure”.

This is exactly what Jesus did on that cross and I’m only getting it now because apparently a zombie apocalypse is more relatable and real a scenario for me to empathise with. It’s funny cos we were talking about defamiliarization and alienation in epic theatre that lesson, that is, staging something that helps us see the thing for what it is with new eyes and perspectives because our reactions have been so habitualised that we lose it. It’s like seeing stuff for the first time again, making the stone “stony”.

Zombie apocalypse totally did it for me. Seeing Calvary with new eyes.

Jesus gave himself up to give us a cure. And His stakes were much much higher:

  • He didn’t do it because He was going to “die anyway”. He came down for that very purpose of dying to give us the vaccine. Imagine if the zombie thing was only limited to a country, and the person with the vaccine in his blood purposefully went there to die for that country. It’s not as if he was there all along and he just did it as a by the way thing. No, He took the flight to get there. To die.
  • He died as a criminal. A criminal. When he was innocent. Dying as a hero, maybe the best way to die. Even if you went uncredited, it would still be ok. But dying as a criminal, when you’re innocent. Dang, the levels of humiliation. The worst way to go.
  • Slow and painful death – check. On a cross, death by asphyxiation.
  • To add to all that, the people He was going to help vaccinate against the virus didn’t like Him. They weren’t His friends. Maybe for friends and family, people you cared about, you might die for them. But would you do it for your enemies, for people you don’t like or can’t stand, for people who don’t believe you exist? As far as I’m concerned, they can all become zombies with me. But no. Jesus died to vaccinate people who hated Him, people who would never acknowledge His existence. He did it for everyone, before they realised they were all zombies and needed a vaccine.
  • And it’s only a possibility of a cure. Not that the vaccine won’t work, but that not everyone would take it for it to work. Not everyone would believe it works, it cures, and that’s the possibility He had to take. That He could die in vain. That He could die, with the vaccine sitting there in vats in a lab, and no one injects themselves with it and everyone becoming zombies.

Throughout the whole thing, it showed me I had a lot of morals to work on. And I question whether I would really be as altruistic to those I voted nobly when it came down to it. And also the double consciousness of not doing what I said/voted I would or vice versa.

Thoughts for only half a week/three days. Enough to last a whiles.


On Words

I feel that I’m losing myself, the voice I love so much, over things that shouldn’t matter as much as they should.

Perspective perspective. Go back and start again. Also,

Do you know you have so much power

That throws us all into a frenzy

You think too little of yourself

and yet too much

I feel completely incompetent to deal with the wordplay and the feelings behind them. I only do words in isolation, when there’s a chance it doesn’t matter. Like here. My own head space.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the one who stirs things. On that irrational selfish need to feel validated or better than someone else.

You know how when you watch a drama, there’s always this clueless character who makes things worse because he/she is sooo oblivious to what’s right and wrong to say? That’s me. The one with good intentions that get mangled up along the way, by his incompetency/foolishness or just by himself, his pride. The audience watching the drama would know exactly what’s going on and the effects of what he said/did (dat omniscient POV) and they’d yell at the screen in the vain hope that the characters would listen to them.

I feel like I need this kind of direction. I need direction from someone completely fair and removed. From someone who knows everything. From who knows what’s the right thing to do.

Dear God, please yell your instructions at me and please let me hear them so that I won’t do dumb stuff.

I know this isn’t about me. But I don’t like how at-a-loss I feel. Where’s the wisdom that comes from above?

How how. Can I take cover in silence?

Yet, I feel that is not my part.

Words words words. So important.

Yours is the most important.

My beloved brothers, understand this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteousness that God desires.

James 1:19-20 (Berean)

Like apples of gold in settings of silver
Is a word spoken in right circumstances.
Like in earring of gold and an ornament of fine gold
Is a wise reprover to a listening ear.

Proverbs 25:11-12 (NASB)

A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.

Proverbs 15:1 (NIV)

Continue reading “On Words”

Consider This

Consider this.

Imagine that my father gave me a new dress, a lovely dress, as a token of how much he loves me.

But imagine that I take that dress and give it a new meaning completely irrelevant to my father’s intentions, something like, “When my father wants me to wear this dress, it means I can do whatever I want, exactly as I like, regardless of the people around me.”

So whenever my father wants me to wear the dress (for special occasions and events like family dinners), I’ll put it on and think “I have my father’s support and blessing to act however badly I want since he told me to wear this dress.” Then I go on a rampage and be mean to my sister and bully my brother and be rude to all my relatives and guests.

I have redefined the meaning of my father allowing me to wear this dress into something completely irrelevant with his original intentions (which is perhaps, simply for me to look nice) so I take his request for me to wear this dress as support for my disruptive behaviour and I go about proudly acting the fool because I think that my father supports me doing so. He did tell me to wear the dress, right?

Yes, he told you to wear the dress.

But he did not say that wearing it allowed you to be a spoilt little kid. You conjured that up yourself. He never mentioned anything of the sort.

When your father gives you the dress, remember what he gave it to you for. He gave it to you so that you would know how much he loves you and that you will know him and be the person he wants you to be.

Don’t misuse it and confer some other meaning of your own onto it, and then wear it as your father’s unconditional favour and support.

That’s not how love works.

If you loved him back, you’d know.

Love Me Right

They call what is forbidden free

What a lovely word, free

They say it’s natural

So celebrate it, celebrate yourself

But nature, nature does not

Kill itself

I celebrate my eyes my hair my skin

My height, my hands, my fingers, my feet

But I do not celebrate me being a liar

And parade my lies as protection or wit or common sense

Of which you should not discriminate

Of which you should approve

I do not celebrate me being a murderer

And pretend that murder is an artful expression of my emotions,

of anger or passion which you should accept

Of which you should approve

I do not extol my rebellion as an attempt to be an individual, unique person

Of which you should not hate

Of which you should approve

No, don’t do that.

I am a liar

When I was angry, I murdered

When I was rebellious, I disobeyed, I dishonored

That doesn’t mean I want you to celebrate me doing wrong, being wrong

If you love me, really love me,

Make me right

Teach me truth

Teach me forgiveness

Teach me obedience

Don’t let me fall

Don’t let me be

the worst person I can be

We are all trying to be better

Help me be better

It took me a great deal of nerve  to put this up, to call for help

I did it anyway

Because this is how I’ll know you love me