Pastor Philip Chan - A Father to the Lost.

The heart of Christ. What is it like? 

Pastor Philip Chan has passed on, at age 69. He left behind his wife, Christina, and daughter, Joaquim, 39-year-old chef. 

Pastor Philip was first diagnosed with colorectal cancer in 2006, and later with stage 4 liver cancer in 2016. 

Reported by Theresa Tan, she wrote that “Pastor Philip Chan, who dedicated his life to helping drug addicts and co-founded The Hiding Place with...Christina, died on Monday.”

“A former drug addict, (Pastor Philip) used to work as a salesman in his father’s trading firm and led a self-described “havoc” life of drinking and drugs up to his early 20s.””

Theresa added: “He was introduced to Christianity and stayed at the Christian halfway house House of Grace, which was set up by his wife before they married and he kicked his drug habit”

“The couple later tied the knot and renamed the halfway house The Hiding Place in 1978. It housed and helped drug addicts to turn their lives around while also assisting gamblers and those hooked on alcohol.”

Lesson? Just three, and they are from the grateful souls that he had touched over more than 40 years of ministry. 

His daughter, Joaquim said: “I’ve been given ample time to prepare for this day. But no matter how much time is given, when it comes, it feels like I have been hit by a truck.”

This is a wake up call for those with loved ones. Alas, life and death, each takes their turn. But in our youth, we know nothing about death, because like the midday sun, all we see is its light, leaving nothing untouched by it. Not a trace of shadow can be detected. For the young, at their prime, the horizon is brightly lit.

But, as the day draws near to evening time, we see shadows more clearly. For most of us, it is a draw-down, that is, the ending chapters of a life. 

Yet we are never ready to let go of a life, especially one who has lived so well like Pastor Philip. Joaquim said: “Dad was like a crab, soft on the inside, firm and stern outside. My dad has a very big heart and he would give whatever he had to others. I will definitely miss him so much.” 

Another soul touched by him is Pastor Tan Hock Seng, 62. He too was a former drug addict. He had known Pastor Philip for 39 years.

Pastor Tan said: “I couldn’t understand why they were helping us as we were not the obedient kind and gave them lots of headaches. They did not gain financially from it. 

“I learnt that they did it for the love of God. They sacrificed a lot to take care of us, living with us and sacrificing their privacy. They also had raised funds to keep this place going.”

Indeed, for Pastor Philip, he had taken the road less travelled, the straight and narrow. As Pastor Tan said, “they did not gain financially from it.” 

And their sacrifices over the decades are from a heart that never goes weary in giving to others. It is not about financial rewards, but lives restored, not about wealth in possession, but wealth in conversion. 

From his tumultuous early years to a marriage of sacrifices unwavering, and through love unfailing, Pastor Philip turned his “havoc life” into a “haven life”, that is, one that provides a home to the wayward, tends to their needs in the worst of times, and treats them as his very own, a father to the fatherless. 

This leads me to my final lesson from a life that shone as bright as the midday sun. And it comes in a life defined not just by words, but deeds. 

Here is how Caleb Tan, a former drug addict, raised by his grandmother, (who doesn’t know who his biological father was) related this one incident. 

“For instance, he was preparing jam one day to make the pineapple tarts that The Hiding Place sold to raise funds when he was badly injured in a kitchen accident. He suffered extensive burns, had five broken ribs and his lungs collapsed.

Caleb said: "We have no blood relation but Pa (what he calls Pastor Philip) told me not to worry so much. He promised me The Hiding Place would take care of me. And even if The Hiding Place doesn't take care of me, Pa said he would personally take care of me."

“He said Pastor Philip helped him to get back on the straight and narrow and taught him what it means to be a trustworthy man and a good husband. Said (Caleb), who now works as a cook at The Hiding Place.”

“He always put others before him. And even when he was very ill, he still constantly worried about us."

Let me return to the question I started with in this tribute, “The heart of Christ, what is it like?” 

Well, I do not know Pastor Philip personally, but from those who know him, lived with him, and are deeply touched by him, his legacy is undeniable. To me, his life shows me, most intimately, the heart of Christ, the love of enduring sacrifice. 

For the heart of Christ is not defined by an act, but a life. It is not momentary or seasonal, it is lifelong and unceasing, in its giving, loving and sharing; truly unbounded. 

The heart of Christ is also beyond defilement. Indeed, the things of this world go strangely dimmed as a life like Pastor Philip draws itself closer and closer to the lover of his soul. It is strange only when seen through the eyes of the outsiders. But to the partakers, there is no treasure greater, no joy more unfathomable, for a love so unconditional. 

And lastly, the heart of Christ never gives up or gives in. It is a life that walks a soul to the end. It is a life that remains faithful to the call because its broken heart finds strength and hope in the brokenness of those he gives himself to. 

And let me end with what a social worker Benny Thiam said of his papa. Benny himself stayed in The Hiding Place for three years. 

“He was a very forgiving and generous man who was always willing to give others a second chance. I have learnt this from Pastor Chan - not to give up on someone and to give them a second chance.”

Indeed the heart of Christ journeys with a soul to his last breath. Amen.

Charity Reimagined: Ken & Addy, The Last Resort.

They are soft spoken, most times, whispering. I had to strain a little to string the sentences together. They share freely, at times, laying bare their soul to my wife and I. 

I came to know Kenneth and Adeline last year, 27 August, when we shared a cake together. It was my birthday, my 48th. We have been friends since then. Before that, we were perfect strangers. 

I write about them this morning because they have written about us this morning. It is in the papers. Their article is called “Charity reimagined: The gift of imagination”.

At one part of their article, they wrote about “One People, One Nation, One Singapore”. But, what does that mean? What truly binds us together? What are we moving towards? One Singapore no doubt, yet, going where? Those questions become clearer as you read their article. But first, let me share my thoughts about the couple.

Ken and Addy taught me a lot of things. Not just in words spoken, but in the life they have lived. 

If you're wondering, what do they do? Well, they care for people by inviting them into their home. They open their home to share with  troubled youth what little they have.

The Last Resort is a refuge for young people who have run out of options for themselves. It is a community for those who seek a roof over their heads. Some stay for a night, just to ride out the storm, and others, for as long as they need to get back on their feet.  

Recently, we had a chat, and Addy reminded me that we are all looking for human connection - something that is far deeper than the creature comforts we seek from our material possessions. She shared that a simple meal together in a family setting can bring tears to a soul who has never experienced such community of acceptance and love before. And the Last Resort seeks to serve that simple mission, that is, to be the family to those who are struggling to understand theirs. 

Over the months, I have seen many lives restored in that community. Some are doing well in schools. Some have returned to their own family with much gratitude for the hospitality showered. They often returned to share their testimonies to encourage others. 

But, as Ken once admitted to me, there are those who have arrived so broken, they left the Last Resort still trying to put the pieces of their life together. Although they are never forgotten, Ken and Addy sometimes wished with inexplicable remorse that they could do more. Inexplicable to me at least, because as a couple, I wonder, what more can they do when they have shared practically everything they have with those who come knocking at their door? 

That is why these words ring so true when you put them together alongside the life that Ken and Addy have lived out. 

“The mindset of a community that shares is not dependent on how much we have. When we have more, we have more to share. When we have little, we can still share what little we have. The interpersonal interactions are not dependent on gain, upward mobility or affluence. Sharing builds empathy and restores dignity to those in need: Those who offer help in one area are likely to need it in another. We are both ready givers and equal recipients.”

Ken always invites me to imagine a world where no one is holding back. Everyone gives what they can, of their talents, of their time, of their testimonies, of their home and of their lives. Each person gives what he is comfortable with, at a season or seasons he is ready, and with the faith that a life can be nudged to change by their simple generosity.  

In the article, he calls it a charity reimagined. 

He encourages us to reimagine it because the drive to do charity may have taken a twist of meaning for many in a world of material affluence. In the same way that Jesus had observed the rich giving out of their abundance, we risk offering (to society) more of our things, our leftovers, than our lives and time. 

As such, the ironic effect is that we end up donating more, thereby desirous of looking and feeling more charitable, but giving less, thereby withholding that which makes a lasting difference in the lives of the giver and the recipient. This may explain why many of us are enriched in many ways, and we often boast about it, but our souls still struggle with the poverty of meaning within. 

This has led Ken to ask: “But I wonder, could the increase in community donating be happening at the expense of decreased community sharing?”

If there is a need to reimagine charity, the life of Ken and Addy exemplifies it best. They take things as they come, shouldering what they can, letting go of that which is beyond them, and never ceasing to do what they have been called to do since ten years ago. Amidst the trials, they kept hope afloat, faith undivided, and love unconditional. 

Have they experienced grief? My god, yes. I heard their many stories and grief spills over in many of them. Have they experienced hurts and pain? Yes. And have they as a couple or individually broken down at times, crying for strength and holding on to hope? I believe so, yes. 

To me, they are no super-humans. And I can imagine them laughing at that suggestion. In any event, that would be scary. I have seen and read about many self-styled super-humans, but they are no more than broken individuals trying in vain to cling on to that image in order to make up for what they are too afraid to stand up for. Alas, we often crave for a cape and a mask to bridge the imagined gap when we already have it within us to take that leap (or flight) of faith. 

Let me tell you that I have seen Ken shed tears before. He struggled to fight back the eye-faucet when he had to let a child he loved dearly go. Addy too was devastated. But in those tears, in their brokenness, I nevertheless saw an unyielding spirit that was ready to pick up where they have left off and move forward with even greater resolve. That day, I learned from them that it is never the brokenness that breaks us, it is the refusal to allow our brokenness to humanise and empower us that eventually breaks us.

Let me end with their own words. This old fashioned couple still believe in miracles. In the article, they call it the miracle of community sharing and describe it simply as such: -

“Like-minded people interested in what we do are welcomed into our lives, to know us deeply as we also get to know them. Over many dinners, coffee and tea, we exchange hopes and aspirations for a common loving community.

Among this group of friends and family, everyone is free to unashamedly receive as well as joyfully give. There is no manipulation or pressure to hit numerical targets; we simply use whatever we pool together to care for as many as we can.

We go beyond sharing physical resources; emotional and mental exchanges are also freely shared. This is always something empowering: People begin to care, not because they have to, but because they belong, and want to.”

Well, I have been there myself, with my wife, and we too have experienced this miracle. It does not hit you in an instant, not like some magic carpet ride or the waving of some sorcerer's wand. Instead it changes you over time. And over time, it emerges in the same way as they had described it - "there is no pressure to hit numerical targets...we simply use whatever we pool together to care...People begin to care, not because they have to, but because they belong, and want too." 

Jaycie Tay and John Shu - the Good Samaritans.

I have written this before. It's the story of the quiet Samaritans in Singapore. But here's the sequel to it. 

Jaycie Tay, 33, achieved what she had set out to do in the first place: a bachelor's degree (2:1) from University College Dublin, thru Kaplan Higher Education Institute. 

The road is long and tough for Jaycie with four kids in tow and two marriages that did not work out, all happening in her twenties. 

She admitted: "Given my background, I never thought I will be a degree holder. It's a dream come true."

But dreams don't come true just like that. Jaycie knew that turning dreams to reality is not a solo effort. 

Here's just a brief background.

Jaycie was introduced to drugs in her teenage years. She was sent for drug rehab at 18. She gave birth at 20. She quit her habit after the birth of her first child. 

But when her marriage collapsed, she returned to the habit to escape from the pain. Then, she met her second husband who was a drug addict too. They were arrested in 2012. 

Altogether, from the two marriages, Jaycie has four children. Two of them are with the first husband, and she takes care of the other two from the second marriage. 

Theresa Tan, the senior social affairs correspondent, wrote that: "during her second stint at the DRC, she resolved to turn her life around. She saw how other addicts lost everything they had - from material possessions to loved ones...She did not want that to happen to her."

With that resolve, that awakening however small at a time when she had nothing, Jaycie met John Shu in 2013 at a chance encounter in a bus stop. Perfect strangers and they chatted. 

John was a mechanic earning about $2k a month. Without hesitation, he gave her $6k from his savings to pay for her diploma in marketing management. 

At that time, John only had primary school education and Jaycie was a secondary two school leaver. 

Jaycie said: "I'm very thankful to John, who first gave me hope and helped me see the light."

After that, Jaycie also received a bursary from Yellow Ribbon Fund Star valued at over $20k.

Theresa reported that "after obtaining her diploma, she devoted her energy to getting a part-time degree, while juggling work and motherhood. Finding a place to live was also a problem - she and her children lived with a friend until she obtained a one-room rental flat from the Housing Board earlier this year."

In 2016, the story of John's generosity not only got him nominated finalist for The Straits Time's Singaporean of the Year, his deed also touched Jaycie's school Kaplan so much that they went on to sponsor John's daughter's poly and tertiary education. 

It was indeed a chain reaction of kindness sowed by one random act of kindness between strangers. 

Jaycie now "cherishes her new lease of life" and "dreams of a brighter future for her family."

She said: "Don't give up, there's always hope in life."

Lesson? Let's face it, this story does not happen to everyone. 

I recently spoke to an inmate who is pregnant with her tenth child and she is in her late thirties. Divorcee too, in for drug, has been on drugs for the longest time, and her background is highly complex. 

Some face tremendous odds and their circumstances are a great challenge to overcome. They are expectedly jaded and weary of how life has dealt a tough hand on them.

In the end, it is all the same: we are looking for enduring hope, someone to believe in us, a quiet and assuring presence that resonates, an act of spontaneous generosity and a timely shoulder to cry on. 

And Jaycie's struggles are a culmination of all those little things that come together at the right place and at the right time as fortuitous nudges that sets her trajectory advancing one small step at a time towards a brighter future. 

I draw strength from this story because story like that is easy to pen but what we do not see is the huge iceberg that lies beneath the water. 

Her daily struggles are real and what we see today, her milestones and successes, only come to her through sheer resolve and perseverance for herself and her children. 

I would like to think that she has moved beyond tears and fears to strength and hope, and from despair to resilience as life opens doors for her. Yet, the road ahead for her is still a long and challenging one.

I would also like to end by drawing strength too from people like John in Jaycie's life, and many anonymous people out there - as parents, friends and strangers - making their own differences in the lives of those they touch - be it for a moment, a season or a lifetime. 

I recall when people were crying everywhere during the terrorist attack of the World Trade Center (911), feeling lost and in total despair, one of those rescued reminded them to take their eyes off the carnage and look at the rescuers. Look at what they are doing and draw hope from their selfless acts. 

It is the same here: look at the actions of people like John and those who offer their lives for others, giving and sharing, instead of those taking and exploiting. 

Look at the acts of good Samaritans, let their stories inspire and rejuvenate us. 

Like fresh-water springs to our tired hearts, the rescuers, in their consistent and selfless ways, will set us reflecting on what truly matters in life. 

It will set us on points of inflection that would make for a kinder society, one that is not perfect but is perfecting, transforming and redeeming. Cheerz.

He ain't heavy, he's my brother - Leroy Solomon Tan.

You know the song, "He ain't heavy, he's my brother?" 

Well, for a friend of mine, lawyer Leroy Solomon Tan, 47, his brothers would add to that lyrics this line: -

"He ain't heavy, he's my brother, and here's my organ."

That's what one of the brothers, Leslie, did. And it was a gift of life to a younger brother they love deeply. 

Such bond and such news only make the world better with music, dance and rejoicing. 

Why songs and dance? Because Leroy's brothers, Leslie (54) and Lionel (52) are part of the renowned local strong chamber group T'ang Quartet. They have been around for 20 years. 

Here's the dance part...

Leroy was diagnosed with diabetic nephropathy in 1998 when he was 26. 

According to Dr Kwek Jia Liang of SGH, "diabetic nephropathy is damage to the kidney arising from diabetes mellitus. It leads to a lose of kidney function. It can result in end-stage kidney disease with complication such as fluid overload, electrolytes imbalances and build-up of metabolic toxins, which can affect the functions of multiple organs such as the heart and brain." 

So much for the science stuff, now comes the heart stuff. And it is about brotherly affection. 

It took the two brothers four years to give of their organ to Leroy because of the many roadblocks along the way. 

The journey met with the first roadblock in 2013 when Leslie discovered a cyst in his liver, so he needed to remove it. And the transplant was called off. 

Next to step up to the plate was Lionel. He was cleared to go and was a suitable match for his younger brother. 

But a day before the surgery, he recalled this: "I was at home packing my bags when I got a call that we had to call off the operation because Leroy had fallen ill."

This second roadblock had derailed the journey for the brothers for a year as it took that long for Leroy to fully recover and regain his immunity strength. 

The third roadblock was the suspension of SGH kidney transplant programme due to the outbreak of hepatitis C infection in 2015. 

By this time, Leslie had proven to be a suitable donor for his brother after much screening. 

Yet, the fourth roadblock was Leroy's high blood pressure. It delayed the procedure once more. 

Leslie said: "It was very frustrating. I went home and locked myself up in my apartment. I didn't want to go out because I didn't want to go out and get the flu and then delay the transplant some more."

Then, last January came and it was an emotional day for the brothers. 

Leslie donated his kidney to his brother, and Lionel said: "I was happy to see that everything worked out...My mum was extremely stressed and worried, but afterwards she was ecstatic." 

It's the dance of joy for such happy ending.

Lesson? One.

You know there's a song by the hollies, "He ain't heavy, he's my brother"?

One part of the song reads: "The road is long/ With many a winding turn/ That leads us to who knows where/ Who knows where."

That's what the three brothers had to go through. The many roadblocks in the arduous journey. 

It reports (by Kimberley Chia) that "the disease took a serious toll on (Leroy's) daily life. He was constantly tired and even threw up occasionally after dialysis sessions." 

Leroy had to scale down his activities "such as volunteering for grassroots activities and travelling." Leroy, mind you, is a dedicated activist. 

It was surely a road with many winding turns and leading to certain uncertainty.

Then, the song goes upbeat with this: "But I'm strong/ Strong enough to carry him/ He ain't heavy, he's my brother."

That's what Leslie and Lionel did, they carried their youngest with the strength of brotherhood. 

It reports that "when the time came for them to step forward as donors, it was something the brothers did without hesitation. In fact, they jumped at the opportunity."

And if you go further with the song, this is one heartwarming part: "So on we go/ His welfare is of my concern/ No burden is he to bear/ We'll get there."

Lionel said: "You don't think about whether it's successful or not. You just go ahead and do it because it's saving someone's life."

And Leslie said: "I found out later that people felt that it was a big deal, but come on...You don't think about these things, right? It's a big deal but not to the donor. I think it's a much bigger deal for the recipient."

Indeed, the song pays tribute to such love for another when it says: "For I know/ He would not encumber me/ He ain't heavy, he's my brother."

Now, the ending of the song is a reminder for all. It reminds us of the yearnings of a jaded heart, tired of the coldness of the world. 

"If I'm laden at all

I'm laden with sadness

That everyone's heart

Isn't filled with the gladness

Of love for one another

It's a long, long road

From which..."

That is why the gift of love is the greatest gift of all. 

From mothers to child, husbands to wives, brothers and sisters to one another, friends to friends, and a community bonded by love, our hearts can make a difference one life at a time.

Leroy and his brothers start a chain reaction to set a path for many to be inspired by. It is a powerful statement of affection that goes the distance. 

The reality is, we do not want to make a big deal out of it. It is what we will do for loved ones. It is running in our bloodstream. Some see it as a call of duty, and makes no fuss about it - like Leslie and Lionel. 

But still, it imparts an important lesson for me. It is a lesson of a humane society that is driven by love, care and nurture. 

It may be seen by those who sacrifice much as a seed tossed to the ground that should not attract much fanfare, but it is nevertheless the germination, the growth and the bearing of fruits in these lives that transform society, one soul at a time. 

For I believe that if you want to change the society, you change the culture. If you want to change the culture, you change the script. If you want to change the script, you change the narrative. And if your want to change the narrative, you change yourself. 

Let me end by saying that Leroy is tremendously blessed with the love of his brothers. They may think nothing of it, but it is a love that money cannot hope to purchase because it doesn't have a price. 

It is a gift that is not ruled by the economic law of scarcity. It is not ruled by supply and demand. It is not a zero-sum game, unlike a society whereby one gains disproportionately at the expense of many toiling with no end in sight. 

A society that is run by materialism and greed will never have enough. It will never find contentment. It will always rot in envy, boil over with hatred and torn apart by differences. 

But a society nourished by love and sacrifices is an abundant society. It never lacks because love as a resource never runs out. 

When you start a chain reaction based on love, you light a candle in the dark and you just need one candle to pass the flame to another and another. It is inexhaustible no matter how dark the night. 

And when you have passed the flame to enough candles, the light of love overshadows the darkness of self, greed and envy. 

That's the important lesson I learned from Leroy's narrative, his brother's love and the gift of life. 

In this world, nothing can make you rich without love, and I believe, no one who is not rich by the world's standard can ever claim that he is not truly blessed, wealthy and content beyond words when he or she is surrounded by the unceasing love of family and friends. Cheerz.