He fought the good fight - Joel Goh, RIP.

My brother-in-law fought the good fight, stayed the course, and won the crown of glory - all in one relatively brief lifetime of 38 years. He has definitely won my heart as I watch him on that bed heaving his last breath last night.

In fact, I saw how he left this world. It was one of those rare moments where I witnessed a brave fight to the end.

I always wonder what is a good death, and I found the answer in Joel. Since his tumor in 2009, he never let up. He was as faithful and as hopeful as the cancer was as painful and as dreadful.

And last night, he let go and let God. Yet the foreign invasion took nothing of the Joel I knew. My brother-in-law gave nothing good and inspiring of himself away. He kept to the end the best of himself even when life has given the worst of itself to him.

He even dictated the terms of his own demise. In his afflictions, Joel ceded no concession to pain, morbidity and death. He told them off and got them to stay on their side of the line.

He loved ceaselessly. He didn't let pain and hopelessness destroy over him. He still wrote to others to encourage them in his dying days. He sent them songs in the Whatapps to tell them in no uncertain terms that God is still as real to him when he was well as when he was sick.

He passed away living an authentic life as a father, a husband, a friend and a believer.

Death could have changed him. It could have made him bitter, withdrawn, broken, angry, and lost. But it did none of that.

Death's schemes flopped big time. In fact, Joel turned it around last night. He valiantly changed death, he transformed it into life.

Death was supposed to signify the end, but Joel transformed it into the beginning. That is, the beginning of life, eternal life. Death was supposed to take away faith, but Joel added more of it to his fight.

Death was supposed to rob hope, but Joel saw the things of the world growing strangely dim while the things of eternity growing brightly as the morning rise.

And death was supposed to bring pain and sorrow, but Joel stood in the gap with the Lover of his soul and converted all that to deeper love, greater hope and a brighter tomorrow.

Indeed, death is not for the dying. It is for the living to contend with. For Joel, death lost its sting and hold on all that is joyful, faithful and hopeful in him.

Joel conquered it by not letting it take his spirit and soul away. He in fact lived again to tell of his glorious victory. This time in a more firm and permanent place - our hearts.

Last night, I kept my tears to myself until my father-in-law went over to his son, hugged him intimately, and broke down like a baby. It was there, that image, that moment, that I kept my tears no longer.

No amount of pretenses and false bravado could withstand the demonstration of a father's love and devotion for his child. It was a transforming moment and I was reminded of my own love for my son and daughters.

And love had the last word that night. Love told death off. Love lived on because love never give up, let go and fail.

On that deathbed, I did not see a dying man. I did not see a departing brother-in-law. I did not see Joel's final hour with his loved ones.

On that deathbed, I saw family. I saw tears of endearing memories. I saw hearts poured out in love and devotion. I saw even more life than the expiry of it. So, death has indeed been defeated. I have no doubt of that. Death died that night and life lived.

Goodbye Joel. Your words of encouragement will linger strong. Your life testimony will never fade. Your songs of grace and love will resonate in the quiet chambers of our hearts.

We will miss you because we love you. But don't turn back now because there is a greater joy waiting for you. A celebration prepared for you. A gathering of saints rejoicing with you. A love unconditional, surpassing everything on earth, waiting to embrace you.

Run away Joel. Run towards it. The author and finisher of your faith awaits. We are here merely to send you off to a better place. A place you have prepared all your life for.

Take care bro. Have a wonderful trip. Go home in perpetual peace and glory. See you when I see you. Cheerz.

A journey of passion.

If life is a journey, then this journey is filled with many fresh water ponds along the way. They quench the thirst that is in your soul. They let you see further and widens your perspective. They are there to pick you up and inspire you on. Having turned 45 recently, I have come across many fresh water ponds in my journey. They come in the form of a pat on the back by someone you admire or a trip to a foreign land that enlightens deeply or an epiphany of some sort.

Recently, I came across a small refreshing pond in the form of a word of advice by poet and humanitarian Samuel Ullman. It is taken from his famous poem “Youth”. An extract of it reads: “Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.”

I felt this deeply because as the years roll by, as I advance in age, the pull of gravity somehow increases. I felt I was travelling alone. I felt the emotional baggage had gained more jaded weight. My steps were heavier. My spirit sags with disillusionment. My soul drags with a sense of resignation. And my flesh – ever the lowly opportunist – takes the broad way instead of the narrow road and seeks its own indulgences. The carnality and superficiality of things became surprisingly more alluring.

The g-force of life thus takes its subtle toll on me. Soul first, then spirit. And the world unfolding doesn’t help or inspire much here. Humanity, or its inhumanity, leaves little for hope either. Self-interest still reigns on high. The gods of this world is anything but benevolent - sadistic even. At most times, it is still about survival of the fittest, wealthiest, prettiest and silliest. The blessings of these deities are bestowed upon those who worship self above others.

There seems to be no logic in most things. We live in a fractured world of broken reasons. How do you explain the overnight successes of those who blatantly tout the value of greed, lust, shame, gluttony, blind ambition and arrogance? How do you come to understand the prosperity of prosperity preachers whose only aim is to prosper themselves and fleece the unwitting and desperate? How do you comprehend political actors who are supposedly developed in every conceivable faculty except the heart and conscience? And how do you even explain to your child about the cruelty of man, the rapaciousness of their desires, the suffering of the innocent, the hopelessness of the dehumanized, the agony of the majority, the exploitation of the disadvantaged, and the delusion of the masses? Can you then blame me for feeling the laden-ness of gravity?

I therefore needed a fresh water pond in any form and it came in that quote. Indeed, “nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.”

I guess like courage, our life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s enthusiasm. While I know viscerally that reality leaves no stones of disappointment unturned, I also know that if we look closer, study the ground, dig deeper, and resist the hypnotic sway of disillusionment, we will find resilient hope in the many things we take for granted or dismiss as idealistic. 

In other words, what we often overlook in our desperation to pursue the mirages of this world and to fill the empty spaces in our heart with even more emptiness, we invariably come back full circle to where we first started and recognize for the first time what we'd overlooked as indispensable to our growth and happiness. 

Let me end in a way befitting of my quest for little fresh water ponds in this journey of life. Let me end with the following 5 questions for reflection:-

What if I can hold time in my hand like fine grains of sand and treasure every one passed with a heart that offers ceaseless thanks?

What if I see in the eyes of my children the hope of a future and keep the right balance between endless showering and timeless nurture?

What if I transform that promise at the altar into a lifetime of devotion that never falters and love unceasing knowing that love in itself is always empowering?

What if I pursue truth uncompromising and hold steadfast to it even when the circumstances that conspire to break me are most unrelenting?

And

What if I live for a purpose that goes beyond the material and seek to put my hope in the unseen because what appears material is often nothing but passing meme?

Cheerz.

What makes a Saint and a good Samaritan?

What makes a saint a saint? I recently read about the canonization of two previous popes John XXIII and John Paul II. Dignitaries and dictators like Zimbabwe President Robert Mugabe, Polish Solidarity leader Lech Walesa, and Ukrainian Prime Minister Arseniy Yatsenyuk attended the ceremony together with more than 90 foreign delegates. Of course, the event was not without a few hiccups. It was met with some protests.

The election of
 Pope John XXIII was challenged because he was one miracle short of sainthood. You see, according to protocol, after the candidate's demise, there must be at least two miracles attributed to the evocation of his name. But Pope John XXIII only had one.  As for Pope John Paul II, he was accused of turning a blind eye to the Catholic priest sex scandals. The controversy shadowed his papal authority and leadership for years and
 even persisted after his death. However, it did not stop Pope Francis from proceeding with the ceremony. This led me to the question, "Who is a saint?" or "Who qualifies as one?"

My thoughts drifted to the good Samaritan story in the Bible. This parable is familiar to us. The victim of a robbery was left for dead when a Priest and a Levite passed him by without helping. Then came the hero of the story, an outcast, a Samaritan. He tended to his wounds, pouring oil and wine on it, put him on his 
donkey, and paid for his recuperation in an Inn. Now, is that the definition of a saint? Well, the spirit of it clearly is.

Applying this parable to my life, I can't say that I have been a good Samaritan all the time. Sometimes, I felt like the Priest or the Levite as I conveniently passed a chance to do good because I was too busy or did not want to bring attention to myself. At other times, I played the part of the good Samaritan because people I know were watching. I guess all of us desire to be
known as the good Samaritan to our friends and not the hypocritical Priest or Levite.

But let's add a twist to the parable here. What if the Levite or the Priest were rushing to a burning synagogue nearby to save two dozens children trapped inside and they therefore had no time to stop for the victim? Does it make them less of a saint? Or what if they came to the victim's aid because members of their temple were watching, what can we say about their heart then? Consider another twist. What if the Priest or the Levite felt guilty after
 walking away and later promised themselves that they would help the next time round, would that qualify them as saints by genuine repentance?

My point? I think at most times, we are all three rolled into one, that is, Samaritan, Priest and Levite. Being a Samaritan at all times is a tall order for us and not being one when the opportunity avails itself does not mean that we will never become one in the near future. It is really a lifetime trial of net results (between Samaritan and Priest/Levite) that ultimately
count.

When the late Nelson Mandela was praised for being saint-like, he quickly dismissed it and said that he was not a saint. Unless a saint means a sinner who keeps on trying, then he is not a saint, so said the great leader. This is another way of looking at it. Here is a man who knows himself. He knows the limits of his abilities. He knows the weakness of human nature. He has no illusions about it. Fame, power and wealth are not the real thing.
 They are like beauty that fades, metal that rusts, and stocks that lose value. 

The point about Mandela's admission is that saints do exist and if anything, he comes closest to one. Hands down. But it is not in the embodiment of perfection that makes up sainthood. I think the revolutionary leader had another thing in mind. Sainthood to him is not about an unblemished life. It is not about keeping up with a surrealistic image that the North Korean leaders, for example, 
would desperately want their desolated people to believe in. That false image is their leader's mythical birth, their larger-than-life persona and their deity-like leadership. All of which, we all know are nothing but the vain mirages of power. 

I believe Mandela's life shows that if you seek it, you will surely find saints living among you. But your search in high and prominent places will mostly result in disappointment. You see, the life of a saint is largely hidden from the public glare. It is seldom 
televised, entombed in awards or written about in books. Of course, we know about great humanitarians like Gandhi, Lincoln and King because of the publicity they have received in all the multi-media forms, especially posthumously. 

But these are but merely incidental to their struggles in life. In other words, what we see or know about are the fruits of their labor and not so much their decades-long struggles before they were even known. As such, their
 sweat, agony and perseverance were largely hidden from the limelight.  My point is that many saints may never have the same publicity as great leaders like Gandhi and Mother Teresa and they may very well leave this world largely unknown.

So if there is a GPS system to navigate you around the terrains to identify saints living among us,
 it would be in the unlikeliest of places. So, if you are looking for a saint, try these places for size:-

1) In a home, where a mother wakes up early in the morning to prepare breakfast for her children without fail, and goes about her day caring for them in the most routine and mundane way, and keeping up the spirits even in the toughest of times, in sickness and in health, in disappointments and in personal pain, and in all her humanity, consistently following through till her very last
 breath. That's a saint in my book.

2) On one's knees, where a man proposes to another, and keeps his promises to her, never failing to love her in the worst of times, even when there is every worldly reason to leave her for another, and he gives himself selflessly to her notwithstanding his flaws and shortcomings, and in all this, when he grows old with her, he progressively discovers that he loves her even more deeply than the first time he proposed to her. Now that's a
saint for me. 

3) Beside a hospital bed, when a son is holding his father's hands, with tears in his eyes, he whispers these words to him, "I am sorry dad. I am so sorry," and makes a promise to his dying father that he is back for good, and thereafter, in repentance and humility, he lives his life the best way he knows how to honor the memory of his father. That's another saint for the record.

4) At a nondescript place, where
 a lady confronts the man who had taken her youth away from her, subjected her to pain, disappointments and even shame over the years, and with a quiet resolve in her heart, and a spirit of forgiveness, she hugs the man who himself is welling up with tears, and says in a resolute voice, "I forgive you." That's a saint, anytime, anywhere.

5) And finally, to a place where a man, who has every reason to give up on life, and who has lost everything he once held dear,
clinging on only to the breath that he has under his nose, he slowly, painstakingly, and with dogged determination, picks himself up from the rubble of life and mend himself up, one broken piece at a time, regardless of how long it takes, and now lives a normal life, fully contented, and is uplifted by the littlest things in life, like a smile, a hug, a pat on the back, and a simple word of encouragement. Now that’s a saint for me, for all time. Cheerz

Living and Dying for God

Hi all, this is a life truly dedicated to living for God. His name is Kenny. And a friend, Vincent, posted this short narrative of his life below:-

“Kenny was diagnosed with cancer in December 2009. A few months later he wrote:

“It did not paralyze or frighten me, thinking that I might die. I did not think, ‘Why me?’ nor was I tempted to blame God. My focus is to be Christ-like. In the midst of physical limitation there is still the assurance that God can be glorified through weakness.”

Kenny had a rough introduction to life. His father left the Singapore police to join the triads, he was smoking at the age of five, brought up with gangs and drug dealers. Thrown out of the house, he slept in cemetries.

In December 1977 he gave his life to Christ through the Hiding Place’s ministry in Singapore, the same day the Doulos began her maiden voyage. Two years later Kenny was on board, serving initially in the deck department, as evangelism coordinator and in line-up.

Bee Lee joined the Doulos in the same batch. They were married in 1985 and rejoined the ship together. Debbie was born two years later while Kenny was busy with line-up in Singapore. In the following years they lived some time in Singapore where Kenny worked with his home church and then six more years on the Doulos.

In February 2002 the Gan family moved to England. Kenny served with George Verwer in Special Projects as co-Team Leader — spending increasingly lengthy periods away preaching and teaching in Iceland, Canada, Cambodia and many other countries where his ministry and testimony touched many lives.

In 2010 Kenny discovered he had nose cancer and the family returned to Singapore for radio therapy.

Though increasingly weak and in pain, he had the joy of seeing Debbie married to Jacob in June 2012. He continued to preach, returning from Australia and the Philippines shortly before he died in November 2012.”

Below is my thoughts on Kenny’s life:-

“... and Nietzsche said that there isn't any interesting people in Heaven. He was dead wrong. Kenny was not only interesting, to put it mildly, he was also deeply inspiring.

I always ask myself, we will die one day, that's a safe bet. The question is: will we ever start to live? And if we do, what do we live for? Here’s where my musing took flight.

The godly live for god. The ungodly live for themselves. The romantics live for love. The lost live one day at a time. The optimists live with hope. And the hopeless live without. Every life live in its own way, on its own terms. So many ways to live, but only one way to die. The heart ceases to beat and a life returns to its pit.

Surely, if there's only one way to die, there must also be only one way to truly live. But what is it?

People like Kenny holds the key. In living, he stayed hopeful. And in dying, he remained faithful. In the words of Bill Clinton, as he paid the highest tribute to mother Teresa, "how do you argue with a life so well lived?"

I guess St Francis of Assisi was spot on when he said, "Preach the gospel at all times and when necessary use words." Maybe we talk too much about living and live too little on our talking. Maybe Nike has a point, "just do it." In our context, it is "just live it."

I am deeply inspired by Kenny's life because there's something about his life that makes a difference in mine. I guess people like him leaves behind a legacy for us to follow, a template for living. One martyr for God said, "you need our faith to find your own."

That is our common hope and strength. You see, I can watch a 30-mins sitcom and laugh for a while. I can listen to a heartfelt rendition and be touched for days. But I cannot learn about common folks like Kenny with uncommon faith, even to the end, and not feel a lack in my spirit or a surge of hope in my soul.

I recall one church leader was asked this, "Why does God allow so many of his people to be persecuted?" The reply, accompanied with a smile, was this, "Maybe so that people like you can see what true Christianity looks like."

Honestly, I have seen what true Christianity looks like and I tremble at its cost. But as one Chinese pastor consoles, "We may not all sit on the same thorn, but we all sit on the same branch."

I guess that's what it means by a life well lived. It is not only in our willingness to die for God. It is also in our willingness to live on for Him. I know it's obvious but many forget that living for Him is as hard as dying for Him. We stand in awe of the dying and wish to emulate them but we forget about those who have to live on because dying is not even an option.

The fight to live and the fight to die for God is what true Christianity is all about. And I quietly respect Kenny for winning on both fronts, for completing the race, and for spurring us on. While his work on earth is done, ours is not and this should be cause enough for us to fight on.

I end with Romans 14:8 as I continue my own fight to live for Him, "If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die to the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord." Cheerz.