Sexually molested by a pedophile at the age of nine in Ipoh’s St Peter’s Anglican church compound, I felt defiled and unclean. The statement “I am defiled” was a fact, though my mom had never told me whether sex was good or bad, clean or dirty. After all, I was just nine. The thought “I am unclean,” however, was a lie of the devil, hence, I couldn’t be consoled. The pedophile didn’t treat me roughly, but he forced me to do something against my will. When younger, I was always very petite, and with him towering over me and firmly grabbing my arms, I froze in shock at the sudden, strange things he did to me. Later, he washed my hands, but I remained inconsolable. I cried to my mom, telling her what had happened.
At the time, my mom, Sandra, was attending an interdenominational meeting where Station of Life’s Rev. Susan Tang was the speaker. Quietly, my mom prayed for me in tongues, speaking softly into my ears (1 Corinthians 14). As I sobbed, I suddenly saw a vision: a bright red neon cross shining in the pitch-black darkness. In the next instant, I found myself in the brightest place I had ever seen—on the clouds. I felt as though I was in heaven. I felt so loved, so clean, and so filled with peace and joy—feelings I had never experienced before. It’s difficult to explain to a child what the cross means, and even adults sometimes struggle to comprehend its significance. But in that moment, no words were needed—I experienced it firsthand.
From the age of nine to fourteen, I seemed to suffer no lasting effects from the sexual molestation. I performed well academically. I was even chosen as a class monitor in secondary school, interacted well with both boys and girls. However, when I experienced late puberty at age fourteen, everything began to change. I became very anxious and scared around boys, though I couldn’t explain why. My grades plummeted after the first exams, and my form teacher grew concerned. I couldn’t articulate what I was going through at the time—I didn’t realize I was experiencing delayed PTSD, with lots of flashbacks which I didn’t initially trace to my sexual molestation about five years ago.
Soon after, I was invited to see the counseling teacher, Pn. Catherine, who became a warm and kind presence in my life. Yet, I never told her why I couldn’t stand being around boys. At age fifteen, I transferred to an all-girls school, SM (P) Taman Petaling, leaving my previous school halfway through the school year!
It was a long journey—seven years of addressing the root causes of the delayed PTSD and working through socio-emotional and spiritual rebuilding. By the time I was in seminary, I was still struggling with certain aspects of the aftermath, though things had improved somewhat. At my worst, I would refuse to go to hawker centers or any public places where new people might trigger my anxiety. But by the seventh year of dealing with delayed PTSD—twelve years after the child sexual abuse—I experienced a turning point.
Taiwanese missionary Dorcas Yang, who had once been declared dead by a well-known hospital in Taiwan before miraculously returning to life, prayed for me at Glory Place, Mantin. She declared that I would be well that year. I believe she heard the rhema of God. I don’t believe in “name it and claim it” theology—I know I would die if I presumptuously jumped from a 100th-floor window while declaring that God would send an angel to save me. But that year, I suddenly realized that many of the places that used to trigger me no longer did.
Around the same time, Regina Ng, the property chairperson of Canaan Lutheran Church in Kajang, proposed erecting a neon red cross at the church so people would recognize it as a church, even at night, because it lights up at night. It was the same cross I had seen twelve years earlier, during my vision at the Anglican church when my mom prayed for me. Regina didn’t know my testimony at the time.
I once complained to God: “Why can’t You heal me earlier? Or faster?” I’ve experienced instant healing before, so why not instant healing in my teenage years? But now, looking back, I realize that through the process of waiting and learning to depend on Him day by day, I have grown in intimacy with the Lord. Those experiences taught me trust, patience, and surrender. I deeply cherish the lessons I’ve learned—cognitively, relationally, and experientially—about the essential components needed for recovering from child sexual abuse.
There were times in my life when I started to drift away, yet, in His mercy, God always brought me back to what matters most—Him.
God heals! Sometimes healing happens in an instant; sometimes it is a process; and most often, it is both. But in the end, healing does come, because God is true to His Word: All who calls upon the Name of Jesus will be saved (Romans 10:13-15)!
