Chapter 27: The Old Chapel of BCCM KK at Signal Hill, Kota Kinabalu

The Covid-19 pandemic has irreversibly reshaped our understanding of what it means to be the church. For generations, we were accustomed to physically “going to church” every Sunday morning - or evening, for some. But when the global lockdown began in early 2020, congregations around the world suddenly found themselves unable to gather within the familiar walls of a church building. The only viable alternative was to meet virtually, ushering in a new era of online worship and digital fellowship.

Recently, a few of us reflected on how church gatherings and liturgical practices have evolved over the decades. Many found it hard to believe that, in the early years of BCCM KK during the 1950s and early 1960s, men and women sat on opposite sides of the aisle - women on the right, men on the left. Male and female elders always occupied the front pews. As a young lad, I observed the elders’ main duties were quite straightforward: the men rang the bell and collected the offerings.

Over time, however, quiet changes began to take root. I recall noticing a few brave couples choosing to sit together. When their decision drew no opposition, others gradually followed suit. By the time BCCM KK moved to its present location at Dah Yeh Villa, gender-segregated seating had become a thing of the past - an unspoken tradition quietly laid to rest.

BCCM KK originally began as a Hakka-speaking congregation. The English congregation was only established in November 1962 (Read here). I had always worshipped with the Chinese-speaking congregation, but in 1979, after my marriage, I joined BCCM KK (English) because my wife was English-educated. Interestingly, since the English service was founded by an American pastor, it never inherited the same gender-segregation customs. From the outset, men and women sat side by side - a small but telling reminder of how cultural context shapes even the simplest aspects of church life.

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The last major renovation of the old chapel took place just over a decade ago. One of the most significant changes was the repositioning of the main entrance - from its original east-facing orientation to the opposite end, now facing west. The once naturally ventilated hall, cooled by multiple ceiling fans, has since been upgraded with wall-mounted air-conditioners to accommodate modern comfort. Despite these updates, the chapel’s exterior has been carefully preserved, maintaining its original architectural charm and historical character.

This beloved building, along with the nearby Atkinson Clock Tower and the Australia Place, stands as one of the few remaining heritage landmarks in Kota Kinabalu - silent witnesses to the city’s colonial past and post-war evolution. In 1988, the old church building was formally repurposed as the STS Chapel, following the transfer of the compound to the Sabah Theological Seminary.

The last major event I attended at this historic chapel was the wedding of my nephew, Calvin, to his bride Stephanie, in June 2018. It was a joyful celebration held within walls steeped in generations of faith, memory, and quiet resilience.

The Chapel was well decorated for the wedding occasion.

Current 2020 Vs 1960's

The open space that once lay behind the chapel now forms its front, following the reorientation of the building. This small, flat compound was a favorite gathering spot for the pupils of the adjacent Chinese Primary School during recess in those bygone days. It would come alive with groups of boys and girls energetically playing hopscotch, skipping rope, tossing glass marbles, and inventing games only children could dream up.

Today, the space sits quiet and serene, its stillness a stark contrast to the joyful chaos that once filled the air. Yet if one listens closely, it’s not hard to imagine the echoes of the past - bursts of laughter, shouts of excitement, and the patter of tiny feet - still gently reverberating through the breeze, as though the memories themselves refuse to fade.

Current 2020 Vs 1960's

When the Lok Yuk Schools - including the Chinese Primary, English Primary, and English Secondary - were still operating around the chapel grounds, the chapel served many purposes beyond its Sunday worship services. It became a vibrant multi-use space, hosting conferences, youth retreats, musical performances, and dramatic productions. On certain weekdays, it even transformed into an assembly hall for the English Primary and Secondary schools. Students, neatly grouped by class, would climb the long concrete stairs leading up to the chapel, their footsteps echoing through the morning air as they prepared for the school day.

In those days, the chapel welcomed teachers and students of all backgrounds and faiths. Assemblies were conducted respectfully under one roof, with no fear of offending or being offended. It was a quiet testament to the spirit of mutual respect and coexistence that once defined our society.

Sadly, that spirit has dimmed over the years. Malaysia has, in many ways, regressed in its climate of religious tolerance and acceptance. What was once a natural coming together of diverse communities is now too often marred by suspicion, restriction, and division. The chapel stands as a poignant reminder of a more inclusive past - one that we would do well to remember, and perhaps, strive to reclaim.

Current 2020 Vs 1960's

Current 2020.

Current 2020 (Left photos) Vs 1965 (Right photo).

From left: Late Lee Min Jian, Richard Chua Len Kiong,

Me, (Young boy unknown), Late Robert Chin Nyuk Fook,

Robert Lee Tet Leong, Peter Tsen Lip Chong,

Late Wong Fen Onn, Daniel Vun Yoon Cho.

From left: Me, Late Lee Min Jian, Late Robert Chin Nyuk

Fook, Edward Greenawald, Daniel Vun Yoon Cho, 

Peter Tsen Lip Chong.

In the 1960s

Current View.

While the open space in front of the chapel served as a lively playground for young boys and girls, the church veranda and patio were the favored hangout spots for the older boys. Leaning against the railings or lounging on the steps, they would gather in groups - chatting, joking, and observing the younger ones at play - marking their subtle transition from childhood to adolescence. It was a social hub of sorts, where friendships were forged, harmless mischief was planned, and school-day stories were exchanged under the watchful shade of the chapel eaves.

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The Sanctuary

Presentation of Hymn by Church Choir before Evangelistic Drama.

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Evangelistic Drama (1970)

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Choir practice after usual Sunday worship service.

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Old entrance archway

Today, the old chapel - once known as the Borneo Basel Self-Established Church, Jesselton - still stands gracefully atop the ridge of Signal Hill, partially veiled by the surrounding greenery. Though its presence is sometimes overlooked in the bustle of modern Kota Kinabalu, it continues to exude a quiet sense of historicity and timeless elegance.

Like a few treasured heritage buildings in the city, the chapel endured the ravages of the Japanese Occupation of Borneo from 1941 to 1945, surviving an era that saw so much destruction. Its very walls carry the weight of resilience and faith through decades of change.

Since its opening, the chapel has welcomed through its doors a rich tapestry of people - worshipers, teachers, students, the wealthy and the humble alike. All who stepped inside, whether seeking solace, purpose, or community, have in one way or another been touched and blessed by the sacred space. It remains a quiet but powerful witness to generations of grace, fellowship, and unwavering devotion.