Earlier this year, it the Cathedral in Notre Dame caught fire and burned down quite a hefty bit. It’s estimated to cost at least €7 billion to repair.
Alongside that news, came some relief as the Golden Cross housed within the cathedral appears mostly unscathed. To many non-religious people, this makes sense: the melting point of gold is much higher than that of wood, thus gold is expected to survive a blaze like that while wood chars crisp. Hardly a miracle.
The burning of Notre Dame Cathedral leaves much to consider. A Christian might recall Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman in John 4 – “the time is coming when it will no longer matter whether you worship the Father on this mountain or in Jerusalem.” (John 4:21 NLT). In that case, finding God shouldn’t be limited to a given geographical location or place of worship.
Granted, a cathedral is still a physical presence, and it does carry meaning – as a national monument, a spiritual icon, a religious place of worship. The question of whether to foot the bill for the repairs distills to one’s value proposition on the Cathedral.
I thought about the Cathedral Burning for a while after the frenzy ebbed; The cathedral stands as a metaphor for one’s beliefs, values, and worldview. The old Gid’s notion of religion, faith, and spirituality were deeply entrenched in structures, programs, and places. I was an ardent, enthusiastic Sunday Christian, and I saw life through the stained-glass windows of religiosity from a young age. And when the hottest of fires tested me in my youth, my cathedral yielded to the searing flames and went up in smoke.
That happened during A Levels, when I did badly and simply had no chance of studying medicine at undergraduate level. I certainly viewed God as a divine vending machine, paying my dues with near-perfect church/cell group attendance, serving in church choir and back-up singing, and church camps on occasion. Except this vending machine jammed – and I got frustrated.
Like Notre Dame, I still had the gold cross remaining – God Himself, yet I was still weeping the destruction of my cathedral. Someone once said of believing in God: you do not know how much Jesus means to you, until He’s all you have left. But foolish me, I traded beautiful gold for worthless ash. And I left church, faith, and God just about 5 years ago – about halfway through freshman year in university.
Today, I turn 26, and I will be starting the postgraduate Doctor of Medicine (MD) program at Duke-NUS Medical School in 88 days (oops, I forgot to add the spoiler warning, sorry Thanos. Not. 😉 ).
It’s been a little over 7 years since receiving my A level results, and somewhere in between that, I find myself back in ‘church’ (actually, I don’t even worship in a ‘church’ in the building sense, it’s an auditorium in a very unusual place).
If I’m honest, I almost did not share this piece of good news. Partly in consideration to fellow applicants who were still waiting on their application results. Partly because the euphoria lagged one day (and wore off on the same night, giving way to anxiety of the ‘what have I just done with myself?!’ variety). Partly because I was mentally preparing for a rejection, and was completely caught off-guard by the acceptance.
Partly, because, I felt a deep sense of shame.
For, once upon a time, the most important relationship I had with God was traded in for the frivolous dream. At some point before my acceptance letter came, I had confronted the real possibility of rejection – even after having done well on the MCAT, secured recommendation letters, and been offered an interview spot. And I determined that regardless the eventual outcome – be it acceptance or rejection – I would walk with my head high and continue to love and follow God with my sincere best. In truth, I had finally let go of the ashes, and reclaimed the priceless gold given to me.
Now that my frivolous dream of becoming a doctor has been given back to me, I am still stupefied at the outcome. It’s as though I’ve witnessed a new cathedral rising from the ashes, all things made new – a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair (Isaiah 61:3).
And yet, this is not true gold. It may burn again, figuratively or literally (burning-out in school, work, etc.). But true gold that purifies through the flames it is not. My gold – priceless treasure of the heart, my one prize – is Christ (Matthew 6:19-21).
I worshipped in a wooden church
awesome beautiful, captivating
it was a sight to behold
and I was proud of my heritage
for centuries, it was perfect.
Until the trial by fire
took me by surprise
and caught me unaware
I watched
as the spires of religion crumbled
and faith razed to ground
hopes dashed
and dreams up in smoke
Never again,
I told myself.
No more hurt,
No more pain.
and just as I turned to leave
there
I saw it
and beheld the gilded
edges of glory
amidst the ash
down in the dust
I glimpsed the glitter of true gold
from the crucible of suffering
and the furnace of affliction
there I found
faith worth more than gold
hope brighter than days of old
and love.
~Golden Cross in a Wooden Cathedral
If you got here directly from following my instagram account, congratulations on catching my hiatus-break post!
If instead you got here by seeing my birthday post/insta-story, thank you for taking the time to read my mesh of thoughts. It’s been a great many things to mull over with a busy schedule, and it’s been cooking in my mind for months since.
May you find your true gold as I found mine too 🙂
Honest Doubts 