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I was planning to get married, then I got cancer

by Yolanda Lee | 6 October 2017, 4:21 PM

“Yolanda, I’m really sorry but you have cancer.”

I didn’t know how to react. My mind was a blank. The doctor continued explaining my report, but I just stared blankly at her. As I lay down for her to examine me, I noticed that tears were streaming down my face.

“Triple Negative Breast Cancer” was what the doctors called it. A rare form of breast cancer.

Anyone else would have called it their worst nightmare. And now it was mine.

It was August 2016. I was 28 years old, working as a music educator and happily in a relationship for more than a year. Howard and I were already discussing marriage and our future together. Life was really good and I had nothing to complain about.

I had discovered a pimple-sized lump underneath the skin on my right breast. I didn’t think too much of it until a month later, when I realised it had grown to the size of a grape. It might just be a simple cyst, I thought.

Two weeks later, I finally saw a doctor at the hospital to get it checked up and removed. The cyst had grown to be about 5cm in diameter. Cancer didn’t cross my mind. I was still convinced it was benign.

Walking out of the clinic after receiving my diagnosis, I felt as if my entire world was crumbling to pieces.

I’m too young to have cancer. I have a lot of things in life to accomplish. I still want to look pretty, to have fun, to go on holidays and eat delicious food. I still want to get married. With cancer, will I be able to? Will Howard accept me?

I was to undergo a full mastectomy of my right breast. They couldn’t save it because the tumour occupied more than 80% of the breast.

After my surgery, I saw that one side of my chest was heavily bandaged and flat. I braced myself for how it would look like after the bandages were removed. I asked myself every day in the hospital: When I see my body in the mirror, a huge scar across my chest – one breast no longer there – will I break down and cry?

Would this make me less of a female? I worried about how Howard would see me. Honestly, I feared how other people would look at me, more than how I’d see myself.

The next course of my treatment was chemotherapy. The initial side effects were severe nausea and headaches. I couldn’t eat or sleep well for the next few days. It got so bad that even drinking a sip of water would cause me to gag. I was like a living corpse.

One week after my first session, I realised my hair was falling out while I was in the shower. I stood staring at the clumps of fallen hair in shock.

I knew it was coming, but seeing it happen with my own eyes was another thing. Even gently combing my fingers through my hair would cause it to fall out relentlessly. When I woke up in the morning, my whole pillow would be covered with hair.

He revealed to me: This is your new crown. The crown of faith, strength and courage.

The pain of watching my hair fall off was far worse than having to see myself bald. It was like watching bits of yourself waste away to nothing. In the end, I plucked up the courage to visit the hairdresser to shave my head bald.

As I watched her take huge snips out of what little hair I had left, followed by the sound of the electric razor shaving my head, I had to fight extremely hard to hold back my tears.

Lord, lend me your strength. I do not want to cry here in public. Hold me tight and keep me strong.

But that night, during my quiet time with God, He revealed to me: This is your new crown. The crown of faith, strength and courage.

Then, as though my life hadn’t fallen apart quite enough, I was informed that chemotherapy would eventually cause me to lose my ovarian functions. That meant I would become infertile. I would also experience menopause at the age of 28.

How could this be? Just months ago, I had been talking to Howard about how many kids we wanted – and now I couldn’t even have children biologically. But thanks to modern medicine, there was a solution: Freezing my eggs in a storage unit for In Vitro Fertilisation (IVF) in the future.

I had to undergo 14 days of injections to grow and ripen as many eggs as possible before the surgery to have the eggs extracted. I also had to take monthly jabs to protect my ovaries as much as possible in hopes that they might function normally even after my treatment.

“If you tell me this is going to be enough for the future, I’m trusting You and I’ll be contented. But if it is not enough, then give me what You think is best for me.”

But it was through this trial that I got to experience a miracle of God for the first time. On average, it is recommended to have 10 to 15 eggs ripened and frozen for IVF to be potentially successful. On the second last day of my injection cycle, I only had 6 eggs – a far cry away from what was considered to be a safe amount.

I prayed to God and asked Him, “Lord, I only have 6 eggs. If you tell me this is going to be enough for the future, I’m trusting You and I’ll be contented. But if You think it is not enough, then give me what You think is best for me.”

He was silent. But the day after my injection cycle ended, I entered the operating theatre with a heart set on trusting Him and went through the procedure.

The surgery was supposed to last at least two hours, but within 40 minutes, the doctor had managed to extract 10 eggs and ended earlier than expected. God had answered my prayer in His own way and showed me that He heard my cries.

In the initial discovery of my cancer, I questioned God so much about why I had to go through this suffering. Why does this have to happen to me when everything was going fine? Why now? Why me? Why, God, why?

I felt like everything had been taken from me. I had lost my hair. Lost my natural ability to have children. I had even begun to experience lingering numbness in my fingers and toes. I’d heard of patients who lost their sense of touch because of chemotherapy and were ultimately unable to even hold a pencil. Being a piano teacher, I couldn’t have this happening to me.

It wasn’t that I was angry with God. I was just really sad.

I came to Him on my knees, crying and questioning Him; it was so difficult to fully surrender myself to Him. Then, one day, I heard Him for the first time, loud and clear, “My child, I need you to do this. You are not alone, for I will be with you.”

I believe what it says in Isaiah 40, that those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Jesus is for me.

Finally I could say that I wasn’t afraid to die. I told Him that If I were to not make it through surgery or cancer, I was no longer afraid, because I knew He’d be there on the other side waiting for me.

In May 2017, I finally completed my chemotherapy treatment and was declared cancer-free.

I was more than ready to head back to work – back to a normal life. There were medical bills from the treatment and future reviews that I had to pay and save up for. Becoming a cancer patient meant that I was no longer able to buy insurance. That means I have no fall-back plan should I ever become ill again. And I have no guarantee that I won’t have another relapse of cancer.

One week before I returned to work, I was told that my contract with the company had been terminated because they deemed my health condition to be a liability. They offered me a part-time contract instead, and as I was financially desperate at the time – I took it up.

The confusion resurfaced in my heart. I thought the trials were finally over … How could I lose my full-time job as well, God?

Then, in early September, I went for my quarterly review at the hospital and was told that I now have osteoporosis. Osteoporosis is when you develop fragile bones, with an increased chance of fracture. It is more commonly seen in older women as a side effect of menopause, but as my ovaries had stopped functioning because of chemotherapy, I am experiencing it too.

Now I have to be extra careful with my physical movements and try to maintain a healthy weight. I currently only weigh 39kg. You can’t tell by looking at my size, but that reveals how hollow my bones are because of the osteoporosis.

Besides this discovery, two really tiny white spots were also found in my remaining breast from a mammogram and ultrasound scan. Not again.

The doctor tells me that I need to go for more scans, and if there is cause for suspicion, she will have to do another biopsy to determine if it is cancerous.

God, please don’t let me go through this again. I don’t think I can do it. I thought it was over already?

I have struggled and wrestled with God. I have yelled and cried in front of Him.

But again and again, I choose to surrender. He knows best. He knows my heart through and through.

The scar across my chest is a beautiful reminder of the time when God was there by my side to fight the battle for me. It is also a reminder of the moment that I chose not to give in – but to keep the faith and fight. It represents who I used to be – someone who treasured her outward appearances – and who I am now. A warrior.

At this time of writing, one of the spots has miraculously disappeared. The doctors have no idea what the remaining spot is and because it is too tiny, they can’t do anything about it right now. The only thing we can do is continue to pray and wait.

Please, remember me in your prayers.

Despite all the uncertainties, I choose to trust in God’s promises and in His providence. I trusted Him once and He didn’t fail me.

I’ll trust Him again no matter what.

The month of October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Yolanda now actively speaks to lend her support to fellow cancer fighters around her. If you know anyone who is going through the same situation and needs a companion for encouragement, drop her an email at


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How to get the rest you need

by | 16 October 2018, 6:37 PM

I am an ISFJ, which means I’m often a ball of contradictions.

Though introverted, I can be outgoing and I have good social skills. That explains my constant packed schedule – the last time I had some time alone was nearly a month ago!

Because of my introverted nature, an accumulation of social activities drains me out when I don’t get time to recharge. Now, whether you’re an introvert or extrovert, having enough time to rest and recalibrate is crucial for physical, mental and spiritual health.

But how do we do that in fast-paced society?

Source: SharperIron

If there was a “busiest person” competition in the Bible, Jesus would have won it hands-down.

Jesus taught in the synagogue in the morning, healed the sick in the afternoon and cast out demons at night! Yet despite his busy schedule, Jesus was never flustered.

“At daybreak, Jesus went out to a solitary place. The people were looking for him and when they came to where he was, they tried to keep him from leaving them. But he said, “I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God to the other towns also, because that is why I was sent.” And he kept on preaching in the synagogues of Judea.” (Luke 4:42-44)

Already, you may have glimpsed some secrets to Jesus’ ministry. So how do we stay rested and composed amidst a hectic life? Here are some handles for doing so that I’ve learnt through my walk with God.



The verse starts off with Jesus being by Himself. It wasn’t uncommon for Jesus to withdraw from people to be alone.

I don’t know about you, but I tend to give away my rest time when other things vie for my attention. One week it’s a friend who’s only free on this day. Another week it’s family commitments. On yet another it’s ministry work.

For a long time, I saw rest as less important and urgent in comparison to such activities. But this way of life quickly proved ineffective and unsustainable: I found myself extremely drained and moody. My relationships with people were affected badly, and I ended up complaining to God all the time.

God, why do I have so many people to meet? Why did you give me so many tasks and responsibilities?

But God isn’t responsible for how we handle the tasks we have been given – we are. And a good leader knows when to serve and when to rest.

In Mark 6:31-32, the disciples were so busy ministering that they did not even have a chance to eat. Jesus saw what was happening and invited them to get away with Him to a quiet place.

What about us? Do we know when to stop serving and start resting? Do we protect our time with God?

… a good leader knows when to serve and when to rest.


In the following verses we see that the crowd wanted Him to stay, but Jesus declined.

Matthew 14:23 tells us, “After He had dismissed them, He went up on a mountainside by Himself to pray.”

And this wasn’t just any crowd that Jesus dismissed. These were the first few people who accepted Him since His ministry began! In the previous town, where Jesus had demonstrated miracles, the people had actually wanted to throw Him off a cliff.

If you were a leader trying to start a following, this would have been a good opportunity. Why would anyone leave proven, fertile ground to grow a following elsewhere?

But this actually wasn’t a selfish decision. It was a deliberate choice based on Jesus’ priorities, which brings us to the next point.


Immediately after saying no, Jesus explained why He decided not to stay on: “I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God to the other towns also, because that is why I was sent.”

It wouldn’t have been wrong for Jesus to stay on and minister to the people there. Thing is, He was very clear on what his priority was. His mission was not just to go to that particular town – but to the entire region. Jesus had to say no to the important in order to say yes to the vital.

Saying no is difficult when we have to choose between options which aren’t necessarily bad. In such times, it’s important that we know what our mission is because we have limited time, energy and effort.

And since we are called to be good stewards of our lives, we have to learn how to prioritise where we want to invest our resources. Without having a clear focus, we will be easily distracted.

Above all, we have to prioritise our rest time; God didn’t tell us to keep the Sabbath for nothing. Even the Lord Jesus thought it necessary to say no to the crowd’s demands in order to pray.

So don’t you think we should learn how to do the same?


Siqi often loses her footwear in the office. She is also known for her loud sneezes, huge appetite, and weird sound effects. Happens to be a writer too.


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An inconvenient death: What does “dying to self” mean?

by JH Kwek | 16 October 2018, 11:53 AM

There is a certain kind of absurdism we bring to arguments with our parents.

Here’s an example: I remember fighting with them over my curfew, insisting that I should be allowed to stay out past 10pm. They said no, because they wanted me to stay at home to study. I replied, “Well, fine, I’m going to come home – but I’m not going to study.”

So much for your rules now! I knew it was stupid, but I wanted to push and press their buttons, proving to them that their rules couldn’t simply bend me to their will.

What I didn’t realise was that my parents didn’t want me to simply follow rules like a robot. They wanted me to learn obedience while trusting in their heart for me.

… flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness …

Hold this thought on obedience with me as we move on to the topic at hand: I’ve been battling lust for close to 11 years now, and one thing I’ve recently been convicted to do is to delete Instagram.

At this point in time, I can’t handle the constant stream of bikini, #OOTD and workout posts that flood my feed, so I decided to do away with it completely.

As expected, it wasn’t a magic pill. I still struggle with masturbation and lust – though I now face considerably less temptation – because the mind needs little in the way of stimulation for me to sin. I still have a lifetime of practice with that.

I remain convicted that this was what I needed to do, to flee from every possible source of temptation, even when it makes life inconvenient. Even when it means denying pleasures and activities I enjoyed.

For a long time, I refused to make an effort to kill my lust. I can handle it. And I ignored my brothers’ warnings. It isn’t a problem for me.

True enough, for many of us, it isn’t. But for many of us, it is – more than we’re willing to admit.

How do we respond to verses like 2 Timothy 2:22, where we are called to “flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart”?

How do we obey these verses? Do we tell God, “I will stop this, but I will continue to do that?” Do we tell God, “I will try this, but I will not change that?” Or the more common: “I will do this, but not with someone else?”

The Gospel death – dying to self – is going to be inconvenient (Luke 9:23).

Dying to self is taking up the cross and following Christ, no matter the inconvenience – no matter the cost! In calling us to die to ourselves, the Gospel has no boundaries, no limits, no realm it cannot penetrate.

Galatians 5:24 says that “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” The flesh doesn’t just refer to things that are obviously immoral, but every kind of worldly desire.

  • The desire to keep up with others’ social lives.
  • The desire to continually consume popular culture.
  • The desire to let others know how successful we are.

None of these “needs” define us anymore. The lives we now live are in Christ Jesus – bought by His Blood (1 Corinthians 6:19-20).

So the way we go about obedience shows us what we really think about ourselves, and how we relate to God.

If I relate to God like how I related to my parents, then outward adherence to rules and regulations is what I would pursue. But if I relate to Him as a child transformed by the Gospel, then there is no desire, passion, habit, thought or fantasy that I would withhold from Gospel death.

The child of God is radically committed not just to obeying the rules, but trusting and loving the One who gave them. Our obedience was always designed to flow from a loving relationship with our Father.

Note that past tense is used in Galatians 5:24: the flesh has already been crucified. So Gospel living isn’t just about looking for ways to grow in holiness – a big part of it is also remembering who we are (1 Peter 2:9) and what was done for us (John 3:16).

I’ve already been adopted as a child of God – it was past time to act like one.

My desire to cut Instagram out of my life didn’t come about because I thought doing so would put me right before God. I cut it out because I am a child who is already right with God.

I’ve already been adopted as a child of God – it was past time to act like one.

So who are we? What do we do? Those deeds show who we truly think we are! In what ways do we need to die, that we might truly live?

Help us O God to die to ourselves every day. Help us remember the better and greater life we now have in You!


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A Christian’s take on privilege and class divides

by JH Kwek | 10 October 2018, 11:04 AM

Most of us would have no doubt seen the recent Channel News Asia video on class divides in Singapore.

For its many flaws the video is an admirable attempt at bridging the gap between social classes. The walls between the rich and the poor, the educated and uneducated – these walls should not exist in a nation that prides itself on meritocracy.

And neither should they exist in the church.

Yet as I think back to my own experiences in church, I am disappointed by my own inability to bring those walls torn down: I remember losing a football game played in the heartlands, and attributing my opponents’ success to all the time they spent playing instead of studying in school.

And I remember suggesting eating at a restaurant after cell, completely oblivious to the fact that there were brothers in my midst who simply couldn’t afford such a meal.

How I’ve failed to acknowledge my own privilege for the longest time!

We must take a look at our own churches.

How many of our cell groups contain people of a different race? How many of our cell groups are ready to accept someone of a different socio-economic status? Or someone who struggles with sexuality?

And sure, there might be other factors like geography that affect the kind of people that appear in our cell groups that have nothing to do with our own prejudices. Yet I suspect that within the church, we have divided people just as much as those outside the church do – if not more.

“But now that faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian, for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith. For as many of you as were baptised into Christ has put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one on Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:25-28)

The church should be a model of unity. We have this unity because we are all in Christ Jesus and believe in the same Gospel. Jesus Himself has torn down every dividing wall of hostility between the Jew and the Gentile (Ephesians 2:14-16). In His presence, every social division must come down.

So what do we do when we see a church that is not so? I can’t help but feel hopeless when I notice that everyone around me just looks the same. I can’t help but despair when I hear racially insensitive jokes being made in cell. I can’t help but weep when I realise that my own heart is racist, classist, prejudiced in ways apart from the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

What is the hope for a religious structure so historically entrenched in divides like class?

The church should be a model of unity.

The hope is Jesus. The hope has always been Jesus.

Whenever we are confronted with sin, be it personal or systemic, the solution has never been to run away – but to run towards. We must always remember that we as the church are united around a single thing – the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Church is awkward conversations with the elderly lady you sit next to every week. Church is meeting middle-aged couples for lunch not just for advice or counselling – but to actually get to know them.

Church is welcoming people of all races into a community that is predominantly Chinese. Church is eating at a coffee shop instead of a restaurant so your friend can afford to join you.

This is the community God has grafted us into.

We must grow as a Church, not in conformance to the latest trends of inclusivity or tolerance – but in Gospel unity.

How amazing it is when an 86-year-old woman and a young teenager can sing the same worship song together and mean it together with all their heart!

And how incredible it is that someone who stays in a HDB and someone who stays in Sentosa Cove can covenant to keep each other accountable to walk in purity!

We must grow as a Church, not in conformance to the latest trends of inclusivity or tolerance – but in Gospel unity.

So how can we shape our cell groups to be places for both the poor and rich? How can we shape our conversations so as not to marginalise those of minority races? How can we better return to the Gospel?

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:1-10)

These answers lie in Jesus. We need to keep looking to Him, the founder and perfecter of our faith.


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Stricken with PTSD and depression after my mum suddenly passed away, I thought my life was over

by Jeremy Chan | 9 October 2018, 6:04 PM

Jesus, don’t you care? Where are you? Please take the pain away. 

It was Mark 4:35-41 all over again, where Jesus was asleep in a boat with his disciples when a storm hit and threatened to engulf them.

An unexpected storm blew into my life towards the end of 2013, when my mom was suddenly taken ill. What we initially thought was just a fever and flu of sorts turned into seven months of our worst nightmare.

It had taken the doctors three months to diagnose a rare and incurable bone marrow disease; by then the sickness was so severe that we soon decided to take her off medication. Putting her into palliative care was the most complicated and painful decision we had to make as a family.

Within five days of taking her off treatment, she was called home to be with the Lord on the Good Friday of 2014. I have not attended a Good Friday service since.

I didn’t know then, but the shock, guilt, grief and great disappointment with God brought about post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The intense emotional pain and anguish also led me down the path of severe clinical depression over the next two and a half years.

My relationships with family, friends, ministry and work broke down as my world sank into shades of grey. Because of the mental state I was in, I had a physical condition known as post-motor retardation (PMR), which slowed down my movement, especially walking.

Despite the medication and all the sleep I was getting, I was always exhausted and uninterested in anything in life. It took 16 months before my physicians got the prescribed medication and dosage right. I was like a walking zombie, dead on the inside but somehow still alive.

And no matter how I prayed or read the Bible, nothing changed. As the days passed by, I grew angry with God. Unbelief was slowly setting in, along with suicidal thoughts. Every day I prayed: “Lord, please stop the pain.”

Even smells could trigger a welling-up of emotions that would have exploded out of me if I hadn’t fought hard to contain them.

Formally serving in the worship team, I found myself unable to even worship amidst the congregation. How was I to worship God or give thanks for anything after what had happened?

The flashbacks that came with the PTSD were unpredictable and crippling. Seemingly random places such as the mall, MRT stations or certain bus routes … Even smells could trigger a welling-up of emotions that would have exploded out of me if I hadn’t fought hard to contain them.

There was one incident where the song “Amazing Grace” caused three major flashbacks over the following week. During one such similar episode in church service I actually ran and hid in a quiet corner until it was over.

I saw a psychiatrist regularly, and it helped. On days I felt as though I’d hit rock bottom, I learnt to tell myself there would always be the next day, and I just had to get through one at a time. Breathe and sleep it off. This gave the verse “His mercies are new every morning” a whole new meaning.

I know I could have given up on hope many times. But somewhere inside me, my spirit man was clinging on and crying out to Jesus. Whatever Scripture I could remember, I held onto. God, surely you saved my soul for more than this? You are making all things work together for good, right?

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” (2 Corinthians 1:1-5)

I believed that God could use this experience of mine to help people who were battling on the same front with depression and suicide, but the road to recovery turned out to be longer than I expected. It became so bad that I decided to stop working and enrol into Tung Ling Bible School‘s School of Ministry.

Tung Ling proved to be a place of rest and renewal, where I could experience the love of God again. During one of our ministry times, someone spoke a word over me: That Jesus was calling me as He did to Lazarus, to come out of the grave I was trapped in. Jesus was going to remove the veil of death over me and I would finally see the light.

I was greatly moved to hear this – Jesus was calling me out! This shroud of grave clothes that I had been walking in would be removed! I would rejoice again.

That was the beginning of two whole years of recovery. I remember meditating on Psalm 139 and feeling greatly comforted that all my days were written before one of them came to be, before the day I lost my mum. God was always in control. He was always looking after me.

It has been four years since the storm started. I haven’t returned to the working world for the past two years, which can be frustrating and disappointing at times. However, I remember His promises to provide for me and give me peace and rest throughout.

By His grace, I have been completely off all PTSD and depression medication since April this year. I still have intermittent flashbacks, but they are much more manageable now. I even registered to further my studies at Tung Ling Bible School and recently graduated from the School of Leadership.

In the years to come, I would like to help break the stigma of mental illness with my story. To anyone out there who might be in the midst of the storm, there is hope. Jesus is in that storm with you. Caregivers, I also appreciate all your work, prayers and support.

I believe that we, as believers, are often the only face of Jesus that the depressed and suicidal will see. We must share and give them that same hope of life that Jesus gave us. As it says in Luke 1:79, we as His children are called “to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

Whether life feels too tough, or you just need a listening ear, there is always help available for you when you call 1800 221 4444.


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Article list

I was planning to get married, then I got cancer

How to get the rest you need

An inconvenient death: What does “dying to self” mean?

The Valley

A Christian’s take on privilege and class divides

Stricken with PTSD and depression after my mum suddenly passed away, I thought my life was over