Hope For Unknown
Our days were packed–meetings, case reports, home visits and follow-ups. It was another ordinary morning in the year 2023 at Hospital Tengku Ampuan Rahimah, supporting the doctors and colleagues in attending to people living with HIV/AIDS who had defaulted in adhering to their medication schedules. Somehow, we were brought to another ward.
A Plan Detoured, God’s Way
There was a man in that ward who was not part of our target beneficiaries or fitting with our caseload criteria. He appeared to be in his late 50s, frail and bedridden. He had no family contact and was unable to speak or write his name. No one had claimed him–the hospital had recorded his name as Unknown. When we asked him about his family members, tears streamed down his face as he kept looking out the window.
We could have walked away as we were aware of our limitations in providing services and our capacity in human resources. However, we remembered what Jesus said: “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:40) This was not coincidence: it was a plan detoured, His way.
Walking Together: A Journey of Renewal
The needs are always there, not just for people living with HIV/AIDS, but also for those who are destitute. We were thinking of how we could help him, so God taught us to be present and to nurture Unknown with gentleness. Our priority was to move him to a shelter as he could not be in the hospital indefinitely.
From meeting him, building on his case, communicating with the medical social worker, nurses and medical doctor, to checking on his immigration status, we still could not find any relevant documents about him. We tried to communicate with him through signing and visual cards without much progress. Whenever we asked about his family members, Unknown would weep. His eyes would turn to the window and he would point out the window, probably at the sky or sun, as though telling us “I want to have a home.”
We tried our best to look for a permanent shelter that could accept his physical condition and lack of documentation. Unfortunately, he was rejected by many homes. His situation broke our hearts, but we felt convicted that God never gives us what we cannot manage. Giving up was not in our vocabulary.
Finally, in February 2024 we reached a turning point–we found a place he could call home. It was a journey of renewal for both of us (in obedience and trust) and him.
The Promise
One day, the shelter home asked us to give him a name for his registration and future medical appointments. For more than a year, he had been referred to as Unknown–a person without identity. As we discussed this, Tina recalled the image of a rainbow that appeared at that very window he was gazing. More than once, the rainbow arched across the sky. So he was named “Rainbow” after the sign of God’s covenant between Himself and people and all living creatures. To us, Unknown’s new name symbolised a fresh beginning, restoration and hope for our faithful God keeps His promises. We smiled brightly and we had the peace, as if hearing God’s assurance: “I make all things new.”
Life Made New: A Restored Hope
We still visit Rainbow at his new home. He never fails to make us laugh with his cheeky behaviour, which can be annoying for the shelter carers. Despite this, many people like him dearly. He smiles broadly whenever we meet, speaking in his own way to us.
As we reflect on our journey together, we see that we have learnt to recognise the urgency to restore what was lost. We should never be too quick to define the boundaries of our jobs and capacity. He was unknown, but now he is a person with dignity. Restored hope is possible and never far-fetched, even in times of uncertainty.
Today, we are proud to see a life made new. We believe this is not just Rainbow’s season of renewal and restored hope—but also for both of us serving in the ministry.
This story is written by Tina Yap (Service Development) and Anu Gunalan (Community Development). They bond over hearty banana leaf rice and the mooru ice at Klang, a simple joy that keeps the work going.
