With Hope

In memory of Jonathan Gan, 1990-2006.


Li-Shia and I were supposed to visit Jon Gan today as she couldn't join Miss Shanti, Jon Siao and me last Wednesday. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. Five days is not a long time; unless two people are separated by eternity.

The photo above, I took on Jon's 16th birthday on 26 July. It is not stitched or edited in any way; it uses only the reflective and transparent properties of glass, captured together from this unique angle. It is one of my finest pieces, and I was thrilled to present it as a gift to Jon and his family last Wednesday. I told Aunty Agnes I'd invite her if ever I had an exhibition of my works; I still hope to honour that promise.

A few hours after our visit, he would never be able to see the picture again. What kind of irony is this, to give a person his birthday gift on the day he should die?


No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

--John Donne, Meditation XVII

I have been thinking of funerals and the wailing that usually accompanies them. And I recalled Paul's words;

Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.

--1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

These were the words that helped inspire Steven Curtis Chapman's song, 'With Hope'. And this song has been a source of comfort and peace over the last few days.

This is not at all how
We thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams
And now you've gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you, but...

Chorus:
We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We'll see your face again

And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand
And never have I questioned more
The wisdom of God's plan
But through the cloud of tears
I see the Father's smile and say well done
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're free, and...

Chorus

We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything
God promised us is true, so...

Chorus

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope


At his wake last Friday, we sang six songs:

Through It All (You are forever in my life...)
Shout to the Lord (My Jesus, my Saviour...)
Our Father (Hear our prayer...)
The Power of Your Love (Lord I come to You...)
Give Thanks
Amazing Grace

We also sang Give Thanks at Aunty Irene's wake last year;

Give thanks with a grateful heart
Give thanks to the Holy One
Give thanks because He's given
Jesus Christ, His Son

And now let the weak say 'I am strong'
Le the poor say 'I am rich'
Because of what
The Lord has done for us

Give thanks

What kind of crazy faith is this, that we sing songs of thanksgiving at wakes and funerals? What kind of tears are these, that do not vanish into the catacombs of regret and despair, but resound with echoes of hope and renewed strength?

I think of what Patch Adams said; "You treat a disease, you win, you lose. You treat a person, I guarantee you, no matter what the outcome, you win."

Death, as he says, is not the enemy; indifference is. The doctors, Jon's parents, Jon himself... they all lost when it came to treating his brain cancer. But in these last stages, I saw such solidarity, faith, hope and love in his family and friends. Those who treated Jon won.

I couldn't help asking myself the great euthanasia question: If a person is effectively brain-dead, can't we just pull the plug on his/her life, if only to alleviate the suffering? I have always been against euthanasia; I still am. Jon was nowhere near brain-dead, but indeed his body was wasting away. Yet his family continued to love him as if he was a newborn baby.

Patch Adams would never condone euthanasia, I think. Jon was worth it; worth it because he was God's child, God's creation, God's gift.


When I think of the grieving, I wonder if we're sad for Jon, or sad for ourselves. Jon is in a better place now. Everyone says that; some really believe it, while others say that just to comfort themselves. I really believe it. I think if Jesus could rise from the dead, there must be a better place beyond this world.

Yet though we are temporal, we like holding on. We hold on to everything from positions of power and influence, to people we love and things we like doing. Maybe it is because, as King Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes, God has set eternity in the hearts of men. We were meant to live forever, and so when people (or even pets) die, we feel that the foundations of our very existence are shaken.

One of Jon's favourite songs is Bob Dylan's 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door', and his aunt Jamie performed it on piano at the wake. On Saturday at the Battle of the Bands, the emcee closed by quoting this well-known pantun, with a little modification;

Jika ada sumur di ladang
Boleh saya menumpang mandi
Jika ada umur yang panjang
Boleh kita berjumpa lagi...

Tapi jika umur tak panjang
Di pintu syurga kita menanti

And I thought of Steven Curtis Chapman's words in the bridge of 'Let Us Pray';

But since we have this moment here at heaven's door
We should start knocking now
What are we waiting for?

Since Jon is already in heaven, surely it is we who are knocking on heaven's door. I think death forces us to come to terms with a reality greater than ourselves. It makes people submit to God, give thanks to God, pray to God, cry out to God, curse at God, shake their fists at God... everything except ignore God. Death doesn't allow that.

For whatever reason, we are knocking on heaven's door. Some of us are banging, demanding an explanation. Bob Carlisle and Regie Hamm wrote a song called 'River of Peace', and the chorus goes;

Ours is not to question why
Ours is just to live and try
To settle for the answer
Whatever it might be

Until we see You face to face
In another time and place
Where the river of your peace runs free

We are reminded by Carlisle and Hamm that God is greater than us, and by Chapman that the one thing we must do is pray. Everything that happens in life will either drive us to God, or away from Him. And that choice is ours.


One of our discussions with the Bishop Dr Hwa Yung at d'NA Stage 2 yielded some interesting ideas in this area of death and the afterlife. The way I understand it (as I still do now), is that all moments are present in eternity. Which means that though Jon is dead to this earth, he is alive in God's new creation. And since that is the eternal kingdom, we are there too.

We don't see Jon anymore. But he can't stop seeing us; not just as we are now, but as we are in eternity. All moments are present in God's new creation. (Please bear in mind that I am writing of things way beyond my mind and all possible depths of human understanding).

And when Donne said that no man is an island, maybe we really share a part of each other. So that every man's death really does diminish us to some extent. I will always remember Jon as the naughty, playful, noisy boy who used to talk nineteen to the dozen whenever I visited Miss Shanti when she taught him in Forms One and Two. (I'm not sure if she taught him in Form One, but I think I first got to know him then). And in him I see a reflection of myself: naughty, playful, noisy.

Maybe we miss him because he was, in some sense, us. His death is like our death; as if we are following him. Only that the difference is that he can pass on, being no more bound to this earth, while we end up clogged in a pipe like dirt.


At the wake, one of his uncles said; "Some people say that God loved Jon more, and that is why God took him. As for me, I cannot accept that." I can't say that I can accept that any more than he. After all, Job, Moses and Abraham lived long lives, and God called them His friends.

Speaking of Job, he uttered these words when his children died;

"The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away,
Blessed be the name of the Lord."

Dare we utter those words if God should so claim our children? Dare we hold on steadfastly to our faith in God? That seems to be the call of Hebrews 10:23;

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. (NIV)

For He who promised is faithful. Perhaps that is why we can give thanks, why we can cry with hope, why we can trust that we shall see Him one day, why we can believe in something greater than ourselves. Because God is faithful; because God is good. And maybe for us, that is all we need to know.

Some of the most faithful and righteous people in the Bible, underwent the most severe and crushing of trials. Yet they held on to God. May it be so with us.



At Jon's birthday, we sang him a number of songs, accompanied by Adri on guitar. At the end of the songs, he opened his eyes. At that very moment, hope and joy soared in our hearts so much so that it seemed as if God were recreating the world. I was given the privilege of seeing him open his eyes yet again, last Wednesday. But these eyes shall never open again.

And yet, God's promise is that we shall be given vision far better than the best any human being ever had, for we shall be able to see God for who He really is, and we shall be able to see everyone else for who they really are. In heaven, there are no longer any masks;

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

--1 Corinthians 13:12

My last words to Jon, before I left on Wednesday, were the words of the benediction of Numbers 6:24-26. Miss Shanti asked me to say a short prayer for him, but since I didn't know what to say, I decided simply to say a blessing;

"The LORD bless you
and keep you;

the LORD make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;

the LORD turn his face toward you
and give you peace." (NIV)

Unfortunately I couldn't remember the last line at that time. I remembered it later, the NASB version from my pocket Bible. And at the wake, I completed the benediction;

"The LORD bless you, and keep you;

The LORD make His face shine on you,
And be gracious to you;

The LORD lift up His countenance on you,
And give you peace." (NASB)

I think I like 'life up His countenance' better. Maybe it just sounds richer and more poetic. Indeed he now rests in the peace of God. Shalom means that he is now whole once again, in a world that does not know cancer.


At the wake, the words 'I am the resurrection and the life' were written across a banner hung behind the bier. We walked in between the banner and the bier before embracing a long line of family members waiting on the other side.

The words are taken from John 11:25-26, the words spoken by Jesus when Lazarus was dead;

Jesus said to [Martha], "I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?" (NASB)

He is the resurrection and the life. God's name, the great 'I AM', echoes in this proclamation. And the great 'I AM' is the God of Abraham, of Isaac and of Jacob. He is not the God of the dead, but of the living. And all who die in Him, shall also live in Him, for they shall share in His resurrection.

I believe that everything good that dies, will be raised incorruptible someday. Just like every good seed that falls into good soil will bring forth a good plant.


With the words of C.S. Lewis in the final chapter of the Chronicles of Narnia, I end this entry;

...now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.

Jon has gone on ahead of the rest of us. Have mercy on us, O God. Glory to God on high. Amen.