Each time I fell, God lifted me up

Sep 27, 2024

By Bob Ho
It was only after I embraced Christ four years ago that I began to notice the way God had woven His presence into all 61 years of my life, even when I didn’t recognise Him. The memories came flooding back, each moment of near-miss or quiet strength taking on new meaning. The deeper I reflected, the stronger my faith grew. It became clear — the Father had always been there, watching, lifting me with a gentle hand I once ignored.

The truth is, without God, I would have drowned when I fell into a deep, overflowing drain as a toddler, into the sea as a boy, and into a fast-flowing river as an adult. Without His protection, I wouldn’t have survived four road accidents, avoided being crushed by a huge tree, or escaped an ambush that could have taken my life.

I now realise that I’ve been receiving countless blessings from God, yet I chose to remain silent, keeping His glory to myself. However, after experiencing two falls in the same week last June, I felt compelled to share my testimony at a fellowship.

On June 22, after attending a talk about death, I fell flat on a road in Kuala Lumpur, luckily only sustaining only minor injuries. Six days later, I fell again, this time in the bathroom, hitting my head on the wall. It was my third fall this year.

For someone my age, with diabetic complications and hypertension, a single fall can be life-changing or even life-threatening. Yet, I thank God for softening the impact, turning each fall into what I call a “happy fall.” These incidents have served as wakeup calls, reminding me to be more mindful of my ageing body. The knock on the head, in particular, felt like a nudge to testify to God's grace continually at work in my life.

My ‘happiest’ fall happened in June 2019. It was life-changing, leaving me blind in one eye. Fearing total blindness, I prayed the Hail Mary, though at the time, I didn’t fully understand its significance. Yet, through God’s love and mercy, I was healed. More than that, God opened my heart to accept Christ, and on September 5, 2020, I was baptised at the Church of St. Ignatius, Petaling Jaya. I thank God for finding me, a sheep lost for 61 years.

God also blessed me with two remarkable gifts — the gift of writing and the gift of journalism. In 1981, I missed my first day as a cadet reporter at The Star, but the editorial manager gave me another start date. On my third day, I failed the medical test and was asked to leave; it was then that I discovered I had diabetes. That night, I cried, uncertain of what lay ahead. I appealed and was advised to continue working while awaiting a review. Despite feeling defeated, God lifted me up. Three months later, by His grace, I received my confirmation letter, securing my place in the newsroom.

In 1987, during Ops Lalang, more than 100 people were detained under the Internal Security Act, and two days later, The Star and two other newspapers were shut down for six months. Just the day before, I had bought a house, making it difficult to secure a loan. But by God’s grace, I managed to get it, as the bank manager was confident the newspaper would regain its printing and publishing licenses.

After securing the loan, I was anxious about making payments, as we were only receiving one-third of our salary. Yet, God made a way. A technical glitch delayed the release of the loan, and the seller generously allowed me to stay rent-free. Once again, only God can turn the impossible into possible.

I thank God for granting me the strength and courage to use His gift of journalism to serve those in need, and for protecting me from the many occupational hazards along the way. In 1984, God saved me from the jaws of death as I unknowingly walked into an ambush set by an armed gang angered by my reports. Eventually, justice caught up with them.

In another instance, a notorious housing swindler threatened to kill me if I didn’t stop writing about his fraudulent schemes. He, too, was eventually caught, found guilty in court, and jailed. Through it all, I am grateful to God for His unwavering protection.

I also thank God for sending me the Holy Spirit when I was under investigations over my reports, taken to court for defamation and suspended from work.

Now that I am a Catholic, I am deeply moved whenever I feel God’s touch in my life. During the pandemic, I desperately needed healing — body, mind, and spirit — but was too proud to ask. Yet, God knew my need and led me to two churches, where, unexpectedly, I received spiritual healing from the parish priests. Truly, God is with us always (Matthew 28:20).

In my twilight years, I still write occasionally, but never without first praying to the Holy Spirit for guidance, asking for help in ensuring that my words bring glory to God.