Christmas 2005

I walked away from the Christmas Service at Orchard Road Presbyterian Church (ORPC) with a full heart – a wellspring of life that I knew I was to draw from and ruminate upon in the days to come. Questions about who I was, who I am to become, what I am about and where I am to be headed were amongst the many things that I had felt the finger of God gently poking and prodding.

Perhaps it was the hallowed halls of the church that stilled my heart and hushed my soul into quiet contemplation. Or maybe it was due to the fact that I was a stranger in a foreign land stripped bare from the distractions of human agency, the confidence of my ‘know-how’ and the hustle and bustle of community living.

But what I found most precious, was the Spirit of Christ embedded and embodied in the Presbyterian Church’s rituals and traditions that had lost none of its virtue despite the passage of time or antiquity. I was captured and riveted to my seat in an atmosphere of reverent worship of Elohim as we beheld His holiness.

Yet, I was at the same time embarrassingly exposed. I was well aware of just how far I had drifted in the past year from a centeredness in Christ that I once knew so well. While it was tempting in that fleeting instant to decide that I should perhaps retreat to the caves to live a life of solitude, my motivation was quickly tempered by Christ’s injunction to be in the world but not of it.

I don’t think I’ve ever realised the magnitude of its implications heretofore. The year ahead would require a big leap of faith as I step out to engage the world in its gruesome reality and brace myself to test Chesterton’s convictions that Christianity has not been tried and found wanting, but that it has been found difficult and left untried.

I now laugh at my blasé ignorance when I submitted my application for the Graduate-Diploma in Journalism at RMIT. I had thought rather matter-of-factly that I would face no obstacle with the qualifications and (limited) experience under my belt. It was just another thing I could do, I thought. And in a macabre sort of way, I have the rigorous application process to thank for putting my ego in check as I took more than a moment to consider the posture of my heart and the state of my being.

Suffice it is to say that I now approach this whole deal with ‘fear and trembling’. Stories like Nguyen van Tuong’s blown up across the entire Australian media sparking public furore has awakened me to the reality that the media are the information gatekeepers of our world – making and breaking stories with the sleight of their hand – influencing the topic and sentiment of our culture’s conversation.

That said, perhaps we ought to begin ascribing the same kind of respect and honour to journalists, reporters and newscasters in the same way that we do for doctors, teachers and scientists. We do right to sift and filter the information that we receive daily through various channels, but we would do better if we start becoming more aware of who the gatekeepers of our information are, for it is they who ultimately decide the type of messages that are being piped to our tubes.

I guess it is not enough that morals and ethics be taught in the classroom, but that we have the assurance of the character and integrity of the people who will be populating them. We all know how to pass a test in the classroom – but I fear that few would fare as well when market demands clash head on with public responsibility.

One can only imagine what the face of culture and society would look like if it were not shaped by those who hold a deep sense of faith, hope and love for our world, but by those who are hell-bent on plundering the world of all its riches.

This might just be the vocation to which I have been called. I have a year to find out. May the Lord lead me and guide me – the lamp unto my feet and the light unto my path. Amen.