Walking with God—a testimony from Monica Li

A family photo from Monica who is the youngest among all.

Written by: Monica Li

 

His Love

I was 2700 miles away from home lying in bed in the darkness of night pondering about love and God. Earlier that morning, I attended Sunday service at a church in Honolulu. They were celebrating Mother's Day and the pastor's sermon was appropriately themed on parental love. The service was held in a school gymnasium the size of a small stadium. I sat wedged between my sister and friend in a hard plastic blue chair. It was comfortable being anonymous among the sea of people in the room. Mothers with their children in matching pink t-shirts started the service with the singing of gospel songs, while ballerinas jumped and twirled on stage. Finally the pastor walked to the pulpit and shared his sermon from 1 Corinthians 13:4-7: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.“

The pastor explained how love is not composed only of happiness and joy, but also requires temperance and self-sacrifice. He distanced the idea of love from its usual portrayal in Hollywood romances, explaining that love is found not only among people who are happy and fulfilled in each other’s presence. The pastor was describing what on the surface, seemed like a much simpler sort of love. Like how a parent takes care of a child: clothing him, feeding him, disciplining him, driving him to after-school practices and letting him pursue his aspirations, even though it may hurt to let him go. It was a simple concept but it made an impact on me. I lay there in bed staring at the wooden panels in the room. I wondered, how often do gestures of love go unnoticed, or even worse, misinterpreted? I reflected on my personal relationships. It was the first time I felt God speaking into my life.

At that time I was not yet a Christian and understood little about the religion. I had never participated in any faith-oriented community, and thus, I had never seriously pondered about God. The topic never surfaced until a few weeks prior, a friend invited me to the inaugural celebration of a new Christian club she formed. I attended the event to show my support for her endeavor. It was a night of worship and chitchat among young, educated students. Although it was a casual event, the unfamiliarity of the songs they sang and the faith-peppered conversations made me feel uncomfortable. I could not understand why people chose to be Christians. It seemed strange and illogical to me. The event fed my determination to learn more about religion. I brought the topic up with friends, both Christian and non-Christian, in hopes to gain a deeper understanding. One of those people was a friend from Hawaii who I later visited on a short vacation with my sister. It was he who brought me to the Mother's Day Sunday service. He is not a Christian himself, but he had sought out the church to indulge my curiosity.

That same night I lay in bed reflecting on my relationship with my parents who had sacrificed so much for my sisters and I. They left behind friends, family, and a stable career all for our future well-being. They were stern in their discipline and sometimes rough with their words but I know that their actions were out of love. I can recount as a young child how frustrated and unjustified I felt towards some of the things my parents did. But as the pastor said, love is not always about producing and maintaining good feelings. As I grow older, I continue to develop a greater understanding and a deeper appreciation of my parent’s love, right down to the little things they did. How much more powerful then is God's love, which is perfect in its entirety? This is something I cannot fathom even to this day as a Christian. If the love of a parent to his child is already amazing, how much more so is God's love for his own children? Man's history is filled with stories of disobedience and sin, yet time and time again God sends deliverance through prophets and kings to give men guidance. Ultimately, He sends His own son, Jesus Christ, whose sacrifice allows us to have hope and salvation in His Kingdom. Rich or poor, healthy or ill, God's love perseveres. That day in the Honolulu church, I was moved by the thought of His perfect love and began my search to find out who this God is. To this day, the pastor's teaching still resonates with me.

Monica, her mum and her sisters.

His Providence

It was in mid-December of 2009, when my mother fell ill with a

stubborn cold that would not go away. My mother had a round, petite frame. For as long as I remembered, she was always the first to catch an illness in our family. She visited the doctor after the Christmas holidays and was promptly sent to the hospital because of an unusually fast heart rate. The doctors were able to slow it down with medication. However. a few days later my mother experienced a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. Once again, she was rushed to the hospital. This time, the doctors took some scans and samples. When the test results came back it was conclusive that my mother had kidney cancer, stage III.

It was a scary moment for my entire family. What we thought was a simple cold had snowballed into something bigger. It was difficult to be hit with such bad news successively. I cannot imagine how much harder it must have been for my mother.

For the next few weeks our family priorities changed. My father prepared bountiful meals for my mother before he left for work and after he came home every night. My sister ceased her career search, and I quit one of my two jobs. My mother slipped in and out of sleep every few hours. She grew more tired as the days passed and her appetite decreased significantly. While cleaning the dishes one morning I noticed she left the contents of her breakfast—an egg, hash brown, kiwi, and yogurt—untouched on her plate. It was difficult to see her this way as she always had a healthy appetite. In place of food, she would repeatedly ask for her thermos to be filled with steaming hot water. God's presence held strong during these times. Some of my church friends sent emails enquiring about the well-being of my family and updated me on things happening at church. Flowers were sent to my mother for encouragement and family friends stopped by to visit. Each small action helped lift my mom's spirit. It was a blessing to see people's support and care.

It was also during this time when my mother came to Christ. My senior pastor came for a visit one Saturday afternoon and prayed with her regarding her faith. In the days afterwards, my mother held onto a small book of devotions and announced to my sister living abroad that she was now a member of the church.

On one Friday afternoon, my mother was sent into surgery at the Royal Columbian hospital. The doctors needed to remove one of her kidneys to get rid of the cancer. It was a dangerous operation and my family waited in nervous anticipation. A few hours later, the doctors emerged from the operating room. They broke the news—my mother would not make it through the night. My family was overcome with shock and grief. We stayed with my mother until her last moments. It was exactly one month since she had gone to see the family doctor in hopes to get rid of her stubborn cold.

The weeks afterwards were a blur. My family was lost in deep mourning. God provided to be my only source of comfort. I held onto a Bible verse, “Never again will they hunger, never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat down on them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center before the throne will be their shepherd; He will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Revelation 7:16-17) I have assurance knowing that my mother is resting at peace in the kingdom of God.

Somehow, with the help of friends and the church, we organized my mother's funeral service and completed endless paperwork required after a person's death. We went through the painful task of going through my mother's belongings. On occasion my father would cry suddenly, which I had never seen him do before. The days went by at a slow and steady pace as we struggled adjusting to a life without my mother.

Looking back, I know that God never ceased watching over my family during this time. Although my family was utterly broken in grief, He gave us comfort through the care we received from friends and relatives. It is only with God's strength that we were able to pick up our lives and move forward day by day. Since the passing of my mother, God has continued to bless my family in many ways. We have grown stronger as a family unit and we can seize the opportunities for joy and celebration in our lives. Moreover, my sister has come to Christ and my father is rekindling his faith. We are living proof that God provides in amazing ways.