The song leader asked from the pulpit, “Do you remember the song I taught you last week?” He then led the congregation to sing. The lyrics pierced deep, and I began to weep.
It was the closing chapter of our missionary journey. The Lord had called my wife Sharon and me to serve as missionaries in the Philippines in 1989. We were studying in a Bible school in Australia. I wasn’t thrilled about it, mainly because I believed that being a missionary would not provide financial security.
I recall a morning many years ago. I was visiting a man who had stepped down from full-time ministry due to age. He sat in his pajamas, staring blankly as his children played in the garden of their rented house. He was a pale shadow of the man who once came to my parents’ home to remove Chinese idols. The memory haunted me—I dreaded ending like him if I served God full-time.
We left for Australia in 1995 to pursue an audio ministry course with GLO Australia. By 1996, we began church planting in Eastern Samar province. There was a threat from the NPA, the armed wing of the Communist Party of the Philippines, but more formidable threats lay elsewhere
In 1997, there was a dengue outbreak in our village of Guiuan. I donated blood to an eleven-year-old boy who was hemorrhaging badly. He died half an hour later. Therefore, when my seven-year-old daughter Annie developed a high fever, I was super-anxious.
The village hospital advised us to travel to the next island for better facilities. We rented a fishing boat instead of waiting for the overnight ferry. The sky was clear when our little family—our youngest child was only six months old—set off for Leyte Island. However, super typhoon Winnie[1] was near and lashed our boat for hours. Although ships sank elsewhere in the Philippines, we landed safely. Both Annie and I were admitted to hospital as I had developed a high fever as well. Sharon worked tirelessly to take care of us and our two sons. Unknown to us, she had dengue too. But God gave her extraordinary strength.
1997 was also the year a fellow missionary and friend from our sending church passed away in Africa. After completing the required first tour of duty of three years, we decided to serve nearer to Manila. However, our sending church “de-commended” us, perhaps traumatized by the death of our friend. We spent a year in limbo.[2] I met my ex-boss from a valuation company. After hearing my experiences, he said, “Well, I wouldn’t expose my family to danger.” I understood the gravity, but I was prepared to stay faithful to God’s call. Hence, when another assembly in Kuala Lumpur offered to be our sending church, I did not hesitate. By 2000 we began serving in Rizal Province, near Manila.
The EDSA II uprising in 2001 in Manila warranted caution, but again, the real threats lay elsewhere. The Filipino assembly we had settled into became embroiled in a scandal. The full-time worker at the centre of it all deflected attention by labelling me a usurper of his assembly! Others took sides, revealing un-Christian attitudes. The experience shook me to the core. I was disillusioned. If Christianity hadn’t changed these people, what was the point of being a missionary? This crisis led me to pursue theological studies. I am currently in the final lap of a Doctorate in Theology in Clinical Pastoral Psychotherapy (CPP). Differences in values and doing ministry became reasons for the parting of ways with our sending church, and once again I was “de-commended” in 2013. Our missionary years were ending.
Our youngest child wanted to finish his high school education in Mindanao, and we decided to remain in the Philippines one more year for that. A brethren missionary asked, “You are no longer commended by your assembly. What are you doing here?” She went on to insinuate we were enjoying a missionary discount dishonestly at our son’s school. Unknown to her, the school was aware of our circumstances and had graciously allowed our son to finish his education. Despite the cold reception from some, two assemblies welcomed us warmly.[3]
Refusing to be in limbo, I decided to serve as a chaplain in a supermarket in General Santos City. I partnered with GCF Marikina, a conservative Baptist church. Marketplace ministry was new territory, and I implemented insights from CPP. It was effective. The manager of a department store in the same mall asked me to be their informal chaplain too. We had access to hundreds of people. That year, we baptized eight people. After we left, the new pastor baptized over 20.
In early 2015, Sharon returned to Malaysia to prepare for re-entry while I wrapped up our ministry. One morning, between services at the department store and the supermarket, a wave of self-pity hit me. In 1995, we had the emotional support of many assemblies in Malaysia. We had a house and a car. Now, we were returning to nothing. The house had been sold, and half the proceeds had been used in the mission field. The other half financed our children’s education. At 54, how was I supposed to start over? “So, this is how it ends after years of serving you?” I asked the Lord. Seeking solitude, I went to a friend’s Filipino church service. The song leader asked from the pulpit “DO you remember the song I taught you last week?” He then led the congregation to sin 恩典之路 – The Path of Grace.[4]
Lord, you are my guide
The shepherd of my life
Through the hills and valleys
You’re always by my side
Calling me by name
You’ve chosen me with love
Blessing me abundantly,
Your promise will never change
Every step we take,
You lead us with your grace
Your love, your hand
Will hold us close to you…
After the weeping, I felt that no matter what might come after, the Lord would be there.
“Re-entry – the time you return to your home country for good – may even be worse than your first months in the mission field,” said a seasoned missionary. He was right. It took about two years for us to adjust. It was hard for others to understand what we were going through in our minds and emotions. One story is sufficient to illustrate the strangeness. One day, stuck in a traffic jam in Ipoh, I noticed that every car around me bore a registration plate starting with “A,” denoting Perak state. I was suddenly overwhelmed by emotions, and I thought, “I am home at last.”
The Lord opened doors for ministry in Kampar through a local church.[5] We befriended university students. Though that ministry ended during the Covid-19 pandemic, we maintained friendships and cheered them on.
[1] The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (n.d.) Typhoon Winnie – Aug 1997. https://reliefweb.int/disaster/st-1997-000179-chn
[2] We worshipped at Bandar Sunway Gospel Centre. The assembly remains in partnership with us to this day.
[3] I am touched by Rod Miano, then full-time worker of Emmaus Christian Brethren Gospel Chapel, and Eric Arabit, then full-time worker of Polomolok Christian Brethren Church.
[4] Translation taken from Boon Chua (2015) 恩典之路 – 中英文歌词 (The Path of Grace – English & Mandarin lyrics). YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeRAvi7d2A8
[5] The Westlake Community Church, Kampar. I remain a commended worker of Antioch Network Community.