My Kuching God Story: Part 1 - The Story of A Cup

My family and I recently made a trip back home. (Our first, ever since the pandemic hit in 2020.) 

I call this trip my Kuching God story, simply because that is what it was - a(nother) God story. 

And to tell this God story, I have to go right to the beginning. 

To the heart of the matter. 

As much as I had determined in my heart to give God glory and tell (as complete as possible) all the goodness He has showered me with in my life, this is a God story that is raw and hasn't been easy for me to tell. I am still struggling even as I am typing. 

But it is exactly because of how bad and hard and ugly and dark things used to be, that it shows me (and you):

1) In Christ, there is good. In Christ, there is ease and grace. In Christ, there is beauty. In Christ, there is light. In fact, in Christ, there is only ease, grace, beauty, light and all things good! 

2) In Christ, there is only good things. Because that is His nature. 

3) No matter how hard, how ugly, how dark a thing is, bring it to Christ and He will turn it into His nature. In place of the bad, He makes it good. In place of the hard and striving, He gives grace and rest. Instead of ugliness, He makes all things beautiful. In the darkness, He comes to expel darkness and bring light. 

4) In Christ, all evil has to go. Good shall come, and only good shall remain. Because that is His nature. 

So, I pray that with my vulnerable sharing, it will unveil myths, it will break lies, it will reveal or reaffirm God's truth and it will encourage you.  

The fact that I struggle to share this story would already have given you a hint on how my relationship with my mum was. 

To accurately describe and explain our relationship will take more than just a few words (or paragraphs). 😂 But suffice it to say that both my mum and I, each, have our own identity issues and pains and hurts - which we, sadly, carry upon ourselves like heavy baggages.

These baggages, we drag them around on our back, allowing them to wear (and tear) us down. 

We despise them. Our spirit man knows that we are not meant to carry these weight. 

We want to discard them. Yet we do not know how to. Or maybe I should put it this way: we instinctively know how to throw them off, but just maybe not effectively and not permanently. These dead weight seem to always find its way back to our back. 😅 We do not know how to rid of them completely. 

And at the same time, we clutch on to it. Because it is familiar and comforting. Yes, I know it sounds ironic (and perhaps, illogical), but that's the way it is. For me, at least.  

That was how my mum was and how I was - we carried this brokenness within us, with us, into all our relationships. Especially those that are dearest to us. So, to say that we were not in the best of term was an understatement. 😅

Even after God had healed and restored my identity in Him, I often still feel a strain in my relationship with my mum. 

And I had always attributed that strain to my mum. Okay, 'attributed' is a nice cover-up word. The honest word would be - I had 'put the blame' on my mum. 😔 (Yup, 'blame' would be the word.)

That was how I had felt - Things are like this because she is still not delivered from her bondages. Things would not be like this if she has a real relationship with God. All my thoughts and, therefore, my prayers were channeled this way: Mummy needs this, mummy needs that. Lord, give mummy this. Grant mummy that. Make mummy this. Turn mummy that. 

(Alright, I am not proud to be so brutally honest as I share this. But I need you to see this: My focus was all turned outwards.)

When the pandemic hit, for 2 whole years, my means of communication with my mum was only via calls, obviously. I felt relieved and frustrated all at once. 

Relieved because, I didn't need to face and address nor work on the tension that we had. I could avoid all the unpleasant situations which would otherwise have been inevitable if she were to be physically living with us. (Again, not proud to confess this.)

Frustrated because, come on, phone calls are not so enjoyable in the long run. (And all long distance relationships couple would relate to this.)

You know the phrase 'sweeping things under the carpet'? 

Over the 2 years, that was how I had dealt with my mum. I would sweep issues under the carpet and pacify her with soft, nice, pleasant words. Things that I know she likes to hear. Things that would please her. But not necessarily the best for her. For me. For us. 

As time passed, I felt heavier and heavier. Weighed down by an invisible oppressive force. 

I had also felt more and more stretched. You know, like a rubber band being pulled in opposite directions. 

So, that was how I was (or at least how I had felt). A rubber band pushed down and pulled apart. 

Each time before I called my mum, I would spend some time (no matter how short) to pray. I had subconsciously felt like I needed God's help, just to have a conversation with my mum. One would have thought that I was going into battle. 😂 

Yet in spite of my praying and my choosing my words 'wisely', half the time, we would end our conversation in argument. By the time we hung up, neither my mum nor I were happy. And often, I would have to go to the Lord after hanging up, crying out to Him and offloading all the negativity that I had caught. 

This year, in April, the tension heightened. Despite my best effort, we had more and more arguments (heated ones at that). 

And often, we argue over some really unarguable things even. Like when should we make a trip back home. (I mean, seriously, why did we even need to argue over that???) 

And without me realising it, I grew more and more bitter. 

I couldn't understand it. I did all the right things, didn't I? I didn't provoke her. I tried, as much as I could, to please her, doing things the way she likes. I prayed for her. I used good words. I spoke life. 

I prayed before making calls. I prayed after ending calls. I prayed in between. 😂 

(Okay, I need to clarify 1 thing - Please don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that prayer doesn't work. In fact, if I hadn't prayed in the first place, I can't imagine how much more worse things could have been.)

But over the pandemic season, even while I was flourishing and experiencing God in many other areas of my life, my relationship with my mum suffered much. And I felt quite defeated in this one particular area. 

Until one day, the Holy Spirit breathed a revelation into my situation - I had seen myself as a cup when it comes to being with my mum. So, I acted as a cup. And, essentially, felt quite like a cup. 

Don't know what I mean? Maybe this picture would help explain. 

Source: Unsplash

I had envisioned myself as this cup - Coming to God each time I needed to be with my mum, to be filled. But even as God filled me to the brim till overflow, I emptied myself out in our dealings/ exchanges/ conversations. At the end of each time/ conversation, I was all drawn empty. 

Empty, tired and depressed. 

How exhausting it is for this cup! Filled, drained, emptied. Filled, drained, emptied. On repeat. 

At the same time, the Holy Spirit also opened my eyes to see something - Yes, I did come to Him for wisdom, strength, patience and grace before making each call. 

But the moment I started hearing the ringing tone on the phone, I switched from 'child of God mode' to 'my mum's daughter mode'. 

I entered into 'Irene self-effort mode'. 

Which was why, the moment our conversation started, God couldn't continue pouring into me. I went into alert, defensive, self-reliant battle mode. 😔 

The cup needed to pour, out of her, what she has in her (That was how the cup felt 😅)

Poor cup! No wonder she was all emptied, and empty.  

Beloved in Christ, here's a funny question - are you a cup? Have you been a cup? 

It could pertain to any area of your life - any area where you may be struggling and striving and feeling helpless about. Doesn't matter whether you feel your cup is full, half-full or empty. 

Now, know that the psalmist often referenced the cup as a container to receive what God has for us. Psalm 16 says that God is the portion of our inheritance and our cup. Psalm 23 tell us that our cup runs over. So, mind you, I am not saying that there is anything wrong with cups. 

But even as the Holy Spirit opened my eyes to see how incorrect I was acting like a cup, He also told me that I am not a cup. 

He showed me that, in this specific area of being a daughter to my parents, I am more than a cup, which is constantly being emptied and needs to be refilled. 

So, beloved in Christ, if you can relate to my cup story, be it in any area of your life, I would love to share my Kuching God story with you. 

And may the Holy Spirit brings a fresh insight, that is helpful, into your situation. 

Stay tuned!