Brief note: I was thinking of sharing this as a testimony for the saints, but I think it would be better if I share this here to refresh my memory. I might edit this to turn it into a Personal Narrative piece (just for fun) but..I'll see how it goes.Before I came to Canada, I was a half-year student at Taylors' College (in Kuala Lumpur) for the Canadian Pre-University program. Canadian Pre-U (CPU) is kind of like a preparation/transition for Malaysian students to get accessible grades to enter Canadian universities, unfortunately it's only recognizable in Ontario. Anyway, living in my first college life at Taylors for six months was definitely an experience, including when I was with the church sisters in Subang Jaya (the town I lived). I lived in one of the row of houses just opposite the CPU building, and it was rented for church girls. We went to church together and we did spiritual, holy things like reading the bible and Christian books. Of course, we hung out as well but not too often because of our college work.
One of the things we CPU students needed to complete in order to graduate was to do 10 hours of community service. Once I heard about it, I was freaking out. How was I suppose to do that? I had assignments to do and exams to prepare, plus I hadn't done anything like that before. Jesus knew what I was going through, and he sneaked in a miracle for me.
It was a heavy rainstorm. The dark cotton puffs above shed storms of tears down the earth.I rushed to campus with an umbrella in one hand and presentation materials in a bag in my other hand. I tried not to groan too much because of my wet sandals and soaked jeans which was drenched by the rain. There was poor drainage, so there was a sheet of water flooded the roads. I nearly slipped on the shiny tile floor of the CPU building. Luckily, I made it to the classroom on time. A classmate and I had to do a presentation on AIDS in the Individuals and Families In A Diverse Society course (a kind of complicated social science subject). I settled on a chair in the freezing air-conditioned room before bringing my pen drive to the lecturer's laptop. While doing it, I silently wondered whether the rainstorm would cause more harm to the urban city of Subang Jaya. This thought slipped when I realized that it was my turn to speak. I was shivering, and it was not due to the frosty-like temperature. It was my speech. I remembered saying a line that made the entire class laughed like I was an idiot from an alienated world, and it was about AIDS in sex is caused by gay men (yes, call me stupid). I had no idea where I got that information from.
The class ended as soon as our presentation was over. I made my way back to my temporary crib and groaned even more when the bottom of my jeans sagged heavier than before. Thanks a lot, Mother Nature.
The home phone in the living room rang that made me jumped. I left my early dinner of Swiss roll on a glass table and took the call. I couldn't quite understand what the person on the line was talking about, for I was rusty in Mandarin. Thanks to translation from one of the roommates, I received bad news from the nearest church. It turned out that the roof was leaking and stacks of Christian books which were stored in the attic of the church were soaked with naughty rainwater. The guardian (we usually call him/her a "serving one") on the phone was looking for volunteers to help out with carrying and moving the books away from the soon-to-be-ruined attic. I decided to help out, and most of us sisters in the house agreed to drop by.
We sprinted under the splattering fountain, overcoming its droplets that attacked against our skin like bullets. We went down the sidewalk, past the long row of cafes while avoided from getting distracted by the food, turn right to an opposite block, and at the foot of a flight of stairs. A semicircle of saints crowded there, waiting for a few muscular brothers to climb down with small piles of books in hands. It was like building an anthill. We took turns carrying books passed by the brothers and stacked them in the wide-spaced trunk of a truck. I had no idea how many books we had to carry. There were saints who volunteered to drive the troubled books down to a building which we called a "training center". It was where we saints were to consecrate ourselves and our lives to God and to be separated from the world, to be perfected for God's second coming.The training center was the only place for us to store the books for a while until the next day.
I volunteered to go up the stairs to the third floor where the small church was situated. Some sisters sat around the floor, tearing out large pieces of newspapers and wrapping remaining books with them. I recognized some serving-ones and helped them out with the process. I could feel adrenaline rushing in, even through the auras of each sister who fumbled and steadied their hands on the combination of wet and dry books written by the legendary brother Watchman Nee and brother Witness Lee. We were worried that the rain would get stronger and more books in the attic would be spoiled. It was like destroying God's words. However, our mouths were silvered with encouraging, hopeful lines of prayer. The Lord soon strengthened us with his light. A tiny spark of luminescence glowed inside of me, emboldening me.
There were several dozens of stacks left and a sign of luck was shown through the fading rain from the windows. One of the serving-ones suggested that we should go for a break. I followed a group of sisters to the nearby food court. My heart lifted once I felt the severe drizzle. There was hope that the little flood around the area would diminish the next morning. We were greeted by the buzzing atmosphere of the famous food court in Subang Jaya. The rows of bright fluorescent lamps above shone down the nearly-packed restaurant. Hawkers wore their usual loud voices to attract customers. Night owls, especially men, fixed their eyes on a television screen at the top center while watched football matches live. We sat at a perfect empty table and ordered our desired Malaysian dishes. Thanked the Lord for recharging us with the food, we were ready to go back to work.
The clock struck 11pm, and my eyelids were at their limit. They were drooping so quickly that I hardly could keep myself awake for a little bit longer. One of my roommates noticed and decided to walk me home. Before I left, I scanned around with relief as the number of book piles began to decrease. I was sure that they would be done by midnight. And they did.
I was pretty sure that Satan was behind all this. He tried to ruin God's speaking by ruining the precious works from our fellow brothers, but he was missing something. God was there to help us. He never gave up on saving the books by encouraging us to transfer the books to the training center as a safe place for the night. Ha! Take that, Satan! We even learnt the power of teamwork among us, reminding us that we were one with God. No..we ARE one with God! Oneness was the key to the expression of God. And another good thing about this incident was that I had performed six hours of community service! By a snap of a finger! Well, for the remaining four hours I had to find something else to do community service, but I had figured it out. That late night, as I slipped into the bottom of the double-storey bed with a smile on my face, I felt blessed that God had solved my problem.
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