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Autumn Utopia in Innocence

for me to live is Christ.





March 1st, 2015

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October 31st, 2008

(no subject)

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells, and the deeper the wells the brighter Thy stars shine; let me find Thy light in my darkness, Thy life in my death, Thy joy in my sorrow, Thy grace in my sin, Thy riches in my poverty, Thy glory in my valley.

March 26th, 2008

LJ Reactivation mode

Good day my friends

this LJ has been re-activated.

Entries friends only from now on

January 6th, 2006

(no subject)

"LORD, make me to know my end,
And what is the measure of my days,
That I may know how frail I am.
Indeed, You have made my days as handbreadths,
And my age is as nothing before You;
Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor.
Surely every man walks about like a shadow;
Surely they busy themselves in vain;
He heaps up riches,
And does not know who will gather them." '
Psalm 39:4-6

Lord, teach me

November 2nd, 2005

this is a really sad song

"Dear Mr. Jesus"

Dear Mr. Jesus, I just had to write to you
Something really scared me, when I saw it on the news
A story 'bout a little girl beaten black and blue
Jesus, thought I'd take this right to you

Dear Mr. Jesus, I don't understand
Why they took her mom and dad away
I know that they don't mean to hit with wild and angry hands
Tell them just how big they are I pray

Please don't let them hurt your children
We need love and shelter from the storm
Please don't let them hurt your children
Won't you keep us safe and warm

Dear Mr. Jesus, they say that she may die
Oh I hope the doctors stop the pain
I know that you could save her and take her up to the sky
So she would never have to hurt again

Please don't let them hurt your children...

Dear Mr. Jesus, please tell me what to do
And please don't tell my daddy
But my mommy hits me, too.

Please don't let them hurt your children...

October 29th, 2005

someone's view of heaven.


17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later
told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best
thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it
while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School.

Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every
piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering
Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's

But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized
that their son had described his view of heaven.

"It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you
are there." Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was
driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce
Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the
wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family
portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point.

I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it, " Mrs.
Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's
vision of life after death.

"I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him.

Brian's Essay: The Room..

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the
room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall
covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in
libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.
But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly
endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew
near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that
read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the
cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the
names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly
where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for
my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and
small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and
curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly
opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet
memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would
look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have
Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given,"

"Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their
exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers."
Others I couldn't laugh at:
"Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My
Breath at My Parents.." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I
hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of
these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this
truth. Each was written in my own handwriting.

Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV
Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their
contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three
yards, I hadn't found the end of the file.

I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the
vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run
through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to
test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost
animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must
ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room!

I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out Its
size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I
took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not
dislodge a single card.

I became desperate and pulled out a card only to find it as strong as
steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning
my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel
With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost
unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three
inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on
one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep.. Sobs so deep that they
hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my
knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of
it all.
The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.

No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide
the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched
helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't
bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to
look at His face, I saw sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read
every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He
looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't
anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to
cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me.

He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just
cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.
Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one,
began to sign His name over mine on each card.

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him.
All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him.
His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red
so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine.

It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled
a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever
understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I
heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood
up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.

There were still cards to be written. "I can do all things through
Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that
He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."

October 8th, 2005

(no subject)

Go Light Your World

There is a candle in every soul;
Some brightly burning, some dark and cold.
There is a Spirit, who brings a fire
Ignites a candle and makes His home.

So carry your candle, run to the darkness.
Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, go light your world.
Take your candle, and go light your world.

Frustrated brother, see how he's tried to
Light his own candle, some other way
See now your sister, she's been robbed and lied to
Still holds a candle, without a flame

So carry your candle, run to the darkness.
Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, go light your world.
Take your candle, and go light your world.

We are a family whose hearts are blazing
So let's raise our candles
And light up the sky
Praying to our Father, in the name of Jesus,
Make us a beacon, in darkest times.

So carry your candle, run to the darkness.
Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, go light your world.
Take your candle, and go light your world.

This was PL's theme song for the year 2002. Loved it. Was looking through the school magazines from past years while preparing for my founder's day valediction. I realized how true and meaningful the lyrics of this song are - that no one can light his or her own candle some other way. There is only One Way.

Shall revive my blog and resuscitate it from a state of hinging at the cliff of life but soon falling to death. Haha, never mind if you don't know what I am talking about.

I changed my layout again. Kudos to ljcandy for nice layouts. :)

I shall attempt to record some of my thoughts and reflections about my life now so that I'll have something to look back upon ten years down the road. Otherwise, JC to me would just be 2 fleeting years.

2 fleeting years. of chasing the wind.

Pardon the lack of coherence and flamboyance in language. if any.

1) Shuang Ning - Hello dear! Sorry I didn't reply to the comment that you posted eons ago. I hope that you're having a great time abroad. :) God bless you.

2) Kristie - thank you for listening to me rant. :)


going to type out my valediction now. more updates later. :)

June 10th, 2005

(no subject)

Keeping the Dream Alive by Freiheit

Tonight the rain is falling
Full of memories of people and places
And while the past is calling
In my fantasy I remember their faces

The hopes we had were much too high
Way out of reach but we had to try
The game will never be over
Because we're keeping the dream alive

I hear myself recalling
Things you said to me
The night it all started
And still the rain is falling
Makes me feel the way
I felt when we parted

The hopes we had were much too high
Way out of reach but we have to try
No need to hide no need to run
'Cause all the answers come one by one
The game will never be over
Because we're keeping the dream alive

June 4th, 2005

You will never walk alone

Along life’s road
There will be sunshine and rain
Roses and thorns, laughter and pain
And ‘cross the miles
You will face mountains so steep
Deserts so long and valleys so deep
Sometimes the Journey’s gentle
Sometimes the cold winds blow
But I want you to remember
I want you to know

You will never walk alone
As long as you have faith
Jesus will be right beside you all the way
You may feel you’re far from home
But home is where He is
And He’ll be there down every road
You will never walk alone

The path will wind
And you will find wonders and fears
Labours of love and a few falling tears
Across the years
There will be some twists and turns
Mistakes to make and lessons to learn
Sometimes the journey’s gentle
Sometimes the cold winds blow
But I want you to remember wherever you may go

Jesus knows your joy, Jesus knows your need
He will go the distance with you faithfully

(no subject)

When the children of Israel were trapped and afraid
‘twix forbidding tides and Pharaoh’s tirade,
Jehovah commanded, and Moses obeyed.
As pitiful prayers filled an impossible place,
As Moses gazed into Jehovah’s dread face,
As the people of God needed infinite grace,
The mighty winds howled; violent waves dashed
The seawaters quivered and the lightnings flashed.
The thunders boomed and the breakers crashed.
And when the sun arose on that terrible day
The children of Israel, through the misty spray,
Discovered their God had made them a way.
And many a Christian in the years that have passed
Though troubled by fears, though tired and harassed,
Have found the same God strong, sure and steadfast.
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