Summer is hot, autumn is mild and winter is cold. Of all the
three, winter is the season that prepares the ground for the next creative
process - the magic of spring!
Winter sprinkles the frozen earth with snowflakes, covering
the landscape with a white blanket of snow. From a distance the snow-covered
ground appears like a primed canvas, worthy of Da Vinci’s brush and
Michelangelo’s touch.
Spring comes like an artist with a palette of paint, bringing
life to a dead space. It thaws the frozen and restores life. It repairs the
faded colors that were caused by the freezing winter. Spring revitalizes the
spirit of nature. It gives birth to a new beginning.
It is amazing to witness the brown pasture gradually reverting
to its original green. Soon, seeds will sprout and grow. A variety of beautiful
perennials will awake from hibernation. New twigs will emerge. Lush of leaves
will revive the trees. Tulips in vibrant colors will shoot up from the ground.
Wild flowers will bloom to meet the visiting butterflies. And when God is
smiling, a rainbow will appear, to bridge the clouds and the open meadow.
God is the Master Artist, the Lord of all seasons. He has
chosen spring to show us the work of His artistic hand. Spring is the season
when He unveils earth`s hidden beauty. From the fertile ground that hosts
botanic life and animals - to the air that caters to the floating bees and
butterflies - to the flowing rivers that reflect the magnificent sky, God
connects them all and transforms them into one grandiose show-and-tell. A truly
magnificent illustration!
Spring keeps us in touch. It makes us feel the energy of
fulfilment. What we plant today is the fruit we harvest tomorrow. When we
build a dream, we allow the dream to build us. When we practice what we love to
do, we become what we love. Musicians are who they are because they play with
music. Likewise, a ballerina finds the
rhythm of her motion by allowing her heart to dance with the music. The
possibilities are endless as long as we believe in the spring that comes from
within us.
Spring is about time. It is the time to believe in hope. It
is the time to welcome a new beginning. It is the time to visualize what God
has in store for us when He illustrated the most endearing beginning of all the
beginnings – the resurrection of Christ.
It is not a
coincidence that Easter Sunday falls on spring. Spring is truly the season to
believe in the renewal of our Christian faith.
Breaking a promise is not a good thing. Yet, last Friday, I did
just that--without remorse or guilt. Truly, my action did not bother me. Not
one bit! How could I be so callous?
The truth of the matter is, I was only postponing the promise
I made to myself. Three days earlier, I said I would clean up the clutter in my
basement man-cave. The chore is long overdue, but the blue sky outside told me
otherwise. It was the perfect day to shoot winter scenes at the Rouge. It was
also -6 Celsius out there by the river, not to mention the wind-chill coming
from the lake. So, I donned my furry Russian hat, Arctic boots and snow suit With
my backpack, I looked like a soldier on a mission, ready to shoot!
In the midst of its serenity, not a single soul in sight.
The Rouge River was frozen. The snow was like an oversized
carpet, matching the white clouds above. Except for the beautiful blue sky that
accentuated the horizon, the landscape could have been in perfect sepia. The
place was beautiful, and in the midst of its serenity, I was alone -- not a
single soul in sight. The usual quacks from Canada geese were missing in the
air and the flying seagulls were nowhere to be seen. The Rouge seemed like it
was reserved only for me and my photography.
The cat-tails seem to be posing for the shot.
The wind was also surprisingly in full cooperation. It redirected itself elsewhere, so the cat-tailswouldn't sway, making them appear like they
were posed for the shots. The stillness of the surroundings made me see and
hear clearly. Then it occurred to me that I was not completely alone. Like in a
prayer -- I was alone with God!
The icicles look like ornaments hanging on a princess ears.
At the Rouge, I was like a student having a one-on-one
learning session with the headmaster. God was leading me to the rarely seen face
of winter and showing me the season’s underlying beauty. Patches of ice on the ground glittered like
diamonds. The icicles were like ornaments hanging on a princess ears. The snow
looked like clouds on the ground. Winter certainly opened my eyes! My appreciation for the warmth of my coat and
the comfort of home had grown deeper. The lifeless ground made me look forward
to the green grass, resurrected only by the coming of spring.
The rarely seen face of winter and its underlying beauty
The two-hour solitude at the Rouge was more than photography.
It was a spiritual journey; a time to open up; a time to connect; a time to listen
and the time to count the blessings.
Of all the numerals, 13 is the
only number that can spell out evil. It is often associated with bad omen and fearsome
destruction. Its frightful significance is beyond any mathematical calculation
and the negative energies that it perpetuates deep into our minds are never
ending.
To the superstitious, number 13
is taboo, but to the skeptics it is just a number. I personally, have never
paid much attention to the number 13 except for the fact that it is the count
between 12 and 14. I have always looked at it that way --- until recently, something
really odd happened that stirred up my curiosity in search for logical
explanations to this so much feared number.
Is it a coincidence? A warning
perhaps, or is it a sign? These were the questions I asked when I came upon a
recurring number 13. It happened five times on the same day! What is the chance
of that happening?
It all began on a Sunday
afternoon at the Metro Convention Centre where a volleyball tournament was
taking place.I was there mainly to
watch my daughter play, but the action-packed hall was also a great opportunity
for sports photography. With balls flying back and forth between frog-like leaping
players, the shots were just too hard to resist!
During the elimination rounds,
every time the game was moved to another court, the ambient light would also
change.This lighting fluctuation would
also force me to adjust my shots accordingly, which also meant finding the
right camera exposure settings with at least three test- shots. These tests were
just random shots for my own analysis, but the resulting photos yielded the
unexpected. All the three exposures captured thought-provoking pictures of
number 13!
The first of the three was of a
player sporting the dreaded number on the back of her uniform. The next photo
was of another athlete also wearing the number 13. Hmmm. . . Coincidence?
maybe. But how do you explain the third shot? It was a scoreboard of the game
which read 2325. (23 in red for Team A and 25 in blue for Team B) The sum of
these four digits is 12, but strangely enough, next to number 5 is a water
bottle which can also be seen as number 1. The final total? A shocking 13!
In addition to this growing
phenomenon, during a break in the game, a player from my daughter’s team whom I
have never met before approached me to say hello. I would soon realize when the
game resumed that she too was wearing the number 13! Bizarre? Whatever you want
to call it, but this occurrence had me scratching my head in awe.
Finally, at the end of the
tournament, I thought I had enough of 13's for one day. I was wrong! The spooky
number was unrelenting and persistent. It seemed to have followed me,
determined to give me more of what it started.
That evening, while relaxing at
home, the mysterious number 13 unfolded once again. This time rather than
staying visual, it chose to verbalize itself. The voice of number 13 manifested
in the dialogue of the main character in the movie I was watching. It was about
a convicted Roman soldier from the 13th Legion who was thrown into
the arena of gladiators. He was tired of all the killings. He refused to fight
and just wished to die. But the other gladiators provoked him by mocking the 13th
Legion that he highly revered. Forced by the ignited anger, he unleashed his
terror on all his aggressors, annihilating all of them as he yelled,
“Thirteen!” numerous times, to bring honour to the 13th Legion.
Now, looking back to all five
incidents, it was like a game of connecting the dots. Clearly, whether all
these were just a mere coincidence or a meaningful message, there was
definitely a strange pattern that had taken shape. Is there a need to be afraid
from here on? What is the number 13 telling me? I wanted to know. The urgency
to understand the underlying message had prompted me to do some research.
Thanks to the internet. Google’s search engine has provided some substantial
views on the subject. One of them is a Christian interpretation which also made
perfect sense. Its spiritual value has been the key in unlocking the mystery of
the number 13.
It is quite liberating to know that the number
13 is of spiritual significance as opposed to what Satan had led us to believe.
At the Passover Meal (better known today as The Last Supper) in the midst of the
twelve disciples, Jesus was the 13th person in the room. He was also the One
destined to be crucified and to triumph over death with His resurrection.
Jesus is also referred to as the
Water of Life. Could this be the meaning of the bottled water standing next to
the volleyball scoreboard? I would like to believe that. What about the player
with the number 13 who came to me to say hello? I see that as a sign of connection. As long as
we keep our hearts wide open to Him, we will receive God’s whispers; we will
not be in the dark; we will see the path to where He is leading us.
It is mighty clear now why God
chose the volleyball game to illustrate His message. The sport’s aspect of
victory and defeat is a good analogy to Life and Death. Death as we know it
represents loss. It signifies full surrender. Life on the other hand is about
gain. It simply means winning. We live to learn from our failures as we strive
to win.As long as we can still breathe,
the chance of winning will always be there.
God does not want us to lose. It
breaks His heart to see us fail. But there are times when we are like that
Roman soldier. We are tempted to think that putting everything to a halt is the
easiest way to end our grief. We lose hope and we give up.
With God, we are winners. When we
fail, He strengthens us with our own weakness just like what He did with the
Roman soldier who could not resist defending his revered 13th
Legion. We too have our own 13th Legion and that is Jesus, the 13th
who led the 12 disciples. When we abide by His teachings, we become victorious.
And together we will say,
“Thirteen! Thirteen! Thirteen!”
In
the second letter of Paul to Timothy, Paul wrote a concise yet powerful description
of his faith in Christ. He compared it to a grueling race. “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept
the faith.” 2Timothy
4:7
Our
Lord, Jesus also had an earthly race. It started from a manger in Bethlehem to
a cross on the hill of Golgotha. With His resurrection, He completed the race.
When
we accept Jesus, we too, enter a race. It is a race where endurance matters more
than speed. Through a gauntlet of temptations, the weak will fall and quit.
Others will rest, but the faithful will remain undeterred by the devil’s
deception.
Fuelled
by our faith, we push the limits to reach the finish line where God does not
rate the fastest and the slowest. In God’s eyes, it is irrelevant who comes
first and who comes last. In heaven, we are all victorious when we complete the
race.
Race
Tracks come in many forms and lengths. When we find God’s purpose for us, we
should commit ourselves to stay on track and go the distance. Mine started
seven years ago during a pilgrimage to The Holy Land. I call it “Photography for
Christ.”
In
Jerusalem, at the courtyard of the Church of The Holy Sepulchre, I captured the
defining moment of my calling. There, before me was the collective silhouette of
my fellow pilgrims highlighted by a bright wall lamp shining on them. Their
radiating shadows seemed like a hand reaching out to me. The image was heartily
engaging; it penetrated my soul. It made me stay still, listening in silence. It
was speaking the words of Jesus, “Let
your light shine before others so they can see your good deeds and glorify your
Father in heaven.”Matthew 5:16
That
evening, my race began. I would follow Jesus through the lens of my camera. In
the Word, I would see the picture and in the picture, I would hear the Word.
Through the art of photography I would spread the message of Christ.
Proclaiming
God’s Word is like running an uphill road. Along the way, the winds of rejection,
dissuasion and other negative energies have pushed me back. They may have
slowed me down, but I held my torch up and pressed to move on. Guided by the
Holy Spirit, I produced compelling photo-illustrations of the Word that
inspired many, brought hope to the discouraged and caused awareness of God’s
love to those who are distant and lost.
Today,
the race is far from over. Each day is a continuation of the race. In every
morning sun, I hear God’s Word, “For I
know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and
not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”Jeremiah
29:11. With God’s reassuring
words, how can anyone not stay on track and not complete the race?
Just like a revolving door, people come and go in our lives. Some are easily forgotten; others we try to forget. But there are those who leave a sweet imprint in our hearts for a simple thing they have done. A seemingly insignificant act, yet beautiful and powerful.
The outcome of any given project fully depends on its planning or the lack of it. Without the well drafted blueprints of engineers and architects, the construction of bridges, roads and buildings would be in chaos. To simply put it, one must have a plan or at least the understanding to follow one.