It’s not uncommon, for dreaded things to happen unexpectedly at the uncanniest of times.
We catch colds before exams, sprain ankles before races, quarrel before happy occasions. It’s not uncommon. I suppose, the our efforts put together like Jenga blocks make a happy stack, but the daily toil of stress can cause a sudden, unexpected collapse.
Power-packed, fulfilling 80-hour work-weeks. The completion of a sprint triathlon. A couple of ongoing projects lined up. An upcoming interview with a magazine. An invitation to give a talk at a youth service at a different church about what God has done in my life.
They all seemed like awesome things piled up on my plate. And I was looking forward to my sharing, where I was told to give a talk to inspire youth to do great things.
Then yesterday, just 2 days before my talk, the Jenga Tower collapsed. It was a good day. I was happy. I had had a good time at work. I was supposed to attend a bible study group in a new place I had never been to before. I got lost. It was late. I was incredibly tired. I couldn’t get a cab nor a bus. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, something in me snapped and I sat by myself on the kerb, crying all the tears I had bottled up inside for the past few months- all the hurts and pains and bruises I had sustained from the brutality of work and life in general. I was a wreck.
I had work the next day, which was this morning. I had a friend’s daughter’s birthday party to emcee, another friend’s birthday party to attend. A medical mission group chasing me to lead the medical aspect of it for our visit to Indonesia in October. And I had a talk to give in 2 days time (tomorrow) about being strong in God and doing great things for Him. I was a real wreck. Broken down because I got lost and felt utterly overwhelmed and exhausted and frustrated. A friend had to drive to come get me home.
Broken, we all are. In some ways and at some points. I wasn’t sure if I could face the weekend, much less the new week ahead in an even more rigorous surgical department from next week onwards.
I wanted peace and quiet. I wanted fewer events. I wanted nurses to stop calling me when I was off work. I wanted to not have to think about the extra number of 30-hour shifts I would have to do in the coming months. I wanted to take my bicycle and go on riding along lonely paths and scenic routes in the cool solitude forever and forever. I wanted to erase that sense of utter desolation and overwhelment when I sat down on that kerb and just wanted nothing but to go home. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Morning came, and nothing seemed to change.
Then a text message:
“ Good morning Wai Jia, today is a fresh start. God’s steadfast love and mercies and new every morning. You may feel like a jar of clay but you hold great treasure within- God in you is the hope of glory. You in God can do all things because He strengthens you. You needn’t rely on your own resources-that’s what happened- you have come to the end of your own strength, but to put a full stop to that statement makes it a half truth. Fact is, when we are weakest, that is when we best show God’s strength PROVIDED we still carry on in faith. His strength is made perfect in our weakness. So if you will still carry on with the weekend’s events in faith, you will tap resources within you that you never realized you had before.”
At work today, I remembered those words. I remembered how important it is to forgive ourselves when we slip up, when we fail our own expectations, when we shock ourselves by our falling short. Surprisingly, my senior doctor came up to me to tell me how pleased he was with my work; surprisingly, I made it to the birthday party I was supposed to emcee; surprisingly, I even managed to lunch with Grandpa Zhou, which deeply nourished my soul.
“Weijia”, he said in mandarin, when I told him about my minor breakdown, “we’re all human. It’s okay. We’re human.”
And I remember, how God always uses each and every one of our failings and obstacles for a greater purpose- after all, my second book Rainbow, was certainly the product of faith applied to a past of broken wings and jars of tears.
And then I thought, how perfectly, and not dreadfully timed this was, to be right before the talk I was meant to give to the group of youth. Because now I’m certain, that I’ll be sharing about Broken bread, about how when there wasn’t enough food, God broke 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish to feed more than 5 thousand people, with leftovers. When we allow ourselves to be broken, and invite faith into our situations, God can use our brokenness to feed and nourish others. Our tragedies, are never for naught.
So if you’re feeling broken today, take heart.
Where you end, is where God starts. It’s going to be a good day tomorrow.
“ Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven,
God gave thanks and broke the loaves.
Then he gave them to his disciples to distribute to the people.
He also divided the two fish among them all.
They all ate and were satisfied,
and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish.
The number of the men who had eaten was five thousand.”
-Mark 6:39-44
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed;
perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.
We always carry around in our body the death of God, so that the life of God may also be revealed in our body.
For we who are alive are always being given over to death for God’s sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body.
So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.”
– 2 Cor 4:7-12