Today as I walked to the MRT, there was this old busker playing the harmonica to a tempo. He's blind. I've seen him before several times. Perhaps one of my more poignant memories of him was one day when the rain was pouring. Despite him being in the shelter, half his body was drenched by the wind and the splatter of the raindrops. It was a painful sight to see someone old having to go through that.

I reached out into my pocket to take out some notes. In my wallet was just a set of red notes, understandable since it's Monday. For a moment there I stood, wondering if I should just give him the $10. I didn't. A quick sigh as I left him, placing my wallet back into my pocket.

I thought to myself fleetingly, there will be another time, another opportunity, but 10 dollars is too much. What a way to deceive myself. Working has caused me to desire to see the numbers in my bank account increase every month. It has taught me the importance of hard-earned cash. But it has also brought upon me a sinful love for money. I remember in the months when I was still looking for work, despite the tight amount of money I had, in gratefulness I would give 2 dollars, sometimes even 5. In perspective, God has blessed me with so much more now, yet I have become more miserly. Ten dollars is a Starbucks drink and a half, two-thirds of a taxi fare which I sometimes wouldn't mind spending on without much thought. Yet 10 dollars to an old busker means so much more.

What indeed has changed? O God, thy servant is a mere sinner, fallen yet again. Help me Lord, to love my neighbour as myself. Forgive me my sinful nature, and help me, with Your grace and love, that I may be like Thee. || posted by Kuan Hui