Above all else

Imagine a grey-brown earthenware jar. It sits on an old wooden table, in a farmhouse. Outside, there’s a gentle breeze, and a rugged stone well sits next to a potato patch. The jar looks like it was well made, but also well used. Look closer, and you see patches on the sides, the rim, and even the base.   Be quiet and listen. There’s a drip. Then another. Look even closer.   Water is slowly pooling on the table, around the base of the jar.   Pick up the jar and inspect it.   Careful, it’s heavy! Almost full of water, almost to the brim. Lift the jar over your head, peer at the bottom, and you see it. There’s a spiderweb of tiny cracks, and water’s slowly seeping out.   Put the jar back down. Hmm.   You don’t see how the jar can be repaired. The base has been patched too many times, and the cracks are everywhere. Wait a little longer. Look into the jar. Sigh. Looks like it’s really leaking now. Half the water’s gone, and it’s pooling on the floor.   You look outside to the well. Hmm. Br

I volunteer as a mentor for some programmes, and for a few people who approach me on a 1-1 basis. It's one of the more rewarding things I do in my life. For the avoidance of doubt though, mentoring doesn't mean I've got it all together, and doesn't involve dumping my so-called wisdom and experience onto others.  It's often true that I have some useful experience or understanding to share with these younger friends. But most times, my life context is just not the same as those of my friends. It's common for older folks to say, "in my time, we had it tougher! We worked harder! We know what it takes!" But I've found that my younger friends often have better skills and insight than I did at their age, and different, possibly even more complex challenges that I didn't face.  It would be supremely arrogant to think that I know the way for them. So really, it works best when I just ask lots of open ended questions, and we figure out together what is n

In January 2014, I wrote a lookback on my 30s . In what seems like a blink of an eye, here I sit, ready to write about how my 40s went! This year, I'll celebrate 24 years with my wife, who I love more than ever before. From looking after us when we're sick (especially Covid!), to managing our finances (fixed deposit promotions! SRS! Credit card points!!), to getting good deals for us on holidays (somehow managed to find skiing in Vegas!) and shopping (outlet malls! Carousell!), to slogging through national examinations with our kids (PSLE!!!). All this while running alongside me to lead our cell and mission work, keeping a full time honourable job, calling me out when I'm out of line, and staying cute on top of it all...  Well really, what else is there to say of my wife of noble character, worth far more than rubies, in whom I have full confidence, lack nothing of value, and who brings good, nor harm all the days of her life (Proverbs 31)!  I'm sorry for all the times

I heard an interesting viewpoint this weekend. A family is not inherently a team. Hmm.  Sometimes at work, often in church, and most of the time at home, you hear people say to each other that we are family. And often, we really are. We care for each other above and beyond transactional matters.  It matters to me when my colleagues and cell group members (and of course my actual family members) go through illnesses or family issues or work challenges. I root for their success at presentations and projects and relationships. I care about what they care about, even if it has little direct impact on my own life. In a way, a family is sort of an amalgam of people who support each other in pursuit of each member's personal goals. For example, as a father, I support my children in their academic, career and ministry goals. But where they go to school, the grades they get, and the careers and ministries they build - they're really their goals, not mine.  Ditto for my role as a church