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Faith

Do you cry yourself to sleep each night like I do?

by Ashley Chan | 3 May 2017, 12:06 PM

If you didn’t know me well, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell that I have been struggling with depression, anxiety and a combination of anorexia and bulimia for most of my life.

I was a competitive athlete for 11 years and in those years I was probably my worst enemy and critic in my relentless pursuit of perfection.

Except that I failed myself.

I was struggling. Yet I couldn’t seek help because I was so caught up in not wanting to appear “weak”.

These were the roots of pain that were tearing me apart on the inside, invisible to others. I wish it had been invisible to me.

I managed to live with the illusion that I didn’t need to seek help by numbing the pain. I wore myself out. I worked out and ran incessantly – I couldn’t stop. If I did, the taunting voices would return to haunt me, along with emotional volatility and throbbing stress migraines.

Eventually, I collapsed and passed out during training.

I hadn’t eaten for three, going on four days. I had lost my appetite from everything that was going on. I was severely dehydrated.

I’d told myself that I was never going to seek help, but there I was, lying on a hospital bed in the A&E ward.

In my weak, confused state, it felt like a place where death angels selected people to take away; as I saw white blankets covering the bodies, my heart shivered in fear of was to happen to me, all because of my stubborn pride.

I was struggling. Yet I couldn’t seek help because I was so caught up in not wanting to appear “weak”.

My life didn’t flash in front of me, unlike what I’d seen on television dramas. All I felt was regret and anger at everything that had transpired. I refused to feel remorse, and instead burned with resentment at how my “diligence” hadn’t been rewarded with the results that I’d expected.

The manic voices went off in my head even as my limbs went numb.

Somehow, I convinced myself that only by ending my life would I find life and true freedom.

“Nobody would care if I died. I’m a burden to the world and to myself. A useless piece of s*** who can’t do anything right. The world would be better off without me. I should get rid of a vermin like me. Stupid and useless … ”

The thoughts on replay slowly ingrained themselves into me, until I believed them as fact.

I was tormented, self-destructive. I thought about suicide, but couldn’t do anything about it, having been placed under the careful watch of nurses, 24/7.

It was then that I started writing. It was a therapeutic release for me. It seemed to be the key that released me from the wild, raving voices.

Writing became the most successful rehabilitative programme for me.

My notebook was my friend. He listened intently to my pain, my fears and my anxiety, without condemnation or judgement. He was present in each trial and struggle, accepting my brokenness.

Instead of slitting my wrists to release pain and stress, freedom came through bleeding my life onto pages in ink.

This was my self-care.

Sometimes it’s hard to think of myself as being worthy of self-care. Most days, self-care is forcing myself to get out of bed and dragging myself to get through life.

Self-care is wiping my own tears and tucking myself into bed.

Self-care is the pep talk I give myself when I’m breaking apart on the inside.

Self-care is picking myself up from the bathroom floor after bleeding, cleaning the wounds, and stepping back out into the world.

Self-care is letting myself cry in the corner when everything is breaking apart.

Self-care is reminding myself to eat even when I don’t feel like eating at all.

Self-care is wiping my own tears and tucking myself into bed.

Self-care is trying to live, even when it feels like the most painful and irrelevant experience.

Sometimes it’s the simple reminder that you’re not forgotten, forsaken.

It can be the hardest thing to believe on your worst days, but you have to be patient. It may be horribly dark and scary where you are right now, and the recovery process may be devastatingly long. Arduous.

Often, it feels like you’ll break before dawn. But rest assured that light is coming your way.

Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)

Don’t lose hope – not yet.

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It’s Christmas! So what?

by | 11 December 2017, 6:40 PM

If you ask most Christians what they think Christmas is about, I’d wager the answer would sound something like “a season of thanksgiving” or a “time for joy”.

People who aren’t Christian might also say something similar about The Christmas Story – and it’s usually pretty accurate.

That famous story is quite perfectly summed up in another famous verse: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). Christmas in all of 24 words.

Maybe you know the details: About 2,000 years ago, a baby boy was born. But not just any baby. This one fulfilled all of the promises God had given to the world: That He would be miraculously born to a virgin, in a little town called Bethlehem in Israel. He would be called Jesus, which means “He saves”.

This Son of God had to be born a Son of Man because only in the flesh could He be sacrificed to pay the price for the sins of all men, paving a way to reconciliation with Father God. He saves.

Christmas is the day when hopeless humanity — mired in sin and doomed to die eternally — was offered a saving solution by God the Father through His Son Jesus Christ’s birth and eventual sacrifice on the cross.

If we as Christians truly confess, believe and accept that Jesus is Lord – then our lives would change, following Christ with all our hearts. We’d grow to be more giving, gracious and full of gratitude. Honouring His love and sacrifice, the spirit of Christmas would be an everyday thing.

But the truth is, many Christians don’t look like that. And these are all qualities quite foreign to Singaporean culture itself.

You need only to look at the vitriol online these days, the self-gratifying hate at Annie Ee’s victimisers, or the thankless, quick-to-complain nature of many Singaporeans to see that as a nation, we don’t do Christmas very well.

So many of us have settled for this way of life: We criticise, we quietly dissent and we strive as the fear of losing out kills off love for our neighbour. We spend all our time buried in work, increasingly numb to the possibility of true purpose.

Whether we know it or not, our souls have an innate longing for all that is higher.

And fair warning for the few of us who’ve “made it” in this world – life is good until it’s not.

It’s harder for the comfortable because worldly pleasures can entrap and blind. Our culture of comfort dulls our hearts for the grander things of God.

Truly, whether we know it or not, our souls have an innate longing for all that is higher. But many of us are conditioned to spend our lives pursuing hollow happinesses, only to wake up one day in bed and see the desperate emptiness of things – and that’s if you’re fortunate!

So, be fair to yourself. Look deep into your heart and sincerely weigh if beyond all the stuff you’re amassing – you have a constant peace, hope and joy.

Think now about this “spirit of Christmas”. That tangible air of thanksgiving and joy you feel and anticipate annually? That excitement for something different – something almost magical?

That’s just a small taste of a life spent as God’s own child. It’s a fraction of true joy that even a dulled heart feels.

But it doesn’t have to be that way, you don’t have to wait until you’re at the end of yourself to see truth. That’s time you don’t have to waste – and you really don’t have time to waste (Psalm 144:4).

Jesus is the only way, the truth and the life (John 14:6). He offers the gift of salvation. He holds joy out in His hand, joy that doesn’t fade when hard times come. He gives peace that is better than any kind of security the world puts out.

Don’t shortchange yourself in this life – where you will spend eternity is at stake.

If you feel hopeless – perhaps even disillusioned by religion – I want to tell you that a relationship and life with Christ is the only hope for a better world (Revelations 21:4).

Don’t shortchange yourself in this life – where you will spend eternity is at stake.

This Christmas, don’t be cheated of what you could have, celebrating for just one day when there’s an eternity worth dancing over!


Here’s how you can accept Jesus Christ into your heart through a simple prayer of faith:

“Lord Jesus, for too long I’ve kept you out of my life. I know that I am a sinner and that I cannot save myself. No longer will I close the door when I hear you knocking. By faith I gratefully receive your gift of salvation. I am ready to trust you as my Lord and Saviour.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for coming to earth. I believe you are the Son of God who died on the cross for my sins and rose from the dead on the third day. Thank you for bearing my sins and giving me the gift of eternal life. I believe your words are true. Come into my heart, Lord Jesus, and be my Saviour. Amen.”

/ gabriel@thir.st

Gabriel isn't a hipster, but he loves his beard and coffee. In his spare time, he'd rather be on a mountain.

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It takes a miracle to feed a whole village – and we did

by Kaiting Teo | 11 December 2017, 4:44 PM

There’s a good chance you’ve heard of the story about how God multiplied five loaves and two fish to feed 5000 people (John 6:1-14).

If you haven’t, it goes something like this: Thousands of people had gathered to listen to Jesus and be healed from their sicknesses, and after a long day out in the hills, Jesus asks His disciples how they were going to feed them.

The question is rhetorical because He already has a plan, but the disciples respond with their own logic, telling Him there’s no way to get food out in the countryside, and even if they did it’ll cost them thousands of dollars, which they don’t have.

Jesus persists and tells them they were to feed the people anyway, and one of them brings to Him a little boy who was willing to offer Jesus His packed lunch of five barley loaves and two fish. Jesus then prayed over the bread and gave it to His disciples to distribute. They not only feed the 5000 people present, they have 12 baskets leftover after the world’s greatest picnic ends!

I wouldn’t blame you if you’re wondering if that actually happened. But today I have no doubt God’s power, because I’ve experienced that amazing scene myself.

Last year, I took part in a school trip to Cambodia. On our last day there, we had a “cultural night” where we cooked for the villagers and celebrated with them.

As the time for the big dinner drew near, everyone was busy cooking and getting the dining hall ready. Things weren’t off to a great start as it was raining very heavily and there was a chance that our programme had to be cancelled.

Anxiety built even further when twice the number of families than we’d prepared food for showed up – almost 200 families. We were certain there wouldn’t be enough to feed everyone.

However, God always makes a way out.

Serve My people and I will provide for you in abundance. I was sure I heard Him speak to my worried heart, but I wasn’t sure what He meant. Joining my team as we distributed the food to them, I felt faith arise that with the Lord, we’d have more than enough to give … somehow.

I wanted to show them God’s love, even if what I had to offer was so little.

As I gave out bowl after bowl of chicken curry, I made it a point to smile and pat their shoulder, believing even the smallest gestures of love would bless them. I wanted to show them God’s love, even if what I had to offer was so little.

You wouldn’t believe it – and we barely could either – but at the end of the night, there were so much leftover food that there was enough to feed my whole team, our lecturers and every household in that village.

The rain didn’t stop the whole evening, but as the festivities and laughter swelled in the small community hall, I sensed the presence of the Lord moving in that place, and my heart was so full. I never forgot what I learnt about the God of the so-much-more through that simple dinner.

The same God who multiplied the five loaves and two fish is still providing for us in abundance today – we simply have to place our faith in Him.


This is a submission from a participant of our Christmas Gift Exchange. From now till the end of December 2017, we are giving away a limited edition Thir.st Tumbler in exchange for every story on the Christmas themes of love, joy, peace, hope and giving. Click here to find out more.

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An arts festival with purpose: Make room for the displaced this Christmas

by Jonathan Cho | 11 December 2017, 1:53 PM

Places are significant. Whether it be an actual physical space like our homes, a seat at the dinner table, or something less tangible like having a place in someone’s heart, we all appreciate it when people make space or hold a place for us.

“Having a place” reminds us that we belong, that we are of value. Yet the reality for some is that by circumstance, they have little or no reason to believe that they carry such inherent worth or significance.

I’m reminded of the people groups that many of us have come to expect to read about in the news – those who float about at sea in desperate hope of finding a place to take refuge, or those who get pushed about across countries/regions with no place they really belong.

Closer to home, my heart turns to the displaced and the destitute, who often find themselves outcast in society, with no place to call their own and nowhere they can really feel welcomed.

Jesus entered a world that had no place for Him, and His first sight of it was dark, dirty and definitely not welcoming.

That experience of exclusion is something that many of us can identify with on different levels and for a variety of reasons. When we experience this alienation from the community around us, that unshakeable sense of being inconsequential and non-existent – it can feel like we count for nothing at all.

In Luke 2, we read the story of a person who had every reason to feel inconsequential and non-existent, even though that could not have been further from the truth.

In the story of Jesus’ birth, we learn that when He first entered our world, there was no room at all for Him: “And [Mary] gave birth to her firstborn son [Jesus] and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7).

Jesus entered a world that had no place for Him, and His first sight of it was grim to say the least – dark, dirty and definitely not welcoming.

The darling of Heaven, the very Son of God, left His place in the heavens to enter a world which had no room for Him – the brutal reality and ordinary pain of the human condition. God the Father too, was also willing to let His only Son be born into these conditions, almost as if to tell us that He doesn’t mind the brokenness of our fallen nature and lack of room that we have for Him.

The beauty and good news of the Christmas story is that someone significant willingly gave up His heavenly place and lived as a man who had “no place to lay His head”. 

Whether it be a physical manger or the equally dark and dirty conditions of our hearts, it seems to me that all Jesus wanted was to enter into our lives and to have a relationship with us. Places are significant to Him, and however small the room or the place in our lives we’re willing to give, He will take it – because that’s what He came for.

The beauty and good news of the Christmas story is that someone significant willingly gave up His heavenly place and lived as a man who had “no place to lay His head”. Not only that – He also took our place and died for our sins, so that by this sacrifice and our belief in Him, He could give us a new place in His Father’s house.

“And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” (John 14:3)

He just wants to be with us.

This Advent season, I am reminded of the sacrificial, unconditional love of my Saviour and His desire to lift up a people who often find themselves feeling insignificant. He gave us dignity and worth – He gave a place in His family, although we did not deserve it. Would we do the same for others?

I have resolved to take on His example: An example of place-making for the people around me who may feel as if they have no place in this world, whether it be the vulnerable in the community, family, friends or just anyone who needs a place to call home – anyone who feels like an inconsequential, insignificant placeholder.

The Placeholders team preparing a floor mural for the festival.

In doing so, I have found my place in a community of people working to do just that by putting together an arts festival called Placeholders, which will be held at the abandoned building over at 10 La Salle Street.

Using the convicting nature of art to explore and surface issues of displacement amongst the poor and needy in Singapore, festival goers will also discover how a simple act of making room for someone can possibly change a life.

Jesus gave his place in heaven to take our place on the Cross, so as to create a place for us in His Kingdom. By the life He lived, we are always reminded that we each have inherent value and significance in His eyes – and that we too should see those around us through His.


Placeholders is an arts festival that seeks to engage the community to reflect on what it means to make place for marginalised individuals and families alike, particularly during the Christmas season. All are welcome!

Date: 16 & 17 December 2017 (Saturday and Sunday)
Address: 4 & 10 La Salle Street
Time: 10am-9pm

For more information, please visit their Facebook page and Instagram page.

The Festival is partnership between Bethesda Frankel Estate Church and New Hope Community Services, a voluntary welfare organisation working with displaced families in Singapore. All proceeds raised from the event will go towards the Kampong Siglap Lifeskills Training & Retreat Centre, an initiative by New Hope Community Services which provides shelter for these displaced families.

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Hope for anyone who is suffering

by | 8 December 2017, 6:55 PM

In May, my friend’s dad met with an accident that resulted in the amputation of both his legs to save his life. As he went through such a difficult time, what hope was there for him in this situation, if any?

Christians tend to tell others that Jesus is the answer to almost every situation one can think of – which becomes annoying if overused, I admit.

And as a second-generation Christian, it’s sometimes hard to take the perspective of a non-Christian and there are some aspects I will never fully understand. Having said that, this is an attempt to offer hope in the midst of human suffering where there seems to be none – to me, hope really does find its place in Jesus.

Stay with me on that one.

HOPE IN THIS LIFE

I think part of the frustration arises from our failure to effectively communicate or understand what “hoping in Jesus” means. It doesn’t mean that problems mysteriously disappear, or suffering ceases immediately. This is not, and has never been, what the Bible promises.

Jesus doesn’t “solve” our problems by stepping in to fix the problem here and now, which is frustrating, I know – but enduring suffering is also the narrative for much of the Bible, even in the Old Testament (Psalm 12, 13, 42 – among others).

This is also true for Jesus Himself – long before His birth, the prophet Isaiah spoke forth His coming, proclaiming that He would be “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3).

Having experienced the pain of suffering Himself, Jesus is able to empathise with the needs of those who are suffering.

Hence, having experienced the full weight of suffering Himself, Jesus is able to empathise with the needs of those who are suffering – every single shred of pain ever felt. As it says in Hebrews 4:15, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathise with our weaknesses” – Jesus likewise experienced every degree suffering as a fellow human being: Loss, separation, condemnation, physical agony, grief.

In the loss of a dear friend, Lazarus (John 11:14), Jesus wept in an honest expression of sorrow at the reality of suffering and death (John 11:35). He knew that He was about to raise the poor man from the dead, but it was watching the people who didn’t, the ones He loved who suffered in the wake of death that broke His heart.

This is why Jesus is the hope in this life for those who are in distress – having entered this broken world and endured suffering, He is the God of all comfort (2 Corinthians 1:3, 4) and peace (John 14:27), who walks alongside those who are hurting.

HOPE IN THE LIFE TO COME

When tragedy strikes, one might believe that his or her suffering is meaningless, or that it results from bad luck (Ecclesiastes 4:1-3). Another common belief about suffering is that it is retribution for a person’s deeds (Job 4:7-8).

In light of eternity, however, ultimate hope in the midst of suffering is found in the gospel, without which all relief is temporary and all suffering is meaningless. This hope is one that humanity can reach out and grasp onto – the hope in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who died for all who have fallen short of God’s perfect standard of holiness (Romans 5:6).

Through this great act, not only did God Himself experience suffering, He also overcame it. All this is possible only because Jesus’ blood on the Cross satisfied God’s wrath for all the sins of humanity – hence those who trust in Him no longer have to take the punishment for their own sin.

Every sin was laid upon Him; He died for you and me. But as He was raised to life again, in Him we have new life and a new hope.

For it is Christ’s love that fuels our passion and motivates us, because we are absolutely convinced that he has given his life for all of us. This means all died with him, so that those who live should no longer live self-absorbed lives but lives that are poured out for him — the one who died for us and now lives again. (2 Corinthians 5:14-15)

Consequently, those who are suffering can take comfort that not only is God moved by their suffering, but in His mercy, he has provided an escape from it.

This is why the Gospel offers a different perspective on suffering, contrary to worldly wisdom. It doesn’t discount human suffering as meaningless and hopeless, neither does it say that it is a person’s just desserts – instead, it offers redemption for a person’s suffering. This redemption is the offer of a restored relationship with God – being reconciled back to Him.

In the future when Christ returns, He will wipe away every tear, putting an end to death, mourning, and pain.

Hence, with the Gospel, worldly suffering now contributes to a person’s joy and hope in a greater meaning in life – with the reconciliation to God also comes a future hope, where those who trust in Him can look forward for a world with no more pain.

In the future when Christ returns, He will wipe away every tear, putting an end to death, mourning, and pain (Revelation 21:4). When this happens, the curse that entered the world through human sin (Genesis 3:14-19) will be reversed – creation will be free from its brokenness (Rom 8:20-22), and God’s redemption plan for our current broken humanity will be fulfilled.

If you’re experiencing a time of suffering, it is my hope that God, in His mercy, will use it as an opportunity where you may “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8), and come to trust in Him – He delivers those who trust in Him from suffering, to await a future where suffering is no longer a reality.

/ eudora@thir.st

Eudora found herself writing on public platforms by chance. Apart from writing, she likes many random things, including spoken word poetry, adult colouring books, tea, stationery and fresh, clean laundry.

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Why do the small sins count?

by Weiren David Ong | 8 December 2017, 11:16 AM

“Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread. On the first day you shall remove leaven from your houses. For whoever eats leavened bread from the first day until the seventh day, that person shall be cut off from Israel.” (Exodus 12:15)

These instructions were given to the Israelites concerning the Passover – a yearly festival of remembering how God delivered the emerging nation, when the Israelites were first instructed to paint their doorways with the blood of unblemished lambs. This was done so that the Angel of the Lord would pass over the household and not kill their firstborn, which was the tenth plague in Egypt leading up to the Exodus.

Complicated and slightly strange, I know, but this whole exercise was later revealed to be symbolic of the New Covenant, the blood of the perfect lamb Jesus Christ that covers over our sin and saves us from its consequence – death – into eternal life. Did you know the Jesus was crucified on the day of the Passover? 

But let’s go back to the thing about the unleavened bread that the Israelites were told to include in their Passover feast.

Leaven, or what we know as yeast, was used as a metaphor for what is unholy, impure, within a person. For those of you who aren’t bakers, yeast is put into dough to cause it to expand, rise and become fluffy as the yeast drives fermentation in the mixture.

Yeast is small – microscopic, actually – so imagine the immensity of having to clear leaven from the home every single year when the Passover comes around. People are bound to get lazy, complacent, busy, or even willing to bend some rules to evade hard work.

“One speck of yeast? If I cannot see it and you cannot see it – who does it harm?”

And over the years, one yeast cell may be missed out, or a speck of 50.

But the fact is: Yeast multiplies – impurity can grow. It never starts out outrightly obscene, no. Yeast, like sin, is sneaky. It begins with the small, “seemingly” innocuous thoughts:

“Nah, I’m too lazy to read my Bible, I’ve had a long day …”
“Why do I need to pray, I mean, God can read my thoughts …”
“Who are you to judge me?”

It may even be that condescending look we throw at others who seem below us, a nasty thought, the curses that brew in our minds (because “Christians cannot swear”).

It could even be the jokes told by our friends – the accidental slippage of a sneer when they gossip about that weird kid in class (I’m guilty).

Consider this: “Huge” crimes like murder, theft and rape … they all began with a small bit of yeast. Jealousy, violent thoughts … Leading to planning, mental rehearsal, and then to execution.

“A little leaven leavens the whole lump.” (Galatians 5:9)

It is very easy to hide yeast under the carpet, under the guise of “oh, that’s being too legalistic and also, I’m not a Puritan.” But yeast still grows in the hidden places (facultative anaerobe – sorry, nerd joke), and inevitably, you will find infestation and infection that comes with the allowance of impurity.

“Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
And cleanse me from my sin.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.”
(Psalm 51: 2, 7, 10)

Today, I choose to repent and seek God to help me to clear the leaven in my life – every speck has to go. Leaven shall have no place in the lives of those who follow Jesus; we are to deny ourselves, and carry the Cross daily.


This article was first published on Weiren’s blog and was republished with permission.

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Article list

Do you cry yourself to sleep each night like I do?

It’s Christmas! So what?

It takes a miracle to feed a whole village – and we did

An arts festival with purpose: Make room for the displaced this Christmas

Hope for anyone who is suffering

Why do the small sins count?