An Encounter

The Lord hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved
thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I
drawn thee.
- Jeremiah 31:3

Kirsten stepped off the elevator. FGA Centre Bhd, read the large sign
in front of her eyes. A short, friendly lady greeted her with a
pronounced Chinese accent. Oh no, Kirsten thought, I hope not all of
them are like that! She smiled and filled up the little pink
form.
"Kristen? Is that how you pronounce your name?" the lady asked.
"Kirsten. Kirsten John," she corrected.
"It's great to have you here! Come, take a seat." The lady, a Mrs. Lee,
ushered her to a group of foreigners. They introduced themselves as
from the YWAM. Slowly she extricated herself from them and found a
somewhat empty seat near the far right of the hall. She looked to her
right. "Worship Ministry," she read to herself. She walked over and
looked at the photographs. She glanced around the hall again.

The band seemed to be having fun on stage. They laughed a lot. Kirsten
settled herself into her seat again and closed her eyes. The beautiful
music filled her ears. The words entered her brains and stuck
there.

Draw me close to you... Never let me go...
Nothing else can take your place
To feel the warmth of your embrace
Help me find the way
Bring me back to you
You're all I want
You're all I've ever needed...
Help me know you are near.

She found solace in those words. Solace for a broken heart. Her mind
wandered back to her childhood. How happy she had been, following her
mother to church. Colouring pictures in Sunday School. Learning Bible
stories, playing games, making friends. Then she became a teenager. All
that had held meaning in her life became empty shells. She had laughed
at God. 'Come back,' He said to her. And in her anger she replied, "I
can make my own way. I can be my own god. I don't need you." You're all
I've ever needed. But Kirsten refused to admit it, even to herself. She
was self-sufficient.

The chatter and laughter of youth broke through her bitter thoughts.
Kirsten opened her eyes and surveyed the dozen or so teenagers that had
emerged out of nowhere and were crowding her little corner. So that's
why nobody was sitting here, she thought. Too late to move. There was a
clock on the wall and Kirsten turned to look at it. 9.50 a.m. What am I
doing in a church? It was too late to escape. A tall, bubbly girl
walked up to her. She had been on the stage.
"Hi, I'm Wendy. What's your name?"
"I'm Kirsten."
"Great to meet you! Is this your first time here?"
"Yes."
"Where do you come from? I'm from Colorado? with the YWAM base. You've
heard of us?"
"Oh, yes, I have. I'm here on holiday."
"Great! Don't you thing Penang is such a beautiful place?"
"It is? it is really," Kirsten replied without conviction.
Effervescence was going to kill her.
"Oh, I have to go. I'm on duty today. I'll talk with you after the
service!" Wendy walked towards the stage. Great. I can't escape now,
Kirsten thought as she sat down again. They sang a song. Then an oldish
woman gave announcements. Greeted the new comers. Asked them to stand.
"After the service, don't rush off. Please join us in that room there
for some refreshments and let us get to know you better," she said. Oh
please, don't give me that fake acceptance. An offering bag was passed
around. Kirsten kept her purse firmly in her pocket. The woman prayed
such a long prayer that Kirsten was convinced that God - if there was a
God, she stubbornly told herself - would have stopped listening a long
time ago.

Fast songs, slow songs. She watched the youth with cynical eyes. They
jumped during the fast songs. Raised their hands and waved. Eyes closed
and hands raised during the slow ones. She remembered the services back
home. Dull, slow songs that dragged on and on and on without end. Old
people who sang without emotion. It was different here. What made it
different? The band?
The song again. Draw me close to you? And in her heart, in the midst of
the ice, she said to herself, If there is a God, if this isn't all
hogswash, what next? If you are indeed God, show yourself to me! Let me
know you are near. She watched the young man at the keyboard. He sang
his heart out, he cried for God. Kirsten had never seen anyone so
fervently praying, so fervently worshipping. Worshipping what? An
invisible being. A white-haired woman knelt on the floor and wept.
Moments passed. The music started to fade and although Kirsten watched
everything calmly, her heart wasn't untouched. Old fears, old feelings
started to stir in her again. The questions long left unanswered
started to ask itself again.

"You may be seated." Kirsten hadn't realised how long she had stood in
her reverie. She looked at the clock on the wall. 11.00 a.m. She
obediently flipped open her bulletin and retrieved the notes. God's
love has your name on it. Kirsten could have laughed aloud, but didn't
dare. You weren't supposed to laugh in church. You weren't supposed to
have fun in church. But somehow, these long-standing opinions of the
'boring' church meetings didn't ring true anymore. This FGA Centre that
she had stumbled into was too vibrant, except maybe for that old woman
and her long prayer.

She wasn't listening carefully, but some of the preacher's phrases kept
sticking in her mind. "God's love is overwhelming? This is a
love-starved world? God is love?
"You have to receive God's love. It's not about how much you try to do
to please Him. He loves you the way you are. He know's your faults and
yet still? still he loves you. He's just waiting for you to accept it.
Romans 5 verse 8. 'It was while we were still sinners that Christ died
for us.' He's not waiting for you to clean up your act before He'll
start loving you. He's already forgiven your sins when He died for you
two thousand years ago. It's up to you to accept it. To claim it as
yours. It's something like this: Imagine if someone sent you an
expensive present through the mail. You receive the little slip which
tells you to claim your parcel from the post office. If you do, it's
yours. All of it. If you don't, you'll never get to enjoy it. That's
what God's love is like. He's already paid the price. All you have to
do is claim it. Claim His forgiveness. Claim His love."

A little part of her brain started talking. You know that isn't true.
All gods are the same. They want your devotion. They want your good
works. They don't care one bit about you. What makes you think this
Christ is any different? He died? So what? Buddha died. Prophet
Mohammad died. How do you know there is a heaven? How do you know that
God created you? Because it's in the Bible? Hah. Don't be fooled,
Kirsten. The bible is a fairy tale. I thought you believed in
evolution? 'The mere experience of being created is nothing compared to
the overwhelming sensation of conjuring oneself our of zilch and
standing completely on one's own two feet.' Remember? The manifesto.
Don't listen to these lies.
A second voice answered. Maya is fiction! Definitely fiction. Why on
earth do you believe something written in a story book? Besides, this
Jesus is supposed to have risen from the dead. All the other prophets
have very decaying bodies. An intricate Persian carpet can't weave its
own self. It has a creator. What if the Persian carpet one day decides
to deny that a human wove it? What if it claimed that it 'evolved' by
itself from strands of thread? Would you believe its claim?

Kirsten tried to ignore her own brain, but that was virtually
impossible. She tried to ignore the words of the preacher, but that too
turned out to be pretty impossible. She was happy when it finally
ended. She remained seated, although everyone stood for a final song.
She gripped her bag. A second chance. So she remained, wishing all the
while that she could just bolt out the door. The youths continued
chatting amongst themselves, some giving her glances. Wendy came
towards her again. Behind her was the guy at the keyboard.
Before they reached her, a tall, gangly-looking teenager approached
her.
"Hi, I'm Francis. What's your name?"
"Kirsten." She tried to smile.
"Hi, Kirsten. You came on your own?"
"Uh? yes."
"Oh! How did you know about our church?"
"I don't know, I sort of just? just found it."
"That's great! God must have wanted you to be here today. Are you a
Christian?"
"No, I don't believe in God, if that's what you're asking." Darn, don't
be sarcastic to strangers.
Wendy and the Keyboard Guy reached them.
"Hey, there, Kirsten," Wendy said. "This is Joshua."
Kirsten looked at him and smiled. Or tried to, at least. She was sick
of smiling.
"How long have you been in Penang?" the one called Joshua asked.
"A couple of days. I'm visiting my mother."
"That's nice. So how long will you be staying here?" Wendy asked.
"I don't know. Indefinitely, I suppose."
"How old are you?"
"I'm eighteen."
"Studying?"
"Not doing anything at the moment." Nosy parkers, she thought.
"Well, if you're going to be around here for a while, why don't you
consider dropping by at our youth meetings? Saturday nights, seven
thirty. It's in Air Itam."
"I'll see?" Kirsten had a sudden urge to escape. "Uh, I'll be going
now. Bye." She made a hurried escape to the elevators. It was as near
solitude as she could get at the moment. The elevator was jam-packed
with people from the service. She studiously avoided their eyes and got
off on the third floor. She walked quickly to the food court. She had
been there the day before. She scanned the stalls, and not feeling
adventurous, hesitated. She remembered the KFC outlet on the ground
floor and turned towards the escalator.

The rest of the day Kirsten spent shut up in her room, re-reading Maya
by Jostein Gaardner. But somehow, her confidence in her beliefs were
shaken. Was evolution a fact or an assumption? What was the world
spirit? She shook her head and half threw the book aside. She paced the
room, thinking, but couldn't find any answers. Why am I here on earth?
What is my purpose? How do you know that Jesus was real? What if it
turns out to be a myth? Could there really be a God? God in heaven? God
on earth? She was irritated at herself for entering the church. It had
been a whim. A crazy, stupid impulse. She had been to Island Plaza the
day before, and had seen the words "FGA Centre Bhd" on the little
notice board thing. Curious, she asked the guard, "What's this place up
there on the 11th floor?" He had answered, "I'm not too sure, but they
meet on Sundays." So, being the idiot she was, she had gotten up early,
and without telling her mother anything, she had driven down (or was it
up?) to see what it was about.

Kirsten John knew her mother attended a church in Air Itam. Saturday
nights, seven thirty, Air Itam. It wouldn't hurt to ask, would it? But
she kept her mouth resolutely closed. No, she would not upset her
thinking further. Yet the questions kept asking themselves. Again and
again, phrases from the preacher entered her mind.

Wednesday, 8 p.m. Mother had gone out for Prayer Meeting. Kirsten
stayed at home and watched television. By nine, Kirsten was sick of
doing nothing. She paced the living room like a restless tigress.
Sitting down on the sofa, she idly picked up the Bible on the coffee
table and flipped through.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word
was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through Him all things were
made; without Him nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life,
and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness,
but the darkness has not understood it. There came a man who was sent
from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning
that light, so that through him all men might believe. He himself was
not the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming
into the world.
He was in the world, and through the world was made through Him, the
world did not recognise Him. He came to that which was His own, but His
own did not receive Him. Yet to all who received Him, to those who
believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God -
children born not of natural descent, not of human decision or a
husband's will, but born of God. The Word became flesh and made His
dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the One and
Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."

Here she stopped. A vague feeling filled her. The true light had come
to the world, and she didn't know who He was!

Kirsten drove slowly. She knew how to get to the building? but she
wasn't sure if she wanted to. She wondered whether her mother would
know if she went shopping instead. No, mom is real sharp. She's sure to
find out. Sighing, she sped up, realising that a long row of cars had
formed behind hers.

All who are thirsty
All who are weak
Come to the fountain
Dip your heart in the stream of life
Let the pain and the sorrow
Be washed away
In the waves of His mercy
As deep cries out to deep
Come Lord Jesus, come?

She stood irresolutely in the doorway, listening to the words of the
song. There, the Keyboard Guy on Sunday was playing again. The bubbly
girl singing again. That lanky guy also singing. An aunty noticed her,
and drew her in, closing the door quietly behind her. Quickly, Kirsten
filled up the little pink slip that they gave her. She stood, watching.
Stream of life? let the pain and the sorrow be washed away in the waves
of His mercy? Father was in London, Mother here in Penang. If there was
a God, why did He allow sorrow and broken hearts? Stream of life? I
don't believe in God? do I? Kirsten asked herself over and over again.
There's no God? is there? Her own answers were unsatisfactory. Uncalled
for, an old verse surfaced in her mind: For God so loved the world that
He gave His only begotten Son, so that all who believe in Him will not
perish, but have eternal life.

Tired tears welled up and she brushed them away impatiently. Haven't I
dealt with this before? Tears have no place here. I am strong, but she
wasn't strong enough. She sat somewhat stoned through the meeting,
hardly able to listen because of all the conflicting thoughts in her
mind. Let the pain and the sorrow be washed away in the waves of His
mercy?

The music played again at the end of the meeting, and suddenly she
found herself overwhelmed. Crying. A short Chinese girl came up to her
and hugged her. It felt good. Maybe I do believe in God. Maybe I
believe in you, Jesus.
"God, I pray for your beautiful child here. I may not know her name,
but I know that You love her. I know that You have drawn her here for a
purpose, and I know that her life is in Your hands. I pray that You so
fill her with Your love that she cannot help but say that You are an
awesome God. There are things in her life - bitter experiences that she
cannot seem to let go of, and I pray that You take them away from her.
Open her heart to You, and soften her to listen to Your word. Engrave
her name in the palms of Your hands."

Me? Beautiful? Different. Of mixed parentage. Bitter experiences? Hah!
You can't imagine how bitter. Purpose? No purpose to be found in me.
Kirsten tried desperately to stop the embarrasing tears.
"You don't have to be ashamed of your tears. God is cleansing you right
now. Do you believe in Him? Do you want Him for your Lord and
Saviour?"
Kirsten looked into her big brown eyes and hesitated. She could see her
reddened face reflected in the girl's glasses. "I? I guess that I do.
It won't hurt to try will it?" she stammered out, wishing she could be
eaten up by a crocodile or something and leave behind no remains. No
remains of a wasted life.
"This is the most important decision you will ever make in your life.
Do you believe in Jesus? Do you believe in His power to save and to
change you?"
"I don't know? I guess I do?" she almost turned away. Finally, she made
a decision. "Yes."