18 November 2025. Our community bids us farewell at the airport as we move to Chiang Mai, Thailand, to begin our missions journey. Lots of hugs, smiles, and good vibes (amidst some tears) as we say goodbye. But the road leading to this moment wasn’t quite as cheery.
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In Matthew 13:44 Jesus describes the Kingdom of Heaven as a treasure in a field, which a man finds, hides again, and joyfully sells everything that he owns for. But recent circumstances have caused our memories of the treasure to feel fuzzy.
Which part of the field was the treasure hidden in? What kind of treasure was it? Was it even there in the first place?
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21 October 2025. Daniel’s sister texted us–the family house had flooded, Daniel’s mom wasn’t in Singapore, and all the furniture had to be thrown out and replaced. We rushed down to help clean up the place and make arrangements for the rest.
A day later, another text arrives on the Tay family chat–Daniel’s grandfather had been admitted to the hospital in critical condition. The doctors were not expecting him to make it beyond 2-3 days. By the grace of God, he ended up holding on till 9 November.
We would spend the next couple of weeks shuttling back and forth between the family house and Khoo Teck Puat Hospital. During the pockets of time in between, we were rushing to pack of all our belongings–our lives–in preparation for our move to Thailand.
To be sure, it was far from the ideal run-up to the move. We had planned to take our time to meet up with close ones, do some reflection and pen some thoughts, and conclude this season of our lives prayerfully. Instead, we were thrown headlong into a minefield that sucked up every bit of our energy and attention.
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Challenges in our lives loom large and obscure our view of the Cross. It feels like the appropriate “Christian” response should be to shrug it off, convincing ourselves that in our weakness He is strong, and soldier on. Yet it feels disingenuous. When the temptation to do so rears its head, I remember Karl Marx’s insinuation that religion is the “opiate of the masses.”
Christianity is more–should be more. I want it to be more. I want to fix my eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of my faith. But in the darkness, and with my imperfect vision, I find myself squinting hard to try to make something out of the seeming nothingness.
But Christmas comes around, and my attention is drawn to the second part of that same verse in Hebrews 12:2:
“[…] For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”
I’m reminded that, despite the suffering that was before him, Jesus was able to endure and overcome because He knew what comes after–victory. Like clockwork, after every dark night comes the glorious morning light. It happens because it is God’s will, and there’s no doubt that it will happen again, and again, and again. We can count on it, just as we can count on the joy set before us today.
While groping our way through the darkness, through hopelessness, light shone through.
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26 October 2025. Daniel’s grandfather and grandmother both accepted Christ. The heavens rejoiced, as did we. In addition, at the family home, we had the opportunity to clear out old furniture and replace them with new ones, bringing a breath of fresh air to the house and its inhabitants.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. We added our testimony as witnesses concerning the light of the world, just as the apostle John did in John 1.
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As Christian author Rachel Held Evans puts it:
“For better or for worse, there are seasons when we hold our faith, and then there are seasons when our faith holds us.”
This is a season where it feels like we’re still feeling our way around in the dark. After a challenging period in Singapore, we arrive in Chiang Mai, Thailand seemingly unmoored, with none of the anchors and comforts–our house, our family and friends, our community–that we used to rely on.
But Christmas reminds me once again that the Light of the world was, and is, and is to come.
For the joy that is set before us, we remain hopeful–not in our strength, but in His alone. Not just the abstract idea of “God”, but concretely through the body of Christ–His community that has surrounded, supported, and sent us even in these difficult times.
To God be the glory, now and forevermore.
