Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Lost Time

I tend to the years I lived, the memories tucked in hidden creases. Friendships lash like crashes on apprehension's shore. Ebb and flow, ebb and flow. I'm twenty-eight but it feels like lies to fix your broken heart. I'm making up for lost time, watching the years of confidence grow like late blooming flora.

I need you. Be my distraction. Don't sniff at the romance on the dance floor. Let the wash of colour crescendo over you. Let it overwhelm you like the winds were a thousand hands grabbing for the right part of your garment for healing. Let it surround you like kisses of brutal blows beating upon your broken back.

I'm making up lost time. There is life along the river; I have felt it. I've come to expect ulterior motives as if they were handouts. Disappointed to find heart-break before letting the sparkles go, while I am pulled down in the warm undertow. Those glances for approval, those touches; so unnecessary. So I unclench these fists to try and release what my heart has gripped.

Release and hold, release and hold.

- Daryl Goh

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Eat My Shoes

Photo By Daryl Goh
These are my shoes; new shoes which I like very much. My friends tell me that they look like my previous pair, but they aren't. They feel different, wrapped around my feet like sandals warriors used to wear.

Just the other day, it was raining an angry, monsoon kind of rain, as heavy as it gets in Singapore. I was fighting to stay dry, hunched under a borrowed umbrella. In my mind, the puddles were oceans and I was skipping from island to island with a single thought, "I mustn't get my new shoes wet!"

It was the same day that I received news of the worst flooding in 20 years in Thailand. More recently, I came across this picture of a girl holding up her shoes while wading through the floodwaters, as if to taunt my immaturity.  Here I was, worried about staining my S$140 shoes, while the Thais were having their homes and belongings destroyed by the waters.

Today in church, I heard Pastor Helen preach on the issue of calling on the name of the Lord. I learnt about the heart of God when people call out to him in suffering or anguish. The fact that God doesn't wish to see anyone perish, either spiritually or physically.

Recently, a friend from secondary school asked if I wanted to contribute to hungry kids in Thailand. through a program called "Nourish The Children", which is a for-profit organisation launched by Nu Skin Enterprises. The initiative aims to provide the victims in Thailand with nourishing meals through VitaMeals. Each bag feeds 30 meals. Providing someone a meal for a month (3 bags) would cost $120.

Imagine that. A month of meals for less than a pair of shoes.

I believe that sometimes, God wants us to be the answer instead of praying for answers. This is an excellent opportunity to be God's answer to those in Thailand. If you would like to be a part of this, contact me with your pledged amount and I'll link you up with my contact at Nu Skin. Alternatively, donations can be made through the Singapore Red Cross South East Asia Floods Appeal.

Whichever way you choose.

"Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food..."
| Jesus - Matthew 25:34-35 |

Friday, November 4, 2011


Here come the floods, princess,
Leave everything behind.
You never really created, only captured
and pieced together like baby's fingers grasping.

I breathe, and I am in awe.
I hear the rise and I fall.
These are days of beauty,
so full, like walks in the rain.

What kind of love are these roses?
The only promise you try to suffocate.
I want your thorns broken
and your petals, wet.

Soak just a little while
in a stranger's smile and gaze.
While I search for ways
for us, to last, a little, longer.

- Daryl Goh

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Come Closer

the sky is whistling purity,
washed with rain.
coat the city in blinding white,
cascading from the heavens.
my prayers rise to meet them;
fierce, and just as wet.

my love, i am a drowning man.
reach up, for you are the surface
i wish to break. so i breathe,
and i sing a simple tune
bubbling up to you.

a pretty face, picture perfect.
we tangle
like roots grappling for sustenance
entwined, like new found lovers
afraid if we held loosely
would be swept away.

if you discover loneliness
one fine day
just slow down, my love, slow down
know you are too young for this.
i, with breath kissed into me
propose, come closer.

Come closer.

- Daryl Goh 

Monday, September 26, 2011

Beauty Only In The Beholder's Eye

The light flickers and I look up to see if the bulb in my room is failing. But it glows constant and moody. The flashes happen again. They come from outside. I look out the window but I see nothing. It is strange that my windows fog up from the inside. I wipe the moisture to look out and I get a glimpse of the city skyline but grey. The cold night air rushes to kiss my face when I slide the windows open. The clouds drift into my room, surrounding me. The fragrance of wet fog and the scattering of the city lights summons nostalgia.

I know you. 

I whisper to the massive, shimmering veil of grey. The recognition turning to disdain as if it were an old friend bearing bad news. But I cannot remain cross for long. I am seduced by the way it wraps around me, by its scent; like a long lost love. I breathe deeply.

The rain sounds like a standing ovation. The buildings in the distance, the congregation. Jagged lines of light appear like they were drawn by infants connecting the stars. The sky lights up and I imagine God staring down at us, taking bad photographs; pushing back darkness long enough to capture the beauty only in the Beholder's Eye.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Picture Perfect

the door opens and i step out once more. it is evening and the sky is old and depressed. the leaves float around me like the trees were crying in slow motion. it must be the coffee that buzzes in my veins. the traffic hums a baritone. the lanes filled with cars carrying people whose eyes water at the monotony in the air. people glad to leave the office yet wishing they didn't have to go home.

a man sits near the entrance of the subway station. the unbuttoned shirt and rolled-up sleeves, his attempts to fight off the humidity. he nervously plays with a cigarette, subconsciously counting the hours before he has to return, numbering the days till the week's end. in a single smooth motion, he flicks his lighter and draws life into his cigarette. the smoke and humidity entwine in a little dance. he watches the choreography fade into the darkening night. he closes his eyes and lets the nicotine calm him.

when he reopens them, he sees a young woman standing near him. the curves of her slender body comforting his eyes. she holds up a digital camera taking pictures of the building across the road. she is captivated by the constantly-changing, coloured lights that line the building. she smiles to herself when she sees the photo she took. and yet she is unaware that she is a sight to behold; warm smile, big eyes, brown hair. she stands relaxed with one foot on the sidewalk and one on the road, now lit by street lamp. in his mind, a whisper forms. perfect, just perfect. she throws a glance in his direction and notices his gaze. she blushes, smiles and turns to walk away.

the smile sticks to his heart and makes him forget his dread. he takes another drag at his cigarette and at that moment, he is ready to leave for home. 

Monday, September 5, 2011

This Is Not The Time

I am grit under fingernails.
You are tensed hands, palsied, desperate;
digging as if this earth held secrets.
As if the moist scent of this soil could sustain your soul.

I am sweat dripping
down the side of your cheek.
You are eyes, squinting with a sparkle
as if beauty the sun revealed too much.

I am the words that won't come when face-to-face with uncertainty, or when in love.
You are the shiver of pleasure when coming out of minor key.
If you cry out loud enough, I become each shaky sustained beat.
You belong with me.

You are fresh strings stretched across an instrument.
Ready for the first harmony.
I am the wicked twang of you snapping at me.
You are presence in a warm room.
I am cold awkward silence.
You are words; stories and poetry.
I am an empty page.
You belong with me.

- Daryl Goh

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Three Years And A Third

At the end of August, I will be leaving Christian Outreach To The Handicapped to pursue my degree in Mass Communication at the Institute of Higher Learning which is established by the Singapore Manufacturers' Federation (SMa). The degree will be accredited by Murdoch University.

Although I am eager to begin a new season in my life, I cannot help but look back and appreciate all that God has taught me through the beneficiaries, my colleagues and the volunteers; both the good lessons and the bad. Working at COH has given me so many opportunities to learn and develop new skills. It has been a great pleasure being part of an organisation that puts so much effort into serving and loving our beneficiaries.

I have learnt so much from the beneficiaries. Spending time with them has taught me that their disabilities are simply extensions of my own shortcomings and limitations. They have taught me how to behave a little more selflessly and even when I sometimes don't, they are still are happy to see me. They have given me a glimpse of God; His character and His nature.

I am often quick to forget. My colleagues have been such a blessing to me, constantly giving me much needed reminders and appreciation. They always inspire me with their commitment; spending all their creative, emotional and physical energy just to improve a few hours in the life of the beneficiaries. And when the beneficiaries have left, the exhausted expressions of my colleagues surprise me. Not because of how drained they are, but because I know that the next day, I will see them refreshed and smiling as if they've never tasted tiredness.

I am glad for these three years and a third. COH and the stories of her beneficiaries are now a part of me. I am glad because I know that I have learnt lessons that cannot be taught from a lecture slide in any classroom. Because I know that COH will continue to grow and develop, even as I do.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Feel The Heart's Charge

After the homeless man that comes and goes, pushes and pulls
caught between a wall of shame and the stench that traps him in.
After the orphan child who lies awake in a world that will not look in her direction,
who covers her eyes with lines and lines of lies.
After the missionary longing for family far away,
Their tears baptising anxiety, wrestling fears that home is a forgotten memory.

Over the battlefield, there are tiny blades
shining and singing over the fallen enemy
Feel the heart's charge against the remiss
They all try to bury the doubt they carry.
"Where are you, God? So incensed and insensitive.
Where are the people you have chosen to love me?"

There is no time to overanalyse this because simply,
Justice like Love, is God.

- Daryl Goh

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Intimacy Is A Mixtape

Verse 1:
Some days, life feels fast forwarded
We're all waiting for the right song to come along
And I think this playlist is missing something
I'm waiting to hear you sing
I'm waiting to hear you sing

Verse 2: 
It feels like a warm kiss
on my ear, I shudder
The beats of my heart throb in my lips, ooh
They beg me to kiss you
They beg me to kiss you

The crack in my voice is a chasm.
The distance between us cannot separate.
You're closer than the twitch in my eye when I sleep.
It's cos I see you, I see you in my dreams
You spin around in moonlight
I memorize your face and swear I'll never leave
A breath and a shiver as your name hides behind my teeth.

These thoughts would not leave.
They beg me to kiss you
These thoughts would not leave
They beg me to kiss you

- Daryl Goh

Monday, June 27, 2011

There My Heart Will Be Also

Life transitions can be a bit of a hassle. Plans that were made in one season of life have to be changed or cancelled when moving into the next. That is what is happening to me now. I travelled to Nepal with some of my closest friends twice last year. I was planning to take another trip this July to visit the beautiful children of the Sophia Girls' Home as well as the youth of Kathmandu and East Nepal. Recently, God opened the door for me to study for a bachelor’s degree in mass communications.

It was a great struggle for me to finally accept that I couldn’t go. I think the reluctance to give up my place on the team stems from a phobia that if I wasn’t with the people I loved, I would somehow be forgotten, or I would lose the love that I had for the Nepalese youth. But God reminds me that Kingdom work is spiritual work, where there are no limitations. He reassures me that although I cannot be with them physically, I can still impact them with love through a different means.

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Matthew 6:21, Luke 12:34

Jesus speaks about the link between treasures like money, belongings and time; and one’s heart. Essentially, He says that the things that one invests in show where the priorities lie. He reassures us that investments in the Kingdom will never be lost or degraded.

It is such a joy to know that although I cannot go, I can still give. That my heart and my treasure can still impact the people in Nepal.

Love Revealed in Nepal
July 2011
Video by Oh Ruey Jen
Photography by Samuel Teo & Daryl Goh

I used to think that it would be a great loss to the team if I couldn't go. I now know that the opposite is true. Without being forlorn or depressed, I can now say that in my absence, God makes the team better. I see similarities in the desire of every team member; to bring God-given desires and talents to bless others. I see a willingness to put aside self-promotion in order to promote the Kingdom of God. I have faith in this team, I have faith in Him.

Friday, June 24, 2011

My First Day Of School

There's many places I'd rather be than in a cold empty classroom and yet this is where I sit, shivering. It is my first day of my university studies and all I can think about are kids in the worship camp in church, receiving from fine worship leaders and musicians from Charis Methodist, Paya Lebar Methodist, Riverlife and Forerunners.

My thoughts are interrupted by a slender lady who strides into the room. I could have mistaken the lecturer for a student if not for elegant age lines around her eyes. We are joined by two other female students who enter the room chatting. As the lecturer introduces herself, I am very aware of two facts; there are only 4 of us in the room and, I am the only guy.

The lecturer is entertaining but speaks like someone disillusioned with the system. Once in a while when she tells a joke, her eyes shine and her youthfulness is unsuppressed. I imagine she must have been very attractive in her younger days.

After class, I speak to some guys at the camp over the phone. I hear singing and worship in the background and immediately, there is a longing in my heart. God reminds me that He is right here with me on my slow stroll to the MRT station. The traffic of City Hall becomes a low droning and it is as if the night is lit by candle light. I remind God that I've always wanted to be where the worshippers are. This might be the path after all.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

A Fire In The Camp

Your mouth is a black hole
Spewing debris before you implode
Hope is skin I live in
And you flay, you flay

I, like iron sing when struck
And compassion reverberates
Life is a game of love, of verve
And I play, I play

What is death? Disconnect from sustenance.
Wings clipped and trapped in tradition.
For fear of discomfort.
So who pays, who pays?

- Daryl Goh

Monday, June 6, 2011

The Aroma Of Expectation

A fraction of life is spent nursing bruised pride.
With fractured desires which imitate my heart;
in pieces and given away.
The pain not caused by the words in your book
But by forcing my lies into your Truth.

Tell me about these fulfilled laws:
Have they ever felled giants and mountains and walls,
Or are we the ones who have to fall?
Have they ever raised the dead and dying, the dawn?
Death by expectation while we gather and mourn.

If Love were liquid,
it would neither be wine
nor perfume poured out.
Know that your tears mean more to me
than a fragrance ever will.

- Daryl Goh

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Is This The Treatment Of Symptoms Or A Touch Of Divine

I spent the night looking at your form
at rest across the couch.
Not actually seeing,
just fitting memory to the shadows clinging
to the curves of your face
You were so close.
Night spies through these windows
The luminary throwing white on your warm body.
You said, "You haven't aged one bit!"
How can I?
When all I do is bask in distant memories of young love.
flat-chested and fearless.
And I?
I still fight, flat-footed and faltering.
What pried your song from your heart?
Now all that remains are sighs in your sleep;
always in E-flat.

- Daryl Goh

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Could You Please by Javier Dunn

Freezes when the sun goes
You know it's coldest when you're not around
the temperature is dropping now
could you please hold me now

The city is a lonely place
With yours the only missing face
Missing you is such a waste
cause you don't even know me

It's just another down down down day
Wishing you would come down my way
It's just another cool game I play
Wishing you would come down my way

Another lonely foreign night
I'm bathing in the TV light without you
maybe things will be alright
in the morning

It's just another down down down day
Wishing you would come down my way
It's just another cool game I play
Wishing you would come down my way

Monday, May 2, 2011

Intimacy Is Not Measured By Distance

You are as close as the twitch on my eye while I sleep.
A breath and shiver in a frostbitten dream.
The quiver on my lip as your name hides behind my teeth.
These thoughts would not leave.

The crack in my voice becomes a chasm.
The distance between us does not separate.
I would murder the man who made a mind-reading machine.
Destroy all evidence that would incriminate.

On cloudless nights, when I am caught
in the depth and darkness of the skies,
I would spill my heart if you asked.
Like moonbeams cutting through city lights.

Point a questioning finger in the face of God,
Did you not say, Prophesy?
These words that drip from my heart;
Are they not yours?

Give me your yoke, and
teach me wisdom, your politic
Show me how to take the dust, the darkness,
and turn it into something good.

- Daryl Goh

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

If I Wrote A Masterpiece

If I wrote a masterpiece
I'd want it to be the quiet kind
not the kind on every channel and website
where it would be raped by haughty eyes.

My words would make you selfish; when you saw them you wouldn't share them
you would cling and grip till the whites of your knuckles show.
There would be no fanfare, no short-lived top 40 hit
just a quiet, unwavering brilliant glow

I want my work to make you muse and mull
overrun, overflowed and overfilled,
till it's goodness seeps in,
till the inspiration is distilled.

It would make you just a little depressed,
while you debated why I was someone to stay away from.
But then you would unfasten the top two buttons of your shirt
to be as open as your heart had become

You would want to know how I did it.
And I would answer without missing a beat
It was a series of sacred events that
I kept secret.

- Daryl Goh

Monday, April 11, 2011

Dream Catcher

I saw a woman step into the train
her breathlessness catching every eye
she was on a mission; dressed to kill.
Or at least with a point to prove.
And as I continue to study her,
and as she caught my gaze
and as I caught a glimpse of her soul,
I saw her spirit blackened by burnt desires.
Broken, Razed.
And for that moment we lay open like books
craving to be read, begging to be known
not wanting to be alone.
and yet our pages, browned with time,
remain unturned and untold.

Maybe one day, I'll draw enough courage
in situations like these.
to admit that I don't have it all figured out,
that I might have gotten it all wrong
and that is all right.
Let me crawl across your time zone
so these moments may be in sync.
Instinct tells me that
if You are the vine,
and we are the branches
So why are are your leaves so low?
and where is your fruit?
Are we nothing more than trees with withered roots?

Although her eyes betray her silent look,
the images that adorn her body
like pictures in a children's book.
Her tattoos each tell a story.
A geisha on her arm represents discipline,
to bring art in environments that cannot see past bare skin.
Flowers on her wrists show that deep within
is a girl waiting for her prince.
And on her foot,
a tattoo of the finest detail; a dream catcher.
To pick those that have fallen unfulfilled.

- Daryl Goh

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Woman in a Shoe by Marge Piercy

There was an old woman who lived
in a shoe, her own two shoes,
men's they were, brown and worn.
They flapped when she hobbled along.

There was an old woman who lived
in a refrigerator box under
the expressway with her cat.
January, they died curled together.

There was an old woman who lived
in a room under the roof. It
got hot, but she was scared
to open the window. It got hotter.

Too hot, too cold, too poor,
too old. Invisible unless
she annoys you, invisible
unless she gets in your way.

In fairy tales if you are kind
to an old woman, she gives you
the thing you desperately need:
an unconquerable sword, a purse

bottomless and always filled,
a magical ring. We don't believe
that anymore. Such tales were
made up by old women scared

to be thrust from the hearth,
shoved into the street to starve.
Who fears an old woman pushing
a grocery cart? She is talking

to god as she shuffles along,
her life in her pockets. You
are the true child of her heart
and you see living garbage.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Skinned Knees And Lingering Looks

She shuffles her feet and invites my stare
but avoids it as if she held secrets
Skinned knees and lingering looks
it is hard to tell the difference between the two
Cos' you can't forget that they make you feel,
like you lost yourself.

Finishing lines and sweet first kisses
both leave me breathless
like I've got a mountain to climb
no time to look behind.
In a split second her eyes slip so far back
she sees her past displayed sharp as nails that pierce.

These skirts as short as my patience
Smooth skin shown; sweet to the eye,
But sandpaper my soul
It's not that I'm afraid to hold you;
I'd bring you so close while we
ceaselessly shattered indifference.

No. I'd clutch you like valentine's day's last rose
like you were strings to balloons that I'd never want to lose
It's not that I don't want to hold you;
I just don't want to ever let go.
Because maybe Truth is never easy the first time.
So I'd say it again, don't ever let go.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

How Brief Is My Calling (Why I Want To Study In 200 Words)

I am a 28-year-old child. I am always growing and learning. I have a sensitive soul. I love words and the effect they have on me. I want my writing to cause others to feel. I want to find meaning in revealing the stories of people that the world tries so desperately to hide; the orphans, the less-fortunate, and the forgotten.

From the polite and polished requests of customers in the bookshop; the curious child asking questions at the education centre; to the staccato cries of a beneficiary with hearing loss and speech impediments at the day activity centre for people with intellectual disabilities, relevant communication has taught me to work with different groups of people. I have developed workshops, conducting them for students ranging from primary to university level, and tailoring them for corporate groups.

To enable myself to communicate better, I am self-taught in photography, Photoshop and InDesign. I use these skills to produce print advertisements and newsletters to allow my organisation to reach volunteers, donors and the general public. I believe I have the heart, as well as the tools, to flourish as the School of Communications equips me with the knowledge.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

A Furious Sneeze (My Life In 300 Words)

I lay in her arms, ears still ringing from the hit-and-run, and hair moist from the mix of blood and broken glass. I was less than 3 weeks old and the car was even younger. My elder brother sat stunned in the front seat whilst my father frantically forced the doors open to get us out, all the while praying to God to save his baby. At the Alexandra Hospital, it was discovered that the blood on my head originated from my mother’s arm, fractured when she instinctively shielded me upon impact.

When he heard I was safe, my grandfather, a devout Methodist pastor, dubbed me as ‘favoured, and destined for great things’. Growing up, I often heard my family repeat this to me. Positive reinforcement, they call it. However, instead of developing my self-esteem and confidence, I became burdened by the weight of expectation. I once remained speechless for 5 minutes during an interview - so great was my fear of disappointing the panel with the wrong answer. That was the cycle I lived in.

I have spent the last decade fighting this cycle by choosing paths that were significant but not necessarily conventional. After my national service, I spent two years in a bible school which taught me that life is measured by love; by how much we give. It is with this perspective that I have spent 3 years working at a charity organization whose beneficiaries were people with an intellectual disability. I have also led volunteer groups to Thailand and Nepal to conduct camps for youth and to serve at an orphanage.

This is the story of my life so far: to take every experience, no matter how bad, and turn it into something beautiful so as to inspire and encourage others.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Dear True Love by Sleeping at Last

Dear True Love
A writer without any words
I'm a story that nobody heard
When I'm without you
I am a voice
I am a voice without any sound
A treasure map that nobody found
When I'm without you
Dear True Love
I'm a lantern without any light
I'm a boxer much too afraid to fight
When I'm without you

So with this ring
May you always know one thing
The little that I have to give
I will give it all to you
You're my one true love

I am a memory
a memory bent out of shape
a child hurt already bruised with age
when I'm without you
So Dear True Love
I'm an artist without any paint
A deal that every one breaks
When I'm without you

So with this ring
May you always know one thing
The little that I have to give
I will give it all to you
You're my one true love

I am a whisper
I am a secret nobody keeps
A dreamer of someone else's dreams
When I'm without you
Dear True Love
I'm a farewell that came too soon
I'm a hand-me-down that dreams of being new
When I'm without you

| Sleeping At Last - Yearbook: February |
Official Website
Check out their February EP on The Drop

Saturday, January 29, 2011


These humdrum thumps make its demands
against the door of my heart
They say yield!
You reckless, feckless speck
Before disappointment becomes your main -
Stay before your soul gets caught in the cross -
Fire before your pain becomes life -
Long for all you should be in the one life that you've got

Speak up or they'll find someone else
to be all that you struggle so hard to be
The scent of quick lipstick and nylon stockings
were a reminder of what could be lost.
Questions that are answered,
not with sweet wit but with lips licked,
ready to let these words slip.

Don't you know you're scaring me?
She asks when she sees the knuckles pale.
curled up like a clenched fist,
tension thick in the fingers.
Wrapped around this pencil,
with which I will stain this black leather-backed page
like emotions were shaken coffee cups set down too hard.

Don't let me down so hard.
It is my turn to be afraid now;
that one day I might run out of these words to comfort her with.
That one day I might say what I truly mean.
That I am selfish desire
the flashback of lust
but even that isn't enough
for the both of us.

- Daryl Goh

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Love Revealed December 2010 - Trip Report Part 2


We flew up to Jhapa which is in East Nepal to help out with their youth camp. The camp was held in Mahimit Church and all the youth from the churches and preaching points in that district were invited to the camp. The turnout was about 35 campers which was about half what was expected. This was due to the last minute re-scheduling of their school examinations.

Registrations were a great time to get to know the campers and assign them to the various teams. As the campers streamed in, I couldn't help but notice the lively and cheerful atmosphere in the church compound, made all the more obvious by the vibrant colours of the clothes that the youth were wearing. There was a difference in the disposition of the youth. I couldn't help but feel the love of Jesus in that community.

Pastor Gopal and the youth welcomed us warmly to their church and surprised us with the act of pinning ribbons to our shirts and donning us with scarves. I think all of us felt a little bit bemused because it was a new experience to be honoured before we had contributed anything to them. 

It was an enjoyable time for all the campers. There were many hilarious moments when we tried to explain the rules of the games to the youth. Especially since our translator was one of the participants who seemed to be more keen on winning the game rather than explaining it to the rest. 

For many, the games and fun are the highlight of the camp. However, we also wanted the games to support and enforce the messages about being a believer. There was a game where the participants were blindfolded and had to search for members of their own group using only a single pre-determined sound (e.g. a clap, a whistle). Another game required them to link arms tightly in groups of 3 while playing football. 

The wonderful thing about having a youth camp in a village church is having the neighbours watch us from the outskirts of the church compound. Some of the children had enough curiosity to overcome their shyness to come in to watch.

Mass Dance.
One of the amazing things about the Nepali is how dance is so deeply incorporated into their rich culture. It is a form of expression that most Singaporeans simply do not comprehend. And because of the popularity of the dance from the youth camp in Kathmandu in June, we were asked to come up with a new dance for the one in Jhapa.

The camp theme dance was set to the song, One Way by Hillsong United. Our team taught the campers the moves on the first day of the camp. The youth were so enthused about perfecting the dance; they spent almost every break-time pleading with us to show them the moves 'one more time'. We might have feigned exasperation, but actually we enjoyed every moment of it. It was all worth it when we saw the youth pumping their fist singing the chorus, "One Way, Jesus!"

We had the privilege of laying hands and praying for every single camper, blessing them by speaking truth to their spirits. We thank God for using us as His channels of ministry towards these future leaders.

We also prayed for a girl who had collapsed during the camp. She was sent to hospital but the doctors discharged her from the hospital after finding nothing physically wrong with her. On our last day in Jhapa, she was having convulsions. We were supposed to leave for the airport but we decided to spend a little more time praying and ministering to her. After worshiping and praying for about 45 minutes, her body seemed to relaxed and we felt at ease to leave. She is now well and back to her normal self.

Appreciation from the Pastor.
"Thank you so much for time that you gave to us and also all the services, games and other items which has really inspired our youth camp. It has been a really wonderful and humble service towards our youth. We will never forget it. We will be expecting your service in future also. We enjoyed dancing with you and the fun that we had while playing games. You were really a good brother and sister as well as very close friends to us."
| Pastor Gopal |

Fun Facts.
  • Jhapa currently has one Methodist Church and 4 preaching points.
    (Jasing Guan, Badamtar, Dhadare, Surunga)
  • The camp was held in Mahimit Church. Mahimit means Glory.
  • While attempting to climb it, one of our team members broke a makeshift ladder that led to the roof. There were no serious injuries sustained other than to the team member's pride. 
  • There is a game where one had to juggle a ball of rubber bands with one's feet. One of the youth beat Gerald 39 to 26.
  • Chia Tea in Jhapa is sweeter than in Kathmandu.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Love Revealed December 2010 - Trip Report Part 1

When we arrived in Kathmandu, Nepal, it felt a little bit like returning home. Seeing Loong and Gloria, the Jars Of Clay Cafe, Wesley Methodist Church (Nepal) and the Sophia Girls' Home reminded me of the story that God had started telling us only 6 months before. We were anxious to go straight to the Girls' Home to see the little darlings. Our experience with them on previous trips proved that they would take a while to warm up to us again. We were right. Most of the time was spent with Auntie Grace finalizing the programs that we would run. Our time was divided over the two weekends that we spent in Kathmandu.


This was basically a time where we used arts and crafts to help us to bond with the girls. The girls were divided into 2 groups where they did either jewelry-making or drawing. Materials for jewelry-making were generously sponsored by Julie Ng, whereas colour pencils and sharpeners were sponsored by Ruey Jen and her friends. The purpose of these activities was to encourage their creativity and imagination.

In Mark 10:45, it say, "For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."

We continued our service of Love to the girls by painting their stairwell. Conceptualized by Elissa, the tree represented the protection and providence of God, while the birds were a reference to the verse in Matthew 6:26 where Jesus reminds his disciples that they were more valuable than the birds that God feeds.

We spent time doing their evening devotions with them. Georgina spoke to them about their value because God made each of them in Jesus Christ. She referenced Ephesians 2:10, using it to remind them that they were loved greatly by God and that He was pleased with them simply because they are His creation.

We kept praying for them throughout the trip. I could sense that even in our conversations among the team members, we could not help but speak blessings over their lives.

Games, Gifts and Goodbyes.
On our second weekend at the home, we were supposed to have a programme of activities planned for the the girls. However, the girls used this opportunity to introduce their own games to us. These were games played with hands and with words. I still cannot be sure if they are better off without the kinds of toys that we grew up with.

We also introduced them to some of our own childhood games like "Mother Hen" and "London Bridge" which they thoroughly enjoyed. The fun and games may have made the goodbyes more painful, but it was definitely a great way to spend our final evening in Nepal.

With your generous gifts, we were able to purchase custom-made school bags for each of the girls at the home.