...I feel guilty for procrastinating. But on the other hand, I should copy paste (more or less) what I have in mind and heart right now while it's still fresh.
...Shoot, mum just nagged me into doing my homework. FINE.
9.49pm.
*scribble scribble count count* PA how do you do this? Ah? Okay never mind, skip... This one? Never mind, skip... Skip... *scribble*
10.18pm.
Yeah. See. I forgot all the wonderfulness. I guess I'll just start with the facts and slowly make my way to the 'feelings' aspect.
3 July, 2.59pm
I guess I got sidetracked last night. Well, where was I?
I only started packing the night before camp, which is quite impressive. Not that I'm not ever the procrastinator, but to prepare for a camp like Harvest Point, I seriously need to focus, because only a roof and a floorboard will be there for me to sleep on, and an open-air, public washing place for me to bath in.
I survived, despite not really packing well, mainly because I'm used to the situation already. I still dislike bathing very much. I'm a city girl, not used to the way village folks do things. The bath water used by everyone flooding over my feet, I just can't help but feel icky, and to be like, half-naked in front of other people. even if they are all just women... The kids, especially, seem to really like staring at me. Maybe because I'm this fair-skinned, bespectacled girl who just won't take off her under garments, even while bathing. Weird monster in the midst of them. Stare.
I got bitten by mosquitoes, and as some would know I really, really don't like itchy mosquito bites. But I didn't pay the bites any attention this time, only occasionally the itch will just come in small little pulses, but that's all. Now I have a few red welts on my right arm. Everywhere else, totally itch-free. Thank you Jesus <3
I find myself hesitating to comment on things relating to Christianity, especially when they concern UPC (United Pentecostal Church) because I am not equipped to explain further to whomever wants to know more, and also because I just don't like arguing about beliefs and doctrines. Right now, I'm trying to figure out how I'm supposed to write about the camp, what I'd felt, what I'd seen, as objectively as possible, without being bias, and comparing anything with any other denominations. But how objective can you get when you have to express your own feelings and thoughts?
I feel so skeptical about the passion people express for God, and I feel bad about feeling that way. I feel even worse when I remember that I am one of them, and being a very, very shy girl (I was anyway) to be able to praise God like that in public is a very big deal, a proof that it isn't something faked. So why on earth would I disbelieve anyone else's desire to worship God for all they're worth?... Why.
That was what happened during music worship. That always happens. The jumping, the shouting, the praises and tears, the lifting of arms and the clapping of hands, the dancing.
One thing stuck to my mind during services recently: Dance as David did. He was a king, an honorable, glorious king, and yet he'd dance so wildly, his wife despised him. If a king could throw down his dignity to dance and worship the Lord, then who are we not to? Who am I not to?
So I did, and it was as though every conscious choice I made, every time I lifted my arms (they always feel so heavy during music worship...), skipped, shouted... Lifted my head (likewise, so heavy)... I felt released.
I can only say that much. I'm still learning, and what I'd 'realized', I might one day 'realize' something else that cancels out what I'd learnt now. Makes sense to me, that we're ever learning. We might even learn the wrong things sometimes, which replaces the right things we'd have known all along. We won't know, because whatever you think you're learning at the time, definitely will be something you think is right.
For now, what inspires the feeling to love and serve Jesus is the choices I make that is immediately visible. In a way, I am proving to myself that yes, this is the real deal, I want to live for Him. I don't join altar calls a lot, because I have nothing to say to God up there that won't immediately poke me in the heart and ask, "Seriously?"
Being a Christian all my life, or at least, living with that term, kind of numbs me to what living for God really means. Words and phrases sound just like cliches to me; they were bound to sound like that, when I'd been attending church for all seventeen years of my life. I'd only started being serious about this Christian life when I tagged along to Sandakan back in Form Two to see the start of a new church there.
In the end, not much I can say about Harvest Point 2010. I am guessing it is because while I needed the impact and the sudden rush to get the fire burning fierce again, I'd needed and gotten that said impact so many times before that I'm not sure the flames won't dim down and I'll need another 'camp' again to revive that. It all seems so redundant. I am not saying it isn't supposed to be like that. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, or maybe it is simply inevitable, because I'm still living in the world, therefore susceptible to temptations.
I don't dare to say that I love Jesus, or that He is my everything. Because I am not able to prove it to the world yet. Lest they point and scoff.
But I really, really do love Him, above anyone and anything else. If not, then at least I am certain that I need Him, above anyone and anything else. And being a rather selfish girl, what I need, I want, and what I want, I tend to love.
Signed, Carmelia.
Feeling, calm but murky.
Thinking, in God I trust, or try to. I want to.
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