In darkness lights are out

There’s been a storm brewing in Christian circles recently, with the recent allegations and unearthing of credible evidence of sexual misconduct by reputable late evangelist/apologist Ravi Zacharias. It’s evidently sad when something like this happens, not the least because of how this would affect his family and the people close to him. Relational redemption is difficult to be sought given he passed away in May last year of cancer.

What is left is probably a lot of questions, anger, emptiness and the remnants of the moral bloodbath that was left behind for everyone to pick up. There are a lot of people I know who have been shaken to the core from these developments. People who have spent countless hours pouring over every word he wrote and spoke.

I have always been wary of ‘hero-worshipping’ Christian personalities and leaders. This is not by any grand design of mine or even a momentary spot of revelation but because of my personal experiences. I’ve seen first-hand the dark rabbit hole that one can spin into if this notion is left unchecked. The church I attended in my youth was led by someone who took advantage of the fact that people looked up to him. He revered in it and manipulated it for his own purposes. The fallout from that was a church divided between people who wanted right to be done and people who refused to see their hero fall. In the ensuing madness, there were voices and hands raised, bibles were thrown and lives that have probably never been the same since.

I mostly wish that I had not gone through those things. They have caused some long-term damage to my perspective on the institution of the church and it’s no fun battling these things while trying to honor God’s word about being a part of his house. A house that if I am honest, I am still sometimes wary of.

Except on days like these. Days like these, I am thankful for that wariness.

Why? Because it keeps me on my feet when a lot of people around me are wobbling. I don’t say this feeling superior. I am just trying to end this life on the right side and there are enough things out there that will cause me not to. I hardly want to start looking for things in my own home.

The moral component is crucial in Christian leadership and it is because of this that I find the concept of hero-worshiping within Christian circles so detrimental. Why? I have come to realise that none of us would pass the test when held to the light. No matter if you are Ravi Zacharias, the pastor of my church or you and me. If you think otherwise then you need to read your Bible again. You may argue that there is a societal difference between caught telling a white lie and being caught with your pants down, but that’s just a bi-product of humans making layers of concessions for things they find increasingly acceptable. God has always been rather simple with these things.

My personal alarm rings when people celebrate that incredible Christian writer, that new talented and charismatic worship leader or that pastor who is leading that dynamic church. This is no fault of these personalities, they are doing what they can and in many cases are called to do.

If there is any fault to apportion, then it would be on you and me who ‘worship’ them.

A ‘god’ is after all given power by the people who worship them. Bad things usually happens when they start believing in that power we’ve given them. It’s the main reason why I am frankly quite uninterested to know who wrote that song we sing in church, who is that new pastor for that exciting church in Australia or who is that new incredible Christian author that all us should read. It’s my tiny bid to try and keep that power away from people who can’t handle it. Yes, most people can’t.

I’ve learned to keep my relationship with God pretty simple. I hear from him through his Word and I speak to him when I pray, and I try to do that every day if I can. All the cultural and fashionable stuff within Christian circles is just not necessary for me. I mostly treat it as being detrimental to me, so I stay far away from them. It’s probably why I try and keep myself low in the food chain in church. I find that it is easier and more meaningful for me to be accountable to people I work with everyday in my cell, people who are entrenched in my life. There is that girl who helped coordinate our wedding and that boy who I journeyed with through a horrible relationship. None of them are faceless. There is a danger, at least for me, when they become faceless.

While I am generally happy to sing the songs that are presented to me in church, when I really want to hear a good songwriter, I pick up a Bruce Springsteen record instead. Why? Well, he’s a better songwriter than most and it hardly registers for me when he is caught doing something improper like that DWI recently. Mainly because he never said he was beyond these things and moral integrity is not exactly part of his job description. Now, endorsing a line of rugged luxury cars in that silly Superbowl ad when he constantly sang about being a working class man, that I took issue with. But I’ve since forgiven him, cause he wrote ‘Thunder Road’.

And yes, I do respect the office of leadership in Christian circles. I have not reduced it to a tadpole. But I have worked hard to separate between the office and the man. I always revere the office and what it does and stands for, but I am quite uninterested in the man in most cases. Just as long as he walks the talk, he has my vote. And if he/she was someone who was truly doing everything they do because of God, then they should be happy to have someone like me on their side. At least, they would be in an ideal world.

I was asked recently how I feel about what has happened and how it has affected me. It would be untrue if I said I didn’t feel anything at all but it would be the same feeling I have if someone told me that a pastor of a small church in Klang has been caught with sexual misconduct. I hardly bat an eyelid when Christian personalities ‘fall’, not because I expect them to, but because I always reserve some subconscious notion that everyone, and I mean everyone, has the possibility to. At the same time, I do feel sad for anyone close to him who was caught by the wayside because of what has happened. The same way me and family were when it happened to us.

These things shouldn’t happen, but they unfortunately do.

Sleeps with butterflies

‘There was no party, there were no songs
‘Cause today’s just a day like the day that he started
No one has left here that knows his first name
And life barrels on like a runaway train
Where the passengers change
They don’t change anything
You get off; someone else can get on …’ – Ben Folds

I’ve been thinking a lot about death.

I know, it’s hardly the appropriate tidings for the season but it is what it is. Don’t get me wrong, I also in equal measure enjoy staring at our lovely Christmas tree and recently, watching ‘Love Actually’ as the token yuletide movie of the year. So it’s not like I am growing moldy sitting alone at home on a wing chair in the dark. But at the same time I have also been thinking about death, a lot. I see it even in songs that are really not about death (The Ben Folds song above is about someone being laid off).

Specifically, I’ve been thinking about the precise moment when it happens and how that would feel like.

As a Christian, I’ve been conditioned since young to focus on what happens after that moment. The bright light, the rejoicing, the yellow brick road and Oz. Just kidding. Jokes aside, I do fundamentally believe in the moment after of course. You can’t exactly subscribe to only a portion of what you consider the truth. But it won’t stop me considering the flip-side to that which is just a big well, nothing. No big party. No bright lights. Just, nothing. The cliché often employed is that it’s like going to sleep but not waking up.

I must confess at certain points of my existence that has sounded somewhat, comforting. Lately it hasn’t been though. I’ve been thinking a lot about what ‘nothing’ feels like.  Yes, it feels like nothing, of course.  But that just seems so stark, so brutal. That the amount of energy and force-of-will that it takes for us to go through life is just snuffed out in an instant and there is just, nothing.

If I am being honest it feels a little lonely. Not that you would be conscious of that when it happens because you are just in that big nothing, but that’s my sentiment on how the nothing would feel like.

In this age of almost unmitigated popular culture saturation, one can become a little desensitised about death and to be fair, for a long time, I was. But lately, I’ve been processing every death I read about or even see on screen. I consider what it would’ve felt like for them at the point of death and how it would’ve felt like if they had indeed stepped into the huge nothing. Even reading about people who have long gone sparks bouts of rumination. Like how I recently read about the making of Bowie’s 1971 record ‘Hunky Dory’ and I started thinking about how it’s been already four-years since he’s died and how he would never been experiencing new things anymore, new sounds and new words and everything with him has just come to a grinding halt. And this is a man who literally rewrote the rules of rock music. What more me, some random guy living in Kuchai Lama?

“Every human is a little bit sad all the time because you know you’re gonna die. But that knowledge is what gives life meaning.” – from TV show The Good Place.

I write all this in the expectation that weeks from now, I won’t remember that I wrote a single one of these words. That like most existential crises, it just fades away to the background because something else just becomes louder. That quote from The Good Place sums it up nicely. That the very concept that our expiry clock starts on the day we are born should be enough to render us unwilling to do anything and just give up altogether. But humans are resilient and we just get on with it, by minimising this dark inevitability into the background of our lives and to just kick this bucket decades down the road and occupy ourselves with things that gives us meaning and happiness today. If you think about it, life is just a series of distraction tactics.

I am also cognisant of the fact that I appear to be writing all this rather atheistically. Like I personally believe there is just a huge nothing after we die. But that’s not what I believe. I believe there is something more awaiting us at the other side.

At least, there has to be.