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Faith

The man who knew too much

by | 22 February 2018, 4:46 PM

I’ll just get some water and go, I reasoned to myself. It won’t take long.

Ever since the rumours started, I found it difficult to go anywhere. Noon wasn’t the best time to head out of the house, the scorching sun high overhead, but at least the chances of meeting someone I knew were near zero.

Most times they stared, sometimes they gestured to their companions – but the worst was always the murmuring. By now I think I’d heard everything. Look, it’s that woman. If I were her I’d rather be dead. Jinx.

It was difficult to keep their accusations out. I used to go home and cry myself to sleep. Then a time came when I’d feel nothing but bitter rage. These days, I just avoided the public eye as much as I could. It was just so much easier.

“Almost there,” I muttered under my breath, as I willed my feet to move.

A trickle of sweat dripped from my chin into the water jar I was hugging with my arms. I was about to reach the well when I saw the silhouette of a man. He was sitting against the well.

I paused. It was a strange sight to see someone at the well in the middle of the day. Should I still go ahead? I didn’t really want to risk putting myself in the firing line again, but I really needed the water. Besides, I’d come this far …

“I’ll just get the water and go,” I eventually convinced myself.

I tightened my grip on the water jar. Ignoring the man’s presence, I inched towards the well cautiously, hoping he would let me retrieve my water peacefully.

He didn’t.

“Will you give me a drink?” he asked when I approached the well.

Surprised by his question, I turned to look at him for the first time.

A Jew.

His question confused me. Jews hated Samaritans like me. They think we’re half-breeds, impure, and accursed. I know because they’re not afraid to tell us – loudly.

“You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman,” I replied carefully. “How can you ask me for a drink?”

“If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”

I looked at him incredulously, unsure of what he was talking about. It seemed as though he was insinuating he had some supernatural powers, and that I should be asking him for water. But as I glanced at his hands, I saw he had nothing on him. No jug, no pail, no wineskin. Nothing.

“Sir,” I said, “you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water?”

Then it struck me: Maybe he has his own well? So I quickly added, “Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his livestock?”

He smiled, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

I knew it! He’s got his own source of water! If I have access to his water, I will never thirst, never have to come back here to this accursed well, never have to face the stares and questions I always get just so I can get some water.

I pleaded, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”

“Well then, go call your husband and come back,” he instructed.

I blinked. I hadn’t seen that coming.

“I have no husband,” I finally managed to say.

“You are right when you say you have no husband,” the man replied, “The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have said is quite true.”

Who was this man, who could know the things no one should know?

I began to survey the man and saw him in a new light.

For example, the way he looked at me. People usually avoid eye contact, as though I’m some kind of leper. But as he looked straight into my eyes, I could see there was no contempt, no judgment. No condemnation. Yet his voice was firm and authoritative.

He had answers. I had questions.

“Sir, I can see that you’re a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain. But you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem.”

Actually, what I really wanted to know was why he was here. At the well. In the middle of the day. With no water jug.

If he truly were a prophet, why was he at this mountain and not in Jerusalem?

And why was he talking to me?

“Woman,” he addressed me. “Believe me, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews.

“Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshippers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshippers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshippers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.”

It was the first time I heard anything like that. Since the time of Moses, our ancestors have been worshipping on mountains. The man seemed to be onto something.

Unsure of what to say, I stammered, “I know that the Messiah is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.”

“I the one speaking to you – I am he.”

I nearly dropped my water jar. Questions flooded my mind, but I was too tongue-tied to ask anything.

Was I truly looking into the face of the Messiah? The Son of David we’ve been waiting for? The Saviour of the world?

I barely registered a group of men approaching the well. All I could think was: I NEED TO TELL SOMEONE ABOUT THIS! Leaving my water jar at his feet, I turned and started to run.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I reached the town breathless and panting. People stared at me, probably thinking I was a lunatic, but I couldn’t care less. They’ve thought worse of me.

“This man!” I heaved in the middle of the marketplace, “This man – He told me everything I had ever done!”

Startled by my shouts, a crowd slowly started to gather around me. I tried to spit the words out as fast as I could, but I couldn’t. I hunched over, trying to gather all the breath and energy I had left, and with all the might I could muster, I shouted, “Could he be the Messiah?”

A sudden silence enveloped the crowd. People began to look at one another as though they couldn’t believe what they’d just heard. I began to tell of how this man, a stranger, knows me. I described how he told me of my past, and my present. And how he knew the future too.

If the man truly is who he says he is, then I know what the future looks like: Hope.

I have hope because he didn’t shun me, a Samaritan.

I have hope because he willingly spoke to me, a woman.

I have hope because I know the Messiah will accept even me, a sinner.

I drew a deep breath. Looking at the crowd squarely into their eyes, I declared the soft, undeniable truth that had settled in my heart:

“He’s the Saviour of the world. Now come see for yourself!”


This is an adapted account of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well, taken from John 4:1-42.

/ siqi@thir.st

Siqi loves to eat. Except for peas, egg yolk, cucumbers, livers, intestines. Among others. She also happens to be a writer.

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My parents don’t talk any more

by | 18 June 2018, 10:00 AM

“How are your parents?”

That was the question my friend asked me, as we sat in a ramen shop after wrapping up our worship training overseas. She had just shared with me about her family; she was raised by only her father after her mother passed away when she was young.

When that question left her lips, the noodles in my mouth started to lose their taste. I think my face must have twitched.

As she shared about her family dynamics, there were many things I resonated with. Wanting to escape from home, family tension, awkward Chinese New Year arrangements, loneliness, hopelessness for the future …

But my parents weren’t divorced or separated. They’re living together under one roof … mostly as strangers.

The last time my parents were on talking terms must’ve been in 2009.

My dad was suddenly hospitalised for a heart surgery in the middle of my O Level preliminary exams. As I clutched my social studies textbook, my family spent the night huddled in the ICU.

Some months later, I came home from school to find them in a heated argument about hospital bills and finances. In one moment of anger, some nasty words were said. My mom fled the room and slammed the door shut.

And ever since that moment, they’ve never had another conversation.

Refrain from contributing or participating in any family drama.

I became their middle man and official messenger.

Nowadays we only go for Chinese New Year visitations if I’m around. Everyone stocks up their own groceries in the pantry and prepares their own meals. It’s as though we are housemates.

It’s difficult living in such a complicated family situation. People assume that since my parents are still living together, my family must be more or less normal.

But we’re not. And my mum has become more dependent on me ever since the fallout. Her decades of being a housewife has probably cut off most – if not all of her social circle. She doesn’t like staying home alone with my dad, so I try to spend as much as time I can with her.

But my friends don’t understand.

Why you such a mummy’s girl? That was something someone in my cell group had once remarked in jest, after I said I had to leave early after service to have lunch with my mum.

Oh, you’re calling your mum again? Another comment from a friend, after I told her I had to FaceTime my mother to check in on her while we were overseas.

I also know that my dad isn’t entirely as bad as what he is described to be. He doesn’t say much to me unless needed, and he has his moments of anger. But he has worked without a break for decades, always pays the bills, and always makes sure I have enough.

Who could ever understand my family situation? I’ve always felt all alone. I turned to the Bible looking for some ray of hope, and was surprised to find messed up families just like mine in the Bible!

  • Adam and Eve: Messed up the entire world; one of their sons murdered his brother.
  • Sarah and Abraham: Got her husband to get their servant Hagar pregnant.
  • Lot: Seduced by one of his daughters to commit drunken incest.
  • Jacob: His sons conspired to kill their youngest brother Joseph, sold him into slavery.

And all the above happened in just the first book of the Bible. And as I read on, I learnt many lessons about how to live well in an imperfect family.

HONOUR THEM STILL

The Bible is clear about honouring our parents (Exodus 20:12, Deuteronomy 5:16). It is the fifth commandment, but the first that comes with a promise. It is the first commandment that governs a horizontal relationship – the only commandment that comes with a reward.

This also means that we refrain from contributing or participating in any family drama. There was one my mum was ranting to me about my dad, when I heard the Holy Spirit gently say: “Don’t dishonour your dad in the process of supporting your mum.”

My mum wanted me to agree with her about my dad’s faults. She wanted me to side with her. But I just quietly listened to her, and tried my best to explain the situation to her objectively. My dad had his faults, but if I had simply gone along with my mum emotionally, I would only be reinforcing negative ideas about him.

Honouring our parents requires us to submit to them as the parental authority God has placed over us (Ephesians 6:1). It means choosing to treat them as treasures, granting them a position of respect in our lives even when it seems like they don’t deserve it.

MANAGE YOUR EXPECTATIONS

In every relationship, it is important to keep expectations in check. Unmanaged expectations will eventually lead to disappointment and disillusionment.

I don’t expect perfection from my parents because I know they aren’t perfect. I know that they, just like me, have their own issues and struggles that they don’t speak about. I raise and lower expectations according to how I’ve known them over the years.

There is a greater purpose and deeper message behind the mess.

Another thing that is equally important is that we communicate our expectations … Telepathy isn’t a thing!

When I was in JC, I often came home late because my school was far away from home and my CCA usually ended in the evening. I never understood why my mum would get so upset about me coming home late, so I got equally upset at her apparently unreasonable behaviour.

After all, I was in school! It wasn’t like I was running around outside … Until I realised why she was so upset: She just wanted me to let her know if I was going to be back for dinner.

Uncommunicated expectations create more misunderstandings than needed.

KEEP ON PRAYING

But to be honest, even as I try my best to honour my parents and manage my expectations, it still feels really hard on many days.

It feels like something is amiss in my family, like there must be more. And many times I’m faced with a situation where I really just don’t know what to do … It’s usually at that point where this verse comforts me: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you” (James 1:5).

And as I persevere in prayer, I know breakthroughs will happen. Situations will change. Hearts will move. None of our prayers are ever prayed in vain (Revelation 8:1-5). And if even Jesus prayed unceasingly (Hebrews 5:7), why shouldn’t we?

There is nothing else I can do but to pray and surrender my family situation to God. It is easy for us to give up on complicated family relations because humans are messy.

But the story of Jesus – a Saviour coming from a lineage of messy and dysfunctional families – is a lasting reminder that love and goodness can come out of the deepest of wounds.

There is a greater purpose and deeper message behind the mess. And the end of all of it, it points us to our need for a Saviour.

/ christina@thir.st

Christina is a designer who memorises Pantone swatches. She is an INFJ who loves matcha, 80% dark chocolate, beautiful typography and folk jazz. She also dreams of raising her own pet penguin one day.

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God is my Father

by | 8 June 2018, 3:07 PM

Have you ever felt heart-wrenching pain?

I remember being surprised with my first experience of heart-wrenching pain. Amidst the torment, I was surprised to find that heartbreak matched the word so well.

The experience of disappointment and pain comes to us all, at some point in life. Some of us seem to have it worse, but no one is immune to it.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10)

In a world filled with suffering and sorrow, Jesus Christ is the only hope for a people threatened by darkness. But the funny thing is, I was never a Jesus type of person growing up. When I was young I associated Churches with the brown tourist sign more than I associated it with a place where freedom is found.

I did step into a Church, eventually. But I only found freedom because Jesus Christ found me. It has little to do with a building or a programme, but much more to do with how we respond to his invitation to know God our Father, through him. 

God is our Father in heaven who we can trust in, who gave his son Jesus Christ for us (John 3:16), such that our hearts need not be troubled anymore.

There is a story about a man who left his father’s home to squander his inheritance away. He reached a point where he was so hungry he ate with pigs. Finally, he came to his senses one day: “Why I am starving to death when my father has plenty to spare at home?” So he went home.

“So he got up and went to his father. “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.” (Luke 15:20-24)

Because of his mistakes, the man in the story didn’t think he was worthy to be called his father’s son anymore – but he was wrong. God is the sort of father who would run to welcome a wayward child back home. He is unthreatened by our messes; He extends forgiveness to his children.

In a world filled with suffering and sorrow, Jesus Christ is the only hope for a people threatened by darkness.

We can never fathom the vastness and greatness of God, but the kindness of God is near and available to us. It is a tangible thing.

There is life at the hand of our Father who lavishes us with love that overflows. Surely it is not because of what I’ve done that I can call God my Father, but because He first saw it fit to welcome me home as His child.

“If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. (Romans 10:9)

It is His grace to me that I came to my senses one day and knew my desperate need to return to my Father. And I still need that grace every day.

Take the words of Jesus Christ to heart today, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

/ fiona@thir.st

Fiona is secretly hilarious and deeply devoted to her dogs. She is also a strange introvert who loves good chats with strangers and anyone with a story. At other times, you'll find her watching nature in wonder, wherever the sunlight touches with gold.

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My father, the drug addict

by | 8 June 2018, 12:01 AM

James Giam (51) has been jailed 19 times over the span of three decades. And in the nine years he spent away from home, his wife and two young sons, James was all alone.

He slept in parks and in the void decks, borrowing money from the few friends who would still acknowledge him. He had almost nothing left to his name but the clothes on his back.

“The problem was with my lifestyle, my mindset, and my drug addictions. Things were no longer within my control. I tried changing but I just couldn’t find a way out – I felt trapped.”

It all began with glue-sniffing around the age of 17, which opened the door to darker paths and more dangerous drugs.

“I did think of going back, many times. But I couldn’t. ‘Face’ was one thing, but the second thing was that I had already given up. I’d given up on myself, given up on my family … I didn’t want to pick myself up again.”

So, he lived a vagrant’s life. And when it got too much to bear, he would try to get himself arrested and sent to prison – where there was at least food and shelter.

With all the time he spent in prison ­– whether for drug-related offences or for petty crimes – James saw his share of things.

James saw sons visit their fathers, fathers visit their sons – but he had also seen sons and fathers locked up in the same prison. He wondered if he would have to visit his son in prison one day, too. Or if they would end up there together.

So one morning in prison, James thought of his son. “Sean, who should have been in secondary school at that time, came to my mind. I became rebellious at that age … and I wondered if he would become rebellious too.”

James had grown up without his parents, and he saw himself then in his son. After all, Sean was only seven when his father stopped coming home one day.

He saw sons visit their fathers, fathers visit their sons – but he had also seen sons and fathers locked up in the same prison. He wondered if he would have to visit his son in prison one day – or if they would end up there together.

“I happened to read a book about prayer, so I wrote a very long [prayer for my family]. Day and night, I prayed that prayer.”

James didn’t know if God was going to answer his prayer, but it was the only thing he could do for his sons from behind bars, so he kept at it. He prayed for his family every day.

And after he was released from prison, James asked to see his sons to which their mother agreed.

“One day, my mum told me that my dad wants to come and find me. I was thinking, after so many years … Why now?”

Sean was hesitant to meet the man who was little more than a stranger to him, but agreed when his mother told him that the conditions she had set were that James wouldn’t come into the house, and it would only be for an hour.

“When he came over, the conversation didn’t turn out the way I expected. We talked about a lot of things. We talked about how he was in Church, and how I was in Church also.”

James told me he remembered thinking then, “God really answered my prayer.”

He had been praying that God would surround his son with Christian friends, that someone would bring would bring Sean to Church, so his son would know Jesus.

“He answered it completely,” said James. Both father and son discovered that they had both been attending the same Church.

“I was quite shocked,” said Sean. “It couldn’t be a coincidence. That was when I was reassured that God was pulling me back to my dad.”

But forgiveness was still something Sean had to learn.

“When I told my mentor about this situation, he encouraged me to meet my father more. I was quite hesitant. But in the end I just tried to meet him more.

“As timed passed, I learnt from my mentor to forgive. At the end of the day, when I see how I’m forgiven, I think I should learn to forgive as well.”

But a few months down the road, Sean was tested when James ended up in prison again.

“When I heard from my dad that he made a mistake again, I was quite shocked that I wasn’t angry … I didn’t condemn him and I didn’t scold him.”

 Sean took his mentor’s lessons on forgiveness to heart, and God gave him strength to help his father pick himself up again.

” … At the end of the day, when I see how I’m forgiven, I think I should learn to forgive as well.”

Sean’s forgiveness to me was a new revelation of God’s character, and a new side of my son I’d never seen,” James said. Neither father nor son thought their present outcome was possible – James freed from his bondages; Sean having a father.

But Sean wasn’t the only one who had to learn how to forgive. Having grown up without his parents, James also had to learn how to forgive them.

“Unforgiveness made my life very painful. Because without forgiving them, I also didn’t know how to forgive myself. As I prayed … I also forgave my parents. And because of that, I am able to receive God’s forgiveness, and my children’s forgiveness.”

In the end, forgiveness from God was the key that opened the door for James to walk out of darkness and back into his children’s lives.

And it was the same for Sean: Since God can forgive me for what I’ve done… I can also forgive my father.” Sean planted the seed of forgiveness in faith, not knowing what would come out of it. But three years later, his act of obedience to God – to honour his father – is reaping fruits.

“When my mother sees me accepting my father, she can also let go of the past and accept him, to the point that she’d let us go out with him and invite him back home for reunion dinner during Chinese New Year.

“Seeing my mum happy and my dad happy gives me a sense of relief.”

As we prepared for the final questions of the interview, there was still some time before filming began. So James and Sean sat shoulder-to-shoulder on a ledge, talking casually about school, camera equipment and the imminent rain.

If you didn’t already know their story, they look like any other father and son pair. As the interviews concludes, Sean emphasises this one thing repeatedly: No matter what happens, he’s got his father’s back, and he will always support his father together with his younger brother Paul.

From the look on James’s face, you could tell he knew his son meant what he said. Though Sean is only 18 this year, his choices reflect love and wisdom beyond his years. It reminds me of something Jesus said to his disciples:

“Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.” (Luke 7:47)

I believe the key to Sean’s capacity to love and forgive is this: The knowledge that he too has been forgiven much by his Heavenly Father.

Forgiveness helped James and Sean to step out of darkness and brokenness into light. It looks a lot like God’s forgiveness, who first forgave us. Love is never far from where forgiveness is dispensed.

“And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the land with a decree of utter destruction.” (Malachi 4:6)

A Father’s heart is always turned towards His children.

/ fiona@thir.st

Fiona is secretly hilarious and deeply devoted to her dogs. She is also a strange introvert who loves good chats with strangers and anyone with a story. At other times, you'll find her watching nature in wonder, wherever the sunlight touches with gold.

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Article list

The man who knew too much

My parents don’t talk any more

Daddy’s Home

God is my Father

I wasted 22 years in bondage to Heroin and Ice

My father, the drug addict