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Faith

I tried to save my best friend’s life; but everything fell apart

by Ashley Chan | 30 May 2017, 12:15 PM

It was the third week of January, 2015 – my first year of university.

I received a phone call. The voice said my best friend was in hospital. He’d met with a road accident and was fighting for his life. I didn’t believe it though – my friend had always joked that he’d die young. Without much thought I headed over.

When I arrived, the atmosphere was solemn. His red-eyed mum was slumped against the wall, on her knees. His dad held her, as the rest of the family stood with heads down.

I was directed into the emergency ward. The doctors had resuscitated him. He just left the operation theatre and the next 72 hours were critical.

I stared from behind the glass. His friend turned to me, smiling weakly, “It’s not a joke this time…” He looked down, and back at me. “Go in. I’m sure he would’ve wanted you here.”

I went in and was completely shaken. The motorcycle accident had disfigured his face beyond recognition. His skull was fractured and he’d suffered a stroke on the right side. Eyes barely open, the left side of his face was swollen, bruised and purple. Bandages tried in vain to contain gaping wounds.

I tried to pray, but didn’t have the words. I just cried, begged, “He isn’t a believer yet. Jesus please don’t take him. Please.”

It was painful to believe that God can take anyone, at any time.

It was painful to know that His sovereignty allows the death of the ones closest to us.

That was perhaps the longest night of my life.

The arduous 72 hours passed and his heart rate and blood pressure stabilised. Thank God!

Then the routine started: His parents came after work to check up on him while bringing food and drinks for visiting friends. His grandparents took turns to help. They knelt beside his bed, whispering prayers while tenderly wiping his face, arms and feet.

Wanting to help, I stopped attending lessons in school to become my friend’s round-the-clock caretaker.

When he came to, the effects of brain trauma grew apparent. Memory and psychomotor function were severely compromised. The right side of his body was paralysed neck-down. His memory flickered back in spurts, reminding him of the utter helplessness of his condition. His pent-up frustration was only aggravated by the concern of others.

His outbursts were, doctors said, the result of the damaged pre-frontal cortex – that was where complex cognitive behaviour, personality expression, decision making, and will to live were processed. Reparative surgery, however, was too risky. We’d have to be patient and lend him strength to recover on its own.

According to doctors, it was a miracle for him to survive the accident and regain consciousness within two weeks. Most patients remain in a vegetative, comatose state for a few months.

Wow. But I struggled to count any blessings.

I remember how athletic he was before. The exasperation must’ve been insane.

He would try to stand on his bed and fall over, “to leave the enemy camp”. His caring parents would bear the brunt of his tantrums and curses.

Lost in anger, he wouldn’t eat or sleep. He was disoriented and confused. I wonder if he even knew why he was in hospital.

His nicotine cravings came back – his parents didn’t know he smoked. The withdrawal symptoms and constant presence of others only served to magnify his frustration.

Once, after a nurse made her rounds for his ward, he grabbed my hand and whispered, “Take me to the rooftop. After I die, this will all reset. I won’t be handicapped. This is all a dream. The enemy just wants to mess with my mind. After I jump, it will return to how it was.”

He trusted me with his suicide. I knew we still shared a connection but the resolve in his eyes broke me. I couldn’t even chastise him because his reality was distorted by the head trauma.

A few feet away, his family was preparing healthy snacks for him since he detested hospital food. I could only try to distract him from these thoughts, hoping he’d forget eventually.

The season took a heavy toll on me. My exams were due in a few weeks, and I was too emotionally drained to think of anything other than my injured friend, whose life hung on the thinnest thread conceivable. I tried in vain to study. GPA was the least of my concerns. The endless concerns barricaded my mind.

I didn’t know how to comfort him. He didn’t even think I was real! Sometimes I’d be the enemy. Sometimes I’d be his confidante. But nothing I said seemed to get through. I cried out to God.

Taking care of him was like an abyssal void that resisted its own restoration. Worse still, it sucked me in. To numb the pain, I turned to smoking and drinking. I occasionally found myself woken up abruptly by choking on my vomit in my room on campus. The migraines started.

Every day, I’d casually pop a few Panadols before heading down to the hospital. It wasn’t like painkillers and cigarettes could soothe my pain, I just needed their placebo to calm down before I saw him from 7am to 11pm.

The emotional blackmail was unbearable. “No, if you’re my friend. you’d help me. Just go away if you won’t help,” he’d say.

Despite abandoning prayer by then, God pursued me. I’d been socially isolated and popping painkillers in school when some university friends contacted me. They’d noticed I hadn’t been attending any classes and were concerned.

In that moment as I spilled the truth of the matter to them, light came rushing in and shone on the dark places of my heart.

I realised that my saviour complex had revealed my distrust in God. I was selfish and impatient. In playing god to my friend, I was hindering God’s grace. I’m only human, how could I strive to be everything to my friend?

There is already One loves him more than I could ever do. Painfully, I decided to surrender the entire situation to God. Though my questions persisted, my priority became how I could align my thoughts, behaviour and attitude to loving Him.

I learnt that loving people didn’t mean suffering deeply with them despite being exhausted and completely drained of life. Instead it meant being fully present, ready to love others as I love myself. God assured me that this was only possible when I sought God first, above all things. I surrendered my heart completely to Him, in all its broken pieces.

I fixed my eyes on Him and He helped me see.

First, joy: I learnt to glory in sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope (Romans 5:3-5).

My friend completely changed. His diligence and perseverance rendered the physiotherapy highly successful. Soon enough he was back on his feet.

Jesus desires more than just our physical healing; he desires to restore us to wholeness, starting from within.

Over time, he progressed beyond the need for rehabilitative training to perform day-to-day tasks. By grace, he’s even been restored to his athletic state. Though the right side of his body remains slightly weakened, he now participates in numerous competitive sports in university. Nobody would’ve guessed what he’s been through.

Holding on to Jesus’ unwavering hope has sustained and strengthened me greatly. If you have a loved one who is suffering or in a demanding situation right now, know that the Jesus desires more than just our physical healing. He desires to restore us to wholeness, starting from within.

His death didn’t just give us life, but life abundant – through pain, struggle and death. For from Him, through Him, and for Him are all things. We find life, from now to eternity, through Him alone.

If you’ve lost all hope, look to Him and He’ll help you see.

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In trying to be a friend, I let myself be emotionally manipulated

by | 20 April 2018, 2:02 PM

I grew up with love stories.

When I was younger, it was about how true love made a mermaid abandon her home for a prince.  When I was older, it was the Korean dramas which showed how true love perseveres in spite of disapproving parents, illnesses and rivalries.

I’ve had my perception of love shaped since I was a child: Patient, selfless and forgiving. And that’s great! Selflessly loving others is a good thing as long as we exercise discernment in doing so. That was my problem: Story books and dramas never taught me about discernment.

So I loved like a high-speed ambulance without brakes.

I met Tim when I was in school and clicked with him almost immediately. He shared his life with me, gradually letting me see how broken his family was. His real life was a stark contrast to the facade he put up for others to see, to convince everyone that his life was put together.

It didn’t take me long to realise that he was running away from the emptiness in his heart. To rid himself of loneliness, he worked his way up the social ladder. And to feel better about his self-worth, he took care of his appearance and won girls’ hearts.

But these were just temporal pleasures. What he truly needed wasn’t the love of men – but the love of God.

As I disagreed with his actions and perception of life, I rebuked him and tried to point him to a better way. I struggled to love him as a friend because he was a ball of depression and anxiety, frequently lamenting how not even God would love him.

He pinned the blame for his brokenness onto his broken family, and guilt-tripped me for not being loving enough to stay. He was emotionally manipulative, threatening me with his suicidal thoughts whenever I wanted distance from the friendship.

I often shared about my friendship with Tim to friends and mentors who also knew him. But because I thought I would be gossiping, I left out all the parts where he was toxic or emotionally manipulative. I didn’t want to taint what they thought of him in case he ever decided to come to church.

Because of the partial truths I had shared with my peers, they were unaware of the severity of the situation. So their advice was generically encouraging – not what I truly needed to hear because I was never transparent with them. And so I continued to invest in my friendship with Tim.

I continued to suffer for months until I told my friends the truth, who immediately persuaded me to get out of the friendship.

Selflessly loving others is a good thing as long as we exercise discernment in doing so.

I was heartbroken. I knew how much he needed God and had believed it was my duty to make every effort in showing Christ’s love to him. I cried as I told my mentors how I felt like I’d failed as a servant of God. But a friend shared a verse with me.

“”I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.” (Matthew 10:16)

I didn’t realise that what I thought was long-suffering love, was actually me just blindly remaining in a toxic friendship.

But I don’t want this article to discourage anyone from showing love to others.

“And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.” (Philippians 1:9-11)

That’s from Paul’s letter to the Church in Philippi. I could use that prayer myself: God, help me to love others wisely.

I’ve learnt to know when a friendship has turned toxic, and how to be more accountable. I am heartened to hear from friends that Tim is doing well and pursuing a deeper understanding of God now. I know that God wants to minister to Tim – maybe just not through me. And that’s OK.

I just want to serve the Lord, who sees plainly our hearts.

/ helene@thir.st

After surviving the chaos of Poly life fighting the evils of sleep deprivation and academic stress, Helene now spends most of her free time repaying her three years accumulated debt of not doing household chores.

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Why we don’t call home more often

by | 19 April 2018, 12:45 PM

You may have heard this verse before, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” And we thank God that it is true. But when I read the verse, I also think of how our faith is so often dependent on crisis.

How many of us only pray when there is some sort of crisis in our lives? Something we cannot control with human means, something we’ve run out of solutions for.

I wonder if less things would boil over into our laps if we talked to God more. You’ll notice that I used the word “talk”. I’m writing about prayer in the context of it being an ongoing lifestyle – almost like a regular phone call home – not just an SOS hotline.

Today I’m thinking of prayer and reflecting on how the simple act of talking to God has changed my life.

Last year, I had the privilege of listening to Dr. Leonard Ravenhill preach at my church. One of the most memorable things he said to the congregation was this: “Prayer is the privilege of stepping into the Control Room of the Universe and meeting God.”

Imagine that. We are so quick to look horizontally to each other for a word of comfort or advice, but we forget we have a similar, even more powerful vertical relationship and access to the Creator of Heaven and Earth! Jesus paid for this privilege with His own blood, and how little we use it gratefully – much less treat it as such.

Dr. Ravenhill offered a framework of “3 Ps” which really summed up who God is when it comes to prayer (the verses are my own personal examples).

Presence: Now that the veil is torn, without a need for anymore yearly mediation, God is very present and available to help us at all times. (Psalm 46:1, Hebrews 4:15-16)
Passion: He wants to help us. (Psalm 40:17, 72:12)
Power: He is able to help us. (Psalm 121:2, John 14:26)

I had such a good time researching these verses on who God is when it comes to prayer and helping us. The Psalms, especially, are bursting with God’s promises to help those He loves.

This is the point: It is rare to find someone whose help for you is always present, willing and able — but God’s help is all these things, all the time!

Some of Dr. Ravenhill’s closing words in that sermon were most remarkable, “God wants us to take hold of our power and authority in Him. No more mere looking up — look down with God and execute!

“Prayer is touching Heaven to change Earth.”

One of my mentors once said: “Prayer is the first recourse, not the last resort.” In one of his sermons, he shared an invaluable framework which he uses to pray effectively with. He calls it “ACTS.”

Adoration
Confession
Thanksgiving
Supplication

Adoration is giving God praise and worship for who He is. Confession is admitting our sins to God, who forgives and sanctifies us. Thanksgiving to God is honouring Him, recognising that we owe Him everything. Supplication is praying for our needs or others’.

It’s a very holistic approach to prayer, important angles of prayer that help foster a living, breathing relationship with God. If your prayer only sounds like a cry for help — you can go one step further and do better.

Prayer has been Christ’s chief passion upon ascension (Hebrews 7:25).

S.D. Gordon puts it far better than I ever can: “Thirty years of living, thirty years of serving, one tremendous act of dying, and two thousand years of prayer. What an emphasis on prayer!”

Prayer is what God loves. Now, I want us to step into the Control Room of the Universe for a second.

“And when he had taken it, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb. Each one had a harp and they were holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of God’s people.” (Revelations 5:8)

Incense gives off a sweet fragrance when burned. So, what is the incense used in Heaven? It is prayer.

God values prayer. Think about it: When designing Heaven He could have chosen to perfume it with absolutely anything He wanted. Yet He chose prayer — anything else and it would have been unfair.

This is what Dan Hayes has to say on the inequitable nature of prayer: “In prayer, we all, regardless of our differences, have equal access to Him and equal love and grace and power from Him at our disposal.”

Prayer is the divine equaliser, because unlike preaching or worship-leading or teaching, all men can pray.

Thank God for the simple reason that talking to Him is something everyone can do. And when we pray, it brings a pleasing aroma into His home.

Perhaps it’s time we called home more often.

/ 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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You’re never too far gone

by | 18 April 2018, 5:20 PM

Some time ago, I sat in a conflict resolution meeting with some of my cell members.

Simply put, the conflict was caused by mistakes I had made. There was a lot of unease going into that meeting as I didn’t know how would my cellmates react: Would I be rebuked for my incompetence? Were they going to tell me that they were right all along?

As I sat in that meeting, I was instead surprised by how quickly my cell members forgave me and take me back into the cell. It happened in a blur – undeserved but freely given.

What did I do to merit such favour? By all accounts, it was me who messed up – why were they so gracious?

I realised my quick reinstatement resembled the prodigal son’s homecoming (Luke 15:11-32). You know the story: The prodigal son runs away from home and lives as if his father was dead. He then squanders his inheritance on every vice imaginable.

Sin tries hard to take us as far from God as it possibly can. It makes us grieve God. And yet our God is like that father who endures the heartbreak of watching his child waste his life – living for the next high.

Deep in trouble, the son thinks of home – he misses being in his father’s house and love – and makes a plan to ask his father to take him back as a slave. Speech prepared, he picks himself and trudges on home.

In the moments before our meeting, I could empathise with the prodigal son’s pain. He had made a complete wreck of his life and his only option was to return to his father he had rejected. What kept him going past the shame of failure was the memory of his father’s house and love. It was similar for me: I remember doing nothing but praying the entire journey there.

The grace God gives to us surpasses all logic and rational thought.

It’s just like how we are when we come back to God after yet another sinful escapade. In the mess and muck, upon remembering His love and providence, we realise the best course of action is to return to our Father.

The younger son thinks he’s finally crossed the line – he’s too far gone. But as he walks home, instead of being yelled and jeered at by a man on the horizon, the Father runs toward him and embraces him. Remarkably, the Father cuts the son off midway through his apology speech. He can’t wait to get a feast started. He can’t wait to celebrate his son’s return!

That’s our God. He never forsakes us – even when we forsake Him. He doesn’t just wait for us with open arms – He runs to us when we come home. Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.

The grace God gives to us surpasses all logic and rational thought.

My friends demonstrated God’s love to me when their forgiveness and grace sprinted to meet me. The grace extended to me that day wasn’t something I could ever earn. But they looked past my mistakes and welcomed me home.

Have you run away from such a love? Maybe you feel your life’s an empty shell, like you’re too far gone. Well, you’re not. God’s love is waiting to wash over you the moment you turn around and come home.

So come back, brother. Dad is home and dinner’s ready.

/ junheng@thir.st

JunHeng is a 100% extrovert who loves caffeine – lots of caffeine. He also likes HTHTs, jamming and eating good food. Did he mention he loves caffeine?

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Am I really honouring God in my studies?

by | 18 April 2018, 1:49 PM

You’re in the middle of a sermon but your mind is somewhere else.

You’re thinking about the truckload of assignments waiting for you, or that exam tomorrow you haven’t studied for. You stand for the closing worship song, but instead of meditating on the lyrics – you’re waiting to rush home to hit the books.


I’m sure we’ve all been there. In this grades-driven nation, we’re used to the pressure of living up to the expectations of both our parents and ourselves. In fact, Singaporean youths today are more motivated in their studies than the global average.

That’s a good thing, but there’s a danger to it: Our academic pursuits so easily overshadow eternal things without us even realising it.

As someone whose identity has been tied to her grades for the longest time, I relate well to this struggle. Back in secondary school, I used to dread going to church whenever my exams were coming up. I studied my revision notes right under the nose of the preacher and would rush home as soon as service ended each week.

There are so many more urgent and important things to do.

That was one of the recurring thoughts in my head whenever I headed to church, did my devotionals or read the Bible. Though I knew they were wrong, why did they ring so true in my head?

How could anything be as important as devoting time spent to God and learning more about Him and His Word? How could I let the chase for grades overtake God’s place? My thought-life betrayed the condition of my heart.

Ever heard the hymn, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing?

Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

I realise how easily our hearts wander from him, how easily the things of this world can overtake God’s place in our hearts.

Desiring to excel in our studies is certainly something to be commended. We are all called to be good stewards of the resources God gives us. But in the case of time, is it all going into our studies? Are we neglecting to spend real quality time in Church or at home with our family?

““Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you. (Exodus 20:12)

Being a student doesn’t exempt you from being salt and light in this world (Matthew 5:13-16). When we study for God’s glory – working in a spirit of excellence and exemplifying Christlike character – it is a testimony to our schoolmates and friends.

We must know our priorities. While it’s important to be good students, our personal walk with Him is infinitely more important. We have little issue setting aside time for the things we enjoy doing, or the people we hold dear … But is it the same for God?

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21)

Make time for what’s important.

I’ve made it a point to do my devotionals as soon as I’m up from bed. Whenever I feel lethargic, I do my devotion at another time in the day when I’m fresher to concentrate better.

I’ve also developed the habit of using my trusty planner to note down important deadlines. I plan my time properly to spare myself the temptation of skipping Church.

It’s never easy to put God above our worldly priorities. Sometimes, even if we truly desire to pursue Him, our fallen human nature causes us to stray from Him. How we need the Holy Spirit to help us desire Him.

/ helene@thir.st

After surviving the chaos of Poly life fighting the evils of sleep deprivation and academic stress, Helene now spends most of her free time repaying her three years accumulated debt of not doing household chores.

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by Charis Tan | 17 April 2018, 2:39 PM

I think these 4 things rob us of our capacity to yield to God: Insecurity, pride, fear and impulsiveness. 

When we are insecure, our desire for the affections of others eclipses our desire for God’s. We measure ourselves by people’s opinions rather than our significance to God, who always acknowledges us as we are and is an unending source of affirmation.

Insecurity begets insecurity. Chasing validation from someone makes us forget to encourage someone else who may need it. Getting caught up in how others treat us leads us to mistreat others too. 

When we are prideful, we prioritise proving our love over actually loving others. We are impatient to see results, rather than seeing the people we are serving. We become poor stewards of the gifts we were given.

In my immaturity, I have many a time abused a spiritual gift because I was less interested in a person’s life than I was about playing a role in it.

When we act from fear, we cannot act from love. When I was afraid I wasn’t loved, I would try to verify that I was rather than finding instant comfort and support in God. My fears were always irrational and contradictory to what God says about me.

When I was afraid my love was not good enough, I was ashamed to be wholehearted. When I was afraid others perceived my love as not good enough, I was ashamed to be expressive.

Also, fear and shame desensitise us to needs around us. We don’t notice how we desperately avoid being hurt, resulting in the deep scarring pain of those we run and hide from.

When we are impulsive, we compromise our callings for something lesser. We give up pieces of our destiny, a destiny Jesus paid for.

The one time I told God explicitly I wanted to quit on something, I did not believe then that He would never ask something of me that He would not sustain me through.

God has never withdrawn grace from me, but I failed to accept it when I was blinded by pain. I forgot that all things were invitations further into His heart, and was more fixated on what my own had been dragged through. 

Feeling God’s heart is supernatural, and at the core of it, unconditional, selfless and faithful. The degree to which we yield to His perspective is the degree to which we love unconditionally, selflessly and faithfully. 

When we struggle to yield to God, we think we are ready for something He has said we are not. He can be in the middle of a process in our lives and we stop Him short. The corners we cut accumulate, snowball, and lacerate us. We may only feel the effects later.

And when we fail to embrace His process, we are too easily satisfied with stepping-stones to full breakthrough. 

Sometimes God wants to enlarge our capacity, but we lack the faith to see where He wants to take us and think we will remain small and inadequate to the task. So we give up.

But when God gives a dream, He expands us to accommodate that dream. We quit only because we do not trust Him to see things through.

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Article list

I tried to save my best friend’s life; but everything fell apart

In trying to be a friend, I let myself be emotionally manipulated

Why we don’t call home more often

You’re never too far gone

Am I really honouring God in my studies?

We quit only because we do not trust