One Night In Bahrain V

Three minutes walk before we reached Baisan hotel. Alex and I were leaning on the bridge.

"Take a picture here. It's beautiful." I took out my camera and caught the last image of Manama city.

Then I showed him the ones we had taken together earlier.

"You have a nice face."

"I have a public face. You say I look like a Philippina. The Thai think I look like one of them. The Vietnamese also... You look sad again, Alex."

"If you could stay longer, I would show you my flat and cook Filipino food for you. Good moments are short..."

"Don't feel sad. That'll be another time when I visit you again."

"You're welcome to visit me anytime. If you have a transit again here, we can see again." He quickly sought a piece of paper in his pocket and wrote down his contact number. I doubted I would be given a stay again since my transit between Paris-Bahrain and Bahrain-Kuala Lumpur would be less than two hours, unless there was any modification of the schedule by Gulf Air again.

"We'd better go, It's almost 3.40am."

We walked down from the bridge and headed towards the direction of Baisan hotel.

"Kumusta, Alex?"

"Novute, and Ingat. It means 'take care'."

It was similar to a Malay word.

Upon arrival, he taught me a last sentence. It sounded familiar to me. When I remembered the meaning, I said,

"I've heard it before. It must be a naughty sentence."

"These are not bad words."

"I know. It's a sentence that people like when they are learning a new language."

"You know the meaning?"

I knocked my head, pointing to myself and then to him.

"Say it in English."

I gave my answer and we both smiled.

It was time to say goodbye. Alex kissed me on my left cheek. I also returned one on his right cheek.

"Thank you very much for everything. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. Good luck." And he left without turning his back.

Alex, once again thank you for making my transit in Bahrain such a memorable experience. May God bless you always!

Kumusta, my friend?

One Night In Bahrain IV

At the seaside which looked like the Klebang beach in Melaka, we walked past some Balrainis who were having a drink on the terrace of a restaurant. I thought of the previous night chat I had had with my ex-school friends in Subang before my flight.

In front of us was the Arabian sea and a bridge leading to the northern part of Bahrain.

"Have you gone back to your country since you came here?"

"No, but I plan to go back and stay 45 days with my family. I haven't received the official approval from my boss. If I don't get it 72 hours before the departure, I'll have to cancel my flight and lose ten percent of the ticket price."

"I'm going to France. Otherwise I can pay you a visit there."

"I wish you could. Then I'd bring you to see my mum."

"God has arranged us to meet here. We'll meet again in future. You're also welcome to Malaysia."

"Maybe one day. God knows."

"You must feel lonely sometimes. The culture here is so different from yours."

"Ya, when I don't work, I just stay in my flat, either sleeping, watching DVD or chatting online."

"You can look around in church to find some activity partners..."

"Let's find a place to sit down and have our snack."

We walked towards a park and sat on a bench. It was a windy night. I could see sand and rubbish being blown into the air. I raised my head and stared at the sky where only one star was accompanying the full moon.

"Is your sister waiting for you at home?", while having my bottle of soya milk and the syawarma Alex had broken into two, I asked. The Bahrainis version of kebab was combined of pita bread, hummus, tomato and cucumber, and sliced chicken. I found it very tasty although I was not hungry at all.

"No, she's staying with her husband and she must be already sleeping. But she wakes up very early to pray. Although she's very devoted to her new religion, she doesn't try to convert me..."

I praised Lord for that. Anyway, we know very well He is the truth.

"It's time to go back to Baisan." Alex stood up first. I looked at my watch. It was about 3.20am.

On our way back, he suddenly made a request,"May I hold your hand?" and he continued,"in remembrance..."

I chuckled, "Ha, Alex. You remind me of Jesus' last supper. Just now we broke the syawarma and drank soya. It's like the communion."

I gave him my hand, thinking of the same gesture of fellowship I often made at church service with other brothers and sisters in Christ.

"How to say nice to meet you in your language?" I asked.

He searched the sentence for two minutes, finally said,"We don't really say that. When I meet new Philippino friends, I just say 'Nice to meet you'"

"How about 'How are you'?"

"Kumusta."

"Kumusta? I also teach you the Chinese version. 'Nihao ma'"

"Nihao ma?"

"To answer 'I'm fine', you say 'Wo henhao."

"In Philippino, we say 'mabuti'."

"When we chat online later, we can teach each other our mother tongue. That will be funny... Alex, you look sad."

"Yes, I am sad. Because you're leaving."

"Don't worry. God will gather us again some day, somewhere."

One Night In Bahrain III

"I'm going to buy some snacks and then we'll go to the seaside."

I looked at my watch. It was less than two hours before my check-out from Baisan hotel. We had just got out from the club F1.

"Have you tasted this before?" Alex was pointing at the roasted meat on a vertical rotating split.

"Is it Turkish kebab? We also have this in Malaysia."

"Normally kebab is with lamb. This one is with chicken. We call it 'syawarma' here. You like it spicy?"

"I love spicy food. But Alex, I'm not hungry. Just buy one and we'll share then."

After he had placed an order, we went into a convenience shop just opposite.

He took two bottles of soya bean milk and asked me if I wanted some Philippino chips in packets before going to the counter. I shook my head.

"That will be a lot for supper. I'm really not hungry."

"How much, my friend?" Alex asked the owner.

"You want some cigarettes?"

"No, that's all."

When we came out from the shop, the shawarma was just ready to be taken away.

"Everybody is your friend here."

"They know me. My flat is just nearby." He pointed at a building. "I often buy things in their shops. They must think that you are a Philippina."

"Do you smoke, Alex?"

"No, only once awhile when I need to relax."

"I tried before but I never found it tempting."

The seaside was at the other side of the city. Had Alex not told me, I would not have known that it was within walking distance. I had seen it from far during my afternoon stroll alone under the sun. Never had I expected to go there under the moon, and with a company.

Was I too naive to simply walk around with a stranger at such a late hour? I was confident of my trust in my new friend.

One Night In Bahrain II

It was 12.15am when the telephone rang. I was half asleep in front of the television in my hotel room.

"My friend, what are you doing?" It was Alex's voice.

"I'm watching television."

"Would you like to go out? I'm going to get changed now and you wait for me downstairs in ten minutes."

"Okay, See you later." The moment I accepted his invitation, I had no doubt about his sincerity.

I was waiting outside the hotel when I saw Alex in T-Shirt and jeans. He was making a sign so that I followed him to a nearby restaurant-bar Havana. He had an appointment with his Philippino colleague and best friend Robert whom he wanted to introduce to me. They both ordered beer. I preferred an orange juice. Alex demonstrated his gentleman care for me by wrapping around the glass with a tissue paper so that when I held it, my hand would not get wet.

Robert looked like one in his late 30s or early 40s. I was surprised when he said,

"I'm already a grandfather. Do you believe?"

"Really?"

I thought he was joking until he took out his wallet and showed me a picture of his two-year-old granddaughter.

"When I was nineteen, I was already making babies!"

Alex added,"It's true. He got married very young."

They planed to bring me to the concert of a Philippino band. We left 'Havana' and got into Robert's car. Alex was playing some Philippino music with his mobile phone. We went to the first place but the ladies' night was just over and there was nobody in the nightclub. Next, we were heading towards another place.

Robert asked me,"Do you like hip-hop? I love it."

I teased him,"You may be the first grandfather in the world who loves hip-hop!"

We reached the second Club F1 where we were bombarded by music and smoke of cigarettes. Musicians were singing in a screaming manner while playing their instruments; Ladies dressed in tight clothes were dancing in ecstasy while guys were holding their waist. It was a totally different world from what I had witnessed outside the club since my arrivel!

"You like dancing?" I asked Alex.

"I used to dance a bit but no longer now. I just enjoy watching."

"Do you often come here?"

"No, just once a month. People need to relax sometimes."

When we got our drink, he again took a good care of his female friend by using a tissue paper to wrap my glass to absorb cold beads.

Most of the time we were just watching the concert. When we wanted to say something, we almost had to shout because of the loud music. Robert left us half an hour later to look for his wife. Alex and I stayed until 2pm, the official closing time of the club.

When we came out and walked into the streets again, I was a bit lost between the two worlds which were so unfamiliar to me...

One Night In Bahrain I

Alex had noticed me at the lobby when I was asking the hotel receptionist for information on the posters. By judgement of my physical appearance, he thought I could be a Philippina. His was a bartender. As the dining hall was short of staff, he was assigned to give a helping hand. That was where our friendship started.

I was given a dinner in Baisan, as the package of my transit in Bahrain. When I received a call in my room informing me that the food was ready, I was the first client to step into the restaurant. Alex asked me my room number and found out my nationality in the reservation list of Golf Air clients in the computer. Since there were no other guests around, I was very at ease to begin chatting with him and another waiter, who both did not look like locals. Alex, a Christian Filipino, had been working in Bahrain for four years, while his Muslim Bangladesh colleague, two years.

"Why made you decide to come here?"

"The pay, of course."

"You have a family here?"

"My sister is here. Her husband is Muslim and she was converted to Islam."

When we told our year of birth, all of us were actually almost the same age. But Alex said to me,

"Really? But you look like eighteen years old."

That was a flattery to me, but it was still a pleasure to hear that.

"That's because I'm small-sized."

"Not only because you are small-sized, but your face looks young."

"When you see my wrinkles, you won't say that anymore..."

Our conversations were interrupted when other diners also entered the hall.

After dessert, I asked Alex,

"Do you have access to the Internet? We can exchange email address. I like to make friends all over the world."

"Yes, but I don't have an email address. I only chat online. I pay 15 Dinars to have unlimited connection time."

"We'll chat online then. At what time are you usually free? The Malaysia time is 5 hours earlier than here."

"I work from 4pm to 1am. Later, I can bring you to a restaurant to taste Filipino food, and to visit other places."

"I'm going out to see this event now," I showed Alex the photo from my camera. "My flight is at 6.10am tomorrow, I'll have to be at the airport at around 4. I won't have much time to sleep. We'll see then."

"I'll call your room at 12.30, if you aren't sleeping yet."

"Okay, maybe see you later."

"I really hope we can go out together later..."

I left my email address, yahoo messenger identity, contact number and of course, the website address of my blog.

Would I go out with Alex? I had not yet made my final decision.

Unexpected Visit In Bahrain

When I looked for the departure time for Bahrain-Paris on the second boarding pass, it was stated 0610 instead of 0135 which was printed on my e-ticket receipt. Almost five and a half hours later than I had been informed earlier. I considered this delay a blessing in disguise, as:

1. I had turned down Toitot's kind offer to pick me up at the airport.
2. I had given up the idea of booking online a non-refundable and non-exchangeable train ticket for Paris-Besançon at half price.

It was around 2pm when we touched down at the Bahrain International Airport, I was directed to the hotel and transport counter when I told a custom officer that my next connection was to Paris.

I was offered the transport by airport shutter and a room at Baisan hotel which was 10 minutes drive from the airport. What a good surprise. I had thought that the transit would not allow me to go out from the airport and that I had to idle more than half a day at the waiting lounge.
After the check in, a short rest in the room and a glance of the outside scenery through the window,

I walked out from the hotel to explore Manama, the capital of the kingdom of which my knowledge was limited to its organisation of the grand prix of Formula 1.

During my two-hour visit on foot, mainly on the Exhibition Boulevard, I was impressed by Bahrainis' parking attitude: Imported cars were stationed next to the traffic light,

along a narrow road,

on the pedestrian crossing, etc. I could find scratches on most of them!

Posters of a man were hanging everywhere :
-at the street lamp post,

outside a shop or a restaurant,

in front of a construction site, etc. I could not understand Arabic but I noticed the date of '20/5/2008'.

When I walked past a site with preparations of an important event, I asked a policeman whether it was related to the posters.

I only understood his English when he answered "...tonight at 8 o'clock".

I showed the hotel receptionist pictures of the poster I had taken. She told me there would be a group wedding and the king's uncle who was going to officiate the ceremony, would give BD1000(Bahrain Dinars, equivalent to USD3000) to every spouse!

At 9 o'clock after my dinner at the hotel, I returned to the site. It was crowded with Bahrainis!

From where I was standing, women in daffah, a long loose-fitting black gown, were seated on the left,

while men in Thobe and headdress were gathered on the right. Further up on the stage, the presence of some VIP in formal western outfits created a contrast to those in traditional dressing.

After the men had performed a few traditional dances with swords and tambourines,

the women rushed to the exit of the site to wave at the VIPs who were leaving first. I was told by a man that the crowd was giving farewell to the Prime Minister and several ministers, and that there would be a lecture after that.

I did not stay until the end, and I am still not sure which version I heard was true.

Mother's Day Present

After Dad’s passing, I tried to transfer to Mum the attention I used to focus on Dad. The outcome was like two living volcanoes which had a tendency to simultaneous explosion, for we were both hot-tempered. I would not hesitate much to answer her back when she made a minor remark. The situation turned worse when she brought up any accusations on Dad. Then I would become very defensive and responded to her with harsh arguments, after which I would pull a long papaya face until I said goodbye to her before driving back to Melaka. The bitterness remained until my next visit and manifested in our lack of interaction.

I think my behavior hurt Mum, but she simply tolerated her daughter's ill temper. Once after our conflict, she finally revealed her opinion on me,

“Aren’t you aware that you get easily worked up since small? And your sourness lasts long. I advise you to change your bad temper; otherwise you might encounter problems in your socialization.”

Her comment struck me.

When I renounced ancestor worship, was I not also telling the world that I still honored my father and my mother (Matthew 19:19)? Was it not more important to honour them when they were alive by obeying them “in all things, for this is well pleasing to the Lord” (Colossians 3:20), rather than saying all kinds of nice prayers before their gravestone?

Mum never verbally expressed her love to Dad or to children, but she actually showed it by taking care of our daily life, cooking our favorite food, looking after us when we were sick, even nagging at us out of concern! Had I returned as much love as she had given to me, if not more?

One Saturday morning, we went out early for a walk at the lake side. While chatting, Mum said to me,

“To be honest, after I had married your father, I was never deprived of anything, but love.”

That was a week before Mother's Day. The following day, while I was sitting in church and waiting for the service to start, an idea came into my mind. I knew what gift I was going to prepare for Mum.

On 11 May morning, I sent a short message to Mum through cell phone:
---------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Mum, I’m sorry for not being able to celebrate Mother's Day with you today. Please forgive my disobedience and bad temper in the past. Mum, you aren’t deprived of love, for Jesus loves you, I love you too.”
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That was the best Mother Day’s present I had ever given to Mum.

Ancestor Worship: Reaction From A Good Friend

“You’re over the limit.”

That was YT’s comment after I had told her my renouncing of ancestor worship, thus eating of offerings.

I was not really surprised at her reaction. As I had mentioned earlier, I also used to consider ancestor worship a ritual performed purely out of respect. I used to talk to my God while holding joss sticks before the plank or the gravestone with ancestors’ names on it. I used to think that I could just swallow offerings without believing that my ancestors had just tasted their favorite food.

But what was acceptable to me may not be so to God, for He told us through 1 Corinthians 8:1-13 “…Therefore concerning the eating of things offered to idols, we know that there is no other God but one… However, there is not in everyone that knowledge; for some, with consciousness of the idol, until now eat it as a thing offered to an idol; and their conscience, being weak, is defiled. But food does not commend us to God; for neither if we eat are we better, nor if we do not eat are we the worse. But beware lest somewhere this liberty of yours become a stumbling block to those who are weak. For if anyone sees you who have knowledge eating in an idol’s temple, will not the conscience of him who is weak be emboldened to eat those things offered to idols? And because of your knowledge shall the weak brother perish, for whom Christ died?…”

If we love God, “the Father, of whom are all things, and one Lord Jesus Christ, through whom are all things, and through whom we live”, we just accept His words with faith.

YT and I have been friends for more than twenty years. She was transferred to my primary school and our friendship flourished very fast since then. Some day in Standard Five I accepted her invitation to a picnic at a swimming pool organized by her church members who later encouraged me to attend the Saturday children school. That was my first contact with Jesus. During the secondary school time, we both became very irregular church goers.

As I had decided to go back to Jesus who had been loving me much more than I had loved Him, I often thought of YT who had stopped going to church for years. Though her material life was abundant, she often felt a sense of emptiness and she sometimes wondered whether her life was working blindly nonstop for her shop, the family business her father had started since they had settled down in Batu Pahat in the 1980s. I had been sharing testimonies with her, who had not been nourished with God’s words. I could understand why she did not agree with my giving up of following my family to burn joss sticks and offer food to defunct ancestors, though herself and her family had no practice of idol worship.

A few months ago, I offered her the New Testament in Chinese-English as a belated birthday gift. She might be keeping it somewhere in her room due to her busy working schedule. Never mind, Jesus is patient. I am sure one day she will realize that only His guidance can fill her spiritual emptiness.

Ancestor Worship: Qing Ming

I was informed by Mum that we were going to sweep the tombs on Sunday March 30. That was the period during which I tried to avoid ancestor worship at home.

When Qing Ming was approaching, I began to worry about my family’s reaction when they found out I was going to neither kneel down nor pray before my grandparents and Dad with burning joss sticks.

After I told Jagan about the difficulty I was facing, she kindly sent me a message which really boosted my confidence:
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Hi! I'm marking papers now. Just want to encourage you to make a stand for Christ with your mum as then you are blessed (Matthew 5:10). Also once you do this, I believe strongly you allow the Lord to start working in the lives of your family members and one day they will come to know Him too (Acts. 16:31). Will be praying for you. God bless.

Regards,
Jagan
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That Saturday evening in the kitchen, Mum were checking food to be brought to the gravesite when I asked her in a mild manner,

“Mum, are all these things to be offered tomorrow? I’m not going to pack any leftover when I go back to Melaka. And I’m not going to burn joss sticks or paper accessories tomorrow.”

To my surprise, Mum did not show any negative emotion.

The next morning at half past seven, we reached the Yong Chun gravesite to clearing my grandparents’ tomb first. It was covered with red ground and weeds. Though I merely participated in the cleaning, it did not mean I honoured the defunct family members less. Without my grandparents, Dad might not have settled in Johor and met Mum. Without Dad and Mum, I would not have been born to this world to know the earthly love and heavenly love!

Next we went to Dad’s tomb. It was much cleaner and required less sweeping. I sat there, thinking of the last moment when I saw his coffin being laid in the ground. Dad, when are we going to meet in heaven?

Later in the evening, when I was getting ready to drive back to Melaka, Mum passed to me some food that she had separated from the offerings and had kept aside.

I was so grateful to Mum who was yet to be a believer but I knew “…Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved, you and your household.” (Acts 16:31)

Ancestor Worship: At Home

I used to think that being a Christian, one of my duties was to maintain peace with my other non-believer family members by continuing to perform certain rituals which seemed acceptable to me.

Since Dad passed away, my family had been worshipping him by burning joss sticks twice a day: early morning and early evening. As Dad’s lifelong profession was journalist, the newspaper he had worked for was his essential mental food. My eldest brother Seng still treated Dad as if he were around by offering the paper to him before anyone else. Seng would collect the paper which had been just delivered to our house, placed it on the altar, and burned the first joss sticks. We would remove the newspaper and starting reading it ourselves only after the burn time. I think we are the only family in this world to practise this!

When I was back to my hometown on weekends, I normally took over Seng’s shift since I was an early riser. After I had made up my mind to follow Jesus, thus renounce ancestor worship, the first obstacle I had to overcome was to give up this practice. At first I simply employed the “delaying tactic”: I deliberately got up late, and stayed upstairs until I heard the motorcycle engine noise of the delivery man who had thrown the newspaper over our gate. And I patiently waited seven o’clock over to be almost sure that when I went downstairs, the joss sticks were already burning.

In the afternoon, I happened to go out quite often, so I easily missed the early evening burning of joss sticks.

Was this avoidance attitude a good solution? I doubted so.

My brother must have noticed that and he made the remark to Mum who later brought up the issue to me.

“Seng told me that lately you haven’t been keen on worshipping your father.”

I decided to tell Mom frankly I would not worship ancestors anymore.

“Anyway, that’s between you and your father, but you’d better make clarification with Seng.”

And later I also told Seng about the stand I was making for my God.

No persecution.

I thank my family members. Maybe they still think that the Chinese worship ancestors out of giving honour to our beloved who have passed away. One day, they might understand that worshipping a plank with ancestors’ names on it, is similar to idol worship, which are sinful in our Almighty God’s eyes.

"And blessed is he who is not offended because of Me." (Luke 7:23 NKJV)

Million-Dollar Baby

I had just come back from my late afternoon walk and tea break when my brother Ah Yu telephoned me.

I had not seen him for almost two years. The previous time I gathered with him and my sister-in-law Emi, Dad was lying on the deathbed. A week later, we lost Dad, A few months after the funeral, one day Ah Yu rang Mum to tell her that Emi might have conceived, which did not take a long time to be confirmed. This piece of good news injected great joy to our family who were still mourning the passing of Dad.


Since then, our conversations were more cheerful when talking about Emi’s pregnancy. After the birth of little Yuri last August, my brother had happily accepted the new role of a father. Our long-distance communication was always focusing on his made-in-Japan product. He sent us by emails numerous pictures of the newly-born in different positions. He showed us through web cam the baby’s daily activities at home. Thanks to the advanced information technology, we in Malaysia had been able to keep track of the growth of our new family member who was far away on the other side of the ocean.


“So, how’s Yuri? You and Emi must be busy looking after him and excited watching him everyday. In the past I didn’t like children so much. Now I grow to enjoy being with them.”

“Me too, especially now I have my own son. He is my treasure. If one day he were kidnapped, I would pay millions (Dollars? Ringgit? Yen?) to free him."

Dear Brother, you are a wonderful father, but there is a greater One, “for God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16 NKJV). You would give millions as ransom to save your son, but our Creator God has given His Son Jesus as ransom to redeem the entire mankind (1 Timothy2:6) !

Second Call On 9 May

“Good morning, Lee Sah. This is Pastor Angeline. We have two elderly people who live at Cheng, a man at the old folks’ home and a woman at her house. Alvin has been bringing them to church. But since he moved to Ujong Pasir after he had got married, we need someone else to pick them. Will you be able to do that?”

“No problem, Pastor Angeline. When I'm around in Melaka on weekends, I’m glad to do them the service.”

“That’s good. Alvin is still going to fetch them to church this time. When you send them back after the service, they will direct you to where they live.”

That was the second phone call I received on 9 May, another good surprise since I had been thinking of getting myself involved in a ministry or some social work. God was going to give me a chance by appointing me as a driver!

Sunday after the service, as I did not know my two passengers, I went to look for Alvin. He was buying lunch. Then he showed me to Uncle Seelan, to whom he passed the packed food. The face of this cute old man with spectacles was familiar to me! Next, Alvin introduced me to Aunty Chew who was also carrying her lunch box in a plastic bag that someone must have offered to her. I recognised her! I used to notice her because of her tiny frame and her fervent expression. She was so frail that her arms were trembling when she raised them during the worship!

Alvin drew a simple map for me to indicate the exact location of their residence, after which I led my “clients” to my car. Uncle Seelan was seated in front while Aunty Chew behind. Since the announcement that the usage of seat belts by rear seat passengers would be made compulsory from June onwards, I had pulled out the safety belts which were hiding in the boot. It was one more assurance to keep my passengers safe.

Uncle Seelan, an Sri Langkan of origin, was 83 years old while Aunty Chew, a Nyonya, was 78. Both of them were more than double my age. But we three, from different cultures, were God’s children. How blessed to have the same heavenly father who loves us regardless our age and race!

Where Is Your Seed?

I had read the famous parable of the sower a few times but never related it to myself. Last Friday during the cell study, we came across this story again.

“When anyone hears the word of the kingdom, and does not understand it, then the wicked one comes and snatches away what was sown in his heart. This is he who received seed by the wayside.

“But he who received the seed on stony places, this is he who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet he has no root in himself, but endures only for a while. For when tribulation or persecution arises because of the word, immediately he stumbles.

“Now he who received seed among the thorns is he who hears the word, and the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and he becomes unfruitful.

“But he who received seed on the good ground is he who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and produces: some a hundred-fold, some sixty, some thirty.”
(Matthew 13:19-23 NKJV)

When Alan asked us if we wanted to share anything, I had the urge to tell my own experience of being in the “rocky people” category for years.

I had accepted Jesus as my Lord long time ago but I did not make a strong stand to follow Him. I was similar to someone who first joined the police. I liked to carry out my duties alone. At first I was so excited to wear an invisible tag ‘anti-Satan’ tag whenever I went. I expected evildoers not to approach me but I neglected the consistent training of listening to God’s word and the daily report of my performance to God. Instead of equipping myself with obedience, tolerance, patience, etc, I charged my heart with complaints, bad temper and bitterness. When facing a corruption offered by Satan, I easily fell into temptation. When coming under an attack, I was too vulnerable to fight back.

Being a bad example, I wonder if I was any better than my friends and family who were rather in the “pathway” category.

Slowly, I moved to the “thorny people” category, with backward sometimes. It was still some distance to reach the good soil, but I was determined to become a fruitful tree.

And I am pressing forward.

A sincere thanks to those who have never ceased to remove the thorns around me and who keep sowing seeds to me.

First Call On 9 May

Dear bro & sis, May I know CW's address and house location map for the cell meeting on 9 May 2008? Thank you.

(from me)
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My house address is : XXX Bukit Katil.

CW
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Some other landmarks to look out for is, u'll need to pass 2 road bumps, 1 covered drain; another 2 bumps along the first turning b4 reaching Jln x. As u go along Jln x, u'll need to pass 3 more road bumps, n there's a TNB station n a smaller field on ur right b4 reaching a 'berhenti' sign at d end of Jln x. U'll need to park ur some distance from our place as the road is small. Good place to park is near d berhenti sign (first come first serve basis). No valet provided! :)

If u guys n gals get lost in the taman, pls call me xxx-xxxxxxx or CW xxx-xxxxxxx. Happy searching!

Jasmine (CW's wife)
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When I received both emails, I started to imagine myself desperately looking for their house through the windscreen. I was not familiar with the Bukit Katil area, I don’t enjoy driving alone at night, and I get nervous easily when I lose my way.

I remembered my searching of the previous meeting place. Despite a map I was holding and had studied for hours and even verified with a former colleague, I missed an important landmark. During ten minutes, I was in a cold sweat. On the return later, my lack of sense of directions again caused my misunderstanding of a signboard, thus led me to take a turning which prolonged the journey back to my house.

This meeting would start at 8pm as usual. I could start driving before the sky turned dusky to explore the area. What worried me more was the thought of nodding off while grasping the steering wheel after the gathering. It would be nice if I could stay overnight at Saratha’s house. She was both my former colleague and office mate who occasionally offered accommodation to me when we had night outings together. Her house was neighbouring to the Bukit Katil area.

“Well,” I told myself, “just stop weaving the excuses together. You need fellowship, come on, make some effort.”

The next morning on my way to work, my cell phone rang.

“Hello, LS. I need a favor from you. Could you print a folder for us? Aminah is supposed to call for a meeting, and she asked that the printed version be brought along. Nalini has asked for my assistance because she is busy with her doctoral work.”

“Sure, Saratha. I can even pass everything to you this evening. I have a meeting at Bukit Katil.”

‘That’s great. Thank you very much. What time are you coming?”

“Do you mind after 10 o’clock?’

“No problem. Do you want to spend overnight at my place?”

“I really appreciate it! ... We confirm later by email, OK.”

“OK, I’m going to send you the file through yahoo.”
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Dear Saratha,Thank you very much for your offer to spend overnight at your place. Yesterday in my heart I was asking God to motivate me to go to that meeting since it's quite far from my plc and I'm not very used to traveling at night. God has answered my prayer!

(from me)
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Hi Lee Sah, just saw your message - you can always stay overnight at my place - just inform. Anyway looks like God answered both our prayers - i was wondering what to do with the file, and I just thought of you! See you tonight.

Love
Saratha

What Have I Done For Him?

“Do you know that PS’s brother has committed suicide?”

That was the first thing I was told when I got into Loke’s car, joining him and Jack for tea at a night hawker’s stall.

“No. When was it?”

“He was diagnosed with cancer earlier and became depressed for quite some time. When he was accompanied by his father and younger brother to the hospital for treatment on Tuesday, he made an excuse to go to the toilet alone and jumped from the fifth floor of the building. I only learned about this just now in the afternoon. I think the funeral is over. Nevertheless, let’s go and visit PS.”

A sense of guilt flashed into my mind.

Even though I had never met PS’s brother, I could have shared the gospel with PS long time ago after I had accepted Jesus. He might or might not have believed. At least when his brother was facing such a difficult situation, PS might have remembered my sharing and told his brother about the good news. And the brother might have thought, “Why don’t I just believe? At least there is hope.”

What have I done for him?

Then I thought of my late father who had also been diagnosed with cancer. The doctor estimated that he could live another six months to two years. I was still optimistic. I thought when I went back to my home town once a fortnight, I would see his conditions improved. Instead, I saw Dad, who used to be jovial, lying on his armchair, the face downcast and the body progressively weakened. I could have told him that Jesus had assured us that if he trusted in Him, there were many rooms in God’s home, and Jesus was going to prepare a place for him (John 14:1-2). There might have been a glimmer of hope in him.

Less than two months later, Dad went into a one-week coma, only during which I whispered to his ears repeatedly “Dad, God loves you. Jesus loves you” and the verse of John 3:16. There were tears dropping from his close eyes sometimes, but he never woke up.

What have I done for him?

Jesus died on the cross for us when he was almost at my age. What have I done for Him?