spiritualinspiration:

In the book of James, the Bible tells us that we should wait for God’s promises like a farmer waits for his harvest. Now, I’ve never seen a farmer plant a crop and then worry night and day about whether or not it’s going to come up. He doesn’t lose sleep thinking, “Oh, I hope that my corn is going to take root. Please, God, let my corn bring a harvest.” No, he waits with confidence, knowing that the harvest will come. He does his part, and he knows that seed will produce a good crop.
In the same way, we should wait confidently for the promises of God. We have to stand firm on His Word. It’s not enough to just hope that your situation is going to turn around. Instead of the attitude, “I hope I get well,” have the attitude of confidence and say, “Thank You, Lord, that I am getting well.” Start waiting like the farmer. Wait with a knowing. Wait with confidence. Be sure that as you put God’s Word into practice, just like the farmer, you will see that harvest of blessing in your own life in return.

spiritualinspiration:

In the book of James, the Bible tells us that we should wait for God’s promises like a farmer waits for his harvest. Now, I’ve never seen a farmer plant a crop and then worry night and day about whether or not it’s going to come up. He doesn’t lose sleep thinking, “Oh, I hope that my corn is going to take root. Please, God, let my corn bring a harvest.” No, he waits with confidence, knowing that the harvest will come. He does his part, and he knows that seed will produce a good crop.

In the same way, we should wait confidently for the promises of God. We have to stand firm on His Word. It’s not enough to just hope that your situation is going to turn around. Instead of the attitude, “I hope I get well,” have the attitude of confidence and say, “Thank You, Lord, that I am getting well.” Start waiting like the farmer. Wait with a knowing. Wait with confidence. Be sure that as you put God’s Word into practice, just like the farmer, you will see that harvest of blessing in your own life in return.

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We are sad because we think it’s closed.Whatever the “it” may be, I pray that we will gain the perspective of our Father, to realise that He makes a way in every situation. And may we realise that not every closed door is closed.(Lesson learnt from a funny dog)

We are sad because we think it’s closed.
Whatever the “it” may be, I pray that we will gain the perspective of our Father, to realise that He makes a way in every situation. And may we realise that not every closed door is closed.

(Lesson learnt from a funny dog)

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Picasso learning ballet.

Picasso learning ballet.

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When it all seems dry and empty…

Writing has always been my outlet of expression. Words never seemed to fail me when my heart explodes or submerges in an extreme emotion. As much as I love to dance, writing was always an easier and more convenient way to express immediately. Dance took time, patience, hardwork, and intentional creativity. While words flowed, meandered, smoothed, liquified my thoughts, emotions, situations.

But increasingly, words don’t seem to come as quickly anymore. It…it..stutters on its own. As if my tongue has no rights to the words in head. Revelations, stories, truths have been kept in the glass jars of my heart, so fragile and vulnerable, and yet locked in on the inside.

Words. 

i need to learn how to write again.

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IOU

How is it that I owe so many people this currency that I barely have control over? This currency that is never growing, and yet ever depleting. This currency that is spent wisely on my accounts, and yet so foolishly wasted all the same. This currency that does not exchange itself for itself, but only in the product of how it is spent. This currency of time.

I owe too many friends 20 minutes worth of letter writing each. 
I owe the dance ministry an additional 1 hour of prayer with each passing week.
I owe my parents 15 minutes of a simple, single Skype call.
I owe my grandma a short and sweet 5 minutes call of care and concern.
I owe a friend a good 2 hours belated birthday treat.
I owe selah.sg 2 hours of solid writing time.
I owe my German friend a 30 minutes Skype call that we’ve been trying to arrange since 1 year ago.
I owe my cell countless of hours of fellowship on Fridays.
I owe the cars a 30 minutes water sprinkle and clean.
I owe the floor a quick 10 minutes sweep.
I owe too many people and things too much, but most of all, 
I owe God a rough estimate of 12 hours per day of undivided attention, 
and I owe Him too many 10 minute morning and night prayer sessions for far too long.

I’ve been spending too much, and now, I live in the debt of it all. 

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My Mom’s Motorcycle.

Such a great short film, loved every bit of it.

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Turi Beach Resort, Batam | May 2014

Taking a hiatus from Singapore has never seemed more needed than this season of my life. The end of my MarComms internship with W Singapore — Sentosa Cove, and beginning my first full-time job (Marketing/PR Executive) with Singapore Dance Theatre next week, are two milestones of my 2014. And this week is the transition to a new phase of life.

This week serves as a reminder that I am not a slave to this world or myself, but a child of God. A reminder that I can always work and serve from a posture of rest, no matter how busy it may seem. To be still, to wait, and know that He is God. A reminder that He is watching over me, and guiding my every step, even when it seems uncertain and shaky. It is a reminder, once again, of my identity in Him and His amazing grace.

Thankful for this short getaway, thankful for the incredible brother, thankful for moments like these. (:

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I’ll jump. With arms lifted above my head and feet aiming for the ground. With wind beating at my cheeks and fear kissing my heart.But I’ll always walk. Ever so gingerly, carefully, and yet boldly with my eyes fixed ahead. With feet firmed against solid ground, I’ll walk, run, and jump.

I’ll jump. With arms lifted above my head and feet aiming for the ground. With wind beating at my cheeks and fear kissing my heart.
But I’ll always walk. Ever so gingerly, carefully, and yet boldly with my eyes fixed ahead. With feet firmed against solid ground, I’ll walk, run, and jump.

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"It is not my ability, but my response to God’s ability, that counts."
Corrie Ten Boom (via kvtes)
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Have you ever felt this way? When you find your desires and dreams in your head, but not beating with anticipation in your heart? When you question your passions and your future, because you so easily believe that it will happen, to the point that you feel like your dreams don’t scare you enough. Don’t push you enough. Don’t seem big enough, even though they already are. 

Have you ever come to such a state? When dreaming has became so integral, so seamlessly melted into your vision of the future that it has became a knowing of what’s to come. That to be able to feel like dreaming is close to impossible because your heart has been opened so wide to every and any possibilities, that nothing seems too difficult or unattainable?

I want to dream again. I want to feel this incredible lack, this passion for something that isn’t there. I want to feel the need to give of myself to the point that it cost, to the peak of sacrificing for it. I want to be so convicted, so convinced that whatever I am pursuing is of the ultimate legacy my life is called to leave. I want the very life and blood that flows through me to be of every fibre of this destiny.

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I feel like I’ve died a couple of times today. This weight that presses my lungs against my spine every time I take a breath. Present, and then absent, and then completely lost. It is as if sanity seeps out of me every few hours. Heat behind my ears, dryness in my throat. I can’t breathe. I can’t hear. I can only see this vision of the world swirling, and then floating, and then crashing hard on me. 

My soul has died, too many times now. But Your spirit has kept me awakened, aware, completely conscious. So though I’ve perished, I find myself gaining life, gaining purpose, joy, love, and thanksgiving.

Make it count. Every day, every breath, every word, every thought. Make it all count. 

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