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God'egift Arts Gallery, Pinang (2026)

We are so blessed by Him to evidence hows God used the artists as His vassal to deliver His message through their talent gifted.

06/10/2026

THE ANIMAL KINGDOM — PIXEL SPEED

Iyov 39

The moment we entered Iyov 39, the whole scene changed.

No more slow walking.

No more standing still.

No more time to carefully examine every detail.

Suddenly—

everything was moving.

☁️💨

The vision became almost anime-like.

Not even ordinary cinematic speed.

More like watching pixels fly across the screen.

One moment we were here—

and the next moment—

WHOOSH!

We were somewhere else.

It was as though the cloud had become a magic carpet.

☁️🐠✝️💨

And apparently the cloud had already reported for a new assignment.

☁️: “Sir, I am here to report for duty in the Transportation Department.” 🫡

🐠: “Since when do clouds have a Transportation Department?”

☁️: “Apparently since now.”

🤭

Below us was the animal kingdom.

Not just one or two animals.

Everywhere—

🦒🦛🦏🐢🦋🐅🐆🦁🐘🦌🐎🫏🪶🦅🐦🐟…

Animals running.

Animals walking.

Animals flying.

Animals swimming.

And even the giraffes were running beside the cloud.

Imagine sitting on a cloud and suddenly finding yourself almost eye-to-eye with a 🦒.

😂

But I could not paint everything I saw.

The vision was much larger than the paintings.

So I had to let the words of Iyov become the anchor.

⚓️

What does the text say?

Look there.

Stay there.

Paint that.

And so the journey through the animal kingdom began.

⸻

1️⃣ Entering the Kingdom

☁️🐠✝️💨

We were riding above the land.

The animals moved below us in every direction.

And somehow, the birds seemed to know that their Master was there.

Some flew near.

Some passed overhead.

And then—

one came close enough for Him to hold.

🐦‍🔥🫂✝️

Perhaps the animals were not merely part of the scenery.

Perhaps they were part of the introduction.

For this was not simply our tour.

This was His creation.

And Iyov was about to be shown a little more of the world that belonged to Him.

⸻

2️⃣ The Wild Donkey

Suddenly—

CUT!

🫏

We were on the ground.

No explanation.

No transition.

One moment—

☁️💨

The next—

🫏🥕🥕

I was feeding the wild donkey.

The verse says:

“Who let the wild donkey go free? Who untied its ropes?”
— Iyov 39:5

The question is not really about someone taming the donkey.

It is almost the opposite.

Who gave it its freedom?

Who made the wilderness its home?

Who made it independent of human control?

And while Eloah was speaking about the wildness of His creation—

I was simply trying to give the donkey its carrots.

🥕🥕

🫏: “Wait!”

🐠: “What?”

🫏: “The carrot is still not properly inserted into my mouth!”

🐠: “Oh—”

✝️🐠💨💨💨

No time.

No goodbye.

No proper carrot ceremony.

We were already gone.

😂

⸻

3️⃣ The Ostrich

WHOOSH!

Suddenly—

🪶

We were riding an ostrich.

No warning whatsoever.

And the ostrich was extremely proud of itself.

“The wings of the ostrich flap joyfully, though they cannot compare with the wings and feathers of the stork.”
— Iyov 39:13

The ostrich looked at its friends.

🪶: “Look, mates! Look Who’s riding on me!” 😙

😂

It was such a strange creature.

It had wings.

Beautiful wings.

But it did not fly like the stork.

And somehow that was part of the point.

Eloah was not showing Iyov one perfect, predictable design.

He was showing him variety.

Different creatures.

Different abilities.

Different ways of moving through the world.

And perhaps that is part of the wonder of the Creator:

He does not need everything He makes to look or move the same way.

⸻

4️⃣ The Horses

Then—

WHOOSH!

🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎

The entire scene changed again.

The horses came running toward us.

Fast.

Powerful.

Magnificent.

万马奔腾。

🐎💨🐎💨🐎💨

And suddenly I forgot everything else.

There was no time to analyse.

No time to admire the horses from a safe distance.

My entire 🐠 system immediately entered:

DAVAQ MODE.

🐠➡️🐨🫂✝️

Because the horses were coming.

😂

Then came the words:

“Do you give the horse its strength or clothe its neck with a flowing mane?”
— Iyov 39:19

Strength.

Movement.

Power.

A creature that seems almost made for motion.

And I suddenly understood why the vision had to move so quickly.

Iyov 39 isn’t a quiet museum.

It is alive.

The Creator is showing Iyov creature after creature—

and each one has its own way of being alive.

The donkey has its wilderness.

The ostrich has its strange wings.

The horse has its strength.

And none of them needs to become another creature in order to display the wisdom of their Creator.

⸻

5️⃣ The Eagle

And then—

again—

CUT.

🦅

We were no longer with the horses.

We had shrunk.

And somehow we were on the back of an eagle.

😆

No explanation.

No transition.

Just—

FLY.

🦅💨🌬️

The verse asks:

“Does the eagle soar at your command and build its nest on high?”
— Iyov 39:27

And suddenly the entire perspective changed.

We had been looking at the animals from the cloud.

Then we were running with them.

Then riding them.

Now—

we were above them.

Again.

Only this time the eagle was carrying us.

The land became smaller.

The animals became little moving shapes below.

And the sky opened around us.

🦅🌬️

⸻

Perhaps this is what Iyov 39 feels like.

Not one long explanation.

Not one fixed picture.

But one movement after another.

🫏

Who gave the wild donkey its freedom?

🪶

Who made the ostrich as it is?

🐎

Who gave the horse its strength?

🦅

Who taught the eagle to soar?

And beneath every question is another question:

Iyov, did you make these things?

No.

Do you control them?

No.

Do you understand every detail of their lives?

No.

And yet—

I do.

⸻

And perhaps there is something especially beautiful here after everything Iyov has endured.

He has been trying so hard to understand Eloah’s movement.

Why this?

Why that?

Why did You do this?

Why did You not do that?

He knows Him.

He knows His ways.

He knows His patterns.

And suddenly Eloah brings him into a world where there are creatures moving in ways Iyov could never control.

Some run.

Some fly.

Some wander.

Some are strange.

Some are powerful.

Some are wild.

Some seem almost ridiculous.

And yet—

He knows them all.

Perhaps the Creator’s movement has always been larger than Iyov’s ability to predict it.

And perhaps that is not a reason to stop watching.

It is a reason to watch more closely.

⸻

🐠: “But Sir… where are we going next?”

✝️: 😌

🐠: “Can I at least know whether we’re staying on the eagle?”

🦅: 💨💨💨

🐠: “…”

🐠: “Okay. Davaq mode.” 🐨🫂

😂

And somewhere far below—

🫏 is still trying to finish his carrot.

🥕🫏🥕

🪶 is still proudly telling everyone:

“LOOK WHO RODE ON ME!” 😙

☁️ is still reporting for duty.

☁️: “Transportation Department remains operational, Sir.” 🫡

And the animal kingdom keeps moving.

Fast.

Beautiful.

Unexpected.

Alive.

Because perhaps the lesson of Iyov 39 is not merely:

“Look at the animals.”

Perhaps it is:

“Look at how many ways I move.”

And do not mistake one movement for the whole of Me.

Do not mistake one style for the Artist.

Do not assume that because you know how I moved yesterday—

you know how I must move today.

You may guess.

You may wonder.

You may even laugh when the scene suddenly changes.

🤭

But when the pixels start flying—

keep watching.

Because the One who holds the whole kingdom together—

is still the One you have been watching all along.

🩵

And so—

☁️💨🦅💨🐎💨🪶💨🫏💨

we keep moving with Him.

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

06/10/2026

FINALLY, YOU ARE HERE 🫶🏼

Iyov(Job) 38:1–30

For thirty-seven chapters, the voices kept coming.

Eliphaz.

Bildad.

Tzophar.

Elihu.

And Iyov kept answering.

They spoke about Eloah.

They tried to explain Him.

They defended Him.

They reasoned about His ways.

They tried to make sense of what had happened.

But Iyov was still waiting.

Because underneath all the questions—

there was another question.

Not merely:

“Why did this happen to me?”

But perhaps:

“Where are You?”

And then—

finally—

He came.

🌪️

“Then HASHEM answered Iyov out of the whirlwind, and said,”
— Iyov 38:1

👴🏼💭

Finally… You are here. 🫶🏼

⸻

The whirlwind came suddenly.

Yet somehow, there was no fear in the way I expected.

We were sitting beneath the pavilion, enjoying dessert and snacks.

🍰🍮☕️

The conversation was over.

The waiting was over.

And then—

PLOP.

☂️

PLOP.

🛶

The missing umbrella and paddles suddenly dropped from the sky beside us.

🤣

Apparently even the whirlwind has a logistics department.

🌪️📦

And the One who controls the whirlwind was about to show us something.

⸻

“Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?
Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou Me.”
— Iyov 38:2–3

He does not begin by explaining everything.

He begins by asking questions.

And perhaps this is the moment Iyov had been longing for all along.

Not another speech about Eloah.

Not another explanation of Eloah.

But Eloah Himself—

speaking.

👴🏼💭

Finally, You are here.

⸻

Then He takes us somewhere I did not understand at first.

A mountain.

❄️🏔️

It was slippery.

Too slippery to walk.

So we went down.

⛷️

The paddles became ski equipment.

🤣

And somehow the umbrella came with us.

I still did not understand why.

Then I read:

“Hast thou entered into the otzrot of the snow? or hast thou seen the otzrot of the hail?”
— Iyov 38:22

And suddenly—

Oh.

❄️

We were not merely on a mountain.

We were inside the otzrot—

the storehouses.

The place I did not know existed.

The snow had a treasury.

The hail had a treasury.

And I had apparently been given a little tour.

😁

⸻

Then the mountain ended.

But we were still high above the ground.

So—

🏂

We flew downward.

The speed increased.

The pathway disappeared beneath us.

And then He opened the umbrella.

☂️

Who said an umbrella is only for rain?

🤣

It became our brake.

And suddenly Iyov 38:25 made sense:

“Who hath cut a channel for the overflowing of waters, or a derech for the lightning of thunder?”
— Iyov 38:25

A derech.

A way.

A path.

He knows how to make a way through things I cannot understand.

The waters have their channel.

The lightning has its path.

And somehow—

even this wild descent has a path.

⸻

I was still holding the food.

🍱

Because apparently we had decided not to waste dessert.

Sometimes it swung in front of Him—

🍱↔️🍱

Sometimes:

🍱⤴️🍱⤵️

while both my hands and both my legs were wrapped around Him.

🐨🫂

Full davaq mode.

🤣

And yet—

after ⛷️🏂🛬—

the food was still there.

Neatly arranged.

Almost like a Japanese bento.

🍱✨

No disaster.

No spilled food.

No scattered pieces.

Nothing lost.

And He—

still graceful.

Still gorgeous.

Still completely Himself.

😌

⸻

Then He brought me down.

Gently.

Gracefully.

Gorgeously.

🛬

And I landed on the frozen face of the deep.

❄️🌊

“The mayim harden like even, and the face of tehom is frozen.”
— Iyov 38:30

Tehom.

The deep.

The same deep we met in Beresh*t (Genesis).

And now its face was frozen beneath our feet.

I stood there holding the umbrella.

☂️

I don’t know where the paddles went.

😂

But somehow—

I was not afraid.

⸻

Perhaps that is one of the things Iyov was waiting for.

He had heard everyone speak.

He had endured argument after argument.

He had defended himself.

He had asked for an audience.

He had wanted to speak with Eloah Himself.

And now—

the whirlwind came.

Not with a neat explanation.

But with Presence.

With questions.

With snow.

With hail.

With rain.

With lightning.

With the deep.

With the boundaries of the sea.

With the paths of things no human being controls.

He was showing Iyov:

You have known My works.

But you have not yet seen the breadth of My world.

You have recognised My ways.

But you do not yet know the limits of My ways.

You know My patterns.

But you do not control My movement.

⸻

And perhaps this is why Iyov’s heart could finally rest.

Not because every question had been answered.

But because the One he had been calling for—

had finally come.

👴🏼💭

Finally, You are here. 🫶🏼

And maybe that was the answer he had been seeking all along.

⸻

The whirlwind continues.

🌪️

The questions continue.

❄️🌨️🌧️⚡️🌊

But now I am not being thrown around by voices trying to explain Him.

I am with Him.

🫱🏼‍🫲🏻

And even when the movement becomes wild—

my heart is strangely steady.

🩵💓

Because there is a difference between being caught in chaos—

and being carried by the One who commands it.

⸻

And perhaps one day Iyov will say:

“I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear: but now mine eye seeth Thee.”
— Iyov 42:5

Not:

“Now I understand everything.”

But:

“Now I see You.”

And perhaps that is why the whirlwind feels different now.

🌪️

Because the One inside it is no longer merely the Eloah we have been discussing.

He is here.

🫶🏼

And I am still holding on.

🐨🫂

Even with the umbrella.

☂️

Even with the tapau.

🍱

Even without knowing where the paddles went.

😂

Because the greatest gift was never knowing what the next movement would be.

It was knowing—

Who is moving with me.

🩵

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

05/10/2026

SONGS IN THE NIGHT

Iyov 35:10 · Shir HaShirim 2:16

After all the movement—

the wind,
the water,
the fire,
the storm,
the arguments,
the questions,
the words—

there is suddenly a quiet place.

No one is fighting.

No one is running.

No one is drowning.

No one is trying to explain Eloah.

For a little while,

we simply sit.

🌾

And somehow, we are sitting on barley stalks.

I still don’t know why.

😆

Perhaps the Chief Director knows.

Perhaps the barley has simply decided that it is no longer interested in staying in one book.

It has been in Ruth.

It has appeared in our journey.

It has survived the fire.

And now it has brought us here—

to Iyov.

🌾

The night is quiet.

And the words of Elihu are still moving through the story:

“Who giveth songs in the night?”
— Iyov 35:10

Songs—

in the night.

Not necessarily because the night has ended.

Not because every question has been answered.

Not because the suffering has suddenly disappeared.

But because even in the night,

there can still be a song.

Perhaps that is what this little scene is.

A pause.

A breath.

A moment when I don’t need to understand what comes next.

I can simply sit beside Him.

And listen.

🎶

The Song has returned.

She has been wandering in and out of the story,

appearing whenever the Chief Director decides that the scene needs a little sweetness.

And perhaps this time she has come because there is something I need to remember:

“My beloved is mine, and I am his.”
— Shir HaShirim 2:16

Mine.

His.

There is something wonderfully simple about those words.

No explanation of suffering.

No theological argument.

No attempt to predict the next movement.

Just—

belonging.

🩵

Perhaps that is what remains when I cannot understand His movement.

I may guess what He will do next.

I may imagine the next scene.

I may even confidently announce:

🐠: “I think I know what’s coming.” 😏

And He may immediately do something completely different.

🤣

But that does not mean I have lost Him.

It only means—

I have mistaken His technique for His identity.

I know some of His ways.

I have seen His patterns.

I have watched His movements.

But He is not limited to the patterns I have already seen.

So I can keep guessing.

I can keep watching.

I can keep imagining.

But when He suddenly moves in a way I did not expect,

I don’t have to say:

“That’s not You.”

I can simply say:

“Oh… I didn’t know You could move like that.”

And keep watching.

👀

Because the goal is not to become so familiar with His style that I can predict every movement.

The goal is to know Him.

And perhaps this is why the quietness of this painting matters.

Before the great Voice speaks—

there is a little rest.

Before the whirlwind—

there is a song.

Before the questions become something much larger—

there is simply a beloved sitting beside her Beloved.

🌾🎶🌙

The night has not necessarily changed.

But something within the night has.

There is music.

There is nearness.

There is belonging.

And perhaps that is enough for this moment.

I don’t need to know what the next chapter will bring.

I don’t need to know how the Chief Director will change the scene.

I don’t even need to understand why the barley is here.

🌾: “I belong wherever my Creator wants me.”

🎶: “So do I.”

🔥: “Same here!”

🐠: “Nobody called you.” 🙄

😂

For now,

I will simply sit here.

Beside Him.

Under the quiet night.

On these completely unexplained barley stalks.

And listen.

Because even here—

in the night—

there may already be a song.

🎶

And perhaps the deepest thing I can know tonight is not what He will do next,

but this:

“My beloved is mine, and I am his.”

So let Him change the technique.

Let Him change the movement.

Let Him change the scene.

Let Him surprise me.

I will keep watching.

I will keep listening.

And I will keep walking with Him.

Because even when I cannot yet see what comes next—

I know Whose hand I am holding.

🫱🏼‍🫲🏻🩵

🌾🎶🌙

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

04/10/2026

THE PROPS ARE NEVER EXTRA

Iyov 32–30, with a little help from Psalms 🎬

Sometimes I think I am finally beginning to understand how the Chief Director works.

He does not always explain the scene beforehand.

Sometimes He simply puts something into the picture.

A barley stalk. 🌾
A pair of shoes. 🥾👟
An umbrella. ☂️

And I ask:

“Why?”

And He seems to say:

“Just bring it.” 😌

So I bring it.

And only later—

sometimes many scenes later—

I discover that the prop was never extra.

⸻

1️⃣ The Fire Scene 🔥

“But Elihu… became very angry with Iyov for justifying himself rather than Elohim.”
— Iyov 32:2

After all the words of Iyov and his friends, another voice enters the scene.

Elihu is angry.

And somehow, at exactly this point, our clothes have already become food for the fire. 🔥

🐠: “Fire! Your job was to dry them, not consume them!”

🔥: “But they are definitely dry now.” 😬

🐠: “That is NOT the point!”

And somehow the fire has even left us with our shoes.

🥾🥾👟👟

🐠: “You might as well eat those too!”

🔥: 🌚

But the shoes remain.

Because we still have to walk.

And apparently—

even the shoes are part of the production.

⸻

2️⃣ Walking Home in Genesis Fashion 🍀🌾☘️

So we leave the cave.

No proper clothes.

No explanation.

Just:

🍀🌾☘️
🥾🥾👟👟

And we walk.

“And unto man He said, Behold, the fear of Adonai, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is understanding.”
— Iyov 28:28

Perhaps wisdom sometimes looks much less impressive than we imagine.

It may simply look like following Him when we don’t understand what has happened.

I don’t understand the fire.

I don’t understand why our clothes disappeared.

I don’t understand why barley is still attached to me.

🌾

But I can still walk with Him.

So I do.

👣🫱🏼‍🫲🏻

And strangely—

the walk is beautiful.

⸻

3️⃣ Night 🌙

Eventually we sleep.

After everything that has happened, little 🐠 is exhausted.

But sleep does not magically erase pain.

“My atzmot are pierced in me in the night, and my gnawing pains take no rest.”
— Iyov 30:17

So I sleep beside Him with tears still on my face.

💧😴

Not because He has abandoned me.

Not because being with Him means I never hurt.

But because sometimes the body simply needs to stop.

Iyov’s pain doesn’t disappear merely because night has come.

And perhaps that is part of what makes his words so human.

A person can be exhausted enough to sleep—

and still wake carrying the same questions.

Yet he is still talking.

Still reaching.

Still turning toward Elohim.

And perhaps I can do the same.

⸻

4️⃣ The River 🛶🌿

Morning comes.

And after the long night, we go for a boat ride.

🛶🌿🌊

“There is a river, the streams whereof make glad the city of Elohim, the holy place of the tabernacles of El Elyon.”
— Tehillim 46:4

In Yeshua, is the holy place where the Most High dwells. 😍

He rows.

🚣🏻

I sit beside Him.

And because He is rowing, I hold the umbrella.

☂️

🐠: “Why did we bring this?”

There is no rain.

🌧️❌

There is no blazing sun.

☀️❌

The river is peaceful.

Everything is lovely.

The umbrella seems completely unnecessary.

An extra prop.

😂

But I hold it anyway.

Because perhaps I am finally learning:

I don’t have to know why every prop has entered the scene.

Sometimes I just have to hold it.

⸻

5️⃣ Rahab Arrives 🐙🌊😱

A few moments later—

the peaceful river changes.

The water beneath us begins to move.

And then something enormous rises from below.

🛶⬆️
🐙🦭

Rahab.

“If Eloah restraineth not His anger, the helpers of Rahab must bow themselves under Him.”
— Iyov 9:13

🐠: “WHAT?! I thought this was a peaceful river!” 😭

The creature lifts the boat higher.

Higher.

Higher.

🐠: 😱😱😱

And suddenly I understand the umbrella.

☂️

🐠: “You brought this for THIS?!”

✝️: “Yes.”

🐠: “WE ARE SEVERAL STOREYS ABOVE THE WATER!”

✝️: “Exactly.”

🤣😭

The umbrella suddenly makes perfect sense. It kept us dry from the water splash 💦.

Because the Chief Director had already put it into the scene before I knew what was coming.

It was never extra.

It was simply ahead of my understanding.

And perhaps that is sometimes how His leading feels.

He gives me something before I know why I will need it.

A word.

A verse.

A little piece of wisdom.

A strange image.

A prop.

A direction.

And I may spend a long time wondering:

“Why?”

Then the scene arrives.

And suddenly—

“Oh.”

⸻

6️⃣ The Sea Becomes Still 🌊🛶

After all the struggle—

Rahab leaves.

The waters settle.

And the boat continues.

“Thou rulest the raging of the sea: when the waves thereof arise, Thou stillest them.”
— Tehillim 89:9

Now the river is peaceful again.

🌿🌊

The boat moves gently.

The umbrella has disappeared.

☂️❌

Its work is finished.

And perhaps that is another little lesson.

Some things are only needed for one scene.

Some things remain for many chapters.

Some things appear long before we understand them.

And some disappear without explanation.

We don’t have to force a meaning onto everything.

We can simply notice.

⸻

I look back at the journey.

🔥
🌪️
💦
🌊
🐙
😴
🛶

So much movement.

So many voices.

So many emotions.

And yet—

through all of it—

He has been beside me.

Sometimes carrying me.

Sometimes leading me.

Sometimes rowing.

Sometimes letting me get soaked.

Sometimes letting me laugh.

Sometimes letting me sleep.

Sometimes fighting the chaos Himself.

And sometimes—

apparently—

giving me an umbrella.

☂️😆

I don’t always know what the next scene will require.

I don’t know which verse will suddenly become the script.

I don’t know which book will send a prop into the scene.

I don’t know whether the next river will be peaceful.

And after what happened with Rahab—

I am certainly not trusting the river anymore. 😂

But perhaps I don’t need to.

Because I am learning something different.

The props are never necessarily extra.

I may not understand them yet.

The scene may not have arrived yet.

The reason may still be hidden.

But I can carry what He has given me.

I can hold His hand.

I can keep walking.

I can keep reading.

I can keep watching.

And when the scene finally comes—

perhaps I will look back and say:

“Oh… so THAT was why You gave me that.”

And perhaps He will simply smile.

😌

While Agent 6️⃣ updates the inventory.

🤖📝

🥾🥾👟👟 — still here.
🍀🌾☘️ — still attached.
☂️ — fulfilled its assignment.
🛶 — still floating.
🐠 — still employed. 😂

And the journey continues.

🎬🛶🌿

Row, row, row the boat—
gently down the stream.

For now.

😆🩵

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

02/10/2026

A TIME TO WEEP, AND A TIME TO LAUGH

Iyov 22–30

This episode was supposed to be simple.

It wasn’t.

There was a storm. ⛈️

There was a cave. 🪨

There were soaked clothes.

There was an accusation.

There was Iyov’s anguish.

There was crying.

There was laughter.

And, for reasons known only to the Chief Director—

there was a rather unnecessary amount of 🍀☘️🌾🍀.

🤣

Perhaps that is fitting.

Because the more I read Iyov, the more I realise that his emotions are not neat either.

He does not move through suffering in a straight line.

Neither do I.

⸻

1️⃣ Following His steps

After the storm came shelter.

He took my hand and led me toward the cave.

I followed Him closely.

And somehow, in the middle of Iyov’s searching, this verse appeared:

“My regel hath held to His steps, over His way have I been shomer, and not turned aside.”
— Iyov 23:11

I love that the verse does not say:

“I understood everything.”

It says:

“I followed His steps.”

Perhaps that is enough for the next scene.

I don’t have to understand every movement.

I don’t have to know why the storm came.

I don’t have to know why the camera suddenly changed direction.

I only have to keep my regel near His.

One step.

Then another.

⸻

2️⃣ The words that strip

Inside the cave, our clothes were soaked from the rain and the water.

So we removed them to dry.

And then—

of all the verses that could have appeared—

this one arrived:

“For thou hast taken a pledge from thy brother for nought, and stripped the naked of their clothing.”
— Iyov 22:6

Eliphaz was accusing Iyov.

His words were not merely words of comfort.

They were accusations that stripped away dignity.

And perhaps this is why the image became literal.

Iyov’s friends kept trying to explain his suffering.

They had their formulas.

Their conclusions.

Their reasons.

But Iyov was still sitting inside the suffering.

Still wounded.

Still searching.

Still speaking.

Sometimes people can look at another person’s life and see only the final pose.

They don’t see the movement that came before it.

They don’t see the struggle.

They don’t see what it cost.

They don’t see what happened inside the storm.

They only see the person standing there—

and begin explaining why he must have arrived there.

Perhaps that is one reason Iyov’s words feel so raw.

He knows what his friends cannot see.

⸻

3️⃣ The scene that arrived too early

And then—

the camera jumped.

⏩

Straight into Iyov 30.

We hadn’t reached it yet.

But suddenly the scene was there.

Iyov pouring everything out.

The humiliation.

The loneliness.

The grief.

The feeling of being mocked and rejected.

The dignity that had once surrounded him now seems completely gone.

And so I am supposed to cry.

😫✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼

Very dramatically.

🎻

🐠:

「你好哀啲喎……我憎死你！」

😫✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼

✝️:

“You are supposed to cry.”

I try.

I really do.

But then I remember—

🍀☘️🌾🍀☘️

We are sitting in a cave.

In front of a fire.

Wearing leaves.

With barley stalks already making another guest appearance.

And suddenly—

I lose it.

🤣🤣🤣

“CUT! CUT! I can’t do this!”

And perhaps that laughter belongs here too.

Because Iyov’s suffering is real.

But I am not Iyov.

I can enter his story without becoming trapped inside it.

I can hear his anguish without having to carry his entire anguish.

I can weep with him—

and still laugh.

⸻

4️⃣ A time to weep, and a time to laugh

Then Ecclesiastes quietly walked onto the set.

“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.”
— Kohelet 3:4

And suddenly the scene changed.

No explanation.

No theological formula.

No attempt to solve Iyov.

Just laughter.

😂

Perhaps this is another thing I am learning through this strange journey.

The presence of laughter does not mean the suffering was unreal.

And tears do not mean faith has disappeared.

Iyov can cry.

Iyov can complain.

Iyov can question.

Iyov can speak boldly to Eloah.

And still—

there is room for another moment.

There is room to breathe.

There is room to laugh.

There is room to keep walking.

⸻

Perhaps this chaotic little sequence is actually closer to Iyov than a perfectly organised movie would have been.

Because Iyov himself is not emotionally organised.

One moment he longs to speak to Eloah.

The next he is overwhelmed by His hiddenness.

One moment he remembers his integrity.

The next he pours out his humiliation.

One moment he searches for hope.

The next he is buried beneath grief.

And yet—

he keeps talking.

He keeps seeking.

He keeps turning toward Him.

That may be one of the most important things I am learning from Iyov.

Faith does not always look calm.

Sometimes faith looks like:

😫

“I don’t understand.”

✊🏼

“I am angry.”

😭

“This hurts.”

🗣️

“I still want to speak to You.”

And then—

🤭🤣

“Sorry. I can’t continue this scene because I’m wearing barley.”

Perhaps that is not failure.

Perhaps it is simply being human.

⸻

So the four paintings remain together.

One—

following His steps.

Two—

standing beneath the weight of another person’s words.

Three—

entering Iyov’s anguish.

Four—

laughing when the scene becomes too much.

And somehow, through all four—

He is still there.

The storm did not remove Him.

The accusations did not remove Him.

The tears did not remove Him.

And even the laughter did not remove Him.

Perhaps I don’t need to make every scene solemn in order to take Him seriously.

Perhaps I can simply keep walking with Him—

through the cave,

through the rain,

through the fire,

through the tears,

through the laughter,

through every unexpected change of lens.

And if the Chief Director decides to send another prop from another book—

🌾🪽🐳🎶🍀—

well…

I’ll just keep watching. 😆

Because the goal was never to understand every frame.

It was to walk with Him through the whole movie.

And perhaps that is why even in the chaos,

there is still peace.

“My regel hath held to His steps…”
— Iyov 23:11

One step.

Then another.

Even when I don’t understand the scene.

Even when I don’t know which book is about to walk onto the set.

Even when I am crying.

Even when I am laughing.

I am still walking with Him. 🩵

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

01/10/2026

STILL TOWARD HIM — FIVE SHOTS

Iyov 18–20

Perhaps by now I should have stopped trying to predict the next shot.

The Chief Director clearly has His own choreography.

I only know that the movement seems to follow something deeper—

not the whole story of Iyov,

but the movement of Iyov’s heart.

And this time, the sequence seems almost obvious.

Almost.

😆

⸻

1️⃣ 🗣️🌪️ — Bildad Speaks

The camera opens.

There we are—

🗡️🐠✝️

And opposite us comes:

🔥🦖

Bildad.

Not a villain.

Not an enemy.

He is still Iyov’s friend.

But after all the silence of those first seven days, the words have become something else.

They come like fire.

They strike like wind.

And Iyov feels the weight of them:

“How long will ye torment my nefesh, and crush me with words?”
— Iyov 19:2

Perhaps the painting is not saying,

“Bildad is evil.”

It is showing:

“This is what his words feel like to Iyov.”

And perhaps that is important.

Sometimes someone can speak because he sincerely believes he is helping—

yet his words can still wound.

The friend is not necessarily the enemy.

But the words can still burn.

⸻

2️⃣ 🌚🌚🌚 — And then… I get burned

Of course.

Because apparently the WuXia movie requires consequences. 😑😂

After the 🔥🦖 speaks—

the poor 🐠 gets roasted.

🌚🌚🌚

Iyov says:

“These ten times have ye reproached me; ye have no bushah that ye cause me astonishment.”
— Iyov 19:3

Ten times.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The same explanations.

The same conclusions.

The same attempt to fit Iyov’s suffering into a formula.

And the result?

More pain.

The friends are trying to explain his suffering—

but Iyov is experiencing the suffering.

There is a difference.

And perhaps this is another reason the movement becomes increasingly intense.

The more they speak,

the more Iyov reaches beyond their explanations.

⸻

3️⃣ 🌊 — Goeli Chai

And then—

the scene changes.

🔥 disappears.

The noise quiets.

The Chief Director brings me to the river.

Water.

Washing.

Rest.

And then Iyov speaks words that suddenly seem to change the entire atmosphere:

“For Ani yadati Goeli chai…”
“For I know that my Redeemer liveth…”
— Iyov 19:25

Goeli.

My Redeemer.

And then:

“Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.”
— Iyov 19:27

👁️

This is remarkable.

After all the words spoken about Elohim—

Iyov speaks about seeing Him.

Not:

“I finally understand everything.”

Not:

“I have solved the mystery.”

But:

“I know my Goel lives.”

And somehow, the painting brings me into the water.

Perhaps the washing is not merely about removing the fire.

Perhaps it is a pause.

A quiet place after the words.

A place where the focus moves away from everyone else’s explanations—

and back toward Him.

⸻

4️⃣ 🌊🌀 — Then Tzophar Speaks

Of course…

we are not allowed to finish peacefully.

😂

Just as the water begins to settle—

the undercurrent starts moving.

🌀🌊

And the camera reveals the next interruption:

“Then answered Tzophar the Na’amati, and said…”
— Iyov 20:1

🐠:

“Oh no.”

😂

The water pulls us under.

Again.

This time I am not merely wet.

I am drowning.

😑

And this is where Psalm has to enter the production:

“He drew me out of deep waters.”
— Tehillim 18:16

The beautiful thing is that the verse does not say:

“I figured out how to swim.”

It says:

“He drew me out.”

Perhaps that is another movement of faith.

Sometimes I don’t overcome the waters by understanding them.

Sometimes I am simply held through them—

and eventually drawn out.

⸻

5️⃣ 🫁 — The Completely Unnecessary CPR Scene

And now we reach the scene that absolutely did not need to happen.

🤣🤣🤣

🦋 is already suspicious.

🦋:

“Lord… she is pretending.”

🐠:

“SHHH. This is cinematography.”

😂

And yet—

beneath the ridiculousness of the scene is an unexpectedly beautiful biblical image:

“And with that he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’”
— John 20:22

Breath.

Life.

Spirit.

Restoration.

The painting turns a drowning scene into a scene of receiving breath again.

And the funniest part?

I’m actually 偷笑 in the painting.

Apparently I know perfectly well that this is not a medical emergency.

😆

The 🦋 knows it too.

But perhaps the Chief Director is not interested in medical accuracy.

He’s interested in imagery.

The waters have overwhelmed.

The fire has burned.

The words have wounded.

And yet—

life remains.

⸻

🌪️🌊🔥🌀🫁 — Five shots, one movement

Looking at all five together,

the sequence becomes much clearer.

1️⃣ 🗣️🌪️

The friend speaks.

2️⃣ 🔥🌚

Iyov gets burned by the words.

3️⃣ 🌊👁️

Iyov turns toward his Goel.

4️⃣ 🌀🌊

Another voice speaks, and the waters overwhelm again.

5️⃣ 🫁

He receives breath and is restored.

And underneath all five scenes,

there is one movement:

Still toward Him.

The friends speak—

Iyov turns toward Him.

The words burn—

Iyov turns toward Him.

The water rises—

Iyov turns toward Him.

The next speech pulls him under—

and somehow he is still being drawn back.

Perhaps this is why the WuXia movement is becoming increasingly coherent with Iyov’s mood.

The paintings are not necessarily saying:

“This is exactly what happened to Iyov.”

They seem to be saying:

“Watch what happens inside Iyov while all this is happening.”

His circumstances move violently.

His emotions move violently.

His friends keep speaking.

But his deepest movement keeps returning to the same direction:

👴🏼➡️✝️

Toward Him.

And perhaps that is what faith looks like sometimes.

Not:

“I understand.”

Not:

“I know everything will be fine.”

Not even:

“I am no longer afraid.”

But:

“I still want to speak to You.”

“I still want to see You.”

“I still know that my Goel lives.”

And perhaps, when the waters finally become too deep—

faith may simply look like letting Him draw us out.

“He drew me out of deep waters.”
— Tehillim 18:16

So yes—

the Chief Director may continue throwing wind, water, fire, leaves, undercurrents, and apparently medically unnecessary CPR at us.

🤣

I don’t know what the next shot will be.

I don’t know which book will suddenly walk onto the set.

I don’t know whether Psalm, Song, or some completely unexpected department will receive the next call sheet.

But perhaps I don’t need to know.

Because beneath all the movement,

the direction remains.

Toward Him.

🫱🏼‍🫲🏻

And perhaps that is the part I am meant to keep watching.

‘Poem crafted with the help of ChatGPT, prayerfully guided by ‘The Presence’.

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