There've been lots of middle-aged people in my cycling group who've taken to "looking after" me, because I'm their children's age. So when they heard I had been instructed to shop for a bike for my Christmas/birthday present, the whole army was mobilised to search for my new beau. Stealing me out from hospital during lunch time, one of my cycling buddies' dads drove me to a well-known bike shop. It was a spontaneous, unplanned offer through a text message that fine morning, and how coincidental it seemed to be that I had brought my gym clothes and running shoes to work that day because I had intended to run. They came in perfectly handy when I tried out the bikes. It would have been impossible with my dress. Thank you God, I said, as I felt He had arranged things in His perfect way.
I had bought my present bike off the rack at such an unbelievable rate so I've been riding on a bike which doesn't fit, with the brakes one palm-length out of my reach. Yes, dangerous, but enough at the time to decide if I was serious about roadcycling long-term, hence the offer now for a new, well-fit bike as a gift.
There he was, stunning. A handsome headturner. A ladies' charm, now dumped by his previous woman who had now bought a new bike. He was red, black and white, a beautiful carbon steed, extremely lightweight, with top-grade parts, great wheels. As I changed thankfully into my gym clothes and got on it, everyone saw that this second-hand animal was the perfect fit for me. Everyone laughed when I got on it and said, "Wow, for once I can reach the brakes... !" He was going for less than half its original price, a great deal. Friends who know me well know how picky I can be- this time, everything seemed to fit. There was no reason for me to say no. He was within the financial cap I was given.
All the reasons to get it flooded my head as level-headed friends (even those my parents' age) egged me on. "It's definitely a worthwhile investment. No doubt about it."
I don't think I have ever been happier and sadder at the same time. As we left, everyone was sure about the deal. "If it were for my child, I would have gotten it immediately."
Pressure built up behind my eyes as we drove off. For what it was, it was an excellent, worthwhile buy. It was a perfect fit. It would last. It was going for less than half its original price. I knew it was within my means-all I had to do was ask for it. But it was also a four-figure sum. Two thousand five hundred dollars. It's original price was around 5 to 6 thousand. I told you, roadbikes don't come cheap. Ten-thousand dollar roadbikes aren't uncommon. Most bikes in my cycling group cost at least 3 to 4 thousand dollars.
How can I spend or choose like this when God has called me to serve the poor and needy in the mission field? You tell me.
It's not as if the money saved from this will be donated to them, you know. God wants to bless you too, Wai Jia. There's nothing wrong from making a worthwhile investment. Your body is a temple. Or you can use the money from selling your present bike to donate to needy children, and then buy this one guiltlessly. Don't be so hard on yourself.
But it's not just about the money. It's about the principle. How do I invite the poor into my home and let them see my bike? How do I ride it without feeling embarrassed? How do I live with knowing that my bike is the equivalent of sending a class of children to school? I know the money saved will still not go to child sponsorship etc, but I believe the choices we make shape the kind of people we become. I would be a hypocrite to buy Kate Spade and say that it would have no effect on my living frugally in future.
But it's a gift, you know. And it's within the cap. You like it so much.
I know.
I have wept so many times because I told God that for missions, I would give up the most precious of things to me if need be- marriage, having a family, things which pierce my heart like a sword through flesh. I would even give up missions if God tells me so. So what is a bike?
Nothing, you say. Just like how I say it's nothing for me to give up Loui Vitton because I don't even like or desire it. But wait till something you like comes along, something that you can have and is within your reach but must choose not to have comes along, then perhaps, the painful, insufferable meaning of Consecration may make itself a little more real and personal to you.
I love to ride. It felt so good in my hands. For once, I could feel how effortless and smooth gear-changing could be. It was so comfortable. I could just imagine myself riding miles and miles without pain or discomfort on this beautiful thing. It is so close to being mine. I just need to open my mouth to ask for it.
Call me stupid. But I just... can't. Well, not unless God makes it so plain to me that it really is a gift from Him I cannot refuse.
So as we drove away, and for the next few days thinking about it, it was difficult to hold back my tears. The tears were not just from losing the bike, but from realising how terribly my flesh and spirit warred with each other, and realising how God's love can have so much power over me to make me kill my flesh and resist what is visibly material, for something more invisible, more divine.
5 years ago, I would have bought it. Quite hastily too. It is so hard to find something you likeso much. So hard to let go of such a good deal.
Even Grandpa Zhou said, "Yeah, get it. You can afford it."
Perhaps only the people who share my same heart for missions will truly understand.
One of my mentors who is an obstetrician and who served the needy actively in developing countries in her younger days texted me, "Sometimes God gives us small decisions to make before the bigger ones. Knowing God is your utmost priority now as your service to Him comes later. What is the main purpose of Man?"
That broke me. I just... could not bring myself to think about owning the bike anymore. Why I felt so down, stayed up at night to think about things and cried so much about it, only God knows. It wasn't just letting the bike go which sobered me. I realised, that the day I set my life apart for God, I also made a consecration. And that means drawing a line somewhere, a line which other people don't necessarily need to draw, and don't understand. This bike lay outside that line, and the worse part was that it was within my reach. It also made me think about my many other purchases I'd made over the years which should not have been. I cried, also because I felt God had set me up. He had made it so that I had so "coincidentally" brought my gym clothes so I could really get a feel of how good this beautiful vehicle felt in my hands. He wanted me to taste how good it really was- and then have to let it go.
I don't hate Him for it. I love Him even more.
I want to take God up in this. He has been faithful to me every time. He has always known how important style and beauty is to me. Of course He knows- He made me. I'm vain, period. Yet I have always been blessed by good bargains and brand-new hand-me-downs, at times I least expected. He gives me evening dresses which I like (Do you know how incredibly picky I am?)when I only thought but never mentioned it to anyone, and only when I decided I would not buy one because it wasn't worth it.
More than blessing us with material possessions, He cares more about the state of our hearts.
This issue isn't about the bike, or the money. It's about the process God wants to take my heart through. After all, in future, we will have the ability to spend, but it takes great valour and self-control to settle for a modest wedding instead of splurging, takes great faith in God to live frugally instead of lavishly. I know, God wants to bless us- but we must love Him back too.
During a talk last week, we learnt about Integral Missions, missions outside the rural mission field. Integral refers to "integrity", it means being consistent about God in all aspects of our lives. I don't want to be known as a someone with a heart for missions in the hospital and at school, but a flashy biker in my cycling group. Our lives must be consistent. We must be people of integrity. I cannot claim to want to do missions and buy this bike for myself.
I know my cycling friends who went with me to the shop will surely call me foolish.
Aunty Ay said, "The foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of men. There's nothing wrong with wanting a great bike. If your earthly dad can offer you one, how much more your Heavenly Father would be happy to get you one with His unlimited means! It's just a matter of timing- wait on God, delight in Him and you'll know His peace and provision in a wonderful way. Wait and see, trust Him!"
And it was only much later when I explained to Grandpa Zhou why I could not buy it that he finally confessed, "Actually, if you really want to serve the poor and impact people, you first have to be an example to others and know what it is to live modestly."
I'm trusting you in this, God. I'm going to wait.
And with tears in my eyes and a heavy heart, I'm going to have to let this go. This beautiful, lightweight, gem of a chunk of metal go.
Because You have been faithful, always, and I have always had enough.
"For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom..."
- 1 Cor 1:25
"What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to
the surpassing greatness of knowing God,
for whose sake I have lost all things.
I consider them rubbish,
that I may gain Him and be found in him,
not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law,
but that which is through faith in Him—
the righteousness that comes from God
and is by faith... "
- Phil 3:8-11
"Yet God longs to be gracious to you, he rises to show you compassion.
For He is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for him."
-Isaiah 30:18
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