Reverend Henry Khoo

Rev Khoo gave spiritual comfort to hardened prisoners for 38 years with his gentle ways

THEY were 'dead men walking', death-row inmates taking that journey towards the day they would hang.

As prison chaplain at Changi Prison, Reverend Henry Khoo's job was to give them spiritual comfort, help them come to terms with the state's penalty for their crimes and help heal the hurt relationships with friends and kin.

Often, he was the one amazed and humbled by how transformed these men were in their final days.

The 76-year-old retired chaplain, who himself amazed and humbled inmates and all those he met with his gentle, caring ways, died on Tuesday night at the Singapore General Hospital after a long battle with cancer.

(From "Prison chaplain dies", Straits Times Digital)

USA: The Red Mahogany Piano

Many years ago, when I was a young man in my twenties, I worked as a salesman for a St. Louis piano company.

We sold our pianos all over the state by advertising in small town newspapers and then, when we had received sufficient replies, we would load our little trucks, drive into the area and sell the pianos to those who had replied.

Every time we would advertise in the cotton country of Southeast Missouri, we would receive a reply on a postcard which said, in effect, "Please bring me a new piano for my little grandaughter. It must be red mahogany. I can pay $10 a month with my egg money." The old lady scrawled on and on and on that postcard until she filled it up, then turned it over and even wrote on the front -- around and around the edges until there was barely room for the address.

Of course, we could not sell a new piano for $10 a month. No finance company would carry a contract with payments that small, so we ignored her postcards.

One day, however, I happened to be in that area calling on other replies, and out of curiosity I decided to look the old lady up. I found pretty much what I expected: The old lady lived in a one room sharecroppers cabin in the middle of a cotton field.

The cabin had a dirt floor and there were chickens in the house. Obviously, the old lady could not have qualified to purchase anything on credit -- no car, no phone, no real job, nothing but a roof over her head and not a very good one at that. I could see daylight through it in several places. Her little grandaughter was about 10, barefoot and wearing a feedsack dress.

I explained to the old lady that we could not sell a new piano for $10 a month and that she should stop writing to us every time she saw our ad.

I drove away heartsick, but my advice had no effect -- she still sent us the same post card every six weeks. Always wanting a new piano, red mahogany, please, and swearing she would never miss a $10 payment. It was sad.

A couple of years later, I owned my own piano company, and when I advertised in that area, the postcards started coming to me. For months, I ignored them -- what else could I do?

But then, one day when I was in the area something came over me. I had a red mahogany piano on my little truck. Despite knowing that I was about to make a terrible business decision, I delivered the piano to her and told her I would carry the contract myself at $10 a month with no interest, and that would mean 52 payments. I took the new piano in the house and placed it where I thought the roof would be least likely to rain on it. I admonished her and the little girl to try to keep the chickens off of it, and I left -- sure I had just thrown away a new piano.

But the payments came in, all 52 of them as agreed -- sometimes with coins taped to a 3x5 inch card in the envelope. It was incredible! So, I put the incident out of my mind for 20 years.

Then one day I was in Memphis on other business, and after dinner at the Holiday Inn on the Levee, I went into the lounge. As I was sitting at the bar having an after dinner drink, I heard the most beautiful piano music behind me. I looked around, and there was a lovely young woman playing a very nice grand piano.

Being a pianist of some ability myself, I was stunned by her virtuosity, and I picked up my drink and moved to a table beside her where I could listen and watch. She smiled at me, asked for requests, and when she took a break she sat down at my table.

"Aren't you the man who sold my grandma a piano a long time ago?"

It didn't ring a bell, so I asked her to explain.

She started to tell me, and I suddenly remembered. My Lord, it was her! It was the little barefoot girl in the feedsack dress!

She told me her name was Elise and since her grandmother couldn't afford to pay for lessons, she had learned to play by listening to the radio. She said she had started to play in church where she and her grandmother had to walk over two miles, and that she had then played in school, had won many awards and a music scholarship. She had married an attorney in Memphis and he had bought her that beautiful grand piano she
was playing.

Something else entered my mind. "Elise," I asked, "It's a little dark in here. What color is that piano?"

"It's red mahogany," she said, "Why?"

I couldn't speak.

Did she understand the significance of the red mahogany? The unbelievable audacity of her grandmother insisting on a red mahogany piano when no one in his right mind would have sold her a piano of any kind? I think not.

And then the marvelous accomplishment of that beautiful, terribly underprivileged child in the feedsack dress? No, I'm sure she didn't understand that either.

But I did, and my throat tightened.

Finally, I found my voice. "I just wondered," I said. "I'm proud of you, but I have to go to my room."

And I did have to go to my room, because men don't like to be seen crying in public.

(From The Red Mahogany Piano, Heartwarmers)

Singapore: Blind Man

Last Tuesday, I met Sijia to go look at guitars (she eventually bought a Yamaha CG-111S) at Davies. We were done and waiting for KC to call us, so that we could all go and have dinner together. While waiting, we went and looked around the shops on the upper floors in Peninsula.

And then, we met him - a blind man lost on the 3rd floor. He was clearly confused and he was saying, "Please help..." My heart went out to him. We found out that he had wanted to go to the first floor but was somehow led astray and ended up on the third - the elevator does not have Braille buttons.

He had merely wanted to get to the main road, but along the way I found out that he needed to get to Capitol to take a bus. Anyway, when we were reaching the road, he asked if we could bring him to the busstop. Of course! and we did not hesitate.

I gather from our conversation that he must have been blind since many years ago. I don't think he feels any self-pity, and that was good since we were then able to talk rather well. He asked me about whether Capitol is a cinema, about the sort of shops found there, and whether there were any interesting ones. I told him there are galleries along the street and then I thought, "Oh no, will he feel sad that he can't see the artworks? Did I just remind him of that?"

Then I remembered that some blind people like to know about their surroundings. Not being able to see, hearing about it from someone else is the next best thing. After years of being blind, most would have matured and not pity themselves but instead make the most of life. Indeed, it turns out that our new friend was in Peninsula because he works there! He's a foot reflexology therapist on the 2nd floor.

All this was while we were waiting for his bus. That took a really long time, so we got to talk more. We even talked topics like robotic cleaners and domestic maids! I also found out that at the other end of the journey, someone from his family will be waiting at the busstop, to bring him home. Everyday.

* * *

We are all blind to the dangers of this evil world. Problem is, some of us do not even admit that they are blind and want to go it alone. Danger abounds - they might get lost, or they will trip and fall. Still others realise their blindness but choose to wallow in self-pity.

Finally, there are those who recognise their own blindness and ask for help. Not only do they get led on the right way, all the dangers are pointed out to them in advance. With self-pity out of the way, and instead having humility in its place, there is so much that can be learnt, even in blindness. Life is also surely smoother, when you do not have to keep bumping your head into things, if only you would listen to those who can see.

Above all, there is always Someone who is waiting. Someone who will be waiting, no matter how late you meet Him. He will be waiting, even if you do not show up. But if you do, then He will bring you home.

(Condensed from "Blind Man", Just the Wei I Am)

Singapore: Let us use phrases and words that work

Yesterday during dinner, I told the kids, “Do you know that research says that an average child under 4 years old laugh around 400 times a day but an adult only laugh 15 times?”

Chern Han frowned and said “Not fair, we have to laugh so many times”

Later in the evening when I saw Chern Han playing with the lamp, I warned him sternly “Don’t play with the lightswitch or you may get electrocuted”

Chern Han replied: “Will I be cute?”

(From Rags Studio)

Singapore: Love for a Prostitute

Although I had visited the clinic and knew the ministry there since abt 4 mths back, I had not mustered enough courage to "walk the streets" as they call it. To befriend, talk to and pray for the people.

The house church is located at Geylang Road, where they pray and meet daily. On Wednesdays, they have a worship time and then they walk the streets. After worshipping for abt an hr odd, we went to the street in 2 grps.

I went with a grp of about 8 to the "Indian" streets, unsure of what was to happen. We squeezed past crowds of migrant workers, walked past a street of gambling tables ( I swear I only saw those in HK TV dramas). Along the streets were rows of women standing/ sitting down. We came to a grp of ladies, and someone asked if they wanted prayer. They said yes, and another embraced one of them, and another held another's hand. And before long, we were all standing in the circle, in the middle of the dark dinky alley- Praying.

Jesus was there though. I felt like He was walking with us in the streets. He wasn't just there when we walked. He was there, walking with them daily.

I asked S if she wanted prayer. She hugged me and laid her head on my shoulders. I thought she didn't understand, and asked again. Again, she hugged me. I prayed for her- for healing, for God's love. And at the end of the prayer, I asked her to call to Jesus, to tell Jesus what is in her heart. Soon after she said she gotto go, as there was business coming. It stirred my heart with a mixture of feelings.

But I knew Jesus loved each one of these. The bible came alive as I read Isaiah that night when I got home- of healing broken hearts, of setting the captives free, of bringing light into the darkness. There it was, in the dark alleys, incarnate love. Jesus walked and fellowshipped with the tax collectors and the prostitutes on earth. Jesus came to die for these ones. God wants to redeem these lives, each woman created uniquely and beautifully in His image.

I have a feeling that this is how christianity is meant to be. Christianity, according to the bible, is radical.

(From "A story of incarnate love", My Spiritual Journey)

Kenya: The Little Girl Who Said "Thank You"

In August this year, I went trekking in one of the Kenyan hills. To my surprise, dozens of Kenyan schoolchildren dressed in no more than their uniforms - the girls in full pinafore no less, with ankle-length skirts - scampered uphill excitedly past us.

Well! When I reached the summmit, I took video clips of the children. They were all very curious about the Strange Object I was holding in my hand, so I flipped my LCD and let them see themselves on video. Whoa. They instantly swarmed around me, buzzing excitedly like bees in a hive, until the teacher stepped in. (Thank God for teachers...)

So I let them peep through the video camera. They were all so so excited. The teacher explained to me that they were all from a school in the rural areas. Most of them had never seen a video camera in their lives before (until a blur tourist showed them).

While they were all taking turns, I spied out of the corner of my eye a girl standing all alone by herself.

What made her stand out even more was the huge orange polka-dotted sash that she was wearing around her waist, over her uniform. I wondered why she was standing there all alone, so I went over to her to say hi. At first, she looked away shyly, and didn't say anything in reply to my hello.

So I asked her, "You want to take a look through the camera?"

A smile grew on her face. She happily nodded.

I passed her the camera, and she peeped through it... and after she was done, she looked at me, and shyly said in clear English, "Thank you."

I was very surprised - and touched. 'Cos all the other kids hadn't said thank you, but this girl, all alone by herself, said thank you.

That day, I had a tiny glimpse of how God must feel everyday when, out of all the billions of people he blesses daily, one or two of them stop and pause and run back to thank Him for blessing them.

(Personal story)

Singapore: Andrew Ong

My growing up took an adverse turn when my family broke up and leaving me to sought solace, support and a sense of belonging in a gang. Gradually I lost interest in studies and dropped out from secondary school.

I got involved in smoking, alcohol, drugs and fights. And one of those fights (a gang clash) led me to prison where I was sentenced for 30 months and 5 strokes of the cane. I was 18 years old then.

But what was to be my lowest point was to be my turning point. [read more...]

(From Andrew: Inside & Insights)