Bread and Wine

I've taken the communion meal more times than I can count. I've taken it in so many ways - big fluffy loaves, tiny wafer biscuits the size of a watch face, slices of Gardenia torn to a hundred bits, or Hup Seng cream crackers - you name it, I've had it. Whether its Ribena, Australian red wine or Fanta grape - served in silver chalices, plastic Yomeishu cups, or from a packet grape drink - I've downed it with vigor. I've served it, been served it, and said my marriage vows with it. I've done it at the altar, in ramshackle beach chalets, and on a cold tin roof of a car under the starlit sky. But in whatever form or occasion it's come to me, it has never ceased to do its 'magic'.

Each and every time the bread and the cup comes to me, powerful truths become real - sinking in and permeating my being like the flavours of the bread and the fragrant warmth of wine (or sweetness of Ribena!)

I like to take my time with the bread. Savouring its goodness, extracting every morsel of spiritual reality. The bread is about who I am - a broken vessel, a fragile loaf shred in pieces. Broken by sin. Damaged and wounded. It's about who God is - the One broken for me, smote on the cross, bearing the full brunt of God's fury against sin. It's about what I am called to be - to be broken and given to others in love and service, just as He was. The bread is about who I am, who God is, and what I am called to be.

And the cup. O the cup! There is nothing like real wine at the table. The way it swirls around the tongue, aromatizes the nose, and warms the body. Every drink of the cup is about who I am - a sinner, helpless and in need of mercy. The cup is about who God is - the One who poured out His blood for my forgiveness. The cup is about who I am called to be - poured out like a libation sacrifice.

Symbols binding up reality. Holding up the truth for us to see.

Who I am.

Who God is.

What I am called to be.

The bread and the cup. Just as He prescribed - do it as often as you can, always remembering... Infused with meaning, never ceasing to transform. Always recapturing a glimpse of the divine. Always renewing my heart. Always redefining my mortality, His mercy and my purpose.

The table is an eternal invitation. Come, eat.

But an invitation that is adequately met only by the cry 'Maranatha!' Come Lord Jesus!

Come in all Your fullness and grace and truth. Here and now.
Bear upon us all that You are and all You call us to be.
Again and again, till You come in Your glory.

Maranatha. Come Lord Jesus.

Discovering calls

Just stepping back into KL made me sad. I've just come back from a lovely trip to Kinabalu. From majestic hill country to grimy city life - it's a steep descent into the humdrum of Klang valley.

Part of the pain comes from the lack of challenge and purpose in my job. I have yet to find the 'thing' that grips me from ahead and propels me forward. Surgeries are few and far between, and I haven't got many patients I can call my own. Surely I trained all these years to do more than warm my office chair and brew coffee every morning?

I struggle just to get up in the morning and head to work. I have nothing to look forward to. This is bad.


Times like these call for deep reflection, I guess. I need to listen for the call of the moment. Find my 'sealed orders' for the current station. Trying to fill up my week with activity, for the sake of activity, would be an exercise of self-deception - at best deceiving myself that I'm living a full life, at worst driving myself into burnout and disillusionment.

As I try to listen with head and heart, paying attention to signals around and stirrings within, I am finding the beginnings of new directions. Calls worthy of whole-hearted pursuit.

Calls at any one point can be many and varied. They are not the overarching purposes like 'glorify God' or 'serve mankind'. They are rather specific towards a particular time and place. They take considerable quietness to discern and time to nurture. But they must do one thing - draw me out of the ordinary and propel me beyond self-service and the usual concern of security & success.

Calls can be exciting and terrifying all at once, but leaves one in unrest and anxiety and obeyed. I yearn to find that narrow path, the one that triggers immense joy and meaning once followed.

What are my calls at the moment? What is my current environment, my inner journey, and my God saying to me at this time? Will I have the courage to say 'yes'? Will I have the discipline and persistence to follow the path to the end?

I will take the time to listen. Not rush in the direction of every whim. Hush the many voices that tug this way and that. Anchor deeply on the bedrock of truth to withstand against the ever-changing tides of popular opinion and expectations. And when the silent wind comes, may my sails be ready to let it take me wherever it blows.