Who Cares?

When did the first stirring of the heart begin? I can't remember the date but I remember the circumstances. I was coming out from the hospital and encountered a man with a little girl in tow. She looked like a raggedy doll with streaks of dirt across her pinched face and a dress much too small for her. The man with her spoke of a Thai wife who had abandoned them both and gone back to her native country. He said they had not eaten. The hard head in me warned me it's just a sob-story. Don't give. But the heart in me looked at the little girl and gave $10. I was recounting the story to my brother some time after that and he laughingly told me off for being conned, because he had seen the same pair hanging out at another hospital. I shrugged it off; I had done what I felt I should do, regardless.

Somehow one thing led to another, or rather, God led me from one thing to another; since I myself have no idea how I 'blundered' into it. Within the next few months, from following a Pastor on his street-rounds in PJ Old Town to the heart of Jalan Sultan, I found myself serving up food and some stories of my own to a motley group of people.Con-men/women, yes. Sob-stories - aplenty. Ordinary folks too, who go there for whatever reason. Sinners? For sure; all of us are. They are called 'outcasts', the 'rubbish' of society. How apt; everyone has to walk past 7 (yes, I counted) green Alam Flora rubbish dumpsters to get into the feeding-alleyway. It stinks to high heaven. Yet I would always see a couple of these people rummaging through the filth for whatever collectibles that can be salvaged. And as I walk by, I am always reminded of how blessed I am that I don't have to stick my nose into smelly garbage.

I don't know exactly how long I have been doing this every Saturday, facing a crowd of people who are so far removed from me and my world, 10 years perhaps. I don't know why they still move my heart. In fact after so many Saturdays watching them, listening to their stories, feeding and praying for/over them, they are now sort-of my alternate family. I see all sorts of faces; the familiar, the new, the strange. I can't remember their names. And they don't know mine. Some think I talk too much, they are right. Still I don't care. Or rather I care and that's why I continue talking. Most of them can't be bothered; they have heard our stories over hundreds of Sats already. Because our stories always end up with the same old same old Jesus. It's become such that the place is commonly known in Cantonese as Jesus Street (Yeh So Kai) and every homeless soul knows where to eat Jesus Rice (Yeh So Farn).


It's very easy to get 'immune' after a while. Sometimes after a hard 2 or 3 hours 'work', as I leave the place and plod back to my car, I wonder why I keep on doing it every Sat. It is hard work, and I am not talking about dishing out plates of rice and teh tarik. That's the easiest part actually. It's sitting down eyeball to eyeball with someone totally out of your league, trying to make sense of a life gone wrong, wasted, or just plain unfulfilling that's tough. It's hard trying to encourage and yet not seem self-righteous or judgmental. It's difficult to pray for the chap facing you when he doesn't believe in any or your God. It's an uphill battle talking to a person about a divine Hope, when everything in this earthly life as far as he is concerned seems so hopeless. And it's very humbling to realize there's not a single thing you can do to help him, except pray and pray some more. That's why on the rare occasions when even 1 person 'gets it', and decides to say Yes to a new life, the way God designed it to be, I am totally over the moon.


Maybe it's just my own tiredness that colors my perception that they don't really care or perhaps they don't know how to care. And that gets me angry; I can't understand why they don't care.... that their lives are in a mess, that it's not meant to be that way; that God has so many blessings lined up for those who would get back to His way. I get frustrated that they don't care enough to take that first step to get out of darkness into the Light. Don't they get fed-up, don't they yearn for something more? Some seem very receptive, they nod their heads, it's not that they don't know or don't understand. Yet, I will see them again the next Sat and the next, over umpteen years, still stuck in the same old rut, still nodding their heads and smiling at me.


It's bad enough when there is actually no one who cares about them - that's the fundamental reason they end up on the streets in the first place, quite aside from dysfunctional family histories, substance-addictions, wrong decisions made in life. But do they themselves care? Or are they so far 'gone' that all that interests them is a plate of curry rice, a cup of tea and some bread to take away? So we see the same faces day in day out at every feeding station set up by every NGO in town. Perhaps they have become immune, like I too become immune some days. After years of 'street-conditioning' I guess it's difficult to go back to 'normal' life. What's the point anyway of striving to be 'better' people? Who cares.


Just like it's easier to not believe in God rather than have to contend with tough questions, face our fears, failures and weaknesses, be honest about our sin and pride. We would rather be in control than let God be in control of our lives, because that would call for too much self-sacrifice. Besides God isn't strictly speaking 'necessary' from a humanistic point of view.  It's easier to run away and/or stay away from God. Like I said, who cares.... whether there is or isn't a God.

Sometimes I also don't want to care. Because caring hurts. Caring requires love. It's hard to love when people are not bothered. But then I remember even if no one cares, my God still cares. Jesus cared enough to come all the way from heaven to earth to die for each one of us, irrespective of whether we believe or not. And I guess that's what keeps me going Sat after Sat, day after day in a world where many don't care about God. Knowing deep in my heart the truth of an amazing God whose Hand is ever ready to connect with mine every time I reach out in trust, whose heart is all compassion, loving-kindness, grace and mercy, who loves people so much even if they don't care......how can I not care? 


This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us - 1 John 3:16

A Different Kind of Super-hero

A bunch of jackasses running the galaxy? but these are such endearing characters, zany as they are. Talk about a bunch of mis-fits, Guardians of the Galaxy has it all - a thief, two thugs, an assassin and a maniac, as described by the hero himself. But the beauty of it all is the pathos behind the wise-cracks. So whilst you are laughing at them, your heart-strings are tugged along.

How can you not relate to a smart talking raccoon aptly named Rocket who never asked to be "torn apart and put back together over and over and turned into some little monster", thanks to something called science, variously insulted as vermin, rat, rodent, hamster....indeed which one of us has not been misunderstood, despised, looked down upon and mocked at one point or another in our lives?

Surely we sympathize with the tough guy who has so much pent-up unresolved anger, bitterness and hate that revenge has become his goal in life. How many of us live refusing or unable to forgive those who have hurt us intentionally or unintentionally, to the detriment of our own souls? We stew in the poisonous juice of a bitter spirit whilst our target walks by blithely unaware and totally not bothered by our pain.

And doesn't your heart feel for a heroine who has never known what it is to dance because she has been raised all her life as a killing machine? What delights we all have missed along the path of life because we only know how to live for our jobs, always in a hurry to climb the ladder of success. The roses we didn't get to smell because we didn't stop long enough, the sun-sets we never saw because we were stuck in the office every day of every week. Our bank account may be full, but life sure ain't much fun.

How not to root for the unlikely hero himself....a trained con who hides his childhood hurt of losing a mother to cancer by playing 80s hits on an antiquated Walkman? (Ok, I admit of course the songs got to me since I am from that era.) I wonder about an absentee alien-father and how bad was it being forcibly abducted and raised by a bunch of renegade crooks? What about our own 'lost' generation...who grow up in seemingly normal but really dysfunctional families, broken homes, moulded by a culture that teaches I, Me and Mine is all that matters?

And who won't be touched by a talking tree named Groot who can only say 3 words (I am Groot) but who demonstrates love so effectively by cocooning up the whole gang with its branches, willing to be blown to pieces itself? 1 life sacrificed to save all. Reminds me straight away of Jesus - supreme love expressed in supreme sacrifice on a cross.

Yes, I laughed at the jokes. But my heart recognized bits of humanity and divinity in them all. That's always how I rate movies - their ability to be real in spite of their being make-believe. Plus of course a handsome hunk and lots of ooh-n-ahh action scenes. Which Guardians deliver up most satisfactorily. Like all movies (and life for that matter) , there's the inevitable fight between good and evil. And of course the world will always look to super-heroes to save the day and planet Earth. Yet what's so refreshingly different about these super-heroes are their perspectives.

When asked "Why would you want to save the galaxy?" the erstwhile hero replies "Because I'm one of the idiots who lives in it!" Everybody stands up one by one in a gesture of camaraderie, agreeing if they had to, they would die to stop evil from wiping out the universe, because they recognize that though they are all 'losers' in one way or another, they are stuck together as partners and more importantly as friends. So the reluctant raccoon finally hops onto a chair and declares "Well now I'm standing. Happy? We're all standing now. Bunch of jackasses, standing in a circle." Priceless.

They all start out as a motley crew drawn together in a quest for a magic orb which guarantees the holder virtually such great power as to control the entire galaxy. Each is selfishly intent on using the others to get the orb for their own advantage. But they end up united in their willingness to sacrifice their own lives to save the world instead. As Gamora the green-skinned beauty who kills puts it, "I would be grateful to die surrounded by friends." A cause greater than self. That always moves the heart. And what greater cause can there be but to die for the world?

Which is precisely what happened in real life 2000 years ago when Jesus chose to let Himself be hung on the cross of Calvary. Even if objectively speaking the world really doesn't deserve saving. Why should God go to such an extent to save a world that's already so steeped in wilful sin? Why bother about mankind when mankind doesn't want to bother about Him? As it was then, so it is now; we not only don't bother - we insult, deride, mock and reject God. But He still wants to save us. For no reason other than because He loves us.

I can never understand why. There is very little that's 'lovable' about mankind actually, if we care to rate ourselves according to God's standards, whose passing mark for 'good' is nothing less than 100%; even 99.99% still doesn't cut it. Yet, He still loves us despite all of us failing His entrance exam to heaven. He doesn't require us to hunt for a magic orb that will make us numero uno. No self-effort no matter how grandiose can earn us a ticket to get into that most beautiful eternal place called heaven, where the God of the universe makes His abode. Nothing qualifies us to sit at and partake of His never-ending buffet-spread of good and perfect gifts except through and in a certain Name. I call it a pass-word. But unlike most pass-words, this one isn't meant to be the secret of a select few.

This Name above all names is to be shouted out all over the world, so that those who have ears to hear will listen, and those whose hearts are willing, get to receive the love of a faithful Friend who will never leave nor forsake us; even and especially unto death. That's what real friends are about. In fact, Jesus my Friend went one step further than death for me. He resurrected from the grave, like a dead root taken from the fallen Groot sprouted into a new tree.

Likewise so will I be, made alive with the motley crew of mankind who choose to stand trusting that Jesus is worth believing in, because He thinks the world is worth saving, no matter what kind of 'idiots' are living in it...... Is this love or what??


"This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.. We love because He first loved us" - 1 John 4:10, 19.

When Tears Fall

I cried openly that Saturday, in full view of some of the 'streeties' who were busy wolfing down the chicken rice we had just served. Couldn't help it, as I was overwhelmed how God answers seemingly impossible prayers. I faced old Sang Pak after almost 2 years of absence; in fact I  had given up hope of ever seeing him again because the last I saw him at our street-feeding alley, he was in much pain with horribly swollen legs due to his diabetic condition. He was shaking his head, kept repeating there was no hope and talked unceasingly of dying. He had been coming every Saturday for as long as I started serving there; and that's a long time, stretching over some 7 or 8 years at least. I had prayed often for him. Shared with him countless times regarding the love of Christ. But he had steadfastly refused to believe. The most he would do was ask me to pray for him, say Amen after I prayed and the next minute moan that he was going to die. One day he simply stopped coming. Another old Christian uncle who was quite close to him mentioned he heard Sang Pak was in very bad shape and confined to bed. But he didn't know where his home was. So we could only pray together that somehow God would find Sang Pak.

About 2 months back this uncle told me he had seen Sang Pak in another feeding place. I was glad at least he was still alive and urged him to share once again the love of Christ to the old man whilst there still was time. A couple of weeks later came even better news; Sang Pak had finally chosen to believe in Jesus. Nothing could make me happier, tho I did make a little request of God - that I would get to hear it from the horses' mouth. And I did. Sang Pak showed up. His legs were still swollen. But he nodded his head when I asked if he now knew Jesus. And he pointed straight up with a smile when I asked him where he would go should he die. I think he was about to cry himself when I told him I had waited very long to hear him say he believed. He spoke of lingering pain in his legs; but gone was the tone of hopeless despair of the past. In its place was a 'settled-ness', a deep assurance in the heart that he knows when his time on earth is up, he will be moving into his new 'home' where there is no pain, no sorrow, no tears.....and definitely no swollen legs. We laughed over that one as I wiped my eyes.

But mine were not the only eyes which shed tears that afternoon. The makan was over and people were  already walking out. I greeted a long-haired lanky man as he stood up from his seat. With his jacket and long chain trailing down his neck, he looked like some 'has-been' rock star. He told me his wife who had just delivered a son was down south with his mother-in-law. I congratulated him, asked him what he was doing. We exchanged views about God, his and mine. And then without any warning whatsoever, he started crying. I was taken aback. One minute we were talking about the innate sin of all mankind against God and the next he was in tears. A grown man crying. But in hind-sight I guess I shouldn't be surprised. God has a way of touching hearts at the oddest and most unexpected times.

Then everything spilled out. His wife and son were in hospital, the latter in ICU vomiting blood. He was in a mess; into drugs and now into alcohol. In between sobs, he said he was angry with God for afflicting his family; he would willingly take on their suffering anytime. I could relate to that very well; I have often asked to die in my husband's place instead of watching him slowly torturously physically eaten up by the cancer. We all have tough questions to ask God; and sometimes it seems He doesn't answer; or perhaps more accurately His answer doesn't satisfy us. Suffering can either draw us closer to God or cause us to totally reject Him because we don't understand or like what He is teaching us through it. I told the man I got angry with God too.

And then I told him the story of Jesus who suffered more than anyone can ever suffer; how an event that seemed so horrible - dying on a cross - could turn out to be so good - for the salvation of mankind. Just so, my husband's suffering had brought about a much higher good; as we both found the one and only true living God in precisely those moments of pain, heartache and despair. But this is something I only came to appreciate after having gone through the suffering; indeed it is the most precious gift of His grace which death can never snatch away from all who believe. The problem is we tend to assume God is being cruel when He is being kind.

I don't know how much the man understood or appreciated what I said, the wounds in his heart had cut deep. But at least he understood the prayer of healing and peace I prayed for him, his wife and new-born son. And at least I have left him with the name of Jesus, that is the source of all comfort. I like to think somehow God who has stirred his tears will complete the work of stirring his heart to believe in an all-knowing, all-wise God who has promised to take believers through any and all suffering; even right through the valley of the shadow of death, despite His not removing it. 

Like has been so aptly put, the important thing is not to be healed from bodily sickness but to be saved from hell, since ultimately all bodies will die anyway. If I can only believe in God when He answers my questions satisfactorily with proof or if I reject God just because He doesn't take away suffering, I am actually putting myself above Him and demanding He do what I want. And that's a most arrogant presumption; it presupposes I know better than my Creator. Actually, if God were to grant us a smooth-sailing, trouble-free life as we all wish for, He's only as good as a Santa Claus handing out presents we desire in our own human selfishness and greed. But life isn't about what we want; it's about God giving us His best. Perhaps suffering is the only way humans can experience how faithful and good God really is; if we choose to believe there is a God who also suffered to the point of dying, all for our sakes, so we needn't suffer anymore when we die.

When we believe Jesus saves, we don't stop crying; the tears still fall. But we cry, not despairing; we cry hanging onto and trusting the God whom we believe knows best. Whatever doubts we may have about God, we know for a fact He loves because He sent Jesus to endure the greatest suffering on earth for us. And because Jesus rose again, we can be sure all our suffering has an eternal purpose which will be worked out for our ultimate good, though our human eyes cannot see, our human mind cannot understand and our human hearts cannot appreciate the bigger picture.


God isn't obliged to answer our why's and wherefore's. Come to think of it, God never answered Jesus when in the agony of His crucifixion, He shouted out, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46). I already have a list of unanswered questions I want to ask God when I see Him in heaven one day. But anyhow I know it's not because He doesn't love or care about us. It's also not that He can't do anything about it. I have come to realize it's because He simply wants us to trust Him. If we can't or won't do that, we will never experience God's reality and power in a world which will always be full of suffering, in which case we end up suffering.... meaninglessly. Then it becomes such a waste of tears, a waste of life....

"We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because He has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with His love." - Romans 5:3-5

Different Color, Kindred Hearts

"To all M'sians, welcome home"... the standard greeting was announced as we touched down on M'sian soil after a gruelling 10 days journey in and around Bangalore, India. Now I can go back to being a 'normal' person after having been totally immersed in another and very different world over the past 1 1/2 weeks. It will take me some time to fit back into the ordinary routine of  life once again, for though my body is back in Malaysia, part of my heart is stuck in India. There and then, I had no thought about what to cook, where to go, what about the kids.... everything about "home" was so far away from mind and eye, because being in India meant 1 and only 1 thing... getting the job done. And the job was simply to proclaim the praises of Him who called me out of darkness into His marvelous light, to preach the good news of Jesus Christ everywhere we went.
I lost count of the number of kilometers we traveled over the days and nites. I can't remember the names of the places we went to. I jumble up the faces of the people we met. In fact I have long ceased keeping track of how many trips I have made to India over the past 12 years. But one thing has never changed throughout. India puts my life on hold for just enough time to remind me of why I am kept alive by the grace of God; which is no longer to live for myself but for Him who died for me and rose again. India renews, recharges and refreshes my soul, even though it tires out my body like crazy. 
On the last day the 3 of us in 1 team sat through 6 hours of church stretched over 3 services. That must be a record. Admittedly it was taxing on the mind, but the worship that preceded every session made it all worthwhile. Something very deep touches the human heart when it's seeking God; in keeping with His promise that " you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart" (Jeremiah 29:13). I didn't understand the lyrics, nor did I know the tunes of the songs they sang. They didn't have a perfectly-synchronized choir or the latest hi-tech sound equipment. In fact some sang way off-pitch . But I am very sure God didn't care about all that; because in spite of our failings, His presence was so palpable in our midst as we all, differently colored, came together in worship, united in 1 spirit, in 1 voice, as 1 kindred heart totally devoted to Him. It wasn't about 'psyching' up or playing on people's feelings, it wasn't mass hysteria, mob mentality, spiritual 'hype', religious fanaticism or emotional extremism. It was simply a very personal encounter with a very real and loving God. Nothing like pure worship that blows the mind and fires up the heart and makes one realize that truly human beings were made to worship. As someone puts it well, if we don't worship God, it's inevitable we will worship (the wrong) 'stuff'...things, money, power, good ideas, religion, noble causes, work, other people, the devil and ultimately (the most deluded worship of all) ourselves placed high on the altar of humanism. When the worship is 'right', we get 'it' right - we know who we are (sinners one and all covered in the dirty rags of our self-righteousness) and we know who God is - in all the awesome beauty of His holiness, grace, mercy and love.

The previous nite's healing service had seen such an explosion of God's power touching people. Testimonies of healing were immediate. To read about angels and dark forces in the Bible is one thing, but for me to see them in visions is an absolutely indescribable experience of the spiritual realm. And no, I wasn't on drugs, drunk or emotionally high. I wasn't even the one preaching at the time. The simple truth is when God shows up, you just know it's for real, and that such things called miracles happen. It shouldn't be a surprise, after all, that's what is supposed to happen, as already stated in the Bible, that as the disciples of Jesus "went out and preached everywhere, the Lord working with them and confirming the Word through the accompanying signs" (Mark 16:20). We can talk and theorize so much about God, but ultimately, it's the visible manifestation of His power that proves He is very much alive today, in our world; when we who believe in Jesus dare to put into action our faith by calling on His name and exercising our given authority to do exactly as He did. The results should be the same - healing and deliverance of broken hearts, sick bodies and afflicted souls.

We had prayed hard, worked hard and I had enjoyed preaching, teaching and ministering to our Indian brothers and sisters in the faith. Personally I had been much blessed to experience the presence and the power of God. Yet, as much as these 'encounters' thrilled me, I have to confess I had desired more; my heart was just a wee bit disappointed that there were not as many as I had hoped would come, hear and believe the good news of the one and only true living God.

But as I sat cooped up for 3+ hours in the plane, I realized it was actually 2 little incidents which counted as the greatest blessing of this trip. And it didn't even happen in a church service. The sweetest words I can ever hear from anyone and everyone I share with is "Yes, I want Jesus". A hotel manager and his cousin listened to the greatest love story of all time when Jesus came to live amongst men and die for their sin, and said Yes. Our bus driver thought all religions the same until he felt God touch his heart, as day in day out he heard us singing, preaching, praying and talking about Jesus; and he said Yes. Those simple words, Yes, I want Jesus, satisfy me in a way no other thing in this world can.

As the flight stewardess announced Welcome home, for a moment, the faces of the 3 men who had said Yes to Jesus flitted across my mind's eye; and I knew it doesn't matter how many or how few times I hear it uttered, nor who utters it. For when they said it, God was welcoming them home to Himself. What a fantastic home-coming for all who say Yes to Jesus....returning to the place where we belong, body spirit and soul; eternally blessed to live forever with the Creator who loves us. If it were possible, I think my heart would literally explode with joy as I imagine God throwing a party up in heaven as His angels recorded down 3 more names in the book of life. At times such as these, I understand perfectly well what Jesus meant when He said....  

"I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents" - Luke 15:10

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