Made for Eternity

And so I returned home from church today to a once again empty void deck. The elaborate drapery, the countless white-topped round tables and even more countless chairs, the musicians- not a single trace. Only the remaining mobile restroom cubicle remained to remind any passer-by of the fancy wake that mourned the passing of the friendly uncle I knew from a few floors above. I was left to wonder, now that the rites and rituals and elaborate funeral (that I heard was partially designed to impress my neighbour’s visiting relative from China) are over, and the friendly uncle’s body is gone forever, and life seems to move on as it always has- can life really move on for those who have been affected by his passing, including me?

For when the uncle was alive, we spoke with him and enjoyed his company. When the uncle had passed on, relatives and friends kept the body with them a few days more, taking comfort in its mere presence. And now that all of that has been done… would close friends and family not still be yearning for something more? Some reassurance, some hope, that all the vivid experiences, fond memories, common dreams that those who knew this uncle shared, have not all been so suddenly summed up into one bittersweet word- ‘history’?

Perhaps the family and friends did obtain some closure from the endless music and rituals of respect that were dedicated to the dear uncle. Perhaps time will dilute and eventually dissolve the waves or floods of old memories. But they don’t erase the fact that this uncle, a lifeless, still form in the coffin at his wake, had once lived.

This stone-cold body was once occupied by a living, driving energy that had infused his whole being with the ability to learn, to love, to live. I tried to imagine how such a spark of personality, a unique individuality, could have vanished with the mere ceasing of natural, scientific bodily functions. I attempted to convince myself that this was all there is to life, that one lived with a physiologically functioning body, and then simply ceased to be…

… And I couldn’t.

I realized the thought that human life could be this transient, this fragile, was ridiculous, and even offensive, to my sensibilities. One cannot experience the touch of a loved one, a fellow human being, and then naively, cruelly explain away the apparent disappearance of this wonderful soul that had once been a part of this world.

I realized that it makes so much more sense to see that human souls, after occupying transient bodies, move on to another place for all of eternity. And it is so comforting to rest in the faith that these souls don’t just get recycled, losing everything that they were made to be, personality and all. They don’t just disappear ‘poof’ like in magic tricks- we all know magic tricks are illusions anyway. If the right choice had been made in the transient space we call earth, our souls move on into an eternity spent with a God who loves us, who created us to be who we were meant to be- not stressed-out souls trying to fight for some measly recognition, not bodily creatures with no vitality of our own, but souls made in the image of God, with our own free-will, and designed for an eternity spent with the One who calls us His own.

Because He knows best

Just read the latest copy of Upwords by Max Lucado. It was a simple message with a strong impact and thought I'd share it here. If I were on a ship in the midst of a thunderstorm, shaken in absolutely any direction, I would eagerly follow instructions from the captain, simply because I would trust that he knows best in such a situation. Any naive and inexperienced attempt to defend myself against the storm would probably land me in a worse situation. Not only that, my futile attempts would also distract me from the instructions of the captain who is my best hope of keeping truly safe, and I would be in a panic for nothing.

In the same way, when facing any tough situation, I know I, like almost every other human, try to work things out on my own. I magnify my own strength in the face of a strength that can never be surpassed, somehow thinking in my own little panicky state that with just a bit more effort, just a bit more concentration, just a bit more perseverance, I can handle the situation. Silly, really, that I fail to see my absolute inexperience stand in complete contrast with the Captain's absolute power to keep me safe whenever a different sort of storm rocks my life. A good and timely reminder that in my whole life journey, I really should stop relying on my own strength, because He knows best.

His ways are higher than ours

I just got back from my very first mission trip at Nilai Springs Resort from the 4th to the 7th of June, 2012 and the memories are already fading away. I thought I should place them here where they will stay forever and hopefully be used to encourage others on similar trips.


I'll have to admit that when the church retreat of the year was suddenly changed to a mission camp where more lost sheep than camp committee members were going to attend the camp, I was not impressed. Having had no earlier experience doing evangelism by means of an evangelistic mission camp, and having had no prior contact whatsoever with the Gula friends, I had certain preconceived notions about mission trips. Very high on the list was the notion that mission camps should be done in the unbelieving friends' hometown, close to where they are, instead of in some posh hotel. Also high on the list: A mission camp that only really started to get into planning gear one and a half months earlier was in no way a camp that was going to be good enough for mission. And lastly: A church retreat should not be hastily turned into a mission camp just because the unbelieving friends had been invited and could not be turned down without some form of utter embarrassment (or so I thought).


Many things worried me in the lead-up to the camp. What if the people we were reaching out to would not react well to the activities we had planned? (And with it, the unspoken complaint that we were not given enough information about these people we were going to be reaching out to). What if, because I had already been for so many camps, my sensitivity to the excitement level of games had become wonky and the activities we were going to do at camp were seriously lousy? What if we planned so hard but all the things we had to say fell on deaf ears? If anything, uncertainty was probably the root cause of my worry.


While most activities went smoothly during the camp, my worries were not unfounded. There were many kinks and down periods before and throughout the camp that did nothing for morale. Preparations were rushed right up to the last day before we left for Malaysia. We realised that all the Gula participants were going to be boys (that meant a gender imbalance of about 4:1). There were changes in the Gula participants turning up for camp, right up to the last moment. We couldn't make it for the opening ceremony on day one because we were too busy sorting out the change in groupings. The missions pairing was changed from one based on age group to one based on camp groupings, at the last minute timing of Day One of camp. Group recreation time on the second day was severely affected by the scorching afternoon heat, and frustration was written all over many of the participants' faces. The screening of Kelvin Soh's testimony about Jesus turning him away from drugs failed to have much visible impact as group members clamped up when asked to share. When some group leaders took the opportunity to share about the 4 secrets to a shining life for Christ, it upset the schedule and caused confusion.


The biggest cause for concern probably came on Day 3, right before dinner, when the schedule for round three of Compass of Life was messed up. Algorithm March was supposed to be completed in the third round so that when the campers came back from dinner, they could continue with the third round games for another 10 minutes, before the lights, video and sharing would start abruptly. Instead of this ideal scenario, we ended up with:
1. An Algorithm March that had to be delayed and done partially before dinner and partially after.
2. A group of campers who were starting to lose it and get frustrated by the length of the day, the tiring activities and the abstract usefulness of the "money" they were earning.
3. A speaker who would be delayed and could only come in 30 minutes after dinner ended (not 10)

I remember sitting in the function room with 3 of my committee mates for 40 minutes into dinnertime and really not knowing what to do. To top it off, a Gula friend popped his head around the door and said that he had hurt his ankle and might not be able to join us for the (important) night activities. I started to feel dizzy in a way I had never felt before soon after, and even at dinner, JYLS had a sudden headache.

Call these difficulties what you may, but I believe these were little ways in which the devil was working to stop us from doing our best in reaching out with the gospel of truth. Yet, in any post with a title like this one, there always comes a turning point. A facebook post I recently saw on my notifications feed encapsulates what I'm going to share below well: 'We do not know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future'.

In all of these trying circumstances, God prevailed. Aside from helping us with the administrative details of matters, God also let me see near miracles and his work in breaking down barriers and stone-hardened hearts in the face of His message of love and mercy.

1-to-1 missions turned out generally better than many of us expected. Some of the Gula participants were still not too forthcoming when we shared more about the gospel with them, but some were identified to have a strong interest in Christianity and others who were less interested did not express strong resentment to the message we were sharing. One of my dear churchmates who shared that he is not particularly adept at evangelism was blessed with the privilege of gaining the trust of the Gula participants, and had the opportunity to talk with them about his faith until the wee hours of the morning just before the last day of camp came around.

The ad-hoc arrangements made with regard to the final segment of the Compass of Life game fell into place with unexpected ease. While we still had to practice for the Algorithm March in our groups, God helped to lighten the atmosphere when we were able to enjoy watching each other perform very hilarious versions of the march that was already hilarious to start with. When it came time to continue with the Compass of Life activities, I simply announced the new format of the game- for participants to approach any of the station masters clothed in black and bet any amount of money that they could do the task assigned by the station masters. The station masters were literally coming up with games spontaneously, yet everyone was really getting into the mood and when it came time to turn off the lights and screen the video, it was truly impactful.

Through the camp, a few of our Gula friends came to know the Lord, including one whom one of my churchmates did not get to know previously, but who followed in the Sinner's Prayer over dinner one day. Many of the Gula friends were also deeply moved by the message we had shared, and some even told us that they had thought about issues such as why the earth must exist, questions we did not expect them to ask at this point in their lives given their cultural context. The sharing session after Compass of Life ended on Day 3 gave a highly respected member of the Gula entourage of youths a chance to share that his aunt, a previous 'tiao tong' under Taoism traditions, had converted to Christianity, and she was now transformed both physically and emotionally. JYLS was able to add on a very convincing point: If someone like that could convert to Christianity, it must mean that she had
experienced something greater than all the spiritual forces she had previously experienced.

Even after returning to our respective homes, we were able to keep in contact with the Gula friends via Facebook, and some daringly posted Christianity-related messages. Others even asked for sources from which to obtain Christian songs they could listen to, and we could also share some online resources with them for learning more about the faith. Their openness was very encouraging, a far cry from the hardened hearts and empty harvest I was expecting at the back of my mind before we went on the trip. All I can say is that when God is sovereign, things that seem wrong will always turn out right. For God's ways are simply higher than ours.

Reminders to me

I dreamt I was helping around in a hospital, probably as part of a hospital attachment. For some reason, I kept getting caught up with the facilities, the service, etc. to the point that the doctor I was shadowing had to ask: "You're looking at the hospital, but are you looking at the patients?" Only then did I turn my attention to the sickly patients who were obviously in need of emotional and even some practical help. Somehow, I had neglected the people for the things. A timely reminder about the type of attitude I need to have when serving others.

On another note, I just read in a Straits Times news update that from a young age, North Koreans are immersed in a culture and educational landscape that imbibes in them a strong sense of anti-Americanism. While the news is horrifying, it caused me to see even more clearly than before that many of us are moulded so much by the culture that we're born into. In Singapore, we're often taught to be efficient, hardworking, result-oriented, to the point that I feel we value these more than many other important qualities such as love and respect. Even as we gratefully accept the fine education system that our leadership has worked hard to provide us with, let us not allow ourselves to lose our sense of self in pursuing affirmation from this system. Who we are as unique, fearfully and wonderfully made individuals must not be defined by such sad, narrow terms.

Sudden Random Thoughts

So I am sitting at my desk and in front of me are three styrofoam cups. Two of them have water into which plantlings are stuck. The other is my drinking cup. As I just took a sip of water, this sudden thought flashed through my mind: How similar I am to the plants, depending on water for sustenance. And then, the next thought: God takes care of everything- if it is so for the plants, then what more for me. And the next: The plants get their water and live, standing motionless in that styrofoam cup. As a human being created by God, I get my water and live, and more than that, I must make use of every passing moment to bring Him glory.

Flashback to yesterday, when I was leaving the MRT station on my way home. A sudden bang rang behind me, and the thought came: What if that had been a bomb and I had perished there and then?
1. I wouldn't have suffered because it would have been so quick. In the same way, my family and friends shouldn't put themselves through the torture and bear with any form of pain. They just need to let go.
2. I wouldn't be satisfied because I would be leaving the world without having accomplished anything great for the Lord.
If I bear this in mind constantly, reminding myself of the vulnerability of my very being, the quickness with which this breath can be taken away from me, then perhaps I will learn to live every moment to the fullest. We truly never know when our last moment will be.

The Journey of Life

Good grades and outstanding achievements should never define our lives. Or so people like to say, and I like to think. In my reality, these very achievements have in fact defined me as a person, and it has reached a point where I cannot continue to keep my life story to myself.

Bagging a score that crossed the 'holy' 270 mark (or so I liked to think since many people went, and still go raving mad upon seeing a score above 260) and bearing the name of head prefect of my primary school, I zoomed straight into a brilliant secondary school that gave me so many opportunities to learn, have fun, and grow. At the end of secondary 2, a GPA of 3.80 saw me getting streamed into a class full of high achievers, getting into the advanced Geography class and allowing me to seem more intelligent and well-read than I really truly am. Then came the prefectorial board elections where I had the ability and courage to shamelessly work towards becoming head girl, campaigning with stickers, posters, a banner, a whole team of supporters, and school-wide speeches. After becoming one of the vice-head prefects, I moved on to clinch a stunning 3.89 score in secondary four, and a totally unexpected A1 grade in Higher Chinese, all in the midst of crazy preparations for the school's year-end musical in which I had landed a leading role. For these and other achievements that had been endowed upon me, I clinched a prestigious scholarship that gave me yearly allowances throughout my junior college life. Until late in the year that I graduated from junior college, I was totally unaware that only around 10 people in my secondary school had been awarded the scholarship; I had thought that the number of recipients was at least 5 times more.

Then, in junior college, I made it through JC1 and moved on to JC2 with a straight-B grade, pretty decent at junior college, I must say, especially in a year that I took my Licentiate of the Royal Schools of Music and passed it with 4 marks short of a distinction. At the preliminary examinations, my grades had made good improvement to AABBB grades, and the Project Work grades were finally made known to us. My group had gotten a big 'A'. This was also the year that I served as the chairperson of my CCA. Just recently, I received my A level results and my trepidation quickly turned to joy and disbelief as I noted the flawless straight-A record, what I would again call 'holy'.

These marvelous achievements sure put me on a pedestal. Even as I read and re-read what I have just typed, I am amazed at the kind of over-achiever I appear to be. Seriously, did I do all that on my own?

Well, the answer to this seemingly rhetorical question is, in fact, a big, clear and loud 'NO'.

My highly summarised life journey above only becomes complete when the less glamorous details come into the picture, and here, I fill them out as best as I can. Much though is left incomplete simply because there are so many of those details to fill that I cannot possibly remember them all.

At the PSLE, I was perhaps one out of a million students without any external tuition. I got by practicing the papers from other schools. In secondary one and three, my academic grades were far from glorious; 3.66 and 3.42 respectively are nothing to blare about. Not to forget the failed Chemistry exam that marred my record in secondary school, which I thought was the worst ever performance until I reached JC and failed one subject in a JC1 exam, and THREE subjects in a JC2 exam. In my personal diary, I was much more uncouth and simply called them 'THREE FREAKING SUBJECTS'. I felt sure that I was blackmarked by my teachers because of the many times that I failed to answer questions in class, or simply asked stupid questions that revealed my pure ignorance. I was convinced that soon, the whole school would know me as the one who attended all the remedial lessons.

In music, one of the subjects I thought I was sure to love about JC, my composition sounded like a disjointed classically-inspired pop song-wannabe that lacked any form of tension, climax, and hence, not to mention, any form of satisfying resolution. It stayed that way for a whole year, and as I saw it make dents in my music grades at every school exam, I wondered how in the world I was going to salvage this wreck that was going to be worth 20% of my final A level grade.

A few days before my Higher Chinese O levels, I frantically tried to dump the 250 proverbs we were supposed to know into my head, and gave up when I came down with an antibiotic-worthy fever. As I dragged my heavily drugged self woozily into the exam hall, I was doing my exam on autopilot, and I came out not remembering what had transpired. My Project Work group started out being what I can only call 'dysfunctional', and right to the end, we were working not to perfect a good project but to salvage and package an awfully superficial and outrightly lousy one. We had no references to follow, not because the library wasn't stock-full of seniors' work, but because our project was so terribly superficial that the approach we had adopted for our project simply had no precedent. In other words, we were desperately treading water in highly murky and choppy waters, and we knew it.

Not being a very calm and composed person by nature, my hands would inevitably turn cold and stiff during piano exams, and my performance would always be worse than what I knew I could be capable of. As I played the sight-reading piece on my exam, my relatively smooth first half got marred by a second-half that was so terribly played that anyone looking at the score would not have known I was playing from it. I remember just wanting to get it over and done with. The only fortunate thing was the sad fact that I managed to end on the right note. During the head prefect elections, my hands turned cold but instead of being stiff, they started shivering. How embarrassing it is to be holding violently quivering cue cards and a microphone, delivering a speech to the audience with a highly confident voice not strong enough to mask the obvious inadequacies. I ended up shoving the cards and the microphone together in an awkward position in an attempt to cover up the shaking.

So what was the point of all of the above?

With all my inadequacies and failures, I couldn't have made it through life this far without the invisible hand of God guiding me throughout. Some people credit success to hard work, or wonderful self-mastery, or great brains, or passion. Many people who hear my story brush it aside and tell me it's just that I am 'smart' and 'work hard'. All these God may have given to me, but definitely not in sufficient measure to have overcome all these odds on my own. Remember all those failures and shortcomings I just listed? They are part of my life journey too, but when the most important stages of my life came around, my life ALWAYS took a turn for the better.  Being in good schools exposed me to the best and most brilliant, and I could see for myself that I definitely wasn't one of those people. Trust me, I am the only person other than God who can best see inside my head.Yet, God always lifted me to places of privilege and honour, despite my fears about my underachieving, undeserving self.

I found a kindred spirit in Jeremy Lin who has been placed in a position of fame, yet constantly reminds audiences of how it is God who is guiding him every step of the way. True, Lin couldn't have done it had he not worked hard and done his best, but to achieve on such a great level, you must be larger than life. The fact is, most people who are larger than life like Lee Kuan Yew know it, just like how most people who are not know it too. So, for people like Lin and I who are so much smaller than life that we couldn't have 'made it' in our own ways, there must be a force larger than life that is giving us the support we need. And for me, just as it is for Lin, this force has always been, always is and always will be the Almighty God.

I don't wish to perpetuate the misled belief that God gives success in worldly measures. He gives success in godly measures, and we must be sensitive enough to sniff these out and bring them to light for His honour. I like to say that my life just happens to be blessed in a way that appeals to the ideals of the world. This is also a big reason why I am hoping to do greater things moving on from here, but not for my own glory because I am fully aware of what a disaster I would become if I did everything on my own might. If this is really how God has laid out my life, then it only makes sense to position myself in a way that puts me right at the very center of his will so that He can be glorified. Like a colleague told me today, we 'expect great things from God and attempt great things for God'.

But to those out there who haven't yet found what God has in store for your life, I encourage you to keep on searching, praying and remembering that worldly things are not as important as the things unseen in heaven. I  believe my lack of pre-occupation with worldly gains is also partly why God keeps giving me these 'prizes'. Just remember that if God is at the centre of your life and not something else, then your life can be a journey that brings glory to God as well.

Romans 12:1 Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God--this is your spiritual act of worship.

China's Got Talent?

Okay so I'll admit, if I really was so sceptical, I wouldn't for the life of me have watched yet another episode and be here to rant. But since I watched it, just like probably millions of others worldwide, I'd wager some of my thoughts probably find sympathy elsewhere too. So here goes.

From the country that produced such stunning visual entertainment as was seen in the Beijing Olympics 2008, 'China's Got Talent' has been nothing but a disappointment. From day one, performer 'Cai Hua Da Ma' had been hailed the Susan Boyle of China, tagged for the finals stage where she could pit her wonderful voice against the British wonder. Cai Hua Da Ma's voice is undoubtedly stunning, and her performance did blow me off my couch for a bit. But surely even that does not warrant the comment made by judge Zhou Libo. Starting with what seemed like high praise, reminding the audience of how Cai Hua Da Ma's great honour would be to stand on the same stage as Boyle, Zhou's comment quickly turned nothing short of derogatory when he said that it would in fact be Susan Boyle's great honour to stand on the same stage as Cai Hua Da Ma. Said in the exact same breath, with loud gestures seeking to garner the approval of the audience, right in front of the specially invited British guest, the judge's attempt to create an impactful twist on the words was plain insensitive. Surely this level of pompousness just to prove China's talent was highly uncalled for. Seriously, so what if China didn't have a Susan Boyle wannabe? Isn't the world today about being different and innovative?

Well, innovative the talent show clearly was, with an indoor venue that had a stage with a leaking ceiling. Or was the open-air stage meant to be that way? I mean, it sure seemed strange that the rain was only falling on the very spot where show-starters 'Kung Fu Pai' were trying but failing to show off their kung fu moves. Having watched the previous episode of the talent show, these kung fu lads really showed off what they got, flying and kicking and bringing the house down. So imagine the disappointment when they failed to perform on stage today, all because of a stupid, leaking ceiling. Not one of them avoided slipping or losing their balance, even after performing the most simple of moves like taking a small step forward. The stage was so obviously ill-prepared to host a performance like theirs, that Zhou Libo had to commend their courage in continuing the show. Too bad he didn't have the decency, nor the discretion, and certainly not the courage, to give them a 'yes' to allow them to progress to the next stage of the competition. Trust fellow judge (I forgot his name and I don't think he deserves my time in checking that out) to comment that they should have been prepared for bad weather. Seriously? How is an act based on kicks, jumps and other fast-paced body movements supposed to take the weather into account? Custom-make a humongous non-slip bath mat for that little circle on stage?

Following from that, what if the next performer that performed with fire had been caught in that rain? What would he have been supposed to do to pre-empt the weather? Prepare a crowd-wowing dance that would have worked with two sticks that wouldn't catch fire? And what of the performer who did breakdancing? Limit his movements to popping on the spot? It seemed Cai Hua Da Ma's performance was the only one that wouldn't have been greatly affected by the rain. Ah yes, she was supposed to be China's proud response to the European world, remember?

The judges' horribly warped sense of logic and judgment sent such a bright, young and talented group of men off the stage in minutes, that I can't shake off this sneaking suspicion. Perhaps, the decision to take the group out HADN'T in fact been made in minutes. It had been decided upon much, much earlier on, and the rain just gave the judges an easy excuse to put the kungfu group down. Maybe, the leaking ceiling was all part of this evil, orchestrated plan. Even this line of reasoning sounds more logical than (judge-whose-name-I-can't-remember)'s logic, or rather, lack thereof.

Speaking about their sense of logic and judgment, never have I seen judges as partial as those on this panel. The little boy Wu Da Mu with a voice that only suited one song has made a grand re-appearance on the finals stage after being kicked out the last time round. And what was he singing? The exact same song that got him through the first preliminary round. I think his sad life story had a part to play in getting him that far. Just like the sad life story of the girl whose husband was way less academically qualified than her. She made it to the semi-finals, but during that show, it seemed the wares her husband had brought to provide a demonstration of his everyday hawker life drew more attention than the wife's song performance. It probably drew the show higher viewership too.

Not to mention the countless times that the female judge (sorry, name not worth remembering either) has probed into the private lives of performers that were not slated to make it through the preliminaries anyway, digging for a story or two that would jerk some tears (usually, those tears would be hers). And there would always be some life-changing moral behind every sad story. Here I must make an essential disclaimer that I am not at all some uncaring, snobbish brat who cares not for the poor, innocent and needy of this world. But surely, there must be a better platform for bringing the plights of these people into the public awareness? What kind of credible talent show gets itself tied up with tear-jerking, compassion-milking mediocre-or-less performances?

This is a show that needs serious reform. And I have an idea on where it can start. China's Got Talent should really be changed to China's Got Morals. Oh wait, hold on a second. They didn't seem very high on that when they voted Kung Fu Pai off the stage. Hmm.