And we all say.

God helps those who help themselves.

We live in an independent society in an independent age.

Heck, there's even the modern philosophy which states that I am the god of my own world.

Yup. We're independent, and we're proud of it.

If you think you can, you can.

If I believe I can, I can.

I can. I must. Therefore I will.

I know I'm more blessed than most people. And no, I'm not just sayin'.

For starters, I have a cousin whose father literally drowned in debts to the day of his sudden death. For years, I had a cousin who told me everyday that God was unfair, He cursed her and blessed me instead.

When you're told the same thing for years, you eventually come round and realize it's true.

I have friends who have to work hard to sustain themselves through school,
...who had to move around to escape their fathers' loan sharks,
...who have forgotten what life's like with both parents,
...whose parents are in the final stage of a terminal illness,
...who passed away from terminal illnesses...

And when I look at the people of China, Thailand and Myanmar who are plagued with natural disasters, people in countries with political unrest, people of dry, hungry lands, believers who are killed simply because they believe... I have to lay aside all aspirations to be called one of the "suffering", because I know God has put me in circumstances that are calm and safe.

Friends in school think that aside from my blurness, I'm one of those who never have problems at all. Even if I do, I'm strong enough to face them head-on.

She has no temper wan. She never gets angry.
If they had only seen me in my rage. Make that rage-S.

She's capable of facing anything that comes her way.
If they had only seen the eyes that were swollen from a night-long cry.

Her parents must be so proud of her. She doesn't give them any problems.
If they had only seen the journal pages full of my regrets, disappointments in myself, and my parents' disappointments with me.

She never has problems.
If they could only see the need in my eyes for someone to press me to tell them how I was faring that day.

God has put me in certain circumstances. But He has also provided certain situations. Situations to make me more human to others. Situations to help me relate to others and their pain.

I have said that I can accomplish what I want if I want it hard enough to work for it.

And God has proven countless times that sheer willpower is not enough to carry me through.

Ever drove like a maniac on the road just because you were angry?
Ever shivered over the thought of almost killing your brother?
Ever trembled at the rage you know wars within you?
Ever shed tears because you caused them in somebody else's eyes?

There have been broken times. Times when things got so bad I didn't know how -- scratch that, I didn't even know where to begin putting things right.

It's like getting hopelessly stuck in a math question, and forcing yourself to finish it. You turn to the back of the book for the answer, though in your heart, you have an uneasy feeling that you know what to expect.

And you were right.

Because when you get to the back of the book, all you see is a different answer.

Not even a quarter-page of workings to help you figure out where you went wrong.

Nothing but the knowledge that you went wrong somewhere.

God helps those who help themselves.

I do beg your pardon, Benjamin Franklin, sir. But what were you thinking when you penned that line?

It's like saying "The doctor cures the healthy", or "Saviour of the strong", or "The preacher calls the righteous to repentance", or "The government gives scholarships and SPBT to the rich".

Of all the above, I'd say the only thing that really happens is the last. And we all find that deed terribly ridiculous and unfair, don't we? (unless you're one of the rich who get scholarships)

Of what use is a doctor who cures the healthy?

He can't even tell that there's nothing wrong with them.

Of what use is a saviour who saves the strong?

He can't even tell that there's nothing to save.

Of what use is a government that gives scholarships to the wrong people?

We all know the answer to that.

Of what use is a God who helps those who help themselves?

He can't even tell that they don't need Him.

God helps those who help themselves.

It is a dreadful tease to those who find themselves utterly unable to finish the math question.

It is a terribly mockery to those unconscious in a coma, and to Mrs Chuah's pain, and her vegetablized mother.

Oh.

I didn't finish that first line. The one at the top. When I heard it, it went something like this:

We often hear this saying:
"God helps those who help themselves."

But brothers and sisters, I say,
"God helps those who cannot help themselves."

And that -- is why we are gathered here today.

I might've brushed it away if anybody else said it.

But this was Mrs Chuah, the 70-year-0ld lady in church who rushed home every Sunday to care for her aged mother to the day of her death last year.

Through the decades of talking to and looking after a still figure everyday, I wonder...

...if she ever looked at the emptiness in her mother's eyes and recalled that there was once love, happiness, severity, anger, and sorrow in them.

...if she ever wiped the trickling food from her mother's chin and recalled the moments her mother fed her and set home-cooked food on the family dinner table.

...if she ever threw the food-stained cloth onto the floor and cried her eyes out.

...How did she feel every May 11?

She always looked so thankful, so joyful, so strong.

And here she was, admitting that she was just as helpless as anybody else; finally revealing to us the secret of her joy.

The joy of the Lord is my strength.

Was there anyone more worthy to sing so?

Is there anyone less worthy? Are we any less helpless?

Are we really as independent as we think we are?

When we look at the pain and suffering in the world, is the right question really, Where is God?

Or should we be asking, Do we need God?

Now if that were the question, look around you again and think.

What do you think the answer is?