Fierce

love
Stories of God
over coffee mocha

REUBEN DAVID
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 Introduction

Life has a way of surprising us: sometimes pleasant, other times

not so pleasant. The rough curves and bends of life can catch us
unaware. We can never be fully sure how the day would turn
out despite our planning. It is at these times God shows up.

God is not necessarily in the big things of life. He is in the small

things of life, too. He plays hide and seek with us. He does it so
that we are always mindful of Him. He doesn’t want us to forget
him. I know the absence of God is never funny for us humans.
We always long for a certainty of His presence.

I was sitting at the Starbucks Café and over a cup of coffee

mocha was pondering about God: why people some fiercely
love him, while some others hate him. My thoughts led to
people who found God to be their ultimate source of joy despite
what life handed out to them. I felt I had to write those stories
and so here is a collection of short stories about God’s presence
in our simple everyday lives.

I hope you will find these stories inspiring and blessing. My

humble desire is to spread message of God to every human
being so that all will find joy, peace, comfort and rest in their
busy lives.

Reuben David
November 24, Minneapolis

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 ∞∞∞

I dedicate this book for those who

are looking for love, acceptance,
peace, joy, rest but never quite got
it fully. I hope you will find the
stories in this book bring you all
the above in the only one person who
can truly give it: GOD

∞∞∞

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 Table of Contents

1. You are carved in the palm of God…………...04

2. One woman’s last night on earth……………..15

3. A day in the life of my heart…………………..26

4. Talking to God in the train……………………..45

5. Memory of a different Christmas……………..54

6. Life is not fair but God is good…………………64

7. Happy Birthday to God………………………….69

8. Meeting God in the monsoon………………….80

9. Brown sweater and black pant……………….103

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 You are carved in the palm of God

∞∞∞

THE COOL splash of the sea water hit her face drenching
her in ecstasy. Her turquoise palm print sundress stuck to
her back. Jessica balanced herself on the craggy sea-
soaked jutting rocks of Cape Agulhas, the southernmost tip
of Africa where the Atlantic and the Indian Ocean jostled
against each other. It looked like the two oceans were
playing a see saw game, up and down, raining cascades of
water.

Her heart was racing while her eyes searched for one
particular rock. She was in South Africa to revisit her past.
It was many years ago when she and her husband had
honeymooned here. They were married in a quaint
cathedral in Cape Town. It was a bright sunny morning at
the cathedral on March 14, 1998. The sun was streaming
down through the stained glass windows. Jessica stood
immaculate in her chiffon strapless bridal gown, her face

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aglow and ready for a new start in life. Jeff stood in his
classic peak tuxedo, his head held high.

Rev Francis Johnson presided over the wedding and

pronounced them as husband and wife. The morning after
the wedding Jeff had a surprise for Jessica. He drove her to
the Cape Agulhas, to a particular rock and asked her to
stand a few feet away from him while he hurried to the
rock and placed both his hands on a piece of large rock.
Then with a twinkle in his eyes he beckoned Jessica:

“Jess can you come over here”

“Sure”

“Now pry my hands slowly”

“Ok”

As Jessica began to pry his hands slowly, she saw

something that took her breath away…

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Jeff had carved deep into the rock the words, “I love you
Jessica, Jeff”

The carving was deep and Jeff had apparently spent many
hours chiseling those words weeks before the wedding.
Jessica was overwhelmed with emotions and broke into
tears of joy and hugged Jeff. His body felt warm against
the noon day sun. The white speckled grey rock with her
name on it was a gift of love by Jeff. The waves were
crashing onto the rock washing the names again and again.
Each time the waters washed the rock the emblem of love
appeared fresher and brighter.

Jeff looked at Jessica tenderly and said, “Jessica, I love you

very much. I want the rocks to remember us forever”

“I want you to know that you belong to me. And only to

me”

Hearing those words of love made Jessica feel like a very

special person, like a queen. She was overcome in the joy
of knowing that she belonged to someone. Growing up as
a girl she never felt a sense of belonging to anyone as her

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parents were divorced. She never felt that she ever
belonged to her father or mother as both were never in
her life much. The divorce had robbed Jessica from
enjoying her normal childhood.

She grew up to be a very troubled young woman. Her

heart had always hungered for real love. But now it was a
new experience for her to feel that she belonged to
someone: to Jeff her sweet husband. She felt loved. This
sense of belonging came as a deep comfort to her
wounded heart. She knew that Jeff loved her and she
could lean on him during the rough and tumble of life.
And rightly so, Jeff was there for her through the thick and
thin of life. He was a good man. He remained true to his
words. Jeff worked at a construction firm and did his best
to be a good father and a husband. Above all, he was a
God guy. He loved God and his family.

Now years later Jessica was looking at the same rock---the

same rock where Jeff stood once. The wind was blowing.
Memories came haunting. It stung her heart. Four years
ago Jeff had died of a heart attack while he was on his job
at a high rise building in downtown Chicago. That morning

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when he left home for work he looked fine. He kissed
Jessica and dropped the kids at school and was on his way
to work. He was so healthy Jessica never saw it coming. He
left behind two precious little children Anna and Josh.
Jessica started weeping uncontrollably looking at the rock-
--the rock of love---the rock that bore her husband’s love
for her. She was very shattered at this adversity that came
on her like an avalanche.

The pain was too much for her to bear. Jessica knew and
experienced the safety and security of having had a
husband—a wonderful man, given the fact that there were
so many marriages which were breaking up. But yet to lose
that security and sense of belonging in a physical sense
with the untimely death of her husband was beyond her
endurance.

She wiped her tears and walked back. The sorrow slowly
started ebbing away as the dusk set in. In losing Jeff,
Jessica felt a hole in her heart that was gnawing at her. She
was unable to carry on with her life without her husband.
Being a widow with two children had changed her life
dramatically. As she walked back to her car that evening

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she had a strange sensation wash over her. Something she
never felt before.

Jessica had been a Christian and loved God but she never
experienced God in a deeper way. As the sun was setting
slowly and the beach was aglow in a fading orange hue,
Jessica looked up the orange sky. She suddenly felt God
was looking at her tenderly. She never had that feeling
before but she was feeling it now.

She heard a whisper in her spirit, “I am your husband and I

will never ever leave you.” Jessica knew this voice was for
real and it was flooding her spirit. It dawned on her in a
profound way that God was speaking to her and declaring
to her that He was her husband now and a father to her
children. Jessica felt tremendous peace and joy fill her
heart.

She heaved a sigh of relief from all her pain in the

knowledge that she now belonged to Jesus in a profound
way. She realized God was not just the person she
worshipped at church but he was very real to her. Until
this experience she was just a nominal Christian, who went

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to church and did all the right things. But she never
experienced God in such an intimate way like now.

God was filling her with a supernatural experience. She

always knew God was there for her but never realized that
God could be her husband. The scripture from Isaiah 54
and verse 5 became very real to her, “For your Maker is
your husband--the LORD Almighty is his name--the Holy
One of Israel is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all
the earth”

She opened the Bible and began reading the scriptures

with a new found love. She was falling in love with every
word she was reading. The Bible became a long love letter
and as lover would read the letter she was engrossed in
reading the words. She opened her to the truth that God
was her Rock from Deuteronomy 32 and verse 4. And this
God was becoming her rock of refuge in Psalms 94 and
verse 22.

She was pouring through the scriptures and drinking the

words of God. As she thought about the physical rock
where Jeff had carved her name, she was reminded of a

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greater love: the love of God for a widowed woman. A
beautiful verse came to her mind from the book of Isaiah
49 verses 15-16, “I will not forget you. See I have
engraved you on the palms of my hands: your walls are
ever before me.”

Jessica fell down on her knees in the sandy beach of Cape

Agulhas. This time she looked up to the heavens and cried
out, “God, my Jesus, my daddy, my hubby, my love, I thank
you for loving me and reminding me how much you love
me. I thank you for engraving me on the palms of your
hands”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as incredible love filled her.

In that sandy beach Jessica knew that her creator God
loved her deeply. She felt her head light and calm. The fact
that God had her name engraved on his palms lifted
Jessica’s grief filled heart to a higher place of comfort. She
felt deeply loved by God. And as a mark of His love, God
was saying to Jessica:

“My dear child Jessica you are my love. Look I love you so
much that I have you carved on my palm. Every time I see

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my palm I see you. That’s how much I love you. You are in
my palm. I see you all the time”

From having her name carved on an earthly rock to now

seeing her name carved in the palm of God’s hand made
her feel like a royal princess.

God showered her love upon Jessica when she thought

there was no one to turn to. He wants to shower the same
love on you too. Do you know that God loves you so much
that He says, “I have carved you on my palm?”

Imagine that for a second. Just imagine. God, the great

almighty God, the creator of the universe, wants to carve
your name on his palm. That is astounding and profoundly
precious. People who fall in love express their love in many
ways: they buy a ring, dedicate a song, get an expensive
present, plan a surprise holiday and even carve names on
rocks and trees.

Even today if you go around the world and across all

cultures lovers are often prone to embed their love on
rocks and trees. Something primeval in the heart of every

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human being inspires them to etch their love for their
beloveds in stones and trees as a mark of lasting love.

But God the great lover, the one who loves you
unconditionally expresses his love for you today by carving
your name on his palm. That’s a show of His love. Close
your eyes and imagine for a minute that the great God of
this universe loves you so deeply that He carves your name
on His palm. When you carve something on your body it
bleeds.

Crazy lovers do this. Out of their maddening love they hurt

themselves to show how much they love their beloveds.
Jesus is the same. He is a crazy lover. He hurt himself on
the cross. He hurt to the point that He shed blood. That
was His expression of love. I call it red blood love. Out of
this intense display of love He says, “I carved your name
on my palm”

Our names are our identity. We are known by our names.

Names have power to hurt us or make us happy. When
people mispronounce our names it bothers us. When our

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names are spelled wrongly it irritates us. But when our
loved one calls us by our name it delights us.

Jesus loves you. And therefore He takes your identity and

carves it on His palm. He is making sure that His love for
you is sealed----not in rocks or trees---but on His palm. This
is skin deep love, literally.

The angels look at his palm and they see imprints of love---
a dazzling display of His love for you. Now go figure how
much He loves you. You belong to Him. You are in His
palm, never to be forgotten, never to be hurt again but
loved like crazy forever.

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 One woman’s last night on earth

∞∞∞

THE WARM LIGHTS in the room seemed to dim a little and

brighten up again. Behind her bed was a mechanical
ventilator to assist her breathing. Tiny blips of lights were
flashing on the cardiac monitors. Marcella knew she was
going in and out of her consciousness. Her eyes looked
tired and puffy. She was listlessly gazing at the ceiling. She
wanted to stay awake. She tried. But her eyes were
closing.

“Marcella you are going to make it” Greg, her husband

whispered in her ears, “Look we are all here. We love you”

She opened her eyes weakly and stared at Greg letting him
know she heard him. She looked pale.

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“Yes, mom, we love you. We want you. Don’t leave us.”
Tiffany, the older one was fighting her tears. Clarke, the
younger one was not aware what was going on. He was
tugging at Greg’s pants. He looked confused.

Greg remained stoic and was praying silently in his heart.

Marcella was his love of many years. They both loved the
Lord. He didn’t want to give up on a miracle for her. Greg’s
older sister Arlene, standing beside him, placed her hand
on his shoulders and assured him that things would be ok.

‘Thanks, sis” Greg said, “Thanks for being with me.”

It was late evening. Outside the hospital building life

seemed to be going on as usual. It was late November
thanksgiving weekend. Cold winds were drifting around in
the upstate New York. Mounds of snow were already on
the ground. Ambulance sirens were going off. Warm
halogen lights filled the Room Number 234 on the second
floor. The curtain was drawn. Marcella with great difficulty
held onto the cold, steel railing of the hospital bed which
was slightly propped up. The intravenous tubes were still
sticking to her hands.

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The room was quite except for the mild humming noise of
the air conditioner. Marcella’s forehead bristled with tiny
beads of sweat. She had fever that day. Dr. Fred, the chief
surgeon walked in along with a tall nurse Amanda and
signaled Greg that he wanted to talk to him.

“I believe we have done everything we could. We don’t

want to promise you too much but let’s hope for the
best,” he said tapping gently on Greg’s shoulder. Marcella
was diagnosed with a serious heart condition. Despite of a
six-hour long delicate surgery she was not showing any
signs of recovery. She was dying.

Moments later after meeting with the doctor, Greg

sauntered in, his shoulder hung low. But suddenly
something was different in the room. He could feel it. As
soon as Greg shut the door behind him he was riveted to
Marcella’s face which had an unusual glow. He knew she
had fever and was in her last moments but he couldn’t
believe what he saw presently. Her face looked bright and
serene. Her lips were quivering softly. Her eyes had a
warm glow. Marcella was looking up and muttering

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something. The room was engulfed in a peaceful warm
glow like heat from a fireside.

“Jesus, I love you. Jesus, I love you. Jesus, I love you.”

“God, you are so beautiful. I praise you. I praise you. Jesus,

Jesus, Jesus.”

“I see the angels. They look so awesome. They are too

many in number. They are singing so beautifully. Oh, my
God, what a sight”

“Holy, holy, holy, holy, Jesus you are Holy. God almighty
you are holy. Blessed are you, oh Lord. Oh, thank you,
thank you.”

Marcella was uttering praises non-stop.

Greg, his kids and her sister were stunned at this. They
leaned back watching and hearing something that they
were not prepared for. They knew there was something
supernatural taking place in the room.

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Marcella was seeing a glimpse of the heaven. Few people
get to have a glimpse of heaven in the last moments of
their time on earth. Marcella was having her moment and
it was glorious.

A sudden burst of strength and energy coursed through

her body. Marcella laughed out loud, as supernatural joy
bathed her body. There was a child like excitement on her
face.

“I am seeing heaven. It’s beautiful. It’s beautiful. Oh, my

God. Look at those angels. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus is looking at
me. He is full of beauty. He is the one that I loved and
worshipped. Here He is” Marcella was unable to stop.

The room was suddenly abuzz with a celestial atmosphere.

Marcella’s body was jerking. It looked as though she was

not waiting to stay for a second on earth. She was seeing
the bright, beaming, scintillating sight of the expanse of
heaven widening before her. The sun- like lights of heaven
was zooming in on her. Her face was rippling with
pleasure. Indescribable music was echoing through her

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ears. The resplendent sight of heaven was flooding her
spirit.

Heaven, her real home, was now in front of her. She was
now being ushered into the place she always dreamed of.
It was homecoming. Finally, at last, her spirit sensed her
real home: heaven. She was in an ecstatic experience and
her whole body seemed to be suffused in an unexplainable
bliss.

Greg knew his wife was a passionate lover of Jesus. In the

early years of their marriage, she had once told him,
“Greg, I know you are my husband and I love you. But I
want you to know that I love someone and I am in an
affair.”

“What? An affair, what do you mean?” he shot back, his

eyebrows raised.

Marcella laughed out loud. She walked up to Greg, sat on

his lap and looked tenderly into his eyes and said, “Honey,
I mean, I am in love with Jesus. I have been having a love

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affair with Jesus from my childhood days. I love him and I
want you to know that I love Him more than you.”

“Is that alright?”

“Oh, sure, honey. I am glad I have a woman who loves

Jesus.” That was Marcella. She had a humor. She was
deeply in love with Jesus from her childhood days. Even as
a child she would talk to God like He was sitting next to
her. In her teenage years when other girls were falling in
love with boys she was falling in love with God and writing
love poems to God. Her journal contained letters like this,
short, terse love letters:

March 15, 1984

“Dear God, this morning I am having a feast for my eyes

watching the flowers in my garden. I see the daisies and
the daffodils. I read that daisy means ‘innocence, loyal love
purity’. I read daffodils mean ‘unrequited love’. I declare to
you: You are my Daisy. You are my Daffodil. I love you so
much. Your young love, Marcella.”

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June, 12, 1985

“Dear Love (my sweet God), I am at the Grand Canyon

today visiting. I see the distant ridges of the mountains.
The rocks are gleaming in pink, purple, blue and yellow.
What can I say? They look so stunning and gorgeous. I wish
I can spend all my time here gazing at this spectacular
sight with you. The canyons are awesome but you my
LOVE, my God the Creator of Canyon; you look all the more
gorgeous. Sit with me. Hold me tight. I love you.
Warm love, Marcella.”

February 05, 1986

“Dear God, I am too lovesick for you today. I don’t want to

go to school. I want to run away with you. Come please
take me somewhere, someplace …I just want to be with
you. Panting for you God, Love, Marcella.”

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March 11, 1986

Dear God, It’s my birthday today. I am turning sixteen.

Everybody says it is ‘sweet sixteen’. Are you happy with
me? Do you love me? I just want to please you. I don’t
need any boyfriend. I just need you. You are my love.
Please kiss me. I want your kisses and hugs. Your love,
Marcella”

April 18, 1986

“Dear God, It is 11 pm. I am tired. I want to sleep. Here’s

my hug for you. I love you, Marcella”

Such were the words of love that Marcella was writing in

her journal. Greg knew Marcella loved Jesus but never
knew how deeply she loved Him. Her love for Jesus was
deep as an ocean. Deep down in her heart she knew Jesus
was her abiding passion. In the many years of their
missionary life in Mexico when adversities hit their lives, it
was Marcella’s strong love for Jesus that kept them going.

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Marcella used to talk about heaven a lot. She wanted to go
there. She loved the Lord so deeply that her heart
hungered for his presence in a very literal sense. It was like
being homesick. Heaven was her home and she always had
seasons of profound homesickness for heaven.

The kids in the room knew that their mom was seeing
something. Greg looked at them and was speechless.
There was both sorrow and joy mingled in that room.

“I can hear the angels singing. Oh, it is so glorious. There

are innumerable angels. They are swarming all over. Praise
you Jesus. Praise you Lord. Praise you Father.”

Marcella’s eyes looked moist, and tears were rolling off

her cheeks. She was conscious of her experience.

“There He is. My Lord, my savior, my redeemer, my love.

His face is a like a thousand sun, bright and glorious. His
eyes penetratingly powerful yet tender in its welcome. I
praise you. I praise you”

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“He is truly the lily of the valley, the rose of Sharon, the
bright morning star, the fairest of ten thousand…I cannot
describe Him.”

“At last my home, my sweet home, at last my Father, my

heavenly Father, I am so happy. I am so happy”

“Come, my sweet Lord. Take me home. Take me in your

arms.”

There was a soft glow on Marcella’s face, a heavenly glow.

She looked peaceful as she closed her eyes, her lips softly
moving…then it stopped.

This time she never woke up.

She was home in heaven.

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 A day in the life of my heart

∞∞∞

HOW OFTEN and how easily life gets boring when you
least expect it.

Have you had those moments?

You wake up. The alarm shrills. Groggy eyed you turn over
in your bed, smack that snooze button, pull the sheet over
your face, and bury your head deep in the pillow and
descend into your fantasy land. Some believe sleep is a
temporary heaven, an escape hatch to a make-believe
world. You feel like you want to sleep some more when
you think of the day’s demands. But this relief last only for
a while. You have to wake up and face the harsh realities
of the real world.

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I woke up that way this morning: blood shot eyes, limp
bodied and saggy souled. I dragged myself to the shower.
My head was buzzing in monotony as warm water
cascaded down my body. I wanted to be happy. I wanted
to wake up with something to look forward to. But oh, the
warmth of my bed kept me from my pursuit. Instead of me
hugging my bed, I felt the bed was hugging me. My mind
was convincing me to sleep some more while my body lay
there obedient to my mind.

I confess I slept more than usual. I slept away to escape my

emptiness. I was empty inside of my heart. In the course of
life people oftentimes say, “rest well you will feel fine” I
did rest and slept full but the emptiness was not going
away.

Once I was done with my morning ablutions I got into my

Toyota Corolla and drove to the nearest Starbucks Coffee
on Eisenhower Avenue. The morning sun was draped in an
orange hue. I thought maybe a cup of steaming Colombian
light roast coffee would wake me from the slumber land of
my soul. The coffee was slightly bitter and being an Indian
I was used to cream and sugar. I kept spilling sugar packets

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after sugar into the cup until the coffee turned cold and
syrupy sweet. Oh, well, heck with the coffee I drank it
anyway. I saw people sticking their head into newspapers
and magazines with the coffee steam rising from the cups
in wistful wisps. An old man with a scraggly beard wearing
an Eddie Bauer sweater was resting on a comfy lounge
chair sipping his Coffee Mocha. A 20-something guy in a
maroon sweatshirt was flicking through his Android cell
phone. Their faces looked lost and somber.

Coffee didn’t do well for my soul. My empty heart was

screaming at me. “I am empty, empty, do something.”

Don’t you have those moments when you are doing

something you believe is making you happy but your heart
is still protesting, “I am empty. Look at me. I am empty”

You looked at the mirror today. You saw your face and
smiled to yourself. You tilted your head sideways to see
how nice you looked in that pose. But something inside of
you is still harrowingly empty. Maybe you bought a nice
dress---an expensive one. You were in that sauna. You
rode that bike. You wore that nice ear rings. You bought

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that leather jacket. You got yourself a new smart phone
one that has all the bells and whistles and tons of apps.
But after a while, the phone lost its novelty. You hardly
look at it. Or you logged into Face book feverishly hoping
that someone left a comment. The red pointer excites but
it’s just a ‘like’. A one line comment, nothing more. You
see your ‘friend list’ has increased. You try again after an
hour, around noon, evening, night, the sky blue Face book
screen stares at you. But your heart is dull like a placid
lake.

You have more online friends and just logged out from a
chat but you are still empty.

The heart has a way of escaping from us. It remains

unsatisfied no matter how much we accomplish. It often
retreats into loneliness. It never seems to come alive
despite our frenetic pace of life.

David Foster Wallace writes: “We're all lonely for

something we don't know we're lonely for. How else to
explain the curious feeling that goes around feeling like
missing somebody we've never even met?”

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“The body is a house of many windows: there we all sit,
showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come
and love us.” says the poet Robert Louis Stevenson

The American philosopher Eric Hoffer writes: “Our

greatest pretenses are built up not to hide the evil and the
ugly in us, but our emptiness. The hardest thing to hide is
something that is not there.”

Back to my day, after the coffee break, I did the next thing
most do: I went to the mall near Southdale on France
Avenue. I jaywalked all over the gleaming mall, my eyes
feasting on every shiny store: the Abercrombie, the
American apparel, the Macys, the Sears and Eddie Bauer.
Bored, I took the elevator only to be sidetracked by the
Apple store. I walk in, fidget with the latest Macs, handle
the iPhone one more time and the store manager walks by
me. “Can I help you with something” he asks, “I am fine” I
reply. I know I am not fine. My heart again screams, “I am
empty. Macs are not enough. iPhones are not enough. Do
something.” I ignore my heart’s cry and walk out
nonchalant.

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We all do this. We ignore our heart’s cry. Gerald May in his
book The Awakened Heart describes it like this: “When the
desire is too much to bear, we often bury it beneath
frenzied thoughts and activities or escape it by dulling our
immediate consciousness of living. It is possible to run
away from the desire for years, even decades, at a time,
but we cannot eradicate it entirely. It keeps touching us in
little glimpses and hints in our dreams, our hopes, and our
unguarded moments”

This time I scan the vast lounge space of the mall making
sure I visited all those shops. I look around and the food
court comes into my view. My belly screams, “Now go eat
your heart out, it may satisfy your heart.” So I take the
elevator up, and stand in line at the Subway. Half way
after my line moves, I change my mind and head to the
Lean Chinese counter. I pick up the chicken fried rice,
wontons, fresh veggies, potato salad and a large sprite. I
make my way in the busy crowd, and after I am done binge
eating, I gulp my large sprite. The drink washes down my
throat with a temporary feeling of respite. I walk out. I
think I am full and tell myself, “Well, you now had a happy
meal, you should be fine” But my heart is not fine.

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It is still empty. The food hasn’t done anything to ease the
emptiness. We eat. We binge eat. We attempt to fill the
hunger of our heart with the food that only fills our
stomach. Doesn’t the Bible say man shall not live by bread
alone but by every word of God?

With a full stomach, I hustle my way out of the busy mall

to the parking lot. My car is parked at the west entrance
and I am at the south entrance. In my confusion I had
walked out the wrong entrance. But oh well, I take a walk
around the sidewalk. “Some time to myself” I mutter. Half
way I walk and my dreaded slumbering heart, still awake,
rises into my mind. I can almost feel my heart in my frontal
lobe of the brain and peeking down at me from the
forehead, “Hey, I am still empty. I am empty. Do
something. You fed your body but you left me hungry”

I think I had a forehead attack. I was done this time. I could

not get myself to be happy and make my heart full. I
wondered to myself, have I not done the right things,
normal things that people always do. Don’t people eat,
drink, have coffee, dress, drive a car, go to mall, eat

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Chinese meal and do window shopping? Why am I so
empty? Why is my heart so empty?

Why is the food, clothing, shelter, dress, coffee, mall, cell

phone, trinkets not making me happy? Why is this gnawing
emptiness tormenting me? From where is this fog of
frustration coming from? Why does my heart vent so
much of vexation?

Why is my soul so unhappy? I am looking at my heart and

soul as the embodiment of my real self---my inner self. The
real me. We all have our outer man and our inner man.
The outer man wants to dress well, eat well, drink full, buy
the best gadget and shop till it drops.

But how do we feed our inner man, how do we dress our

inner man, what outfit can we buy to clothe our real self.
What drinks can you buy to satiate the inner thirst? How
can we tend to our inner man? The inner man (or woman)
is our real self. The real you, is inside of you.

The world sees us happy outside but our heart says we are
not. At least my heart did.

33
Remember what King Solomon said in the book of
Ecclesiastes, “Everything under the sun is vanity and
vexation of spirit” That was so true. Solomon had it all.
Wine, women and wealth but the man felt woefully
empty. He had it all? Empty still. He cries out in
Ecclesiastes, “All is vanity and vexation of the spirit”

After I came home I threw myself on the couch. I so

desperately wanted to feel full and alive in my heart. I
turned on the television hoping to distract myself but it
didn’t help. After flipping channel after channel my mind
was vexed. As I stretched myself on the sofa despaired and
worn out, I saw my black King James Bible. It was half open
and sitting on my corner table next to Mitch Albom’s book
The Five People You Meet in Heaven. I opened the Bible
hesitatingly. And my eyes locked onto this verse from the
book of Psalms 27 verse 4.

“One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek

after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the
days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to
enquire in his temple.”

34
One thing have I desired of the LORD. I began to think of
that phrase. One thing have I desired. I’ve read Bible
many times but always in the passing. This time something
drew me deep into the sacred text. Just holding the Bible
in my hand gave me a different feeling.

The verse read, “One thing have I desired…”

One thing. One thing…

We live in a world of choices. We have so many desires for

so many things. We wish for so many perishable things.
We cry for so many things. We get it, stash it, wear it, feel
it and do everything with it. But the next day the thing we
cried has lost its attraction. We are frustrated.

Even nice things can be idolatrous if it replaces God in our

life.

King David says, “One thing...” I soon cried out to God.

“God I want the one thing: my one desire”

35
“Take my vain desires. Burn them. Just give me a desire for
you. Just you”

I cried out to God asking that He may fill me with a desire

for Him. I was sick and tired of all that I was doing:
working, working, working, running from appointment to
appointment and buying things I didn’t need. I was
entangled in a web of despair.

I remember reading from Readers Digest a story of a

beauty queen who was judged the best looking woman of
that city. After she wore her diamond tiara the crowds
went berserk looking at her. She came home that night,
the gleam still in her eyes. But few knew that she was a
believer in God. Her house was close to the beach. The
next morning heavy with yesterday’s madness she sat
quietly near the shore, looked deep into the blue expanse
of the sea, then looked up at the clear sky and cried. “God
I feel so empty. Take me away to you. I just want to look
beautiful only to you. I am tired of flashing my skin to this
world.”

36
That day she turned down all the offers that came her
way. Rather than choosing a life of fame and fortune she
picked up her Bible and decided to follow Jesus. She
found the life she was looking for in God.

The verse further goes onto say, “…that I may dwell in the
house of the LORD all the days of my life...”

King David was hungering after the house of the Lord and
for the presence of the Lord. The Old Testament saints
went to a physical place of sanctuary to seek the presence
of God. In the New Testament, we are the temple of God.
His presence is in us. He seeks to dwell in us.

Are we hungry for His presence? Are you hungry for His
presence? Do you deeply desire for His presence?

Is your one desire to hunger after His house, His presence?

I gave up my desire to waste my life in the vain pursuits of

life. For many of us it is very easy and tempting to be
swept away in the distractions of this world. To go to a
mall, to window shop, to buy stuff we don’t need.

37
We can be so easily misled by the nice things of life. Our
idols may not be necessarily made of rocks and woods.
Our idols are materialism, the love of stuff, the love of
food, clothing, trinkets, and greed and so on. You know
your idol: your laptop, your iPod, your Facebook, your
twitter, your cell phone. It is these which robs all your time
and demands all your attention. You have no time for
yourself and neither for God. You are lost in the niceties of
life. You are doing things for God but you are not with
God. God doesn’t need your things, your programs, and
your ministry. He wants you. He wants you to drop all
those so-called nice and churchy things and come away to
a quiet place with Him. He wants to talk to you but the
noise in your life is drowning out His voice.

Oh, how I long for His presence. King David goes on to say,
not just one day, “but all the days of my life” This earthly
king was longing to be at the house of the heavenly king all
the days of his life. That tells me, King David, despite his
pompous palatial accoutrements, knew the secret of life: It
is not in the million dollar house, the swimming pool
attached villa, and tree lined sidewalk or the comfy

38
surroundings that we necessarily feel happy. It’s in the
presence of God.

Happiness is not in a fancy house or a fancy church. It’s not

in the mood lightings or in the plush cushions. You can sit
all you want in a crystal cathedral and still feel a harrowing
emptiness. Without God you are an empty man, an empty
woman. The French philosopher Blaise Pascal said it long
time ago, “Every human being has a God-shaped void in
their heart and only a God can fill it and nothing else.”

My soul learnt a lesson. Seek the presence of God. Seek

the manifest presence of God.

Elsewhere in the book of Psalms, King David says, “In his

presence there is fullness of joy and at his right hand are
pleasures evermore.” Wow, did you read that. There is joy
and pleasure in his presence. We are fooling ourselves
with the things of this world, thinking we’ll be happy but,
oh how misleading that is.

C. S. Lewis, the great Irish Christian and author says this,

“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink

39
and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like
an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a
slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the
offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily
pleased.”

We are far too easily pleased, that’s our tragedy. We are

easily pleased with the paraphernalia’s of this world. Are
you easily pleased with this world?

I am not finished yet. Let’s go back to the verse. King David

begins with one desire, says he wants to dwell in the
house of the Lord. And it’s not for one day. He wants to
dwell all the days of his life.

Think of that. All the days of his life? How does one have a
desire to be in the house of the Lord all the days of his life?
Not one day, but all the days of life.

I discovered a truth here. It’s not enough to get up one

day, read Bible, pray and assume we are going to be fine
the rest of the week. We ought to desire the presence of
the Lord every day of our life. Now, that’s not easy for the

40
nice believer, the good believer who goes to church,
tithes, goes on a mission trip and lives his life normally. For
someone to seek the presence of God all their life would
mean one has to go beyond Churchianity. One has to go
beyond religion.

Coming to Christ is a love affair. It’s a romance. The one

thing a lover longs when he or she is with their loved one
is: time. The ten minute phone chat is not enough. The
half hour, no way. One hour, nope. The lovers want to be
on the phone for hours. Jake, a friend of mine once told
me that in the beginning of his courtship with Jill he never
wanted to hang up the phone. “Just hearing Jill’s voice was
making me happy. We talked for hours into the night. We
never cared what we talked. It was gibberish, meant
nothing, but the sweet nothings was what we wanted”

Only lovers don’t care about time. For the lovers the day is
not twenty fours. It is any amount of hours they want to
make it. King David was a lover of God. He was looking
forward to a lifetime of romance with God. He is like,
“Forget me being a king. I am in love with the king of

41
Kings. My God. I want to be there in His presence all the
time. I mean all the time”

Nobody can put in words what King David’s thinking was

but we do know that the psalms he wrote reveal his lover’s
heart for God.

I learnt my lesson. If I were to make my heart full: I have to

go to the presence of God.

Finally David cries out his overriding desire for the

presence of the Lord and for the house of the Lord. His
overriding desire was to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to seek Him again and again.

To gaze upon the beauty of the Lord. What a desire?

We go to church for many reasons. Often for good

reasons: to be an usher, to be in the choir, to help out in
children’s ministry, to sing songs, to worship, to hear a
sermon, to fellowship. All these are good but King David is
pointing us to a deeper reason. He wants us to go to
church to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord.

42
I hope we go to church for gazing at the Lord not the
preacher, not the choir, not the people, but the Lord. Our
gaze has to be God. In gazing at His beauty our hearts will
feel full.

The church today has become a place where people go for

many things and forget the most important thing: gazing
at the Lord.

We ought to be God gazers, gazing at his beauty. Don’t

some faces make you happy? Are you not distracted by a
pretty face? Pretty faces draw our attention. But think of
this. The prettiest face of all is the face of God. My pen will
run dry if I start describing His face. The Bible gives us a
little glimpse into His face. “His head and hair were white
like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing
fire” reads Revelation 19: 12. Just reading that gives me
goose bumps. Let me rest here and take some time to gaze
at my Jesus. In looking at His face my heart feels happy. In
beholding His face my soul feels content. In gazing at His
face my heart feels pleasure. I rather look away into His
face and do nothing for I am love sick for my Lord.

43
Why don’t you go now and take some to gaze at His face.
Into the face of your eternal lover. Grab that Bible, hold it
to your chest, kiss it and tell the Lord, “I want to just sit in
your presence and look at you. Just keep looking at you,
that’s all.” Oh, I believe He is ever ready to show us His
face.

44
 Talking to God in the train

∞∞∞

IT WAS RUSH HOUR traffic when my friend dropped me at

Egmore, the old railway station in Chennai, south India.
The road was chaotic with cars, scooters, buses and
bicycles sharing the road. The broad entrance to the
railway platform was littered with people, dogs, vendors
and naked children playing around.

I was sweating when I reached platform number 8 where

the night train to Bangalore slowly trundled to a halt with
a mild squeal. It was 10 pm when I finally boarded the
fourth car from the engine. I quickly made my way to seat
number 8 near the window, stashed my duffel bag under
the chair, and leaned back.

There were others who were adjusting their bags and

suitcases in the berth area above me. Since it was a night
train, and it was almost 10 pm, many climbed into their

45
sleeper berths and were preparing for a good night of
sleep.

The ceiling light was still on. The ticket master checked my
tickets, crossed out my name on his pad and walked away
to the next compartment via the vestibule that connected
each train cars. The train started moving and slowly picked
up speed as it cleared the path from the station. It was
now gathering speed with a rattling noise under my chair.
The train whistled loud and rolled into the night like a
juggernaut. From my window I saw the city with its
twinkling lights whiz past like a flash. The trees, farmlands,
distant shacks and lampposts vanished as the train hurtled
into the dark.

Inside the boxcar, the lights gradually dimmed and I was to

myself. I couldn’t sleep. I had too many things on my
mind. The train clacked and creaked as it wound through
the country side. I stretched my legs, pulled my sheet up
to my chest and let my mind drift off to the day’s events.

It was Christmas season. I had a lot on my mind. I started

talking to God. It was a quaint pleasure to talk to God in

46
the night. For a moment I felt I had God to myself.
Although God was everywhere and with everyone I didn’t
care about that much. For me I felt a little obsessive and
possessive of God. I wanted him just for myself, at least for
tonight, on a train.

So I cleared my throat:

“Dear God, are you in this train. I know you are there.”

“You are with me, aren’t you?”

“How I wish I saw you face to face”

In my spirit I heard God reply, “Yes, I am here. I am with

you. Do you hear the sound of your heartbeat?”

“Let me check”. I placed my hand on my chest and felt the

mild lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub…

“I make your heart beat. I am inside of you.”

47
“Oh, thank you God. Thank you. Thank you for moving
inside of me”

I laughed to myself. God moved inside of me. He lives

inside of me. I was his home. How to believe this? Is this a
joke? Was I silly? No, God is inside of me. I then
remembered a Bible verse Isaiah 57: 15

“For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who
inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: "I dwell in the high
and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and
lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive
the heart of the contrite.”

“Why do you like me, God?” I asked

“No, I don’t just like you. I love you.”

“Really?”

“Yes”

“How much do you love me?”

48
“I love you a lot. I love you deeply”

“I love you as deep as the ocean and as wide as the sea”

“I love you limitless”

For a moment I took a deep breath and thought of what

he just said.

“He loves me. He loves me deeply”

“He loves me limitless…limitless…limitless. Wow”

“But why do you love me so much” I asked

“I love you because I love you. I love you because you are
lovely”

Do you know you are lovely to God? I don’t care what

others say about you. And I wish you don’t care either
what others say about you. You are lovely. You are lovely
to God. You are lovely to the one who is altogether lovely.

49
Think of this, God is the most beautiful being in this
universe. And to Him you and I are looking lovely. What
more do I need? What more do you want?

God went on: “I saw you when you were just a tiny little
blob in your momma’s womb”

“I watched as I formed your fingers, your toes, your cute

eyes, your lips, your face, and your legs”

“Even before you belonged to your daddy and mommy,

you belonged to me”

“I became your daddy. I am your heavenly daddy.”

I leaned my head back overcome with emotion. “Thank

you so much God for being my daddy in heaven”

God then whispered something more into my heart. I

knew Christmas was a busy season of time and festivity for
many Christians. There were decorations, stars, Christmas
tree and Christmas gifts passed around. None of that

50
interested me a lot as much as watching the tiny baby
Jesus in a manger in the nativity scene.

I wanted to know why God would become as tiny as a

baby and be born in this world.

By now the train was rolling into a tunnel. People were

snoring in their beds. The window was shut tight. I had all
the time in the world to hear what God had to say.

Do you ever make time for God? I hope you make some
time. Just for you and God. So that you can hear all that He
has to say to you. I tell you it’s worth making that time for
God. Just get off that computer, that TV, that game you
are playing, that gadget you are toying with it. Just get off
your worry. Just get quiet, go to a room, and lock yourself
away from distraction, especially your cell phone. You will
hear him. God talks.

I asked God again some more things:

“Why did you come into this world as a baby, God?” I

asked in deep curiosity.

51
God replied, “I wanted to show everyone that I was not
just a force, a power, a being far away from humans. I
wanted them to feel me in flesh and blood. I wanted to
express my love not just in words but in action. I wanted
my creation, my people to know that I feel what they feel
and ache the way they ache. I wanted to make a way for
everyone to come to heaven by dying for them”

In deep gratitude I nodded to God a big thank you. “I thank

you for dying for me. I thank you for making a way for me
to come to heaven. I thank you for washing my sins. I
thank you for drawing me back to you. I thank for this
Christmas. I don’t care about Christmas candies, balloons,
decorations, Christmas tree or any other stuff. I only care
about you. You are my best gift”

It was midnight now. My eyes felt heavy and sleepy. But I

didn’t want to sleep. I felt nice talking to God. I had one
more thing----though I had several----to ask God.

I wanted God to give me a hug. I thought to myself if God

were to hug me, I would disappear into His big body. Can

52
you believe my conversations with God? Here I am talking
to a being that created heaven and earth. And He is so big.
No one can size him up. Yet in my human naiveté I was
asking for a hug, a big bear hug.

God must have laughed at me or did he giggle hearing my

request. I learnt something here: if human parents
reached out and hugged their kids how much more our
heavenly father would.

God hugs. But you have to ask him. If you love him, you
will want him. You will want his hug. When He hugs, you
will feel his affection wash over you.

I felt the hug of God. I felt a warm love cover me. I felt a
pleasant delight wash over me. I sensed God throw his big
arms of love around me and draw my fragile body into His
loving embrace.

I slept tight that night with God next to me.

What a night.

53
 Memory of a different Christmas

∞∞∞

AS USUAL THE DAY was hectic and work at the office was
piled up but I gave myself a break and came home early.
The road to Cedarville town was lit up with blue, yellow
and red Christmas lights. I was driving my 97 Green
Cherokee.

Thoughts were floating in my head. There were thoughts

that made me happy and there were thoughts that made
me sad. It was one of those days when my heart sensed a
cavernous emptiness despite the niceties that surrounded
me: a good job, a modest house, and a nice family.

The day was tiring. I had a lot of phone calls to return at

the Crimson Investors Company where I worked. After I
reached home, I threw my bag on the kitchen table and

54
slumped on my burgundy sofa. Mark, my husband was out
of town and my two daughters were still at school.

The phone rang. I lazily got up to pick the call but for a
passing moment I was drawn to a black swallowtail
butterfly that hopped from the perennial fountain grass
outside the window. The butterfly was giddily hopping
every few seconds.

“Oh, butterfly you are so free, no care, no worry, hop on

baby”

“You spread your wings of color no matter what the

season is”

Some old lines of poetry were flitting through my mind. It

was late evening and the last rays of the sun were
receding into the orange sky. I picked up the black cortelco
desk phone receiver, a 80s antique landline phone.

“Hey Giselle, what ya doing. How are you, girl? It’s been a
long time seeing you” Andrea my longtime friend from San
Jose surprised me, her voice eager to know what I was up

55
to in life. It was one of those calls you don’t expect but it
comes just when you need a word of encouragement from
someone. Some call it coincidence, some believe God
orchestrates. I felt God was behind that call.

“I am ok girl. I have not been feeling good. You know, of

late I have been thinking of my daddy a lot. He is not with
me. You know that. I got the Christmas tree last week. My
girls are excited decorating it. But I feel my daddy’s
absence very much”

“Oh, oh, I feel for ya. Just be grateful to God for the
wonderful memories Giselle. You may not have your dad
but you have his memories. Think of the good memories.
Think of the good times. Memories don’t die.” Andrea
offered her encouragement.

“Yea”
“I will”
“Thank you, girl”

We talked for a while. Andrea was one of my childhood

friends. We played together in the school. I hung up the

56
phone and walked over to the kitchen and prepared a cup
of steaming Chinese green tea.

I cupped my hands around the warm cup, headed to my

favorite porch, drew my blanket over my legs and let my
mind wander back to my childhood.

I was seven wearing a navy blue taffeta dress and I was

daddy’s girl. One August evening I was standing near the
front door, clutching my red teddy bear, while momma
was busy in the kitchen preparing dinner. “Daddy will be
back home soon honey. Look for his car”

“Ok mommy”

I knew my daddy’s car. It was black in color. I didn’t know

what make it was. I was only seven. I thought every black
car that passed by had my daddy.

Whenever a black car would pass by and not stop I would

cry. I wondered why daddy was not stopping and coming
home. I was very fond of my dad. I loved the way he would
look into my eyes. I felt love. I felt secured. I felt his strong

57
hands lift me, hold me and hug me. I was his princess. I
wish every girl had a dad like my dad.

But then the car came, daddy walked out, and saw me at a
distance. He knew from the corner of his eye that I was
standing at the door. I pushed the door and daddy walked
in and grabbed me into his arms.

“Oh, my darling, my princess”

“Waiting for me”

“I love you, my sweetie”

Daddy’s words of endearment poured into my little spirit

making me incredibly happy. To have my dad affirm me so
deeply meant a world to me. Even today, if anybody says
anything hurting to me, I think of my dad and cry. For he
loved me so much and never was harsh; I would remind
myself and relive all the wonderful words that he left deep
in my spirit.

58
I remember a time that forever makes me feel beautiful. I
was five, and mom had bought me a pretty princess dress;
a winter belle dress made of red and white crushed velvet
with a bit of stretch. I wore my tiara and ran down the
hallway, my heart fluttering.

“Am I pretty daddy?”

“Am I pretty?”

I looked at my daddy’s face: the only man who could make

or break my heart at this stage of my life. My spirit was
five years old and very tender. Ever think of it girls? Ever
think of it men? The heart of a woman is tender and the
heart of a little girl is brittle, soft, glassy, will break if not
handled with care.

My daddy’s eye got bigger and bigger, delight flushing his

face. He bent down, took my hands, brought his face
towards my face, his eyes brimming with utter delight
looking straight into mine and said with all the love he can
muster.

59
“You are beautiful. You are beautiful. And I love you”

“Mia bella faccia”

My daddy’s sonorous Italian voice was like icing on the

cake. Oh, those words, oh those eyes, my spirit drank into
it. It stays with me even today. I miss my daddy.

But a turn of events turned my world upside down. It all

happened one morning in May. I was 16 and was in
college, a freshman at Dartmouth College. The phone call
came: not a pleasant one. My elder brother Nathan,
shaking in his voice announced to me that my dad had a
stroke and was in the hospital. “His left body is paralyzed;
he is not talking at all.”

I left the next day to my hometown, went straight to the

hospital and saw my dad lying there: the man who
helped me grow into a beautiful woman.

“Daddy, this is Giselle” I held his hands. He felt nothing. It

was numb. His body had taken the toll of a rare heart
condition combined with brain related illness. The

60
diagnosis was not good. Doctors had given only a few
weeks. I held his hands again calling, “Daddy, daddy, I am
here. I love you” His eyes were partly opened. His face
looked dull. I looked at him with all the love I could
muster. My daddy didn’t speak much. He was motionless.

But I stayed that night at the hospital and continued the

whole week there. It was Sunday morning when things
were going downhill, perhaps his time came to leave all of
us. I called again, “Daddy, daddy, please look at me” There
was no motion, no response whatsoever. But I failed to
notice something---how could I have not seen this---every
time I called daddy, there was a mild twitch in his eyes. I
saw a tear drop. I felt he heard me. He couldn’t say
anything but he responded with a tear. I placed my hands
on the side of his face, felt his moist, warm tear. It was a
tear of love. I wiped it and cried. All that remained with me
was his tears drying in my hands: the last remnant of his
love.

My daddy was gone.

61
I am 30-years-old today, and its Christmas season. I cannot
celebrate Christmas without being grateful for a father I
had. My Christmas trinkets and celebrations have taken a
new meaning: my earthly father showed me another
father, my heavenly father: God, who loves us deeply. I
have a new found relationship with God as my father. I
now call him daddy. God is now my daddy. I know my
heavenly father thinks I am beautiful. I feel it. Do you ever
feel that way? Have you ever looked up heavenwards and
called out to your daddy God.

But why did my father love me so much. Why, you may

ask? And perhaps wonder why I am so reminiscent of my
father. What was this love? I have not told you yet why my
heart felt so heavy when I first came home driving from
my office.

After I placed the tea cup on the porch table, I cupped my

face in my hands; my left side of the face was still sore,
rough and reminded me why I was loved so deep.

You see, I was in a fire accident when I was 10 and I

suffered severe burn injuries all over my body including

62
my face. My left side of the face bore the brunt of the fire.
Flames licked my once soft skin on my left side. The fire
robbed my face of its beauty. I felt crushed. But my father
cared for me through all this.

I felt I didn’t look beautiful anymore. But my father loved

me. Even though my face never looked the same, my
father loved me. Even though my skin was not soft again,
my father loved me. Even though I felt unlovable, my
father loved me. Even though at nights I would cry myself
to depression, my father loved me through it all.

To my father I was a princess. And my heavenly father

Jesus thinks the same about me. He says, “I am His
princess”. I can’t wait to run into his arms.

63
 Life is not fair but God is good

∞∞∞

HOW SHOULD I describe what I am going through?

I believe in God. I believe He is there. And yet those

moments---that dark, dreary, depressing moments that
unanticipated news---strikes me again. Then I am flat out
worn out.

Just last week I was happy but I am sad again. Sad because
there are many things I wish it happens for me the way I
intend it to be. But it never happens. I pray, I wait and yet
the cloud of uncertainty will not clear. I am disappointed
again. Have you ever felt that way? You are happy one
day but sad again. Happiness never seems to stay for too
long. It’s like a bird, at the slightest disturbance it flies
off. A mild, temporary disturbance in life shoos happiness
out. You are full of hope and yet disappointment strikes

64
and you are left stranded in your life. Things start shaking
in your life.

Are you always happy? Are you always experiencing giddy

excitement? Is real life like that? I am not sure. If you think
you are always excited you are a superhuman. You are
made of steel.

But I am not like that. I am made of flesh and bone. They

are weak. They brake easily. I know some f you can relate
with me here. We are made of clay. Drop a clay pot on the
ground and watch how it breaks into smithereens. There
are moments of mountaintop experience but then the
dreaded valley of sadness comes again. Life does not
always turn out the way we expected. The unexpected
curves and bends on the road of my life surprise us. It
catches us unaware testing our resolve to overcome the
obstacle in front of us.

The cycle of happiness and sadness marks our life. It hits

us in our vulnerable spots. It cuts our heart leaving a
gaping wound that pains us deep.

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We are human; we don’t do well when the foundations of
our life start shaking. I remember the prophet Elijah
running away from Jezebel out of fear. The mighty prophet
Elijah walked with God, witnessed the miracle working
power of God and yet, that one threatening scare from
Jezebel shook him and he ran in fear. Is it possible that we
could walk with God, experience the power of God and
yet, in the unexpected troubling times of our life we would
run in fear? The book of James chapter 5 and verse 7 says,
“Elijah was a man as human as we are…”

It maybe that when we are brought to the lowest point of

our life, when everything we hoped for and prayed for
never seems to happen, we are brought to the finality of
life and to the feet of God. So how should we live when we
don’t see or hear God?

Just trust His heart.

Just trust the heart of God. Just believe that God is good
even though it doesn’t seem to be right now. We have to
only rely on the character of God. And the character of
God is good. He is a good God. Yes, He may hide himself

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away from us leaving us frantically groping for Him in the
darkness but He will not let us be swallowed by the
darkness.

He comes in the appointed time. And no man knows when

that is. I am resting myself in the belief that God is good. I
have hopped on a train not knowing where it is heading
but I know the driver is good. He won’t derail the train of
my life.

God is the pilot of my life. When I am in a cloud of

darkness I know my pilot will fly me home safe. He will
either fly me home down or home heaven. But I know He
will fly me safe.

I want to reach a point in life where I can say with Job

according to Job chapter 13 and verse 15, “Even though he
slays me yet will I trust Him.” I want to be like Shadrach,
Meshach and Abednego who in the face of a fiery furnace
refused to give up on the true God.

If God slays us He will resurrect us. Whatever God kills He

can make it come alive. He is the author and finisher of our

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life. Whatever seems to be dying in our life God can
resurrect it. If our hope is dead, God can resurrect it. If
our dreams are dead, God can resurrect it.

Our God is a God of resurrection. No wonder the apostle

Paul said in the book of Philippians chapter 3 and verse 10,
“That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection”

So there you have it: life is not fair but God is good and the
power of His resurrection will make all things new.

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 Happy Birthday God

∞∞∞

The year 2010 was the hardest year for God. So I thought
at least in America.

But I was wrong. It was the year God laughed a lot. He was
quite ready for the celebration of His birthday. Heaven
prepared a big bash. The party was going to rock the
universe.

Angels have lit the candles and the glow spreads across
the heavens. The music, forget it, I cannot explain the
melody, it escapes my description. I can only imagine the
sound in heaven. Think of your favorite music and think of
heaven.

Written across the vast universe, "Happy Birthday God"

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Birth date on earth: December 25, 2010

Name of the person: Jesus Christ

Status: The God in flesh.

I know it sounds ridiculous to say God was born. How

could that be? Isn’t God always in existence, no birth, no
death? Yes that is true, but God chose to be born on earth
to show humankind His presence in flesh and blood. He
was born in the person of Jesus Christ. Every religion keeps
God out there in the remote post of the universe, only in
Christianity God condescends to the human level so that
man may come to know who He is. That’s the mystery and
paradox of Christianity.

This year there were many attacks against God. It isn’t that
atheists did not attack the idea of God’s existence in the
past but the pace and race of atheists this year was
excessive. This year witnessed too many books and too
many lectures against God’s existence. From Richard
Dawkins, The God Delusion, to Christopher Hitchens, God
is not great, to Sam Harris’ The end of faith and the latest

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by the famed scientist Stephen Hawking, The Grand
Universe.

All these men and others have struggled a lot to rule out
the existence of God, and have scoffed at the idea of a
God existing let alone being born on earth. What insanity
it must be to conceive of God being born? So they
thought. Oh, but how wrong they were.

Dawkins thinks we are deluded; we are misled into belief

in God. He wants proof. But mister Dawkins there are so
many things in life that cannot be proved. For instance
prove us that you have a mind. You think and you have a
mind? Do you see your mind? We can see the brain but
where is the mind? It exists although we cannot see it.

To not to believe in God is to be deluded. Our life goes on

with so many things that are unseen and yet we live by
faith. We sleep in the night in the hope that we would
wake up in the morning. It’s an act of faith to close your
eyes and be gone into sleep and arise in the morning. We
hope to be awake. We drive hoping we won’t be in an
accident. We fly in airplanes without questioning the pilot

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hoping he will fly us safe. We marry hoping our marriages
would turn out the way we hoped. If we began to take
stock of evidences and proofs life cannot go on. There are
many things in life that has to be taken by faith.

Hitchens says God is not great. He is obsessed with God

not being great. He hasn’t gone out much to see the
greatness of this universe and ponder the greatness of the
creator God. Hitchens comes across as a bitter man, he
hates God. Sorry Hitchens, by hating God you only lose.

Harris thinks faith has ended, but he has no clue---maybe

he has but doesn't admit---that faith in religion is growing
worldwide at an alarming rate. The common man believes
in God.

Hawking the brilliant scientist posits that the grand design

of the universe precludes God from creation. I am sure he
is a brilliant scientist but he cannot assume to understand
the vastness of this universe. God is an infinite Being. We
need to possess infinite knowledge to disbelieve in God.
We are finite beings. We don’t have infinite knowledge to
disbelieve in God. We may not like the idea of a God but

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that would be only a preference in a range of options. So I
rest my case: men are mortals and no matter how much
they attempt at attacking God's existence, God lives to
outdo his pallbearers.

Friedrich Nietzsche was another great German philosopher

and atheist who made the phrase, "God is dead" very
famous. Nietzsche argued against God's existence.

So a college wag once wrote, "God is dead" signed

Nietzsche,

God responded, "Nietzsche is dead" signed God.

But God sits on His throne and peers down below into the
bluish white earth. And there he sees many posters, many
books, many billboards, many talks, many thinkers,
philosophers, scientists write away his obituary. And He
laughs. His laughter echoes across the vast expanse of the
heavens and the universe. He laughs because puny little
human beings are striving mightily to debunk Him and
write Him off.

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The heavens declare His handiwork. The earth shows his
footprint. There are trillions upon trillions of stars in our
universe. One scientist says, if you were to sit and count
the stars, you would be sitting for the next billions of years
and still not be done with it. So you better give up and fall
prostrate and worship this God.

How can man not believe in God just because He doesn't

see Him?

There are many things in life we don't see but we believe.

We don't see the air but we live by it. We don't feel our
earth is moving but it is moving in real life. We don't fall
off the earth although the earth hangs over nothing.

Just imagine the size of the earth, so big and so vast and so
heavy. This massive earth simply hangs in space without
falling off. Who keeps this planet hanging nowhere and in
motion? Scientists can never tell us. They can only
speculate.

There is a powerful Being who keeps them in order and in

perfect harmony. And that being is God. We live in a

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miraculous world. All around there are miracles
happening. The fact that your heart beats is a miracle. The
fact that so many organs inside your body is working
tirelessly to keep you alive is a miracle.

Neuroscientists---people who study the brain and the

nervous system---tell us that there are so many synapses
and nerve cells; the number is bewildering to hear. An
estimated 10 billion nerve cells in the brain---think of it,
think of the number of zeroes in 10 billion. That's a lot.
They also tell us that these nerve cells connect through
synapses---a junction that connects nerve cells---and the
synapses are about 500 trillion in number. These are only
estimates. Hearing these numbers startle me. And yet our
brain functions and aids us in memory, thinking, feeling
and a whole lot. How could this brain evolve without a
creator creating it?

Again science cannot fully explain the workings of the

human brain. God has created it. But God did not just
camp in heaven, he came down to this earth. He made
himself known to humankind in the form of Jesus Christ.

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Today the history of the world is divided into two eras: A.D
and B.C. Before Christ and Anno Domini: in the Year of the
Lord. World history divides on the basis of the birth of
Jesus Christ. Jesus is admittedly the greatest God Man who
ever lived on earth. No other religious founder or leader
has divided human history like Jesus Christ.

Jesus is God who appeared in human flesh. He chose to be

born through His creation. I say He chose. He never had to.
But He chose. That is his act of love towards mankind.

The life and times of Jesus Christ surpasses all other

philosophers, thinkers and sages of this world. Religions
across the world mention Jesus and are fascinated with
Him. There is something about Jesus that other religions
cannot ignore.

Skeptics and scholars may debunk and attack the

historicity and divinity of Jesus Christ. But Jesus rises
above them all. Jesus has appeared to millions of people in
this world and continues to appear to many even today.
Go to the Middle East, to Asia and to Africa and hear the

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stories of people who have seen dreams, visions and
appearances of Jesus.

You may ask why Jesus does not appear in the west so
often. He does but not to the regularity like He does in
other parts of the world. Well, that's an interesting
question. Here's the answer: Jesus is God and He expects
that we come to Him in the faith of a child, simple and
straightforward. Children are innocent and they are willing
to believe. We must be like them to see God. We must
have faith and honestly seek to see Him. But the moment
we try to experiment with Him and test Him, He
withdraws. He will hide himself.

God will not bend to man's arrogance but He will bend to

man's humility.

In the west we reason and doubt the existence of God. We

use our science against Him rather than celebrate Him. We
use our knowledge to disprove Him rather than speak of
His majesty. God is not fooled. God is no respecter of
persons. He who is humble and sincerely seeking Him, to
him He will appear.

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I am sure the atheists still feel an inner emptiness but are
too proud to admit it. Atheists are human beings and they
are subject to the same emptiness and restlessness that
stalks all humans. We are empty and restless without God.

St Francis of Assisi cried: "Oh God, our hearts are restless

until they find their rest in Thee"

Blaise Pascal the French mathematician wrote: "Every

human being has a God shaped vacuum and only a God
can fill it and nothing else"

This Christmas let us realize and celebrate the existence of

God who appeared to mankind in the form of Jesus Christ.

God is the creator of humans.

God is the friend of humans.

God likes humans.

God loves humans.

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God loves you.

God loves you as you read this.

And therefore He chose to come to this earth.

He chose to put a human face to his mysterious face.

In seeing Jesus you see God.

So don't settle for Christmas gifts.

Go for the biggest gift of all: God

God is our gift. When you have Him you have everything.

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 Meeting God in the monsoon

∞∞∞

I CANNOT FORGET those immortal moments when I got

soaked in the torrential rains of the Indian monsoon.

It was a late, lazy, June noon in the southern Indian city of

Bangalore. The wind was damp. It was almost 3 p.m. I was
sitting in the front row in my classroom facing the door,
which was ajar, with my chin resting on my cupped palm.
The room had windows which were large. Vertical metal
beams spaced, about a few inches from each other formed
the frame of the windows, leaving enough room for a
magpie robin to fly in and out. The windows were our only
world to look out when the math teacher got boring. My
imaginations would soar every time I gazed out, especially
on a rain swept noon, the sight of the nearby eucalyptus
trees swaying to the strong breeze, sprinkling water and
scent was a sight to behold.

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I especially delighted in the eucalyptus scent wafting in the
air. The scent reminded me of a thousand splendid
childhood memories. Some so lovely, some so warm, some
so beautiful, it only takes a child-like imagination to revel
in those tiny episodes of joys. Reminiscing as I was, the
bright, golden rays of the sun bursting through the metal
bars glistened on my skin. I felt lifted into the heavens. It
was a wondrous sensation to feel the rain kissed sunrays.
And, just as I was pensively looking out, I saw the magpie
robin with its white-fringed tail twitter nearby. It flew
quickly. I guess the bird felt the rumble of the rain in the
wind. And it was. At first, a heavy gust of wind, dry and
tornado-like tore through the cracked asphalted road
gathering clods of dirt, twigs, strips of old crumpled
newspaper, withered leaves, scraps of tiny plastics and
brown dust.

The sidewalks of Indian roads are usually littered with

innumerable wastages. I had just managed to make my
way out from my gated high school building. Behind me
were droves of students, yelling, screaming, chasing,
laughing, elbowing each other and they were all still
swarming out of the large Iron Gate, which was old, rusty

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and bore a quaint arched look. It was a catholic school run
by the Jesuits, rectangular in shape, and once inside those
classrooms studying was more like being in a marine boot
camp. We got our butt caned if we didn’t do our
homework. We had a compulsory morning exercises that
was very strenuous. Our weak, little frames could not take
in much. I don’t know to this day if the sports instructor
ever knew what it felt like for a teenager to have their
muscles stretched so much. Man, those muscles ached.
But life went on. The school bell still kept ringing. I could
hear the noise fading away as I started to hurriedly walk. I
had to cover a good five miles back home.

It was long, arduous, and painful but I had no choice. And

so were hundreds of other students who were walking,
the buses were crowded and most parents were still at
work, only a few had the luxury of getting a ride in a
motorbike.

The rain was our only company. I could feel the rushing
rain lashing my back. The ominous clouds rolled in the sky
thundering. It felt like massive chunks of ice were
shredded somewhere in a giant machine up in the sky. The

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rains were heavy, pouring profusely. Within minutes, the
water level ascended from my ankle to knee, cascading
down the uneven roads, frothy, gushing forth like a river
out of control. Motorbikes stalled, auto-rickshaws (three-
wheelers, somewhat like window-less mini cabs) puttered
to a halt. I was on my way home from my high school,
cold, shivering, walking the rain-swept streets. It felt good.

Monsoon in India can be magical. As the winds pick up

speed from the Indian Ocean, the rains lash the earth
cooling the arid layers of the ground. It’s a welcome relief
to the farmers who thank the rain gods. It’s interesting
that most farmers would think of praying to the rain gods.
Like there is a god who opens the faucet in the clouds
letting the water gush out. “Come over here” hollered my
buddy John, fully wet and splashing in a big puddle. He
wanted to show me the little paper boats that he had
instantly crafted. He had set them to sail in the muddied
waters and lo, they bobbed and floated maneuvering
through the flotsam and jetsam. This was our little river of
joy.

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The roads were flooded. Here and there rivulets of water
washed up dried leaves, coke cans, and dirt mounds. The
sidewalks looked clean and neat. Pretty excited, I ran in
the puddles splashing water all over my body. I knew I was
getting dirty, it was messy water. But for a high school boy
like me, rain was fun, rain was joyful, rain was ecstatic. If I
could coin a phrase, I would say, I was hydro joyous. (I
understand some are hydrophobic). Not me, the rains
rained floods of memories, some locked deep inside of my
heart, waiting to float out. It’s always a thought of mystery
how nature, such as rain can moisten an individual’s deep
seated feelings. We are awakened to new senses, new
moments of epiphanies, new revelations of life.

I looked above and the sky seemed to pour more water on

my face drenching me into a feverish thrill. Ever been in
those moments, when rainwater caresses your face! It’s
effervescent. My school bag, wet and dripping, hung heavy
on my shoulders. My shoes were waterlogged and wading
in the knee-deep rainwater seemed ethereal. It’s a fleeting
thrill that any young boy or girl would experience when it
rains. At least in my hometown, you could see kids playing
around merrily in the muddied rainwater. Ah, that was not

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the end of my happy moments, the smell of the red-wet
earth wafted in the air kindling in me a strange sense of
pleasure. It was de ja vu. It was nostalgic. I didn’t know
when I had experienced that feeling in the past. But it was
nostalgia unknown. As I said, the rains evoked in me
powerful feelings. Even in movies, if you observe carefully,
rains form the best backdrop to portray climaxes of love---
starry-eyed lovers running into each other or simply
standing with arms stretched wide, with the face pointing
skywards, letting the water soak the clothes, body and all.
For me it was real life exuberance of experiencing
transcendence. The smell of the wet earth was to me far
more aromatic than any perfume.

Did you ever get to smell a rain sodden earth? Nature’s

smell sometimes stirs deep longings in the heart. It seems
to suddenly unfold a dream that was waiting to happen.
Inhaling the entrancing smell of the red earth provided me
a wondrous backdrop to reminisce the many joyous
moments of my life. I thought of the friend who smiled at
me in the school. It gladdened my heart. At school I
wanted everyone to love me whether they liked me or
not. I dreaded being ignored. My heart couldn’t take it.

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However, today, my mind was recapturing the smile of a
friend at school. Then, I thought of my mother who tended
to my drenched body. She would hurriedly fix me a
steaming cup of hot Indian tea. I thought of my father’s
kind eyes. Although my mom would berate me for getting
soaked in the water, my dad would just find towels to get
me dry.

They were little acts of kindness but they added to my

happiness. I thought of all that was good and glorious. It
made me happy. The smell of the soil had worked wonders
in my whacked out life. The pouring monsoon showers
rejuvenated my imaginations. The more my mind dwelt on
what made me happy, the more I wanted those moments
to linger on. I felt inconsolable when images of immortal
happy moments seemed to get washed away in the driving
waters. Why was I so happy? What was I dreaming about
when the waters drenched my body? What was the thrill
that wouldn’t let me go?

Why was the eucalyptus scent so lovely to smell? How

come I saw happy moments sweep through my being? I
realized I was made from earth, and I knew, to earth my

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body would return someday. The earth seemed to me my
familiar friend. Looking at the freshly dug dirt, playing with
it as a child was no mistake.

Today I see my own 2-year-old boy, Aaron, ecstatic in

getting his hand soiled in the mud. The more I yell at him,
the more he digs his fingers into the sand. However, the
nostalgia, the longing for the unknown joy was too much
to bear. And I would cry that I might have it again. But
when the summer came it seemed brutal, the red-wet
earth would turn into burning cakes of sand. It flashed my
mind that my nostalgia, the longing for joy, the incessant
craving for the happy moments, the desire for the pleasant
smell, arose from the depth of my heart. It arose from my
spirit.

It had to do from my innermost being. I must say there are

stirrings so deep in the human heart that only a few follow
through to explore why they are there and why those
yearnings make us want more.

The happiness that we so desperately long for, the joy that

we so deeply desire are all signs of an inescapable human

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reality that we all deal with. Even at this moment you can
nurture hopes for joy, no matter how deeply you feel dried
up. And those rivers of joys are out there running deep
and wide. It takes transcendence to tap into those joys.
This pleasure, these feelings of joy occasioned by the rain
in my experience had to be from somewhere, better yet
from someone who had created this longing in me. You
see none of us are automatons. We are real people with
real feelings. This longing is real, ineffable and intangible.
It calls us. It wakes us up. It surprises us. You never go too
far in life where you never long too much.

The seasons of life only augment the intensity of the

longing. It is precisely why that despite of wealth and
fame, our hearts can still be empty and hungry. None of
this: money, success, fame, name, gadgets, gizmos,
vacations, can rescue us when we fall into the pit of
longing for more of life, again. The haunt continues. The
Indian monsoon rains had awakened my spirit to a world
of joys that I never knew existed. Sometimes those joys
take another form: a visit to the beach and watching the
wave’s crash to the shore in rhythmic motion, the
powdery beach sand on our feet, the roar of the surf, the

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sea air enveloping our body, the gulls crying in the mid-air.
And when it rained, it felt to me that the nature’s exotic,
monsoon rain dance seemed like, as though, God was
opening the faucet of nature much to the delight and thrill
of his creatures.

The rains evoked in me a celestial feeling of wonder. I

could almost hear melodies played out in my spirit as the
waters worked their way into my body. It was memories of
joys I thought I had experienced once, but I was only 15. It
felt like I could smell the exuberant scents straight from
the Garden of Eden that the first humans inhabited.
Something ravished my soul.

Perhaps Victor Hugo, the French playwright, knew that

someday when we die, we who are bound to heaven, our
metaphorical Garden of Eden, the invite will be grand, he
wrote “The nearer I approach the end, the plainer I hear
around me the immortal symphonies which invite me.” It’s
a familiar symphony that haunts us unaware. While the
fleeting experience of monsoon would vanish the
incessant desire of finding my life’s joy would continue to
haunt me. It had to be only God who could satisfy my

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yearning than anyone. This universe is too good, too
intricately designed, too profoundly orchestrated for
chance and matter to create it. Only an intelligent being---
God---could create this world. Absence of God only makes
the longing painful. Nothing else fills. Only God was big
enough to fill my longing. Apart from Him I am always
inconsolable.

I cry without God. I am lost without God. I love Him. I

desire His consolation. There has been a spate of new
atheists who have risen against God publishing book after
book, doing debate after debate, but all in vain, when
compared to the simple universal human experiences of
divine and the transcendence, and which science cannot
adequately explain. Philosophers are far more complex
than scientists; poets are acutely attuned to the
intimations of the other world, both the natural and the
supernatural. For example, scientists can get so technical
in describing a moon and its properties, complex as they
are; poets and the philosophers on the contrary will be
penning poems and prose to describe the majestic
transcendent beauty of moon.

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Christina Rossetti, the famous English poetess captured
the beauty of the moon in the following lines:
The half-moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness Ready and poised
to wax or wane; A fire of pale desire in incompleteness, Tending to
pleasure or to pain:- Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness To
perfect loss or perfect gain. Half bitterness we know, we know half
sweetness; This world is all on wax, on wane: When shall completeness
round time's incompleteness, Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?- Lo, while we
ask, life rolleth on in fleetness To finished loss or finished gain.

The Bible portrays the creation of God majestically in

Psalms 19:
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.
It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes its circuit to the other;
nothing is deprived of its warmth

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When was the last time you desired God? Haven’t you
experienced those moments of dryness in your life? You
think you are full but you are empty. You think you are
flourishing but you are actually drying up. You realize you
are drained, alone and unhappy.

Even though you pray, fast, sing, attend church, read Bible,
go to mission fields and do the right thing, yet there is a
haunting loneliness and dryness that pervades your life.
Even when the sensual enjoyments reach their peak, they
ebb away soon. They vaporize like mists in high noon. And
the heart cries again. Does this portray your life? Have you
ever felt like this before? Maybe you are going through
these moments right now as you are reading this. You are
wondering if you will ever find the life you are dreaming
about? The life that haunts you is also eluding you. The life
that Jesus talked about—the abundant life! Jesus said, “I
came that they might have life, and might have it
abundantly” (John 10:10).

We all have our own life, our own little life that we live
every day. Some live a quarter lives, some a half-life and
many others live like they are really dead. The most

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miserable life is to simply exist not knowing why one is
living for. Many are lost for real life and are in search of a
life beyond their everyday existence. Only a few have
discovered the abundant life: the life that swells with joy,
the life that is beyond mere existence.

One of the most devastating experiences of a Christian is

to be a Christian and still not experience Jesus to be the
ultimate delight of life. We have no clue of the infinite joy
that is offered to us in Jesus. We have been looking for joy
elsewhere and finding it nowhere. We have heard sermon
after sermons on how to mature in our Christian walk yet
not delighting in Christ.

We feed on tapes, CDs, books and TVs for more of our

Christian enrichment and yet still the longing for authentic
intimacy with Jesus haunts us and we don’t know how to
experience it. Very few of us have experienced the
abundant life that Jesus promised us in the scriptures. King
David, a busy man, ruler of a nation, with all of his wealth,
pomp and glory, finds he is empty and bewails, “…My
heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.” (Psalms
84:2.)

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King David was a chosen man of God. He met God early on
in his life; he encountered a bear and a lion and prevailed
over them in the power of God. He even took on the big
giant Goliath. So many miraculous experiences, so many
encounters, and yet he felt that life wasn’t satisfying
without diving deep into intimacy with God.

He was panting after God. He was crying out for more of

God. He wanted nothing else but more of God. His heart
was restless. His body ached. It was the inner ache of the
human spirit that cried out for its Creator. St Augustine too
cried that way, “Oh, God our hearts are restless until we
find our rest in thee. When was the last time you cried
wanting God more? I mean not some long, fancy, flowery
prayer but deep, passionate, heart rending cry for more of
God? A child when lost cries out to her mother. For it
knows nothing can substitute the feel of her mother’s lap,
nothing can equal the comfort of being cradled by her
mother.

And so should we, like a child, cry out to God for that’s
where our real comfort is. Without the touch and comfort
of the presence of Jesus we are but cosmic orphans, waifs

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of the universe, left alone and abandoned. We all have
gone through many religious experiences, done many
things for God, been there in that mission field, explored
those mission courses, taught Sunday schools, preached in
churches, poured over Bible. And yet still the heart feels
an inconsolable longing to enter into intimacy with God.

Without intimacy with Jesus we will only be religious

Christians, professional Christians, more adept in defining
Christianity than experiencing Christ. We all have gone
through rough moments. We all go through seasons of
search and hunger wanting to know what makes life
enjoyable, meaningful and authentic.

I remember my seasons, when as a teenager I hungered

after love, someone to make me feel complete, and
someone to whisper in my ears, “I love you”. I wanted to
be loved and I wanted to love. As a child I enjoyed the
attention of my family members, my aunts, my uncles, my
sisters. There was a sense of naivety that made me forget
life. I reveled in the feeling that I was the center of
everyone’s attention. I wanted to be loved always and
never hated. But those years didn’t stay longer. I had to

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grow up even though I didn’t like. And when you grow up
people affections are not the same anymore, the younger
siblings grab the attention and worse, you might even fade
out from other’s minds. People might like you but you
never feel loved. You never get to feel that you are
wanted.

You dread the fact that you are no longer cherished by the
ones who once flocked around you. No one gives you a
kiss or a hug or a pat on the back. The seasons of life
change but the hungers of the heart grow deep. And my
heart hungered for more. Nothing would make me happy
except God. For some reasons I spent more time thinking
about God than my own school courses. God fascinated
me. He drew my attention. My years in school and college
flew by like a season of the past. I ran to every Christian
meeting to find more of God, was the first to be in
outreach programs to revel in the joy of sharing Christ
with others. My heart was panting to know more of Jesus
and experience His fullness. It was a longing that was
inconsolable. Nothing was able to console my longing for
my Creator. Just as a child would cry inconsolably to reach

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her mother’s lap, so are we creatures inconsolable until
we climb onto the lap of our heavenly father.

The longing for the immortal union with God is real, deep
and is never satisfied in earthly pursuits. CS Lewis captures
the moment brilliantly when he says, “In speaking of this
desire for our own far-off country, I feel a certain shyness.
I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip
open the inconsolable secret in each one of you - the
secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on
it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and
Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such
sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the
mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and
affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and
cannot tell, though we desire to do both . . . Our
commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if
that had settled the matter. Wordsworth’s expedient was
to identify it with certain moments in his own past. But all
this is a cheat.

If Wordsworth had gone back to those moments in the

past, he would not have found the thing itself, but only the

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reminder of it; what he remembered would turn out to be
itself a remembering. The books or the music in which we
thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust
to them; it was not in them, it only came through them,
and what came through them was longing. These things -
the beauty, the memory of our own past - are good images
of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the
thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts
of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they
are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo
of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have
never yet visited. . . .Here, then, is the desire, still
wandering and uncertain of its object and still largely
unable to see that object in the direction where it really
lays . . . Heaven is, by definition, outside our experience,
but all intelligible descriptions must be of things within our
experience. The scriptural picture of heaven is therefore
just as symbolical as the picture, which our desire,
unaided, invents for itself . . . ”(The Weight of Glory).

When I was an undergrad student in India, I was part of a

group that met every Thursday on the college campus for

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prayer. So many guys and gals would come around and ask
us, “What are you all doing instead of having fun? ”

I wanted to say yes we are having fun, but how would I

explain to them that believing in God and experiencing
God was fun, too? What do you answer to a group of
college students whose whole worldview revolves around
the most bandied word ‘fun’? How do you explain fun?
What is funny to you may not be funny to me. Worse still,
what is funny to the other may be hurting to me. Or you.

“Have fun?” they chorus, not realizing what fun really

means. We few Christians were actually having fun with
God. Yes, we were having a whale of a good time with
God. I happened to meet one of the curious onlookers and
began to talk to him during free time. He was in my class
studying psychology and literature.

I guess he really wanted to know why I was chasing after

religious experiences (that’s what he termed our Christian
fellowship) instead of reveling in the enjoyments that
youth hood brings. It seemed to him that religion, God and
Christianity in particular were a waste of time and that,

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and they stole away the joys of a human being. I asked
him, “Do you know that to enjoy anything in life you first
need to have the capacity to enjoy? What if your eyes
were blind and that you couldn’t see a sunset to enjoy.
What if you were deaf and you couldn’t hear a lovely
music? What if you couldn’t speak and you couldn’t enjoy
conversations. What do you enjoy in life when the very
capacity to enjoy isn’t there anymore? He paused at me,
looker around, scratched his head and with a forlorn look
walked away. I guess he was pondering over his own
observations.

As followers of Christ we were all in communion with our

Creator who had fashioned the very capacity for
enjoyments in our body and He the creator was far more
enjoyable to us than just the object he created.

We were lost in the awe of one who even created this very
feeling of awe in us. God is the author of all pure pleasure.
He is more fun to be with than anything else. What can the
world offer in return to the hungers of our human heart?

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How sad many of us Christians, namesake followers of
Christ, church attending Christians, cultural Christians, and
political Christians have lost so much rather than
experience the true joy from God. There is an inconsolable
longing in all of us. This longing is put by God to seek Him.

The woman at the well of Samaria had no clue when she

came to draw the water what awaited her. She came to
the well to satiate a physical longing in the body but upon
finding Christ she returned back finding rivers of living
water able to satisfy the hungers of body and soul. She
went about proclaiming to everyone that Christ the
messiah had filled her heart. Her heart was overflowing
and she couldn’t contain it.

The Bible says in John 4:26, “The woman then left her
water pot, and went her way into the city and said to the
men: Come see a man which told me all things that ever I
did. Is not this the Christ?” An overflowing heart affects
others. A joyful Christian affects others. We are known by
the level of joy we possess. What is filling your heart? Like
the Samaritan woman we have to come to the end of our
life, we have to find ourselves in a state of thirst, having

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exhausted all, we come away to the well to satiate our
thirst and there when we have hit rock bottom, Christ
finds us and offers us rivers of living water.

He fills our longing. He will fill yours. Even now.

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 Brown sweater and black pant

∞∞∞

The voice in my heart was strong.

"Tell your story"

"No, I don't want to" I protested

"I am not special. I don't think my story matters. It is

Christmas season and people are busy in another story.
They are busy reading other books. Other writers have
their attention"

"I don't feel like opening my heart"

But my heart persisted, "If you don't tell your story, you
will always carry guilt in your heart. You will never forgive
yourself"

After I had my regular cup of apple blast, I sat at a corner

in the restaurant and started to put some words down on

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my netbook and started typing these words.

It was 1979. I was six. I held onto my momma's sari (Indian

dress for women) as she walked through the crowded
street of the Old Poor House Road in the busy section of
Jauhari bazar, a decrepit shopping area in the northern
Indian city of Jaipur, a place well-known for its ancient
palaces. It is also called as the "pink city" because of the
many pink turreted old buildings and monuments. But the
city also has the other side as many cities in developing
countries: the poor run down, bedraggled houses and
shops.

The festive season of Christmas had brought this whole

town to a dazzling display of string lights and Christmas
paraphernalia's hanging all over the shops. Although it was
a Muslim dominated part of the town and yet the
Christmas fever was evident in many shops. The Muslims
didn't care that Christmas was only for Christians. They
saw it as a time for making money from selling their wares.

Many of them revered Jesus as a prophet. This was not

Saudi Arabia where the harsh rules of Islam apply to other
religions, this was India and Indian Muslims were

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accommodative of other religions. So in some sense the
birth of Jesus was an occasion for the Muslims to honor
another prophet, at least that's what many believed.

I am able to remember many things like a six year old can.

But many things appeared big to my six year old eye. I
thought my house was a mansion, a palace, though we
had only two rooms and a small kitchen.

"Come over this way, Saurav" my mother held my hand

tight. I felt her hand gripping my tender hands. She cared
for me and was worried that I might slip away from her
hand. It was the worst fear my mother had: losing me in a
crowd. I was dear to her. I was her favorite child.

I was small and I hid behind her sari, my little legs trailing
along her side. Whenever I grew tired my mother would
lift me and place me on her hips while I lay my head on her
shoulders, looking down as my mother walked. It was a
very safe place to be: on her hips and my head nestled on
her shoulders.

As she made her way through the ripped asphalt road, my

eye caught sight of a passing toy store. From the front
window I saw tiny cars: yellow, red, blue, orange and

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white colored cars neatly decked in the display window. I
wanted it. I was crying and throwing my tantrums at my
poor mother begging her to buy me the toy car.

Abdul Wajjid, the store owner, dressed in his immaculate

white robe, a customary Muslim dress for men, pulled the
red toy car out to show my mother.

"It is twenty rupees" he said waving the blue car at us

(about 50 cents) then he looked at me, the car in his
hands. He knew I wanted it. My eyes got big. But my
mother looked at him, looked at the car, and walked out. I
started screaming at her for not buying it. But my poor
mother was unable to afford that. Fifty cents was a lot of
money for her to spend on a toy car. We were four
brothers and one sister. My father was the sole
breadwinner. My mother had to be, by necessity, frugal in
the way she spent the hard earned money. I saw her face
sad. I recollect that face even today: the sad face of my
mother who was unable to buy her toddler boy a toy car
worth 50 cents. I wanted that toy car badly. I thought that
was going to be my Christmas present but all I had was
tears as she carried me out of that store.

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My head slumped on her shoulders as she hurriedly
walked across the busy street. I saw the store disappear
from my eyes. I kept looking at that store till it finally
disappeared from my sight. I must have cried a lot because
my mother's shoulder was wet. In despair I threw my
hands around her neck and sulked.

As the evening drew into the night, it was getting late to

catch the bus to our house far away from this shopping
town. Our house was in the southern part of the city,
about 20 miles away from where we were. It was late in
the night when we boarded the bus but my mom had
forgotten to buy me a Christmas dress. I guess the money
she had was less and she had bargained as much as she
could but there was no shop willing to sell her a pair of
Christmas dress for the money my mother had.

She had an idea. At the bus depot she saw street hawkers
selling cheap clothes for throwaway prices. My mother
finally found a dress that suited me: it was a brown
sweater finely knit, and a black pant. She gave the money
she had keeping some for the trip home and bought the
dress. Oh, the delight that came over me as I saw the
dress. By now I had forgotten the car.

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That was my Christmas dress: a brown sweater and a black
pant. I showed off the dress to my siblings and friends and
the next morning I ran down the street in my new dress
where our house was. I did not understand why I had to
wear a poor set of clothes when my neighbors wore pretty
dress. One morning on the eve of Christmas, my mother
sat me down and pointed me to a flannel picture of Jesus
and Mary and the child Jesus given to her by the local
Christian church; a small church of 50 people who
gathered in a broken building.

She said, "My son look at your dress, you have a dress
better than baby Jesus. Mary had nothing except a piece
of rag to cover Jesus."

I looked at the picture. I looked intently at the dress baby

Jesus wore. I could not make sense of what kind it was
except it looked like a bundle of rags covering the baby.

I then looked at my dress and felt my sweater and pants.

They looked nice. And a smile crossed my lips. My mother
pulled me to her lap, nestled me in her chest and sang me
a song about baby Jesus.

We never understood much about Jesus because we lived

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in India and we were of a Hindu background. It was not a
Christian country. I remember people making fun of my
parents when they became Christians and started
worshipping Jesus. They thought we worshipped a white
man's God. India had many gods and very colorful gods.
But my mother never gave up on her belief in Jesus. She
was devoutly reading Bible and prayed every day. We had
very little in our house in terms of material possessions.
You could count the number of utensils. There were three
plastic pots, one earthen pot to drink water during
summer when the heart became unbearable. We had to
fetch water from the nearby well but there too we had
problems because we were Christians.

But in the midst of our poverty we had plenty of Jesus. My

mother sang devotional songs to Jesus in our mother
tongue. My father prayed. And we all ate humble meal: a
morsel of rice and some vegetables.

My taught me about Jesus. She taught me that the baby

Jesus in the manger was God in human body. I didn't
understand much but I liked looking at the nativity scene:
the simple house of Jesus with Mary and Joseph and the
animals around. It reminded my house. We were simple

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too. It was years later as a teenager I had some
understanding that Christmas meant something deeper
than wearing nice clothes. I was beginning to understand a
God who was born in a manger and had no proper clothes
to wear. His birthday dress was a rag tag.

He was God who knew what poverty was. He identified

with the poor. I too was poor and without much to afford
to buy a pair of decent cloths but the love I felt from my
mother who cared for me so deeply and the love that I felt
from Baby Jesus was beyond any dress could give me.
Owning that brown sweater and the black pant as a six
year old from a mother who bought it with all that she had
meant a world for me. I felt I was dressed in love.

Christmas to me is a reminder of love. Pure love. Selfless

love. It's a reminder that we can live in love without much
of material goods. It's a reminder to me that we should
not forget Jesus dressed in rag tag as a baby. The king of
kings dressed in lowly estate for you and me.

Christmas reminds me to live a life of love. It reminds me

to love God, to love my mother, my father, my brother, my
sister, my neighbors, my friends and my enemies.

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 ∞∞∞

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A native of south India, Reuben David is

a writer and speaker based in
Minneapolis. He was educated both in
India and America. He is also a college
professor teaching a combination of
media and philosophy. His interests are
God, books, culture and religions. He is married to Rebecca and
has two toddler sons: Aaron and Jason.

If you were blessed reading this book, get more copies of this
book and share it with others. Send me an email if any stories in
this book inspired and blessed you.

Reuben David
Email me at: reuwriter@gmail.com
Phone: 612 501 8540

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