Wednesday, May 25, 2005

OPEN LETTER


I know you expect so much from me. And I know I have as much to give. But first, I must learn to open my heart to you, to listen and to learn. I must put myself entirely into your hands and understand that I can trust you.

But I hesitate to surrender fully for I know that first, I must go through a lot of trials and tribulations and endure so much before I can be completely yours. I have walked hand in hand, heart to heart with you. I am sure you felt my grief as deeply as if it were yours. You care for me so much you are attuned to every bit of feeling in my heart. And yet, I ask you one more time to bear with me.

I know you are giving me time, guiding me with your Spirit to allow me to get over the chaos of what is now my life. Let me get over my fear, and get a handle on the myriad changes that are happening all at once. Please be patient a liitle bit more. I know that I can rely on your strength to carry me through. But I also know that you do not want me to muddle through life in less than my best. Mediocrity is not your style, and neither is it mine.

I am coming to you with my whole being, holding back nothing, fulfilling the promise I have given you. I have come with my life and my heart, to do with as you please. For eternity. Thank you, Jesus, for loving me as I am.

LIFE'S JOURNEY


I have traveled life's road for a long time. And on this journey, I have experienced triumphs and failure, made wonderful discoveries that brought me joy and an unsurpassed wonder at how beautiful life can be. I have stared anguish and sorrow in the face, savored the sweet taste of young love’s passion, was knocked down by disillusionment, lost some of my loved ones, and realized that through it all, my character was being molded like clay in a potter’s hand.

I felt proud of myself. Despite the many times I have been knocked down, I was able to stand up again and face the challenges that life chose to throw at me. And I built my strength, don protective layers of covering by learning not to look back at my failures and then to rebuild from the ruins of the past. I didn’t examine my pain too closely, but immersed myself into other people’s grievances, helping them, giving them mercy and compassion. I learned to laugh, even when I hurt. Tears are for the weak, and regret will only hold me back.

I traveled on. Joy and tears marked the way. And through it all, I remained steadfast. I stood defiant, and challenged life to do its worst. I wouldn’t be a prisoner of the injustices that life has dealt me. I will remain unwavering, refusing to give an inch, emerging victorious and indomitable. I knew I was on the right track.

Until today. Until I talked to a man I have known for two days. He questioned my faith, called my bluff, pointed out things I haven’t bothered to look at. He made me face up myself, examine the chinks in my armor, and made me realize that during my journey, I have picked up baggage I had no business carrying. He wanted me to lay them down, go unhampered, but the baggage has become a part of me. I couldn’t give them up. Not just yet. They have become so much a part of me that giving them up will tear off a great part of the person I have become. But I realize now that the strength and courage I have thought I acquired through my trials were just a cover up for what I have let myself become over the years. A coward and a liar. I have fought for freedom, never realizing that I have locked myself in a prison of my own making. I have challenged life to do its worst, and all the while, I was keeping myself behind a façade of impassivity, afraid to feel, having made joy and pain strangers that don’t merit a second glance.

Now, I’m looking at myself differently. I have lost the vision of a victorious warrior, and in place, I see a walking wounded. Now I understand more fully why the Lord has invited me to lay down my burdens, rest in Him, and take His yoke. He has seen me as I am. He has seen my wounds. He has seen my pain. And He loves me just the way I am. Maybe He has shaken His head as I stubbornly resisted letting Him rid me of the heavy burdens I have carried for so long. But in His mercy and unwavering faithfulness, He has sent a brother to remind me that He will always be there for me.

I have many things to unlearn, and many new things to learn. It will not be an easy process, but with God’s grace, everything is possible. In time, I will be a different person. Maybe not as strong, or as self-reliant, but perhaps stronger spiritually, and more dependent upon God.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

JOEY

His eyes stared at me with a sad and weary expression. His young body was stooped, and the droop of his mouth tells its own story. The young boy has found nothing much to smile about. Dear God, he’s only 14.

I remember meeting him when he was only about six or seven. He was so cute, so happy and alive that I was instantly drawn to him. He was one of my new Sunday school pupils. I knew right there and then that this boy was very special. Let's call him Joey.

I wasn't wrong in my assessment of Joey. He was that one boy who helped me clean up the classroom after Sunday school- stacking the chairs, cleaning the board, and putting back the toys in their boxes. When he sees me coming, he would run immediately to my side and offer to carry my stuff. During class, he may be slow to catch up, but I could easily see the hunger for knowledge, the eagerness to memorize scripture verses. And I started praying that this boy will grow up to be an instrument for the ministry.

But life has a way of springing up unexpected punches that are too much to handle, especially if they are aimed at a defenseless young boy. I've seen how poverty has driven this boy's mother into becoming an entertainer in Japan, heard stories of how she had been sexually abused, beaten and how her body was filled with drugs so that she will be controlled easily by her pimp. She came home after her ordeal, a broken woman, a mentally-deranged drug addict.

The father, who was a lazy good for nothing lay-about soon turned to drugs, too, probably to forget how his irresponsibility towards his family has driven his wife to that pitiful condition. The other two sons, followed in the footsteps of their parents, and started inhaling rugby (contact cement, a kind of solvent) and later on turned to other drugs. The only daughter, 13 years old, went to live with her maternal grandmother. Some days, I’d see her standing outside in the street, staring at nothing, her pretty face blank of all emotions.

And Joey. He has continued to come to my church and has shown the same enthusiasm to learn about God. He will come to my house every Sunday, expecting to be given a free ride to church and free meals. Every time I see him coming, all done up in his best clothes - the pair of jeans not so faded as his other pair, the T-shirt that’s too big for him, probably a hand me down, and the pair of rubber shoes that has seen better days- well, my heart swelled with thanksgiving. I thought to myself that while the boy believes in the goodness of God, he may survive and not get caught up in the pit of blackness that the rest of his family has fallen into. I kept praying and hoping that he will continue to resist the bad influence of his own family.

Then, I left and moved to a town where my adopted daughter was studying. I talked to my friends in church to keep an eye on Joey. They promised they would. I left with a heavy heart, for I felt that the odd collection of misplaced kids in my Sunday school ministry were too much. Most of them have a history of dysfunctional family life, and if you don’t have much patience and a big supply of understanding, they were a bit difficult to handle. My friends keep telling me not to worry, and I tried not to. I knew that if I leave, God will anoint someone else to handle my ministry.

Years passed. I got so busy with my own life in my new home, attended a new church, and met new friends. I forgot about Joey and the other children. Until today, when I came face to face with Joey.

“Hey, how are you?” I greeted him. “You are all grown up. You must be graduating from high school now.”

“No, Ate,” I smiled at the term. He hasn’t forgotten. Ate is a form of address meaning older sister.

“What? You are not grown up? Or not graduating?” I joked.

He smiled sadly at that. “I quit school after you left.”

And church? Have you quit that, too? I didn’t say that aloud, afraid of the answer I might get. But as if he could read my mind, he blurted out, “I don’t go to church anymore either. There’s no money for the fare and it’s too far too walk. Lot’s of times, there’s no food either. I have to do odd jobs like running errands for a little food.”

“And the others?” I asked.

“They don’t go anymore either. Totong has turned to gambling, And the other boys are either into stealing or just making trouble for the fun of it.”

I asked him if he himself has turned from God. He smiled crookedly at me, and said that he still wanted to know God, but how can he? Besides, the people in church didn’t want anything to do with him or any of the others. They were mischief-makers, not exactly said to their faces, but their actions implied that. If that were not so, they would have come and visit them when they stopped coming, wouldn’t they?

I was saddened by that comment. What is going to happen to this boy? He has gone older than his age. He has been stripped of the joy of being a child, and the security that should have been provided by his parents was taken away at such an early age. What more, the chance to know God has been denied him by these bible-toting people who professed to love Jesus. But wasn’t it Jesus Himself who said to let the children come to Him?

My sister has started a bible study with this group of unwanted kids when she came back to live there again. Not a church sponsored ministry, but an independent one. She buys the materials and food for the kids from her own pocket. I just thank God that there will be someone to continue to lead these young people to God. And I pray that she will have the stamina, the resources, and the guidance of the Spirit as she goes about her ministry,
As for Joey, nothing can take away the scars of his childhood, except Jesus Himself. I just want him to know and learn that he could lay down his burdens at Jesus’ feet and find rest there from his weariness.