The Importance of Rhythms in Prayer

For about seven years, Jimmy Tan, Koh Seng Chor and I (above picture, from R to L) have been meeting in a 3-2-1 spiritual friendship. We have met in our homes, the Railway Mall, the office or the great outdoors. Three persons, for about two hours of sharing life and prayers, once a month. This circle of authenticity and accountability has been a blessing in my life.

The Rev Dr Jimmy Tan is a chaplain, and lecturer of pastoral and practical theology at Trinity Theological College. The courses that he teaches include pastoral care, pastoral spirituality, pastoral theology, marriage and family, and Christian spirituality. He regularly leads retreats and offers spiritual direction at the college and beyond. Seng Chor and I have been blessed by his insights, authentic sharing and prayers of faith and I am sure we have been a blessing to him.

On the 14th of August, the college recently had their annual Day of Prayer when faculty, staff and students (about 180) came together for prayer. I read the talk that Jimmy gave to them at the beginning of the day. I was so blessed and inspired I asked for his permission to share the script in this blog post. Here goes:

If we pause to notice, we will observe that ‘life is full of rhythms’

The daily rising and setting of the sun, and how it influences our circadian rhythms. The rhythm of our heartbeats or the lack of it, how it communicates good health or concern. The rhythm of our breathing correlates with the pace of our walking, running, or resting. In rhythm, one seems to do better; in rhythm, a gymnast delivers a more beautiful floor exercise; in rhythm; a sprinter clocks a faster timing; in rhythm, a marathoner pushes on to the finishing line. Out of rhythm, a higher-ranked badminton player loses to an opponent many rungs lower. Out of rhythm, a student struggles to write a single line of an essay.

Rhythm affects our lives more than we realize

Even with our leisure and moods; rhythm has its influence. Music and dance with a good sense of rhythm make for better music, dance, and relaxation. Poetry, with its rhythm, brings forth its point with delight. A good rhythm in communication engenders deeper trust and makes for a better community.

Rhythm impacts our lives beyond the surface

And we find the sense of rhythm in Scripture. The author of Genesis utilizes the rhythm of day and night to describe God’s creative activity. The psalmist uses regularity and consistency for the practice of prayer and praise. Indeed, the chiastic structure of the psalm communicates the author’s point with greater impact. Jesus, himself, regularly goes out to quiet places to pray and be in communion with his Father.

God’s wisdom, grace, and mercy is communicated in rhythmic provision. Six days of work and one day of rest; six years of production and one year of rejuvenation; forty-nine years of activity and one great year of Jubilee!

Scripture is imbued with rhythm

If a sense of rhythm pretty much permeates our living consciousness and impacts the quality of our lives, we ask why a sense of rhythm is strategic to prayer. We have noted that the Psalmist embraces a sense of rhythm in his expression. Seven times a day, he prays. Through the travails of the night, he prays.

Then the early church tells us about their times of prayer. These were regular hours through a day: intentionally spaced out: at 6am, 9am, midday, 3pm, at the setting of the sun, and before one retires for the day. They were strategically placed to pepper the day with prayer consciousness. These hours became known as the divine hours, and the practice of prayer, the Daily Office. Together, they distinguished the church through the ages.

The regularity of prayer did not just carry them over a day, but also a week, and then through a year with its liturgical seasons. There were prayers for Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany; there were prayers for Lent, Easter, and the Ascension. And there were prayers for Trinity Sunday, and Sunday after Sunday, till Advent came around again. The rhythm of the lectionary tells the story of Christ and his church, over and over again. And so, the practice of prayer coinhered with the regularity of rhythm – daily, weekly, and annually. And this is what our chapel roster is patterned after.

But the practice of prayer is not just rhythmic. It is, in fact, rhythm in relation

If we regard prayer as a conversation with God. Does this conversation benefit from an expression in rhythmic form? During National Service, we learnt to use the walkie-talkie; and to use it well, we learnt and practised the discipline of communicating with it.

“Alpha to Command Center, over.”

“Command Center to Alpha, send over.”

“Alpha asking for permission to proceed to checkpoint two, over.”

“Alpha, permission granted, over.”

“Alpha, Roger and out.”

We learn to hear, and then we learn to respond; this hearing and responding is itself a rhythmic expression of communion with God. Perhaps that is why, in the observance of prayer throughout the day, we pause from our labours for a moment to hear better; and pray better. Especially with a hectic schedule, which often calls us to many tasks and engagements, the pause at midday or evening brings refreshment to our weary bodies and minds and helps to re-centre our distracted souls in God. Has it not been our experience where the pause to pray became a blessing rather than a bane in a crazy workday? Just this past Sunday, I was reminded of the blessing of a pause in silence.

In her acceptance speech, the British actress, film-maker, and poet, Michaela Coel, the first black woman to win an Emmy Award for Outstanding Writing, said,

“In a world that entices us to browse through the lives of others… [and] to be constantly visible (for visibility these days seems to somehow equate to success), do not be afraid to disappear, from it, from us, for a while, and see what comes to you in the silence.” (Acceptance speech 2021 Emmy Award for Outstanding Writing for a Limited or Anthology Series or Movie for HBO’s I May Destroy You).

Today, we learn to disappear for a while, into the silence, to receive some reprieve through the rhythms of prayer. For……

These rhythms of prayer heal us of our restlessness and addictions.

These rhythms of prayer guide us to commune with God.

These rhythms of prayer offer us the beautiful gift of a yielded life.

These rhythms of prayer sustain us over the long haul of discipleship.

These rhythms of prayer bring us life.

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“How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies”: Amazing Grandmother’s Love

I was told not to miss this Thai movie. It has been a long time since I stepped into the cinema. Not since the pandemic. Should I go?  The title was intriguing – “How to Make Millions before Grandma Dies?” Later the Straits Times featured an article about it, so my wife and I headed down for the 10:30 am and got the $5 senior ticket.

The heartwarming, charming family drama ran for two hours and seven minutes but it felt like an hour and a half. It was a charming, engaging, and moving gem: the penetrating dialogue, the straightforward yet compelling storyline, timely comedic commas, relatable characters, and multi-layered timeless themes that stayed with me many hours after it ended. Kudos to the director and writer, the cinematographer, and the actors who pulled off what would be a family classic.

I have taken the liberty to copy and paste a well-written storyline by Theresa Tan from Salt & Light. Do not read if you haven’t watched the movie:

“…the tale of young M (Putthipong Assaratanaku), a university dropout who spends his days being a “game caster”. Nowhere near making the millions he imagined, he leeches off his hardworking, long-suffering mother Chew (Sarinat Thomas), and has no time nor regard for family traditions. One day, he watches his cousin Mui inherit her grandfather’s huge house after becoming his caregiver in his last days. She tells M that she became Agong’s “number one” by giving him the one thing nobody else – not even his children – could: Time. Inspired, M sets his sights on his ageing Amah (grandmother), played by the wonderful Usha Seamkhum. She is independent, lives alone and sells congee every morning. When the doctor tells his mother that Amah has Stage 4 colon cancer, the family decide to keep it a secret from the elderly woman.

M sees his chance to strike fast and move in with his grandmother. She’s no fool – the fact her only grandson suddenly shows up could only mean one thing. To his credit, M tries hard. He brings her beef noodles, only to be told her religion forbids it. He queues for her favourite fried fish, only to be told she’s already eaten. You feel his frustration, yet you can’t fully empathise because he is motivated by a potential inheritance. The development of their unlikely relationship makes up the core of the movie: A young man is transformed day by day into the loving caregiver he initially pretends to be. An old woman learns to slowly trust one member of the family again after being hurt and disappointed for so many years.

The tension lies in the question: “Who will get the house after she dies?” It’s a common breaking point for many families, especially Asian families, whether rich or modest. The oldest son, Kiang, whom everyone believes is her favourite, makes a bid to move his mother into his big house in the country, where he lives with his gold-digger wife and only daughter who attends international school and speaks English. The youngest son, Soei is a gambler who is always stealing from his mother and running away from creditors. The daughter in the middle, Chew, works blue-collar jobs and is the one constantly saddled with taking her mother to the doctor and doing other tasks expected of daughters.

The tussle for the title deed to her small house happens when Amah’s chemotherapy fails. While his mother is in hospital, older brother Kiang demands to know where the deed is kept. Sister Chew tells him it is in Amah’s cabinet and he leaves in a hurry to retrieve it. Chew then pulls out the deed from her bag and hands it to her younger brother Soei. “Quickly get it transferred,” she tells him. M, watching this, is crushed. All his “hard work” had been for nought – his gambler uncle got the house even though he did not spend a day caring for his own mother. M rails at his grandmother for her unfair treatment. “Why am I not your number one?” he says, hurt. The only one who doesn’t put up a fight is his mother. In a conversation with her son, Chew says matter-of-factly: “Sons inherit the house. Daughters inherit cancer.”

The prodigal son to the end, Soei sells the house immediately, and puts his mother in a nursing home. M’s heart bleeds for his grandmother, who is left to die alone. He brings her back to his mother’s home, where he continues caring for her. Of course, Amah dies, but in the best way possible: Holding her grandson’s hand while he sings to her.”

Some films can be very nourishing for the soul. This is certainly one of those films that can be watched, reflected upon, and used to gently surface issues and shadows in our souls that need to be talked about with the Lord and perhaps with a spiritual director.

For me, this film mainly points to the heavenly Father’s love for his children. I see it most clearly in Amah’s love for her children and for M. Each of them did not deserve Amah’s love.

The rich and successful eldest son, Kiang, hardly spent time with his mother. Even during her cancer treatment, he hardly visited her or helped out, except to contribute money. When Amah’s chemotherapy treatment failed and she was on death’s passageway, he suddenly invited her to stay with his family in his large country home. When she refused, he was angry and halted communications with her. He asked the sister where the title deed to Amah’s small home was kept even before she passed away. Ungrateful and greedy son. Yet Amah loved him right to the end, even though she saw all his ugliness and selfishness. This is so like God’s unconditional love. Put yourself in Kiang’s shoes for we often similarly treat God as he did with his mother. Yet God loves us.

The younger son, Soei, was a useless leech and gambler who often stole from Amah’s meagre earnings from selling congee in the market. She kept some savings in a box in the kitchen and he knew where to find it. He was constantly running from creditors and asking for money from Amah and his siblings. He never cared about Amah before or after finding out about her illness. A pathetic and despicable man. Amah knew him inside out and yet she cared and decided to give him the title deed to her house. He immediately transferred ownership, sold the house and placed his mother in the nursing home. He couldn’t even wait till she died! Despicable. Yet loved unconditionally by Amah. This is so like God’s love. I hope there is none as useless and despicable, bound by addiction and without direction, as Soei was, but if Soei’s character resonates with you in some way, then there is good news for you because God’s unconditional love is available for you.

Chew, the daughter in the middle is the most moral and dutiful of the three children of Amah. She worked at a supermarket and yet found time and took leave from work to accompany her mother for medical treatment. She had no thoughts of grabbing the inheritance. She knew the ancient Chinese tradition of leaving an inheritance to the men in the family. In one of the most unforgettable lines in the film, she said to her son, “Sons inherit the house. Daughters inherit cancer”. Yet I felt that despite the nobility of her character, it was a coat she wore out of duty and a desire for validation that her mother never gave her. In another poignant scene, when she opens up and complains to Amah about her resentment, Amah replies to her, “You’re the one I always want to be with”. Another million-dollar line that resonates so much. This is how God feels about each of us. In our busyness serving the Lord in church, workplace, and at home, we lose sight of how God feels about us. “You’re the one I always want to be with”. What a powerful motivator to be more attentive to God’s desire for us to be fully present with him.

Finally, we see the depth, height, breadth, and length of God’s love in Amah’s love for M, her grandson with the ulterior motive at the beginning. Everyone loves a drama that shows a deeply flawed main character taking a journey that transforms and matures him. This was what exactly happened and demonstrates the power of love. Right from the beginning Amah knew what he was after. She knew his fake love was disfigured by a crooked motive of potential inheritance. Yet she allowed him to do so. What motivated her: pragmatism? loneliness? or wanting to spend time with her grandson? Whatever it was, her unconditional love for her grandson in the end affected him deeply, liberated him from the love of money, and taught him how to love unconditionally, the way she did. This is so like God’s transforming love. It takes time but God is infinitely patient and loving and if we abide long enough under the shelter of his love, we will be transformed too.

The Lord is compassionate and gracious,

    slow to anger, abounding in love.

He will not always accuse,

    nor will he harbour his anger forever;

he does not treat us as our sins deserve

    or repay us according to our iniquities.

(Psalm 103: 8-10)

This is a poignant movie that has rightly been released over Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. It certainly will get people thinking and talking about family dynamics, Chinese traditions, inheritance, and other themes. It will trigger memories – pleasant and hurtful ones. It will make you think about life more deeply. I wonder what are your reflections and takeaways from this movie. Do comment and share it with other readers. Thanks.

PS you can read Theresa Tan’s full review of the film HERE. She has some interesting and practical biblical perspectives about inheritance.

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Silent Retreat in La Salle House

Author Thomas Green called a prayer retreat a vacation with the Lord. My experience of retreat did not bear that out. Certainly not during those years when I was pastoring. Those retreats were not vacations, but more like intense wrestling with God and myself. Now that I have retired from the pastorate (but not from ministry), I am finding more sweetness and rest in my retreats. Most notably, in this recent eight days of silence (part of a spiritual direction formation program), I found myself seeking the grace of God’s loving embrace. I wanted to taste more of his love for me. Every day I desired this and prayed the Lord will draw near and reveal his love to me. He answered my prayers. 

Core Identity

As a result of this retreat, I found myself deepened in my core identity. I am his child and he is my Papa. My father did not show much affection, did not talk much, and was a typical Asian father who kept his children socially distant. It is no wonder that in my relationship with God, I found myself more able to relate to Jesus and my helpful friend, the Holy Spirit. Calling God Father in my prayer felt foreign or distant. In this retreat, I found myself imaging myself as a little child clinging, hugging and resting on Papa’s shoulders and neck, committing all my cares and concerns to him in child-like faith. In my journal, I wrote letters to Papa to express my feelings and thanks and prayers to him. I am his beloved. I will enjoy being with him and depend more on him.

I also had a wonderful identification with God as Creator and Master Craftsman. My spiritual director gave me Psalm 139 as one of the passages to meditate upon. I had this same passage and meditated on it for five days during a Chau Son Retreat in Dalat, Vietnam. I thought there would be no more juice to squeeze from this passage but I was wrong. One evening during an hour of adoration, the leader read Psalm 139 and the verses about how God created and crafted us with tender love and detailed care stood out strongly for me. “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made….my frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance….” (Ps 139: 13-16).

At that time, I was spending time in the “CREATE” room where many art materials were made available for retreatants to use in prayer. I took a wooden cross and made a glass mosaic piece. I took time to draft designs on paper, try out different glass pieces and colours, worked at pasting the glass pieces carefully, and filling the grouts with cement. My thoughts were on this artwork even outside of the Create room. I fussed over every imperfection, and tried to rectify gaps in the grouting. I was engrossed while I made the cross and was very pleased when it was done (see above). Then suddenly it dawned on me that this was how my Creator and Father was feeling when he made me in my mother’s womb – with great love, creativity in design, care and passion, attention to details, and how proud he must have felt when I was born because I was his masterpiece. I caught a glimpse of our heavenly Father’s passionate love and satisfaction with me, and this moved me. I will celebrate and accept who I am despite my flaws and lack, rejoice in my unique strengths and not envy others of their different gifts and ministry.

Not only was I his beloved child to give him joy, and his beloved masterpiece to display his glory, I had a deepened sense of being his beloved servant. Isaiah 41:8-14, 43:1-5 and 2 Corinthians 4 were other passages given to me for prayer. I prayed with these passages and they reaffirmed for me that though retired from pastoring the church, I am still God’s servant, called, chosen and authorized to represent him in the world and to do his will. A fresh faith sprung up in me of the authority and ministry that God has entrusted to me.  I will be bold and confident as his servant and depend on him to back me up with resources.

It was a lovely retreat and the Lord was kind and gracious in blessing me with these gifts of assurance and revelatory knowledge. I knew these truths in my head and they never affected me. Now they have deeper roots in my experience of his love. 

A team from Life Direction Singapore did a great job of organising and leading this retreat. This eight-days silent retreat is the last major formation element of the one year and nine months “Spiritual Direction Formation Program” (5thbatch), which was lovingly and with much dedication organized and led by them. It is, in my opinion, the best formation program for spiritual direction that you can find in Singapore. I have been greatly blessed, equipped and formed under these formators. 

Where was the retreat held? At the La Salle House(see above), on the grounds of St Patrick’s School which is straddled between East Coast Road and Marine Parade Road, and opposite CHIJ Katong Convent. It is a new building and they are very quickly tackling teething problems. The bedrooms had attached bathrooms and were comfortable, and there were prayer rooms, spiritual direction rooms, meeting rooms of different sizes and a huge dining area. The food that was catered was excellent (see below). I was impressed. 

However as there were more retreatants than rooms, the men were sent to stay in the old retreat rooms of the Brothers’ Residence next door. I got used to the 1970’s décor(see below), eclectic furnishings and dark room. Soon the room became my regular place of prayer for the entire retreat. I decided to have three periods of prayer each day, and one of them was spent on some bench in the open air at the East Coast Beach, to which I cycled in about twenty minutes. 

If you want to have a directed retreat as an individual or a group you can get more information HERE. However if you wish to attend a retreat outside of Singapore there is one coming up in Cebu Island, Philippines, during Advent. You may want to consider this retreat (see below) with a link if you wish to register.

Register HERE.

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