The blog has been getting lots of spam lately - up to 600 in one hour - mainly relating to (potential) drugs of abuse, some (or should I say many despite my line of work ?)of which I’ve never heard of before.  That the (illicit) sale of such drugs over the Internet has become so lucrative shows how sick our world has become.  Sample list of spam words :

viagra
cialis
xanax
phenteramine
phentermine
pills
erythromycin
levitra
pussy
tramadol
shemale
fioricet
hydrocodone
diazepam
carisoprodol
tadalafil
zithromax
valium
vicodin
xenical
acyclovir
meridia
prozac
paxil
propecia
alprazolam
celexa
butalbital
ambien
wellbutrin
ativan
ephedra
ultram
soma

My father had stuggled with cancer for almost four years.  In the face of suffering such as this we cannot help but ask why God allowed this to happen.  In fact yesterday and today a number of family friends came up to me to express their condolences as well as tell me that they could not understand why this sickness ended in death. 

On the Wednesday night that I stayed over in hospital, I asked myself the same question and turned to the Bible in search of answers.  My search led me to John 11 which is an account of the resurrection of Lazarus.  I want to share its words of comfort with my family and everyone else here.

In John 11, a good friend of Jesus, Lazarus, had fallen very sick.  However, when Jesus received news of this, He did not immediately rush to see Lazarus (and heal him).  Instead, Jesus took His time and by the time He arrived in Lazarus’ home town, Lazarus had died.  Jesus then went to the tomb and brought Lazarus back to life. 

There are three points in this account that jump out at me.  The first is Jesus’ reaction to the news of the illness.  In verse 4, Jesus said that :

"this sickness will not end in death.  No, it is for God’s glory that God’s Son may be glorified through it."

The second is found in verses 25 - 26, where Jesus pronounces these famous words to Lazarus’ sister :

"I am the resurrrection and the life.  He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die."

The third and final point is where Jesus weeps when He sees the other people grieving over the death of Lazarus as well, captured in this famous short verse 35 :

"Jesus wept."

Jesus wept.  What I find comforting about this verse is how God acknowledges the reality of our grief, and that He shares our grief, weeps with us.  As Christians we believe that the struggles, the pain and the suffering, that we experience in this life on earth are only temporary; there is a better life after this one to look forward too, where there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain (Revelation 21 : 4).  However, that does not change the fact that our circumstances can be so overwhelming, that our feelings of pain can be so real.  From John 11, I take heart in the fact that God does not pooh-pooh our struggles and how we feel, temporary as they may be.  God understands and shares our pain.  And so we cry today because in death, at least in this life, we experience a very real sense of loss.

However, John 11 is not only about how God feels our pain.  It is about the search for meaning underlying that pain.  Eastern mysticism teaches us that pain and suffering are meaningless because it arises from our attachment to things in this life (including loved ones) - that if we had not artificially attached meaning to the things in this life, we would not experience pain.  Western disbelief in God, on the other hand, teaches that pain and suffering are meaningless because they are products of a clinical evolutionary process, a part of the cycle of life where pain and suffering are randomly generated - no more meaningful or purposeful than the theory of how monkeys evolved to become humans.  However, this is not what the Bible tells us.  In verse 4, Jesus tells His disciples that "it is for God’s glory" that Lazarus has fallen ill.  By this, Jesus taught that there is a meaning and purpose to what was happening.

The same applies today.  God has planned that everything that happens should have a meaning and purpose for us; nothing is random.  And so I believe that the life my father lived, and how he died, also has a lesson for us.  Apart from mourning today, I encourage every one of us to look for the lessons that God wishes us to learn from my father’s life - what can I learn from how he loved as a husband ?  as a father ?  as a friend ?  And because my father would have been as human as any one of us, what can we not learn from how he lived ?

Finally, John 11 is about the hope of the resurrection and a better life beyond after our short earthly existence.  We grieve today because there is a very real sense of loss.  My father is no longer physically with us, and he will never be again in our lifetime.  But John 11 tells us that this loss is only temporary, that we need not mourn forever, that for those who live and believe in Jesus like my father did, we will meet again in paradise.

(Adapted from message shared on 10 March 2007.)

Was cross-examined by a kid at Sunday School last Sunday, concerning my Dad’s demise :

Kid : Uncle, did your Daddy just die ?

Me : Yes.

Kid : Why did he die ?

Me : Because he was very sick.

Kid : Is your Daddy in heaven now ?

Me : Yes he is.

Kid : Is your Daddy happy to be in heaven ?

Me : I’m sure he is.

On the day that my father died, I read 1 Chronicles 29.  In verses 14 to 15 King David, who was old and about to die, reflected on life and its purpose -

"Everything comes from You, and we have given You only what comes from Your hand.  We are aliens and strangers in Your sight, as were all our forefathers. Our days on earth are like a shadow, without hope."

I think my father led a fairly rich and fulfilling life in his earthly lifetime.  But he could take none of his material possessions with him.  (The burning of his Bible, I thought, was rich in symbolic value but otherwise a complete waste of his perfectly good Bible - I would have preferred that it be handed down to future generations to remind them of his faith.  Certainly I hope to do so on my death).  Even what he had provided for his family, to be honest, was not his or ours, but given to us by God. 

There is therefore little for us to feel hopeful about in this earthly lifetime; true purpose and meaning lies in what is beyond.

I was quite tempted to share the above passage during the memorial service, or at least insert the above verses into the obituary.  But Joyce thought it was rather morbid, so I restrained myself.

I was born at a time when life was not as comfortable as it is now.  Singapore then was neither as developed nor as affluent as it is today.  This was a time of opportunity as well as uncertainty. 

In such a time my father, who had only basic qualifications, had to work hard to provide for the family.  We were not rich.  I don’t think it was easy, but my father persevered and what we, the family, enjoy today is the result of this labour of love. 

I had friends who were not as fortunate as me.  However, in my family, I never had to worry about a lack of food, or lack of money for education.  If I gave tuition or worked, it was because I wanted the extra money and not because I needed it.

The generation born after this is generally a more selfish one.  I think it is not so easy to find parents who are as sacrificial today, who would give up so much and work so hard for their families.  My father was not like that.  For that, he is a great dad.  This is how he loved, and it is because of the greatness of his love, and the grace of God, that we are where we are today.

(Paraphrase of eulogy delivered on 9 March 2007, to the best of my recollection.)

Dad died on Friday morning, one week ago.

I had stayed with in hospital on the Wednesday night before that.  By then his condition was very poor.

The silence of the night amplified his every cough, wheeze, and gasp for air, informing me of how much it was a struggle to hold onto the life that was slipping away from him.

I was afraid that he might suddenly just go.  Yet to ask that he stay, like this, was unfair.

Silently I was freaking out.

I quite like this black and white pic of Jed that a friend recently took …