See You, Peter

See You, Peter

Last week, I was able to watch two films on cable: “Finding Neverland” and “Peter Pan” (three guesses on what the connecting theme is.) It’s really amazing to be able to experience being a child again, even if it comes out only in what you see. You get to dream once again: of flying, of visiting a secret land only you and a few others know of, of fairies and pirates, of a place both mysterious and magical. In the end, however, the viewer, like Wendy, Michael, and Peter, has to go back to the real world to be who s/he is expected to be.

Is that really true, though? Do you have to get out of what your inner self is telling you just so you can live the way other people expect you to be? True, Wendy did come out of Neverland to grow up, but even when she became an adult, she was still able to see Peter. Why is that? Maybe because inside, she’s still the same child who first encountered Peter, and no matter how many years she’ll put on, she’ll always be that little girl whose window is always open for him to come in.

An existentialist philosopher once said that life is like waking up from a dream and entering a nightmare – it’s better to stay in a fantasy than end up living in something infinitely more difficult. That’s probably why a lot of people choose to escape from the world in their own way: some choose to rely on substances, others on people, and still a number immerse themselves into work. All of these, however, have the same goal: to avoid truly living. Sure, life is sweet, but it’s not all bubblegum and candy canes. At some points in your life, it’s inevitable that you feel pain. Some may experience it more, some less, but everyone goes through that. I know firsthand what it’s like to hurt, and believe me, pain is no laughing matter. Yet this is what makes us grow up, more than what mere years would give us, more than how many birthday candles we blow. It’s in our experiences that we are able to mature, and to be stronger people.

Growing up hurts. Physically, sure, it does. From the moment you get out of your mother’s womb, you feel pain already: the harshness of the light, being literally cut off from your mother, having to rely on your own system (at least normally) to function well so as to sustain you. As you grow up, you trip occasionally, and all that remains is to stand up, brush yourself off, and continue walking. It hurts to fall. You’ll end up bruising, scraping, wounding yourself a number of times, and even then, you can’t say you’re an expert walker. Yet you forge on, because you know you’re the only one who can walk for you. Your parents can only stand on the sidelines and watch you wobble and learn to stand on your own two feet. They might help you stand when you fall, but you’re the one who is supposed to learn from your own mistakes, not for them to analyze it for you and spoonfeed you. Pain is necessary for us to learn.

Speaking of spoonfeeding, Hebrews 5:11-14 has something to say about spiritual feeding. It speaks of baby Christians needing milk, but for those who are spiritually mature, solid food is what is called for. I was thinking about why of all metaphors this has been used, when it came to me: it’s not easy for children to be weaned from their bottles, is it? I never had the chance to take care of a baby in my life, but I imagine how difficult it is for the child to be separated from something that s/he takes comfort in, especially since this is what feeds them in the first place. Yet it is important for them to be taken off the bottle. Not only does excessive bottle feeding ruin teeth, but there’s only so much milk can do for them: the rest they have to get from solid food. When we were still baby Christians, we still had to be guided because we were still starting out. We still had no idea of the basic concepts of our faith, and that’s why someone has to take us by the hand to teach us. Yet as we grow more mature, we also should learn to stand up on our own and look for Him with our own eyes, ears, senses, everything that the Lord provided us with to find Him. We can’t remain on spiritual milk forever – that would mean that our faith is stagnant, and that would be an insult to Him. It’s like we’re saying that He’s only up to a certain level, and beyond that, we won’t learn anything from and about Him any longer. Our God is awesome and majestic. Give ten million years, and we probably would have barely scraped the surface of who He is, metaphorically speaking. He makes Himself known to us via His Word, the Spirit, other people, and also by our experiences. Like I said a while ago, we will end up hurting at certain points, but if we take the time to see what God is teaching us, these will cease to be burdens but moments where we can truly encounter Him and praise Him. A Christian author I read (I think it was David Jeremiah) wrote that it’s not so much in the times that we are happy do we glorify God, but in times of trial when we still choose to worship and glorify Him despite of what we’re going through.
What about Wendy and Peter? I dare say it’s still lovely to be a good sometimes.:D

Solitary Confinement

Trapped.

Walls all around.

Too dark.

Can’t breathe.

Where am I?

Why am I here?

Have to get out.

What have I done?

What can I do?

Hands are bleeding. Walls are too hard.

Where is everyone?

Is anyone there?

I can’t hear anyone.

Am I alone?

Is no one there to hold my hand?

No one to wipe my tears?

Does the sun still exist?

Streaming warmth lighting the world.

Do birds still chirp?

Nature’s orchestra delighting everyone.

A memory, or a dream?

Cold. So Cold.

Can anyone hear me?

Does anyone know I’m here?

Am I still alive?

Does anyone care?

Why are my cheeks wet?

Why am I breathing heavily?

Are you there?

Can you save me?

Help me.
I need your help.