Not the same anymore

Today is the official day that I have entered into a new phase of my scriptwriting program. I did a count and realised that it has been two years and three months since my acting class first started, around one year and nine months since the screenwriting program started. It has been one year and eight months since I left my dad's company to pursue screenwriting, which means that long without a stable job and source of income. Finally, I am moving into another phase, a phase that I have been waiting for a long time. Things will not be the same anymore.

White Bear, Self Talent and myself were talking about our past a few nights ago (Self Talent too is on the journey to seek Him). It has been quite some time since we started on this journey, and what a journey this has been. All the tests and trials that had gone by had molded us to become who we are now. It is amazing to see how the Storyteller had been there all the time, protecting and guiding our lives, slowly revealing Himself to us though we did not know it. But today we can say, we know Him. We are not the same anymore.

For me personally, it has been 10 years, 3 months and 3 days since I started on the journey to seek Him. There were times when I was stagnant, there were times when I moved fairly quickly. There were times when I would shout with jubilation, and there were times of silent tears. There were times of safe refuge, and there were times of great risk. One thing I can be sure of, it is never easy.

The spiritual life cannot be made suburban. It is always frontier, and we who live in it must accept and even rejoice that it remains untamed.
Howard Macey

Safe? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good.
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

But though it is not easy, I will still keep on walking and running and swimming and crawling forward. As long as the Storyteller grips my hands, as long as the Son intercedes for me, as long as the Dove is there to guide me to the right direction, I will go forward. And I know, I will not be the same anymore. I am becoming the person He wants me to be.

Right Time, Right Place, An Awesome Place

By the time I put up this post, it would already be early morn on tuesday. 8 days of high and low adventure has passed. There are too many details for me to put here all at one go, but a broad stroke should serve the same purpose here.

The lowest point point came when I found out that the kingdom as I know it was collapsing. Even though I knew that it would some time down the road, yet I did not expect it to be so soon. Was it any easier to know that it is not my fault? No, not at all. Was it any consolation to know that I did not contribute to its collapse? Nope, nothing there either. However, this news came at the right time.

The Right Time. On wed, a whole group of people came together to an Awesome Place to seek the Story teller. A seer gave me words from the Story teller Himself. Needless for me to elaborate, those were the right words that kept my eyes on Him. The news that caused the lowest point came after this. He must have known and thus prepared me so that I would not look to anywhere else but Him. Praise Him!

The highs came when the door that I thought had been closed had burst wide open and the other door that is already open now has a ticking clock on it, asking me to go through it quickly. Though sleep and food are scarce and irregular, I have no qualms about it. I feel that I have been sleeping for too long anyway. But still, the words from the Story teller brought everything to perspective.

He reminded me that this journey is one to be enjoyed, that He is the one writing my story. As long as I am in his hands, I am safe. He has me where he wants me to be. This is the Right Time. This is the Right Place. An Awesome Place.

It will come

As pilgrim makes his way past a slum, where the poor and sick and underprivileged dwell, a man full of white hair standing nearby shouted out to him,

Stranger: Where are you going my friend?

And pilgrim turned and responded,

Pilgrim: Oh hi there, I am on my way to find the Story teller of my life.

Stranger: I see, You have the book of records on your left hand and another book like a journal on your right, your bags are packed and you even have the right shoes for the journey. Where are you going?

Pilgrim looks puzzled.

Pilgrim: I... I am on my way to find him, the Story teller.. of my life.

Stranger: I know you are on your way to find Him, the same can be said of me. But...

Pilgrim spies the same book of records on a table nearby.

Stranger: But don't you see there are people here that need your help?

Pilgrim: I would offer my help kind sir, but my rations are low and I need to be on my way.

Stranger: I am not asking for alot, just an amount as the Dove would tell you to.

Pilgrim consults the Dove.

Pilgrim: That is an awful lot that I am afraid I do not have.

Stranger: It will come to you... like it used to when two fishes and five loaves of bread fed a multitude. It will come. You do not have to give everything today, but as you start giving, it will come.

Pilgrim: I know what you say is true, for that is the nature of the Story teller. It is not easy for me, but as the Dove instructs, so in faith will I give.

Stranger: In faith, that is as pleasing to the heart as it sounds, for this faith I know will not fail. You are a pilgrim on a journey, and the little that you give today will yet make thousands more pilgrims in time to come. And this is all that matters.

Pilgrim: Verily verily I agree. I thank you for bringing this up to me, for I do not want to think when I see the Story teller, I would be with just a few friends. I do dream that it was crowded, a festive crowd.

Stranger: And indeed it will be... Where are you going my dear friend?

Pilgrim: I am on my way to find the Story teller of my life, and bringing others together with me.

Stranger: Well said, but before you go on any further, perhaps you want to take a look inside the tent where the children are in, for the Son is here.

Not Animal Farm

I had the chance to meet up with quite a few friends over this week. Firstly, it was the Eagle, another dear friend I had know for more than six years already. Like always, he was soaring way above most other people I know. We can only get to meet once in a while, a long while, but the meetings have always been wonderful times of catching up. Like in the past, one of the topics fell on finding a partner on the journey (life partner, or soul mate, they call it). He is still soaring alone way up there, I am still running alone down here. Maybe he should start looking down and I up. Another reason why I enjoy meeting the Eagle was that we would seek the Lion (who is also the Son, who is also the Lamb, who is also... but that is another story) together at the end of every meeting. This did not happen. Perhaps we were both tired at 3 in the morn.

I met up with White Bear tonight, again, after seeing him from a distance but it was something else that prompted this meeting. Travelling on this journey is not easy, and I had taken quite a beating this week. Like Frodo when he travelled to Mordor, I realised that my lumbar's bread and water was running out, and there seems to be no place that I can replenish my supplies. Another antagonising thing was this maze I am trying to get out of. I thought I had found my way out, but now it seems like it is not so. This door is almost shut, yet another door I did not expect had opened. However, the immediate way ahead of this second door is dark, though it looks promising a little further down the road. It was when I was contemplating all these that I saw White Bear, and thus led to the meeting with him.

Just like with the Eagle, the time spent with White Bear is as wondeful. As I emptied the jug of confusion and contemplation, he began to refill me with living water from the Lion's stream (it is another saying, John 7:38, that streams of living water with flow from within him who believes in the Lion). I don't think I ever told him (maybe I did at one of his birthdays, but I cannot remember) that the reason that I enjoy the time with White Bear was that he reminds me of the Lion. And unlike the donkey and the ape in "The Last Battle" by C.S. Lewis, this Bear would never claim to be the Lion, he just points people to Him, which was what he did tonight.

So after I got back to my cabin, I spent some time looking for the Lion in the records of the book on my left hand, and asked the Dove to be my guide. He pointed me to a familiar verse which goes like this,

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul.

He guides me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

The Dove guides and gives understanding. The Lion always points to the Story teller and proves that obedience is the key to the Story teller's heart. And the Story teller goes on inviting me to write this story with Him, no matter how difficult it seems.

Though there are many animals here, it is not animal farm we are writing.

One Big LOVE Story

I hold in my left hand, a book which is a record of the people who have journeyed to find the Story teller after knowing that the Story teller had first came to look for them. Some people find it strange that we are on this journey because they do not believe that there is a Story teller in the first place. Others find it more strange; if the Story teller has already looked for us, why do we need to seek after Him? If the Story teller is already telling our stories, what part do we have other than living our lives out whether we look for Him or not? The answer is already in the records, we just have to humble ourselves and look deeper.

I hold in my right hand, another book, one that I am writing. Other than my own stories, I write stories about other people too. I realised some time after writing a few such stories that they are not always chronological. The characters that I write about live out their lives chronologically, but I am outside of their time. I see their past, present and future together at the same time. I know their decisions before they make them, and I know how they would feel after they have made their choices. I know what other alternatives they have, and how their lives would pen out if they had gone on a different path. If only they would come alive and ask me, I would be able to direct them out of harm's way (though not out of training, which is at times painful).

This is where the great difference lies, my characters do not have a will of their own, they cannot choose to ignore me if I make myself known to them. But the Story teller I am looking for has graciously given free choice, so that I can reject Him daily, or accept Him just as much. What a powerful gift this is. And not only that, He has chosen to look for us, to reveal Himself to us! Wow! However, that is not the end, He actually invites us to write the Story together with Him! Unbelievable? Maybe. Crazy? Definitely. Improbable? The people of the book in my left hand begs to differ. And reading the accounts of their stories, I agree with them too. This is one big LOVE Story we are writing with Him.

1 Cor 13:13
And now these three things remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

How wonderful

I was pruning a tree late last night, or you can say early today (the skies were still quite dark), and I was hungry. The growling in my stomach did not cease for a while and thinking that I would be fast asleep soon after my task, I thought not of my hunger.

Suddenly, I spied a bear in the distance, whose fur was as white as snow. I recognise that he was my dear friend, one whom I had met while on this journey. He too was on his way to find the Story teller. I saw that he was sitting near a food vendor. So I called out to him, to see if I could join him there and perhaps have some food together. He promptly replied that I could. Almost immediately, I left the pruning of the tree till the morrow, and joined my friend the bear for a meal.

While eating, we talked and joked about our recent encounters and trials, about our desire to want to do the right things, and also about the tough trials our fellow pilgrims are going through (This journey to find the Story teller is not for the faint hearted, though I believe the faint hearted, if he were to seek after Him, would in due time find that he would not faint so easily). We agreed that it would be wonderful if as fellow prilgrims we could come together and spur one another on, carrying and supporting one another.

When I got back to my cabin, I found that I was not only full from food, but some thirst in me was quenched. I spoke to a Dove and asked him why. He reminded me of an old saying, ”For when two or three are gathered in my name, there am I with them.” I realised then that my friend the bear and I were not alone at the table a while back ago, the dear Son of the Story teller was there too. The Dove spoke again, ”Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” He fed us with food and water.

How wonderful the Son. How wonderful the Father. And how wondeful the Dove who helped me see them.

Challenges on the road

For my fellow pilgrims, wayfarers, who had come face to face with many challenges and obstacles recently...

An excerpt from C.S. Lewis's "The Horse and His Boy"

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And being very tired and having nothing inside him, he felt so sorry for himself that the tears rolled down his cheeks. What put a stop to all this was a sudden fright. Shasta discovered that someone or somebody was walking beside him. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. And the Thing (or Person) was going so quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls. What he could hear was breathing. His invisible campanion seemed to breathe on a very large scale...

If the horse had been any good – or if he had known how to get any good out of the horse – he would have risked anything on a breakaway and a wild gallop. But he knew he couldn't make that horse gallop. So he went on at a walking pace and the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him. At last he could bear it no longer. “Who are you?” he said, scarely above a whisper.

“One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep...

“Oh please – please do go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world!” Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There,” it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows.” Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since he had anything to eat.

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice. ”Don't you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.

“There was only one lion,” said the Voice. “What on earth do you mean? I've just told you there were at least two the first night, and...” “There was only one; but he was swift of foot.” “How do you know?”

“I was the lion.”

And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”

“It was I.”

“But what for?”

“Child,” said the Voice, “ I am telling you your story, not hers.”

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Sometimes, a story can impart more truth than the finest teaching, and hopefully this story has spoken to some of your hearts. Things may not be what they seem...

Seek the story teller.

1st post

Testing.