How God led me to see His providence beyond my comfort zone.
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The Changing Face of Fellowship
Fellowship has long been seen as the pinnacle of a surgeon’s training — a season to go overseas, learn from masters in the field, and bring back new techniques and perspectives that enrich our local practice. It’s often a time of deep learning, humility, and renewal — not just professionally but personally.
As Singapore’s medical landscape has matured, we’ve reached a stage where many of our practices are on par with leading centres abroad. Of course, this may not hold true for every specialty — particularly those involving highly advanced or emerging treatments where access to technology, resources, or case volumes may still differ.
But for sports surgery, the playing field has become remarkably level. The ligament reconstructions, meniscus repairs, and cartilage procedures we perform in Singapore are comparable to those done in top institutions across the United States and Europe.
That said, there’s still so much more to learn. Every region has its own nuances — in surgical technique, patient-care philosophy, and how teams collaborate. There are also technologies and implants that haven’t yet reached Singapore because of regulatory pathways. Beyond that, there’s the invaluable exposure to different healthcare systems and the friendships formed across borders.
So while fellowship today may not always be about “catching up,” it remains a profound opportunity to grow — to see how others think, work, and serve.
Though it may be optional in many settings, many still pursue it—perhaps because it's the natural next step, or for the prestige of being "fellowship-trained." Doctors who come to NUH from Sri Lanka, the Philippines, or Pakistan gain credibility when they return home with that title. In private practice, "Fellowship-trained at Mayo Clinic" instantly commands patient trust.
But that raised a deeper question for me:
Is this what I really want my life to be about?
Am I just following the culture — checking the box — without discerning God’s purpose in it?
Running from Calling, Resting in Grace
When I first joined Redemption Hill Church back in 2019, I was in my fourth year of orthopaedic residency — a six-year program, and those last two years were the hardest.
I still remember sitting at a coffee shop with my elder Lian Arn and his wife, Chai Yuan, together with Bel, sharing how I wanted to quit and go to seminary. I spoke with pastors — Andrew, Jacob, and Jason from Gospel Light, a doctor-turned-pastor.
The exhaustion ran deep — not just physical, but spiritual. It wasn’t only about long hours or demanding surgeries. Deep down, I knew that if I were to quit there and then, I would be running from God’s discipline rather than toward His calling.
But in His mercy, He didn’t let me go.
He carried me through the exams in 2022, and when I finally passed, it felt I had reached a mountaintop. I was content. I loved teaching students and mentoring residents, not just in orthopaedics but in life — about success, failure, and meaning. It became a kind of ministry.
So when people asked, “When’s your fellowship?”
My honest answer was, “I don’t think I need one.”
The Tension Between Calling and Comfort
I liked stability. I loved teaching. I valued the camaraderie of the public hospital — the shared cases, the spontaneous discussions, the joy of seeing students grow. The idea of uprooting my family and leaving everything behind felt unnecessary.
Besides, fellowship would disrupt my teaching schedule. I teach four batches of students each year, and being away for six months or more would mean missing two — maybe all — of them. That alone made me hesitate.
But even in my contentment, God was quietly working.
Bel had her own perspective too. She saw fellowship not just as career development but as a family adventure — an opportunity to create memories and to see God’s hand in a new setting.
And as I prayed, I began to sense that perhaps this wasn’t about chasing prestige at all.
Perhaps it was about obedience — about stepping out when God calls, even if everything in me prefers to stay.
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The Conference That Changed Everything
A few months after my exams in 2022, I attended the Singapore Orthopaedic Association Conference. The topic that year was sports surgery. Given that conference topics rotate every 8–10 years, it was remarkable providence that this theme appeared the very year I graduated. Among the speakers was an Italian professor named Stefano Zaffagnini, who came to present his unique ACL reconstruction technique.
But the story didn’t actually start there.
Back in my final year of residency, during my sports surgery elective under my senior consultant at NUH, I was introduced to a textbook that laid the foundational understanding of anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) reconstruction. At the time, the editors’ names didn’t ring a bell. I simply found the book deeply helpful — it cut through the noise of surgical opinions and offered a broad, balanced view of the principles behind ACL surgery.
Years later, as I sat in that 2022 conference, something clicked. The man speaking on stage — Prof. Stefano Zaffagnini — was one of the editors of that very textbook. The dots connected by themselves. The same voice that guided me through the written pages years earlier was now teaching us in person.
His presentation completely upended the way I thought about surgery.
He showed how he performed ACL reconstruction at one-tenth the cost of what we typically do in Singapore. Instead of using expensive implants, he used three simple staples. No fancy products, no brand promotions. Yet, his results were astonishing—validated by long-term studies spanning 10, 15, 20, even 25 years.
In today’s world, orthopaedic surgery can be very implant-driven. Much like how athletes are sponsored by Nike or Adidas, surgeons are often sponsored by implant companies. Conferences are filled with talks by surgeons promoting the implants they use, sometimes subtly, sometimes openly.
So when this Italian professor stood there, presenting a method that stripped all of that away, it struck a deep chord. His work was simple, effective, and quietly brilliant.
Then came the next twist.
My boss told me, “Mok, I’m not free today. Can you bring this guy around?”
At that point, I wasn’t even thinking about fellowship. The thought of entertaining a visiting surgeon felt like a chore. But Bel happened to be free that day, so we went together.
And that was how we met Prof Zaffagnini over bubble tea at Koi.
He turned out to be humble, funny, and surprisingly open. We talked about medicine, running, even faith. He shared bits about his religious background and personal convictions. It was more than a professional meeting—it was a human connection.
A Door Opens
Later that evening, during dinner, some of the senior surgeons in Singapore—including Prof Denny Lie and Assoc Prof Paul Chang from SGH, Prof James Hui from NUH —casually said, “Stefano, this is Mok. He wants to go Italy for fellowship with you. Okay or not?”
Prof Zaffagnini smiled and said, “Okay.”
That was it. The entire path was set in motion. A door I never tried to open swung wide.
I remember thinking, This is so strange. Just weeks earlier, I didn’t want to go anywhere. And now, a single encounter had changed everything.
From that day onward, it felt as if every step of this journey was marked by God’s fingerprints.
The Home in Bologna
When it came time to find accommodation in Italy, we discovered that short-term rentals in this university town were nearly impossible to secure. After sending out 10 inquiries, only one real estate agent responded—to reject us.
Then, one day, my boss asked me again to entertain another visiting Italian professor. This time, it was a Friday afternoon—right between my clinic sessions, which I usually reserved for meeting my students. That time slot was precious; it was ministry time.
I initially tried to decline to host him. But by God's divine intervention, my boss’s secretary reminded me: "Prof [my HOD] is adamant for you to meet him—there must be a reason." At that point, I had no idea what the reason could be and I was upset with having to give up my precious time with students to entertain a guest.
I wrestled with the decision. Should I obey my boss or continue my ministry plans? Eventually, I chose to honour both God and authority—and said yes to the meeting.
And once again, God worked through that obedience.
The young Italian professor I met turned out to be incredibly helpful. He connected me with his contacts, found a home for us, joined a Zoom call to walk me through the apartment, and even negotiated the rent down to a good rate—Wi-Fi and utilities included.
It was exactly what we needed: a simple, spacious home with 2 rooms, enough for guests and family.
How could that be coincidence?
The Visa Hurdles
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Then came the visa saga. Three months before our departure, I went to the Italian embassy to apply for the visas. The officer said everything was fine, just that I was a bit too early. “Come back in September,” he said.
So I did. But the next time, a senior officer told me flatly, “Cannot. Only you can go. The rest of your family cannot.” This meant that only I could get a six-month study visa, while Bel and the children could only get a three-month standard tourist visa for Singaporeans. It only allowed 90 days in a 180-day period.
I was stunned. We had been preparing for months as a family. The thought of going alone felt devastating. We explored several other visa options—which I won't detail here—but we truly exhausted every possibility.
We prayed, waited, and tried to think of what to do next. That’s when Bel suggested something new:
“Why don’t you ask whether I can apply as a physiotherapist observer at the hospital there?”
I texted Prof Zaffagnini to explain our problem.
He called me that very night after Community Group.
In his cheerful Italian accent, he said, “No problem! I will get the letter for you.”
Within days, his secretary wrote a formal invitation letter for Bel to observe in the physiotherapy department.
And that changed everything.
Both Bel and I received six-month study visas. However, the three children could not get dependent visas. This means they can only stay in Italy for three months during this period. Yet there's a blessing in this—Emma can attend primary 1 orientation before returning to Italy for the final 2.5 months. The fact we had to stagger the children also made coping in Italy easier.
The door that had been firmly closed suddenly opened—completely, beautifully, unmistakably.
The Final Blessing
And the final blessing came just one month before I was supposed to leave. My boss dropped me a message:
I said, “Yes, sure.”
And lo and behold, the patient turned out to be Italian. I managed to get her condition sorted, and she was happy with her recovery. On my last clinic session before leaving, she said, “Drop me a message anytime if you need help in Italy.”
A week later, she got her friend to send me a whole list of to-do’s and recommendations in Bologna — places to visit, eat, and explore.
I couldn't believe it. Even through my patient, God was preparing the way ahead. In my three years of practice, I had never treated an Italian patient—yet one appeared just a month before my departure.
We can’t thank Him enough for His wonderful providence.
Looking Back in Awe
When I trace everything back—from that first thought of quitting residency, to the random bubble tea meeting, to the late-night visa call—I see a pattern that only God could have woven.
Every obstacle was a chance to trust.
Every interruption was an invitation to obedience.
Every “coincidence” was actually God’s providence.
The Gospel That Reframes It All
If I had written this story without faith, it would just sound like a series of lucky breaks.
But the gospel changes how I see everything.
God’s providence isn’t luck—it’s love in action. The same God who sent His Son into the world to redeem us is the same God who orders the small details of our lives: who we meet, when we meet them, what words are spoken, even which emails get replies.
I used to think of God’s will as something I had to discover—like a puzzle to solve. But now, I see it’s something He reveals as I walk with Him.
Jesus’ words ring true:
“Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matthew 6:33)
We didn’t plan any of this. But the Lord had already written it all.
And so as we step into this next season in Italy, I go not just as a surgeon, but as a witness—to a God who works through the ordinary, who directs the uncertain, and who delights in showing His people that every coincidence is grace in disguise.
Final Reflection
Providence isn’t always spectacular. Sometimes it looks like a cancelled lunch, an inconvenient errand, a delayed visa, or a stranger who becomes a friend.
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I didn’t plan any of it. But through it all, I’ve learned this truth again:
God’s providence is perfect, His timing sure, and His grace enough.