1 Sep 2006. Friday. It’s an absent-minded day.

Sometimes, I just amazed myself. I’m amazed at the self-restraint that I have in hiding my emotions from thers. Sometimes, I’m afraid of the suppression of feelings building within me. But I conceal them nonetheless. I reckon that it’s my way of protecting myself. I am the one who is afraid of being weak, afraid that others would see me in my times of weakness and vulnerability, afraid that I won’t be able to control my emotions when I let them surface. That’s why I would quickly wipe away my tear after that moving song or soul-bearing prayer; that’s why I would keep that straight face in meetings; that’s why I choose not to look at others in the eye at times. But actually, I also know that it’s pride: a pride that wants to be independent, a pride that wants to be competent at many times, not having the need to seek help from others. And now God continues to hack away those hardened bits of pride, putting me in situations where I have to ask for help, I have to rely upon the favour of others, and I have to admit my weakness.

As much as I hate being weak, I know what I have to go through as I choose to follow Jesus. “Then he said to them all: ‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.’” (Luke 9:23-24). Choosing to deny my pride and being weak is so unnatural to me, yet I know that I have to do so.

To save my pride and refusing to be broken down would only tear me away from
the God that I want to want to love and the people whom I love yet refuse to
admit.


Die daily.

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