Fr Junray's Corner

“Harden not your hearts.”

Not long ago, I observed my eldest nephew, Rafael, who loves to read the children’s series Diary of a Wimpy Kid. He has always been a very content and calm young boy. I am a very proud uncle, seeing the heart of this child being formed. But when I think of my younger self, I was very far from calm and content; in fact, I was a very angry and grumpy kid. Perhaps it was because I was bullied a lot not by strangers, but by people whom I loved. I was bullied often by my cousins and some kids in the neighbourhood, and so I developed solitude at an early age. I did not know how to navigate life with people who were not kind to me.

Over the years, through my studies and moments of silence and solitude, I have come a long way. My heart has softened, and somehow I now live by some practical life principles. First, I try to control only what I can control. The people and things beyond me are beyond my control. I can only guard the sanctuary of my heart. God says, “I will take away your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” I can still be kind to people who are not kind, because interior peace remains untouched.

Also, I allow space in many things to breathe. In other words, I try not to be a reactive person but a responsive one. I do not bark when people bark. That crucial space has become a breathing period for me: to go for a walk, to reflect and respond—and I hope I respond with virtue and calmness. Many environmentalists say, “Conserve energy.” The same can be said about our emotional energy. Ultimately, I talk to God a lot, and this relationship has done so much work in the softening of my heart.

How do you handle the hardening of your heart?

I would love to hear.

On Lent

Once again, we enter into the Season of Lent — a time to journey more intentionally in prayer, to rediscover sacred silence, and to take up spiritual reading that leads us into deeper reflection about our relationship with God.

I have not done as much walking as I had intended; instead, I have spent time watering our community garden. And I’ve realised something simple but beautiful: sometimes the most ordinary tasks become moments of grace. The quiet watering of plants can bring some deeper sense peace.

Lent invites us back to the basics this Lent. It is not about grand gestures alone, but about returning to what truly matters: prayer, simplicity, community, and conversion of heart.

"It is wonderful for us to be here."

Last Monday, I caught a beautiful wave. As I often do, I leaned back slightly and watched its size as it carried me toward the shore. Then bang, I fell. Just before the wipeout, I turned and saw the wave curling over me. For a split second, I saw it from another perspective. It was a delight. It was the wave of the day.

Surfing teaches me many things. Waiting for waves teaches patience. A wipeout teaches humility. Being in the ocean brings simplicity and clarity since there is no time for phones. And one good wave is a pure gratitude.

At the Transfiguration, Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is beautiful for us to be here.” God gives us moments like that: moments of pure bliss, moments of consolation, moments of God’s closeness. Because there will also be times that feel dry, lonely, exhausted and empty. And when those moments come, we return to that beautiful and simple encounter with God. And we can say again: “Lord, it is beautiful for us to be here.”

"Harden not your hearts"

Not long ago, I observed my eldest nephew, Rafael, who loves to read the children’s series Diary of a Wimpy Kid. He has always been a very content and calm young boy. I am a very proud uncle, seeing the heart of this child being formed. But when I think of my younger self, I was very far from calm and content; in fact, I was a very angry and grumpy kid. Perhaps it was because I was bullied a lot not by strangers, but by people whom I loved. I was bullied often by my cousins and some kids in the neighbourhood, and so I developed solitude at an early age. I did not know how to navigate life with people who were not kind to me.

Over the years, through my studies and moments of silence and solitude, I have come a long way. My heart has softened, and somehow I now live by some practical life principles. First, I try to control only what I can control. The people and things beyond me are beyond my control. I can only guard the sanctuary of my heart. God says, “I will take away your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” I can still be kind to people who are not kind, because interior peace remains untouched.

Also, I allow space in many things to breathe. In other words, I try not to be a reactive person but a responsive one. I do not bark when people bark. That crucial space has become a breathing period for me: to go for a walk, to reflect and respond—and I hope I respond with virtue and calmness. Many environmentalists say, “Conserve energy.” The same can be said about our emotional energy. Ultimately, I talk to God a lot, and this relationship has done so much work in the softening of my heart.

How do you handle the hardening of your heart?

I would love to hear.