Having received a few feedback regarding certain entries in our competition, we feel we need to clarify a few things:
- This competition is based on each writer’s individual experience and provided they can testify to them being genuine, we consider all testimonies valid and eligible for running. We hold to the guideline that each writer is entitled to their own opinions about their experiences, and in their expression of said opinions.
- Currently, this is still part of an ongoing competition. As such, the articles listed on this page are still under the prerogative of each writer and Asian Beacon will not meddle in any way with any content by any writer. If we ever publish any articles under the name of Asian Beacon, we will clearly state our stand on our statement of beliefs.
- This competition is judged purely on the writer’s testimonies and not on the finer points of theology. While the competition is still ongoing, in all cases, and in line with our respect for each writer’s individual testimonies, we adopt a ‘spirit rather than the letter of the law’ approach to each writer’s testimony.
- The Asian Beacon team will endeavour to its utmost to be fair to all participants, without any discrimination, prejudice, or favoritism to any single participant.
- In all cases, the Asian Beacon team will hold true to the conditions we have outlined in our Terms and Conditions for the competition. You may find these terms on https://asianbeacon.org/writing-competition/
Asian Beacon would like to reiterate here that we are all members of Bible-believing churches and we hold to the evangelical creed. We thank those of you who have raised your concerns and hope this will help answer your questions.
I’m a Non-Practising Alcoholic
by Edwin Kee
My eyelids flickered open, and my head felt heavy in a vise-like grip that continued to tighten relentlessly. It was as though I had been involved in a brawl, where the incessant throbbing continued their rhythmic pounding without any indication that it was going to stop soon. My tongue clung to the roof of my mouth like it was wrapped in cotton, feeling dry as sands across the Sinai desert. I blinked a few more times to obtain my bearings and wondered why my bed was not the soft, comfortable mattress where I sought rest and refuge each night, but instead it felt hard, akin to a cold, concrete floor.
It took me another half minute before I forced to myself to get up. My body refused to follow the most simple of motor functions as my synapses somehow misfired their signals, and I struggled to even sit up. Taking a deep breath while trying to stave off the metronome-like pain pressing in on my head, I finally steadied myself after a couple of attempts.
I took a quick look around and did not need to pinch myself to figure out that it was indeed a concrete slab that I was ‘sleeping’ on. In fact, it was as large as the entire car park level, simply because I had spent the past few hours unconscious there! As I began to regain my mental faculties, my hazy mind drifted back to the events that led to such a predicament.
“Come on, you can do better! In fact, you have drunk a whole lot more prior to tonight’s event, so why not let yourself go and enjoy the evening? The night is still young!”
“Why stop at just beer? There is a free-flow open bar, so take your pick of poison, drink and be merry! After all, it is not every day when you get to enjoy such debauchery and revelry.”
“Our big boss is only going to get married one more time, at least in the foreseeable future. Let us honour him with yet another toast!” Wine glasses, beer mugs, and champagne flutes clinked in unison to the roar of laughter and a resounding “Yummmmmm senggggg!”
Having lost count on the number of drinks that I imbibed in, I eventually needed to go to the gents to relieve myself. In fact, the walk there was the last thing I could remember before a perceived time warp brought me to my present state.
“Ah, so it was Mr. Lim’s wedding banquet after all,” I thought to myself, “But what time did the wedding dinner reception end, and what ungodly hour is it now?” I glanced at my watch as my pupils struggled to focus on the timepiece, showing it to be minutes just before the fajar prayers began. “Was I out cold for that long? It has never happened to me before, and it looks like I have finally found my limit,” I pondered with a rising discomfort in my heart.
A whirlwind of thoughts swirled through my mind. Here I am, a faithful church goer every single Sunday ever since I could remember. I paid my tithes, I contributed to the weekly offering, served in the youth ministry, and embarked on mission trips. I even had my favourite seat on the pew. For all intents and purposes, in the eyes of many in the church I grew up in, I was considered as someone “good” and a “Christian”.
However, the urgency of the situation required me to locate my vehicle first before I could continue considering the ramifications of my actions. I got up and dusted myself off as the car park floor is not the cleanest place to take a nap. Reaching for my wallet, I realised that it wasn’t in my back pocket, but rather, on the floor right where I laid earlier. My heart skipped a couple of beats at that moment as I opened my wallet with trepidation. True enough, my money had gone missing, but at least my personal documents were still there! As I reached into my other pocket, I fumbled for my car keys and pressed the alarm button to figure out where I had parked. Much to my chagrin, I had apparently passed out on the wrong floor, so it took me a while of frantic walking around in my still-drunken stupor to find my ride.
The drive home a slow and reflective one, where in the midst of the deafening silence, the Lord Jesus spoke to me. “Edwin, is this the route in life that you would like to continue on?” I pursed my lips, knowing that Jesus would not have it any other way than for me to give Him complete control of my life: the good, the bad, and the ugly. The carpenter from Nazareth deserves my total allegiance and yet I find myself struggling to make a stand as I thought about the late nights of loud parties, a seemingly endless line of shots to be knocked back and banter that would make any parent blush in embarrassment. Am I ready to relinquish all of those?
Droplets began to form on the windscreen as the heavens opened, as a blanket of melancholy descended upon the land. “Remember what I’ve done for you, and how I’ve helped you numerous times before,” the Hound of Heaven gently whispered to my soul.
“I remember, Lord,” was all that I could weakly muster.
I remembered so clearly, when I rear-ended another vehicle less than a kilometer away from the district police headquarters due to a wildly enthusiastic night out with the guys, and I walked away from a wreck with nary a scratch. I recall driving through treacherous, winding roads to get home while drunk and barely able to walk in a straight line. I reminisced on how I uttered careless words to my best friend in a slurred speech when under the influence that caused a rift between us. I conjured moments where I sinned time and again in an intoxicated state, as though there was no available escape route from this dark spiral that descends into ever deeper abyss.
The newly replaced wipers by then had achieved a steady momentum to complement the falling rain, swiping enough droplets away for a brief glance onto the road ahead before a new torrent made their presence known. It was rather strange then, that my view was still obstructed, and I could not see too clearly. A moment passed before I noticed two warm streams that coursed down my cheeks. No wonder I thought the wipers were not doing their job!
“I remember, Lord, and I want to hand my life to You completely. Please, would You rid me of this love for the bottle, and help me get back on track?”
“Thank you, son, for trusting in Me,” He replied.
It was at that point where my heart felt strangely warmed, as though the rotting tendrils of sin that long trapped my soul gave way to a blinding light. As Charles Wesley summed it up aptly a couple of centuries ago, “My chains fell off, my heart was free, I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.”
I had arrived home by then. Rays of sunshine peeked over the morning clouds, trying to make their way across the sky to denote the beginning of a brand-new day while chirping birds ushered the birth of a disciple of Christ that very dawn.
The Christian journey is a personal one, because our God is a personal God. He wants nothing less than every single inch of us, which is more than fair because He gave all of Himself to redeem you and I. The bottle still calls out to me until this day in an alluring whisper, but it is the clarion call of the Lord Jesus, Captain and Master of my soul, that rings far louder and holds sway over who I am and who He wants me to be. To God be all the honour and glory, forever and ever! Hallelujah!
