Thursday, December 20, 2007

Short Story: A Journey Into The Heart Of My Elaine

They said that she always locked her room up. They said that her room was a sacred place for her, a secret in her life that she would not let anyone into. Now, they handed me the key to her secret. It was her wish as she breathed her dying words in the hospital for me to possess the key.


"Elaine Chia, what is most precious to your heart?" I once asked her as we went on a date together.

Elaine smiled, shyly. "Trying to get into my heart, Yi Wei? You will get a chance, one day, when the two of us becomes one as God has intended. I will give you the key to my heart, to unlock my secret."

"Can’t I unlock it, now, my honey?" I asked, teasingly, lightly caressing her beautiful hair.

"No," she replied, with a smile. "The secret is only meant for my hubby."


The key... she wanted me to have the key. My fiancé's secret. What was in the room?

My curiosity brought me into the flat near Bedok MRT where Elaine’s parents still live in, and where my precious Elaine used to live. Elaine’s parents were glad to see me. They always seemed to like me. What a tragedy it was that I would never have the chance to be their son-in-law. An irresponsible drunken driver on the road took my Elaine away from me.

"That is Elaine's room," Mr.Chia pointed to a small locked door.

"Thanks, uncle." I replied.


The door to Elaine’s room was decorated with tiny little cards. They had edifying messages like "God bless you, sister" etc written onto them.

"Why are you always scribbling into these tiny little cards?" I once asked Elaine when we were at a table in the library and she was busy scribbling notes into one of the tiny card from a stack of cards she had bought from a stationary shop.

"Oh, Thanksgiving Day is coming, and I just want to give a little encouragement to my brothers and sisters in Christ," Elaine smiled.

"This brother in Christ here needs some encouragement, too, and you are too busy to notice his loneliness," I teased, pointing to myself.

"Very well, my lonely brother in Christ, I will write the notes when I get home," Elaine smiled. "Now is a special moment I will only spend with you."


The door opened and I entered into the room. The wall in the room was decorated with photographs.

I saw the photograph of a Sri Lankan maid that Elaine and I chanced upon on a bus-stop. We found out that she was a Christian and Elaine insisted on taking a photograph together with her.

I saw the photographs of some Christian online friends that Elaine often talked to me about, who she corresponded with through e-mail. They came from different nations and were of different skin colors from myself.

I saw the photographs that were cut out from newspapers and magazines of some obscure faces of some persecuted Christians in some faraway land.

I saw the photographs taken during a moment when we celebrated together with a brother from our church his 21st birthday. We pushed his face into the cake!

I saw the photographs of the various Christian relatives that came to Elaine's house during Chinese New Year to celebrate the festive occasions. They looked so stern and serious.

I saw the photographs of the kids in the Sunday school that Elaine was teaching in. Elaine was beaming in the midst of them.

I saw the photographs of Elaine's peers from a Christian organization she joined in her university campus; they were enjoying their food!

I saw photographs of Christians, many Christians, photographs that were pasted all over the room of Elaine. Different moments, spent together with fellow believers, captured artistically onto the lens of the camera.

And at the center of the room, I saw a painting of Jesus. Jesus' painting was there in the heart of her room, in the midst of all the photographs pasted on the wall. A small wooden frame with two words, 'My Family', was nailed just above the painting of Jesus to the wall.

Words were scribbled onto the painting of Jesus."I love the fellowship with you, Jesus and my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ."

Oh, my Elaine, same for me, same for me.

Short Story: The Incomplete Face Of Jesus

She was not here.

The sanctuary was filled with man and women, boys and girls, people from every racial background.

The worship leaders were standing on stage, preparing to lead the crowd that had entered into the The Church of Our Savior for worship.

“Everyone, are you ready to worship the King?” the main worship leader for the day shouted into his microphone. The people resounded with joyous “yes”.

The worship began.

The music instruments were right, the people’s voice resounded together in harmony, it was a wonderful worship experience.

I felt like I was connected into this body called the church of God, singing with the people in the crowd, singing with the saints and angels in heaven. I could hear in my mind the beautiful voices of the angel joining us in worship of the King of kings.

How wonderful, how great it is to be in His presence. I wanted to remain here, forever, to praise and worship Him for all eternity.

But something bugged me. It ruined my wonderful moment of worship. It destroyed a little bit of that joy I had, worshipping Him here in the presence of His saints.

She was not here, she was not here, she was not here.

The voice nagged at me, again and again. It gave me no peace.

She, Wang Yi Hui, had not been here today. She was not here last week. Or the week before. Or the month before. Or months before.She was one of the most joyous people; she was always the one to give her best in worshipping the Lord. She was always at the front row; she was always so absorbed in her worship of Him that she became oblivious to everything else.

But she was not here, today.

I tried to forget her absence, I tried to forget her. People fell away from the church, often. Why should I let the absence of a mere lady affected me in my joy of worshipping Him who save me?

But the voice refused to let me off.

She was not here, she was not here, she was not here. It was almost as if someone was sobbing, someone was crying within my heart. Someone missed her. She was not here, someone cried.

I could not take the nagging voice, anymore. It was affecting me in a greater manner than I wanted it to.

I got out of the sanctuary, and went to the toilet to take a break from the worship. I wanted a break from the nagging voice that bugged me.

Her son died in a car accident, I heard. He was unsaved. No one had bothered to attend his funeral, he happened to die on Christmas and no one wanted to spoil their joyous mood by attending the funeral of the son of a woman they hardly knew.

Was that when she stopped attending the service? Was that when her joyous dance and beautiful voice began to disappear from our church?

She was not here, she was not here, she was not here. The nagging voice followed me on and on. It was almost like a cry from somebody who missed her lively dance, her beautiful voice.

I went into one of the cubicles in the toilet.

A vision of a past event flashed before my eyes. It was a time when Yi Hui and I were at the house of another Christian sister, to enjoy some moments of female fellowship. We were trying to piece together a set of jigsaw puzzle that had the face of Jesus. We worked for hours, it was a difficult puzzle.

We almost completed the face of Jesus. Almost. One puzzle was missing, it was lost somehow, and we could not complete the jigsaw puzzle. The other 999 pieces were there, but this 1 missing piece made the face of Jesus incomplete.

I burst into tears inside the cubicle. He was the one crying.

He was crying for His 1 missing puzzle. Corporate worship was not complete unless she was here. But she was not here, today.

I repented of my sins for not being there with her last Christmas when her son passed away, and I prayed for her to come back. I wanted to dance and worship Him together with her.

Short Story: The Vessel Of Food

The grass is not green, but yellow.

Faces after faces of living skeletons in filthy rags staggered aimlessly towards nowhere in particular. A long haired living skeleton threw a tiny half-alive skeleton away from itself.

“Don’t leave me, mama!” The young half-dead whimpered, not with its voice, but its eyes.
The long haired skeleton walked on, joining the faces after faces of skeletons in filthy rags in their journey to nowhere. The young half-dead tried to force its tiny legs to stand, but it crumpled to the ground. Its skeleton legs were incapable of supporting it.


“Don’t leave me, mama. Don’t leave me!” It screamed, wordlessly.


“Shu Zhen, are you with us?” The voice of her church friend, Mei Zhen brought the 22 year old young woman back to the real world.

“Er… yes,” Shu Zhen stammered.

“Sigh, you are daydreaming, again, aren’t you?” Xiao Hui, another of her friends from church, sighed.

“Well, er, not really…” Shu Zhen replied. Her friends took no notice of her.

“The food here really sucked,” Mei Zhen commented. Her not-so-thin hand, with the use of a knife, cut out another large portion of meat from one of the several dishes before her.

“I don’t think we can finish… the food,” Shu Zhen said. “Besides, we are quite fortunate to have something to eat.”

“Fortunate? The food is not free. We paid for them, you know. With our money. Our hard-earned money.” Xiao Hui stated her opinion, aggressively. She paused for a moment to help herself to some sliced pieces of beef on her plate. “The government, with the 2 tax increase, really robs us of our livelihood. We will starve to death, I tell you, starve to death!”

Shu Zhen shuddered. She thought of the skeletons she saw in her vision. “What about the Ethiopians who are currently suffering from a famine? Aren’t we more fortunate than them?”

“We can’t really compare ourselves with them. They are used to it.” Xiao Mei replied.

“Well, still, maybe we can do something to help them,” Shu Zhen suggested, timidly.

“Don’t be silly, Shu Zhen. There is nothing we can do to help them. Only those God has called to be missionaries are given the abilities to help these destitute people.” Mei Zhen said.

Why are you so sure that God is not calling us to be the missionaries, Shu Zhen wondered aloud to herself. She was too fearful to express her insignificant voice.

~~~

The cramped seat in the plane afforded her plenty of time to reflect on the words of her parents.

“You are kind to the world, but cruel to your own parents!” Her mother had expressed in disappointment.

“We brought you up, gave you a good education, and now you… sigh… it is your choice.” Her father sighed.

Shu Zhen thought about her bungalow that she had resided in since she was a child. She thought of the eight maids that her busy parents had hired to look to her needs. She thought of the never-ending-supply of food that her house had never failed to provide her. She thought of the income that was the envy of her friends, which she received as a manager of her father’s company.

Fear crept into her heart and mocked her. You are a sheltered pot. You won’t be able to deal with the hardships there. What a foolish decision this is. Fear’s voice was loud. Shu Zhen was too timid to combat Fear.

~~~

The grass is not green, but yellow. The young half-dead was lying alone, counting the seconds before blackness engulfed it. Its eyes would soon fail it like the way its legs and voice did. In the midst of darkness, it saw a figure of light walking closer and closer towards it.

“I am Jesus.” The figure of light whispered to the child. The child smiled when he saw the bread in the hands of the figure of light. The blackness would not engulf him, after all. The child lied comfortably in the laps of Jesus. “I will be your mama.” The voice of Shu Zhen said, lovingly.

Boldness delivered a crushing blow to Fear, and Fear was defeated. Shu Zhen held tightly to the vision in her mind, and found to her surprise she was not afraid anymore.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Short Story: The Atheist's Choice

He sat, alone, in his room. The room was locked. The curtain was drawn, and the windows were tightly secured.
His house was free from the presence of another human being.
He was determined to shut himself up from everyone.
He must be careful. The success of his act depended on the fact that no one knew anything about it.
His wife and children, especially, must be kept away from the secret for as long as possible.
He had taken precautions to ensure that they knew nothing about his decision. It would be months after he completed his task before they would find up about it.That was his plans. His plans always worked. He was a careful man, a man of plans.



The pistol was loaded. It should be a quick one. Just a pull of a trigger. Just once. And it would be over. He should vanish into nothingness. God is a myth invented by fearful men to convince themselves that their pathetic lives were worth more than just some random products of chance. Strong man like him had no such need for an entity that existed only in the head of those who were afraid of death.

"I will do this like a man," he said to himself. He took a deep breath, and pointed the tip of the pistol at his own head.

What if... He existed?

No, it could not be the case. He had given his entire life to disproving His existence. It must not be the case.

"You are running away," a small gentle voice spoke into his ears. He hesitated.

"I am not," he replied.

"Yes, you are," the voice replied to him.

I must be going mad, the man thought to himself
.
"I am running away from nothing." He replied. His voice was steady.

"You are running away from me." The voice was firm.

"Running away from you? You do not even exist. Why will I run away from someone that doesn’t exist?” He laughed.

"You know the answer," the voice said, calmly. "You do not like the idea of being made by me. You do not want to be accountable to someone for your actions in life. And most importantly, you are fearful.”

"Fearful? Ha, are you joking? The fearful ones are those who believe in you!”

"No, they are the brave ones. But you, though you deem yourself to be intelligent and brave, is the real foolish coward.”

"What am I fearful of? Tell me, oh my imaginary friend, what am I afraid of?" The man sneered.

"Admitting you are wrong." The answer was straight forward. It stunned the man into a long period of silence.

“I am famous in the University for being the moral and intelligent atheist. I cannot tell them now that you exist. My reputation is very important to me.” The man pleaded. His voice was still calm, but his fingers began to tremble, slightly. "I am in debt, more debt than my family can ever pay off. My investment in the stock market has backfired. I am left with a wife and three children and I can no longer provide for them. It is the end for me.”

The man waited for the voice to respond, but it did not respond. The man waited for a long moment. There was no voice. Only silence. The man laughed. What a fool I had been, to think He is real. He turned his attention back to the pistol that he pointed towards his head.

"A choice," the irritating voice spoke. "I give you and everyone a choice. You can choose to swallow your pride and bravely confront the ruins it had brought into your own life, by accepting my help. Or you can be a coward, and choose to run away from me forever."

"Oh, shut up," the man shouted to no one in particular. His voice was trembling, now. The man was in anguish. He was no longer certain about his absolute belief in the non-existence of the being that fearful people chose to worship as God. Time slowed its pace to a stop, while the fingers of the atheist continued to tremble. The atheist struggled in the stillness whether to pull the trigger or to confront the people who used to respect his belief in the non-existence of God.

Short Story: Not Alone

It was night. Late at night.
She was sitting there, alone.
Everyone had gone home.
But she was still there, alone.

The brown box which contained her father was there with her.
The accursed brown box. The final bed of her father.

Her father. The one she loved.

He lied there, in the accursed brown box, asleep. He would never wake, again.

She sobbed.

“Oh, God…”

The crickets were singing at a distance, nearby, oblivious, indifferent to the piercing pain that numbed her. How selfish they were! Didn’t they know that she had just lost her father… forever?

“Oh, God…”

The Taoist priest had chanted loudly during the funeral. He was opening the way for her father to journey into his new after-life. She wished he wasn’t the one to conduct her father’s funeral.

“Oh, God…”

She held tightly to her cross. So tightly it bit into her palm. Red liquid flowed.

“I am the way, the truth and the life. No one came to the Father except through me.”

These words, they had always been her comforts. What joy they had been to her when her eyes were first enlightened to the reality of His love and she took that first step to accept Him into her life. Yet, these were the words that were piercing her, now.

Repeatedly, cruelly, again, and again.

“Please accept Jesus, Daddy,” she pleaded, at the sick bed of her father.“I love you, my child, but I am a staunch Taoist.” He was determined that he did not need Him, until the end. Why was he so stubborn?

“Oh, God…”

She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout, she wanted to do something to stop that burning pain within.

Why didn’t He save her father, why didn’t He?

“My father, is he going to be in hell?”
“God has a purpose for everything, Shu Mei.”
“Cut that out, pastor, tell me the truth!”
“Shu Mei, I am sorry.”
“Idiot.”
“It is a sin to say that.”
“Oh, shut up!”

They will never understand. They are from Christian homes, Christian families. All their loved ones, all their relatives are Christians. What do they know of her pains?

“I will change place with my father if I can. I will take his place. Oh, God, I really will. Where is my father, now?”

He disappeared. He never spoke a word to her. She knew the answer to her question. She didn’t want an answer.

She sobbed.

“My God, my God, why had you forsaken me!” She screamed.

The red liquid fell from her palm like rain-drop to merge with the puddle of her tears that formed on the ground.

She was oblivious to a shadow that stood behind her. He had been there for a long time. He had never stirred. His right hand was placed on her shoulder, hand that made the star, hand that was pierced on the cross, but hand that could do nothing to alter the free-will of someone who chose to reject Him.

The tears that fell from His face and the words that He longed to say were shut off from her eyes and ears. But it did not matter. He stayed there with her.

It was night. Late at night.
She was sitting there, confused.
Everyone had gone home.
But she was still there, in pain.
It rained. She was not alone. He was sobbing.

Short Story: The heart of a slave daughter

“Aren’t you glad I brought the torch light?” Amy gloated, as they traveled inside the cave tunnel.

“Ya, always the clever one, huh,” Brian sneered.

“Clever? Not really that clever. Just better than you two idiots,” Amy smiled.

Heck, just because she is the rich man’s daughter, that does not give her the right to insult us, thought Brian to himself in anger, but he said nothing.

“Er… we are reaching… an opening, I think,” Mary stuttered, pointing to some flickers of light at a distance.

“I can see that for myself, cripple!” Amy replied, sharply. “I wonder why we even bring you along in the first place.” Mary bowed her head down in response to the curt reply of the daughter of her mother’s master. Her limping right foot was always the game of the girls in town.

“Mind your words, Amy,” Brian defended Mary. It was the slave’s daughter who found the map to the treasure and shared it with them. There was also a rumor going on that the daughter of the slave at Amy’s house had come down with some terminal sickness.

“Keep quiet, Brian. Don’t forget, your dad still had not repaid some of the money he had borrowed from my dad!” Brian was quiet for the rest of their journey towards the flicker of light.



It took them minutes after they had entered before their eyes finally adjusted themselves to the blinding whiteness. Sparkling whitish-golden valuables of all shapes and sizes filled up an empty pit about 4 knee lengths away. A man, with chocolate colored hair, stood dutifully beside the pool of valuables.

“You had come for the treasure?” His rich and deep voice echoed through the cave.

“Not all of us, just this guy and me,” Amy replied, pointing to Brian. “That cripple… she is just our servant. Isn’t that so, Brian?”

“Yes,” Brian replied, after some hesitation.

“It doesn’t matter. The treasure will belong to whoever can answer my question.” The man said, emotionlessly.

“Then, let me be the first to answer your question,” Amy requested.

“Very well, then. Here is my question: Where is the treasure of treasures?”

“The pool of valuables beside you,” answered Amy. She collapsed to the ground, instantly.

“What… what happened?” Brian asked in fear.

“A rule of this game,” the man explained, dutifully. “You will forfeit your life if you give a wrong answer to my question.”

“I… I am out... out of here,” Brian stuttered. His legs refused to obey his instruction to escape.
“Another rule. You cannot leave unless you answer my question.”

“I… I don’t want to die,” Brian stammered.

“Where is the treasure of treasures?” The man asked, coldly.

“Please!” Brian pleaded, and crumpled instantly to the ground right after he uttered the word.

“Your turn, young lady.” The man turned to the crippled Mary.

“I don’t want the treasure. You can take my life, too, if you really must, but please… please… let these two friends of mine live!” Mary pleaded in tears.

“I can see you are sick, my child, from your face. The treasure can cure you if you hold it near to you. You are dying, child, unless, you have the treasure. Why not take a gamble at the answer and see if you may win the cure to your life?”

“No, dear sir,” she replied after a moment of hesitation. “I don’t want the cure. I want my friends.”

“Are you sure you are willing to trade your life for theirs?” The voice of the man was gentle and soothing, almost familiar.

“Yes,” the slave daughter cried.

“Even though they had been so wicked towards you?”

“Yes,” Mary confirmed.

“Mary, I am proud of you.” The voice was unmistakably familiar.

“Jesus,” Mary exclaimed and the man before her transformed into the familiar figure of her savior. The overjoyed girl limped speedily into the laps of her smiling Master.

“Do you know where you can find the treasure of treasures?” Jesus whispered.

“Where?” The limping girl asked in curiosity.

Jesus smiled, “I am bringing you to a mansion I had prepared for you, my pretty child. I will tell you the answer when we get there.”

When Amy and Brian regained their consciousness, Mary was nowhere to be found. The pool of valuables was gone. Where the valuables used to be, there shone a golden heart. And, oh, it was so beautiful. The treasure of treasures.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

Short Story: Numbers

“Do not…do not kill me.” She trembled in fear, holding tightly to a book.

The assassin’s face was blank, expressionless. His eyes were lifeless, void of a soul within. He was made for one mission, created for one purpose, trained for one function. The tip of his gun continued to point at the young lady that was before him.
Kill. 757, your mission in life is to kill. The words that were repeated into his blank mind echoed again and again.

“I… have a secret that can change your life…” Bang.



Emperor Number Infinite was standing at the stage, facing a crowd of more than a million expressionless people, all dressed in similar identical gray factory made clothes.

“For the first time in the history of planet 345, we had created one billion factory babies within 365 days with a fatality rate of zero.”

The people gazed at the emperor with lifeless eyes, listening.

“Of these one billion babies, the most genetically healthy ones will be groomed to be leaders and breeders. The remainders will be assigned to be trained respectively to specific roles which we had paved out for them.”

The people continued to gaze at the emperor.

“And on the 25th year of my reign, we will go to wars with earth. We will pay the earthlings back for abandoning us here.”

The people clapped. There was no smile, no joy, their faces were all blank.



In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
That was the first sentence found in the book which the dead girl had been holding.

“Your name, given name, is number 757. You are the 757th successful babies that survive through your first 5 years in planet number 345.”
He was given a name for the first time in his 1,825th day alive.

So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him, male and female He created them.

That was how those pathetic earthlings who dared to travel to planet 345 believed themselves to be made?

“You were all made in a factory, with a machine. A sperm was collected from the male specimen, and an egg was collected from a female specimen, and the rest of your making took place inside a special machine known as the baby fertilizer.”

He remembered looking vaguely into some pictures that were taken from planet earth; the planet was so beautiful, with things which they call trees, cows, horses and butterflies, all coming forth naturally, not made in a factory.

It was so different from planet 345, where everything was artificially made, from the planet itself, to every single of the machinery tree, and chemically produced food.

Planet 345, a round metallic ball invented by the top scientists living in planet earth, was created by the earthlings to get rid of overpopulation problem on earth.

The people on earth in those photos were so different from the people in planet number 345. They have smiles, they have tears, and they all look so different from one another, as if they are made by a creative and unique being, not a product from a factory.

Through Him, all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made. John 1:3.

All things? Even factory made babies? Even him? A foreign feeling suddenly gripped hold of number 757, it sent strange water raining down his eyes.

"I am just a number. I am not like the earthling. I am made in a factory. I am not made by Him, whoever He is, wherever He may be."

He envied the girl. She was made by Him, not in a factory. Not like him.

For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.

“Does that also apply to me, Jesus? Will you also save me, if I believe in you? Please save me.”

Something strange entered into the heart of Number 757 for the first time in his life, something he could not explain. "Your body may be produced in a factory, but it is I who put your soul inside," a voice whispered gently within him.

Number 757 smiled. "I am a living being." He threw off the gun and held tightly onto the book.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Short Story: Theory 3-- My Grandmother

Her lungs burns like they are on fire. She struggles to gasp for her breath while the worried faces of family, relatives and friends express concern for what is happening to her.

“Is… is he here?” The old lady gazes into the eyes of her beautiful daughter.

“I… I will call him.” Her teary eyes daughter replies. She proceeds to dial a number to contact her one and only son, the favorite grandson of the dying old lady before her.

“Ruth, don’t.” The old lady choked up her answer in pain. “Jonah ought to put the work of God first before… cough… before me.”

My name is Jonah Wong. I am an evangelist from the country of China. I was born in Beijing, to a small Christian family, in the midst of a country that is communist and atheistic in nature. Today, many people ask me for the success to my evangelism ministry. They want to know the secret of my power, the secret of my success with God. They come up with all kinds of theories for my success.

Theory one declares that it is due to the way I speak before people. I have mastered my voice to such a level, that I am able to psychologically brainwash the people to believe in everything I say. Theory two states that it is because of my godly character, which explains why God chooses to use me. I am honest, righteous, brave and yielding to the leading of the Holy Spirit of God. I have my own theory, theory three, of why I am so successful.

The crowd of the Indian population that overflows from the stadium is a sight for me to behold. The number of people who turns up surprises me. It will be one successful harvest for the Lord, today.

“Dear Lord, give me the strength to minister to the hungry souls that are looking for you. May they see and notice you and not me.” It is my custom to pray before I go up to preach. My handphone rings just when I finish my simple prayer.

“I am sorry… I cannot answer your call, now, mum, I am about to minister on stage to millions of people.”

“Jonah, this is urgent. Your grandmother is dead.”

“What!” The shock is great.

“Your grandmother is dead. Respiration failure. A hole in her lungs.”

“I will… go back this very minute.” My grandmother loves me the best. If it is not for her, I will not be who I am today. How can I bring myself to preach to a crowd of million people when my own grandmother, the person who means the most to me in my life, has just died?

“No, Jonah, don’t. Your grandmother told me before she went back to Jesus to tell you this, ‘Ruth, when I am gone, I know Jonah will surely want to come back to see me for the last time. Before he does so, please tell this, my dear child, to him, In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I give you this charge: Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction.’ Jonah, Granny wanted you to preach the Word of God and not abandoned the responsibility which God had entrusted to you.”

That night, India experiences her greatest revival in history. They think that I am responsible for the revival that comes to their country. I just want to cry. Alone by myself. Away from the crowd. In my hotel room. In memory of an unsung hero. My grandmother.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Short Story: Sweet, baked eggs!

Shu Mei tiptoed across the kitchen, careful to pass by the door to her parents’ room, the toilet, into the kitchen without making a single sound. It was the time of night where the moon was at her greatest height, where the surrounding areas to the bungalow house situated near a tiny road in Singapore, were extremely silent.

It was the time when everybody was asleep, but the tiny little girl was still wide awake. Her keen and eager eyes were the signs that this 7 years old girl would most likely not be in bed anytime, soon.

“I am not a naughty girl, God; I just want to give my mummy a surprise.” Shu Mei uttered when she noticed that the face of a crucified Jesus was staring sternly out of a picture-frame carefully placed on one of the wall that led to the kitchen area at her. He seemed to be reproving her, questioning why the little girl was out at bed so late at night.

“Mummy loves eggs.” Shu Mei smiled as she carefully took out two eggs from a near-by basket. “I shall give mummy a surprise.”Mrs. Chen aroused from her sleep by a nightmare which she had of being pursued by a robber, who was out to rob her of all her money.

“I had a nightmare,” Mrs. Chen mumbled to herself. The woman was about to go back to sleep when she noticed that the light outside her bedroom was not switched off. Opening her bedroom’s door, Mrs. Chen noticed that the door to her daughter’s room was not shut, and the light of the kitchen was being switched on.What could that trouble-maker be up to, Mrs. Chen thought to herself in anger, as she walked to the kitchen.

“What are you doing!” The woman shouted at the little girl as she smelt the odor of burnt eggs arising from out of the oven in her kitchen area. Mrs. Chen hurried to the kitchen and found two eggs being placed inside the oven, and they were burnt.

“You naughty girl!” Mrs. Chen shouted in anger as she slapped the hand of her young daughter and proceeded to shut down the oven. “What do you think you are doing! This is not funny and this is not a game!”

Little Shu Mei burst into tears, frightened by the outburst of her mother’s anger and sad that her kind intentions were being treated so harshly by her own mother.

“I am only trying to bake some eggs for you,” the little girl replied, in the midst of her sobs.

“Bake some eggs?”

“It is mother’s day, tomorrow, and you said that you love to eat eggs.” The little girl explained as she wiped off the tears from her eyes.Mrs. Chen burst into laughter.

“You don’t bake an egg, silly girl. You cook it, boil it or fry it. But you don’t bake it.”

”You don’t?”

“Yes, you don’t. No one ever bakes an egg.”

“But you bake a cake.”

“That is different.” The mother said, as she drew her little girl close to her side.

“I am sorry, mummy. I want to give you a surprise.” The little girl’s head was looking at the ground.

“It is all right, darling. I love your baked eggs. Mummy is sorry for scolding you.” Mrs. Chen gently stroked the hair of her little girl.

“But you can’t eat them,” said the little girl, sadly.

“Yes, I can. And they taste wonderful.” Mrs. Chen replied, lightly tapping at the heart of her little girl.

“Happy Mother’s Day,” Shu Mei said, with a smile.

Short Story: The One Talent He Gives Her

East Coast Park was the place she loved to go to. Evening was her best friend. She always visited East Coast Park with him. It was when he was doing his round that East Coast Park always had a bench that no one would sit in.There, sitting quietly alone, she would gently reflect about life and spent her time together with God.

Today was her birthday. But no one remembered it. No one bothered to.

She was not a popular girl. She was never a popular girl.

She was not a pretty girl. She was never pretty.

She was not a wise girl. She was never wise.

She was not a talented girl.

God is good, she was absolutely sure He is so, but somehow, in making her, He must have accidentally forgotten to give her a talent.

“Nobody remembered my birthday, Lord.” Xiao Hui uttered sadly, in sorrow.

She could feel the Lord just sitting beside her on the bench as they watched the sunset together.

“Not me. I remember.” It was a gentle whisper.

“Thank you,” replied Xiao Hui with a smile, a forced kind of smile.

Her heart was comforted by the Lord's love for her, but it was still sad over the fact that no human being remembered her birthday.

“See, I make you a birthday cake.” The same gentle whisper.

The cloud in the sky did appear to look like the shape of a cake.

Xiao Hui laughed, “Too bad I can't eat it, Lord.”

She could feel the Lord laughed together with her.

“You can, one day, when you come home to me. I guarantee you it will be the tastiest cake you will have ever eaten.” The Lord spoke in an assuring manner.

“I will love to taste it, dear Lord when I get home,” replied Xiao Hui.

She knew her Lord will never lie to her.She could feel the Lord smiling with joy even as she said that. Her faith in Him was what always pleased Him most.

“I was not selected for the mission team, my Lord,” Xiao Hui said, sadly.

“They said I had asthma.”

“I know,” the Lord replied, gently.

“I was also not selected for the church's choir, my voice was not in harmony with the rest of the team,” said Xiao Hui with a sigh.

“I did my best to fit in.”

“I know,” said the Lord, gently.

He was a good listener. There was the best thing about Him. He always listened before He spoke. He was very patient.

“The ushers' team had too many people, so it did not want me, either.” A tear fell down the eye of Xiao Hui.

“I know,” said the Lord, quietly. He placed an arm of His around the sorrowful girl.“Nobody wanted me,” said Xiao Hui in a sad tone.

“Not me. I wanted you,” said the Lord, gently, still as patiently as ever.

Xiao Hui smiled, “Thank you, Lord.”It was getting dark. The sun was almost nowhere to be seen.

“My Lord, I feel so much better, now. Thank you so much for being here with me,” said Xiao Hui with sincerity. The Lord smiled. Not many people remembered to thank Him for what He had done.

Xiao Hui got off her bench, walked to a quiet spot where no one was watching and fell on her knees. There, she began to pray profusely for God to help her church in every endeavor it was in, for God to look at the needs of the lonely and unwanted in society and for her entire nation Singapore to come to know the Lord, one day.

The Lord smiled as His hands prepared to move.

Important Copyright Notice

The true author and writer of all the stories in this blog is The Holy Spirit of God. The human vessel He uses is me. The true author is perfect. The human vessel is not. Every perfect portion of the stories come from Him. Every imperfect portion from me. The true copyright of all the stories belong to God. The representative copyright of the stories, for dealing in this secular world, is handled by me. In heaven, He owns the copyright. On earth, I will handle the copyright for Him, since most people on earth cannot see Him. 

Copyright usage: You are free to "share" this story with anyone you want who is within your circle of friends, as long as the "sharing" is of a non-commercial nature, and it is for a purpose that glorifies God in some manners or ways. If it glorifies God, and if it is non-commercial in nature, you are free to publish it on your website, newsletter, Christmas card you personally made for your friends, church bulletin, without having to ask me for permission. It must be non-commercial in nature. If you are a non-profit Christian organization, you are allowed to use the stories to raise fund for your ministries without seeking me for permission. As long as the usage of the story is for the glory of His kingdom, you don't have to ask me for permission. :) A credit link back to this blog is deeply appreciated, but not compulsory, for usage of the stories in a non-commercial manner. If you want to use the stories for commercial purposes, you can contact me by checking for my e-mail at my profile. Tell me the details of how you intend to use the stories. 

Blog Link: My stories are mainly written for Christians in Singapore. Therefore, if you are a Christian in Singapore, I will appreciate it deeply if you place a link to my blog from your blog. The purpose of my stories is to glorify God, convey important messages to Christians in Singapore, and allow Christians in Singapore to enjoy free, Christian stories online. The stories will reach more people if more people place a link back to my blog. If you are not from Singapore, and the stories touch you one way or another, do place link to my blog from your blog. Thank you. 

Final Note: That is all for copyright information. :) Enjoy the stories, and remember, if they touch you, praise His name. My gifts and talents really come from Him. To Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit be all glories, and may God bless Singapore, always.

If You Want To Be A Christian

 If you want to get right with God, and be saved, here is a sample prayer. Remember, saying this prayer or any other prayer will not save you. It is only trusting in Christ that can save you from sin. This prayer is simply a way to express to God your faith in Him and thank Him for providing for your salvation. Prayer is simply talking to God. So, say out loud the following words and mean them from the bottom of your heart: “God, I know that I have committed wrong acts in my life and sinned against You. I deserve fully your punishment of eternal hell. Yet, You love me so much that you sent Jesus Christ down to take the punishment that I deserve so that through faith in Him I could be forgiven. I accept Jesus into my life as my Saviour and trust You, oh God for my salvation. Thank you for saving me.”

Had you meant what you said? Congratulation, you now belong to the family of God, and is a Christian.

1. Make sure you understand salvation.

1 John 5:13 tells us, “I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, that you may know that you have eternal life.”

God wants us to know more about our salvation. He wants us to know that we have eternal life. He wants us to have the confidence to know that we are saved.

Briefly, let’s go over the key points of salvation:

(a) We have done things that are bad in God’s eyes. (Romans 3:23)

(b) Because of our sin, we deserve to go to hell. (Romans 6:23)


(c) Jesus died on the cross to pay the price for our sins (Romans 5:8, 2 Corinthians 5:21) Jesus died in our place, taking the punishment that we deserved so that we might receive the life He deserved. Jesus’ resurrection proved that His death was sufficient to pay for our sins.

(d) God grants forgiveness and salvation to all those who place their trust in Jesus—believing that He died to pay for our sons. (John 3:16, Romans 5:1, Romans 8:1)

That is the message of salvation!

2. Set aside time each day to focus on God.

It is very important for us to spend time each day focusing on God. Some people call this a “quiet time


(a) Prayer. Prayer is simply talking to God. Talk to God about your concerns and problems. Ask God to give you wisdom and guidance in your life. Ask God to provide for all your needs. Tell God how much you love Him and be thankful to Him for all that He does for you. That is what prayer is all about. If you really need help with praying, check out Matthew 6:9-12.

(b) Bible Reading. You need to be reading the Bible for yourself. The Bible is essentially God’s instruction manual for how to live our lives in a way that is pleasing to Him and satisfying to us. God promises that our ways will be prosperous and our lives successful if we read His Word. (Joshua 1:8)



3. Find believers who love Jesus to help you grow in your walk with God;

Don’t think of the church as a building. The church is the people. It is very important that believers in Jesus Christ fellowship with one another.

Find a good surrounding of believers who loves Jesus and fellowship with them. It is important not to neglect to meet with fellow believers! (Hebrews 10:25)

How do you know if a church or surrounding of believers love Jesus or not? By looking at their lives and actions! We can know if a believer loves Jesus or not by looking at his or her fruit.  (John 15:2)