HONOR YOUR FATHER AND MOTHER

9He said to them, "All too well you reject the commandment of God, that you may keep your tradition. 10For Moses said, "Honor your father and your mother';[d] and, "He who curses father or mother, let him be put to death.'[e] 11But you say, "If a man says to his father or mother, "Whatever profit you might have received from me is Corban"--' (that is, a gift to God), 12then you no longer let him do anything for his father or his mother, 13making the word of God of no effect through your tradition which you have handed down. And many such things you do."

At what point does a person’s duty to his parents end? When he is grown up and can stand up on his own? When he finds a job and leaves the family home? Or when he gets married and builds his own family? God has always exhorted His people to be kind to the poor. If he can hand down commandments for the poor, isn’t a poor parent included in this? Some would claim that when the Bible says that “a man should cleave to his wife”, he stops being a son and starts being a husband. A pathetic excuse to cover up for the sin of ingratitude! And modern culture seems to endorse the practice that when a child is grown-up and self-reliant, he is free to go his merry way and not look back.

I have seen elderly people who are so poor ply the streets of Manila, begging for a little money from pedestrians and motorists, oblivious to the danger of being ran over. I have interviewed some of them, and they have sad stories to tell. I have asked an 83 year old woman why she was taking chances with her life in the middle of the traffic begging for alms, and if she didn’t have any family she can stay with. She said she has a son, a government employee, but he is married and earning just enough for his family. Why do we have this notion that we are only able to help if we have excess resources? “Is there no one else?” I asked. I have a daughter who is married to a doctor,” she replied. “But he is well-known in society and doesn’t want it known that he married someone from a poor family, so my daughter cut herself off from us.” She sounded so resigned, so accepting of her plight I couldn’t help feeling indignant on her behalf. “Do your children go to church?” I couldn’t help asking. “They do. They are devout Roman Catholics,” she proudly said. Wow. Probably give tithes, too, if they are that devout. But I didn’t say that aloud in case she gets offended. I handed her a 100 peso bill when the traffic light turned green. The delight on her face was a sight to see. But how long will 100 pesos last? Where will she sleep at night? Under the skyway, behind a giant concrete pillar? What if it rains? What if she gets sick? Who will take care of her? What if she gets run over by a car, or dies in her sleep? Will anyone mourn her? Will her body be buried with honor, or will it be sold to medical students to be studied in their anatomy class?

For those who have not deigned to look back where they came from, I leave you with this thought. You stopped being a son or daughter, and you have concentrated on being husband or a wife. If you are lucky, you will become a dad or a mom, too. Be careful. Our children learn by our example. You might just end up like that old woman on the street.

One great design of Christ's coming was, to set aside the ceremonial law; and to make way for this, he rejects the ceremonies men added to the law of God's making. Those clean hands and that pure heart which Christ bestows on his disciples, and requires of them, are very different from the outward and superstitious forms of Pharisees of every age. Jesus reproves them for rejecting the commandment of God. It is clear that it is the duty of children, if their parents are poor, to relieve them as far as they are able; and if children deserve to die that curse their parents, much more those that starve them. But if a man conformed to the traditions of the Pharisees, they found a device to free him from the claim of this duty. (Mk 7:14-23)

Matthew Henry’ Concise Commentary

A LONELY ROAD

If somebody had told me that being a Christian would take me along a lonely road at times, I would have laughed on his face. The day I was born again was the greatest, most triumphant moment in my life. Everything looked and felt new. I cannot explain the feeling, but I think I had this notion that being a new creature meant that everything was going to be nice and easy.

For a while it was. Until I had to make difficult choices that tested my faith to the limit. I had to leave some of my friends behind. I had to choose which things I can do and not do anymore. I had to make decisions that were not so popular with the people I love. I had to spend more time in church and less time with my friends.

When I started working, I had to put ambition to the back burner if it meant giving up the chance to go church on Sundays or any of my responsibilities as a volunteer Christian worker. The people in my social circle have dropped off one by one, they couldn't understand me anymore. I had to accept that having been reborn meant putting on a new nature, a nature that is not in keeping with the company I keep, or what I used to say and do. I had to entirely revise my way of thinking, and accept that things cannot remain as they are. If I have chosen to walk with God, I must choose to follow Him, no matter what the cost.

I have met new friends, prayed for my old ones, seen and heard that some of these old friends are now walking the same walk as I do and I have rejoiced. I have matured some in my faith and giving up something instead of compromising my beliefs is no longer a major issue for I have learned to see clearly where I want to go. I still walk a lonely walk sometimes, but realizing that my God walks along with me in my loneliness is a great comfort. For you only think you are alone, but in fact, you are not, for God will not forsake or leave you.

INTERCESSORS

Intercessors are very special people. They are men and women enlisted by God to pray for the saints, for the land, for the unsaved and for many other things. These are people who have the heart of God and who are not averse to walking along a lonely road and who are stubborn and persistent and will stay on their knees until they get an answer from Him.

There are many groups of people who have made interceding with God their life’s ministry. We can do it too. If we have a heart that is in tune with God’s will, if we believe that prayers can accomplish great things and if we are willing to spend time in communing with God to bring the needs of others to His throne, then we too, can be intercessors.

We do not want God’s wrath upon our land, let us pray then. Let us ask Him to give us the heart to repent and turn from our evil ways. There are love ones, family and friends who have not accepted Jesus as their Lord and Savior, let us pray for them. Let us not give up, but let us pray without ceasing, petitioning God for the salvation of our lands and our people. For God is a merciful and faithful God and we can be a means for others to be saved through our prayers.


For God is my witness, whom I serve with my spirit in the gospel of His Son, that without ceasing I make mention of you always in my prayers, (Romans 1:9 )

ENLARGING THE PLACE OF THY TENT

Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thine habitations: spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes; Isaiah 54:2

When God comes into our lives, we can expect really big changes that will require us to “enlarge our tent”. Our God is a living God, and we cannot continue to remain as we were before he called us. We cannot continue to exist in the narrow dimension that we have come to know and embrace. We have let Jesus into our lives and must be ready to make room for Him. We must be ready to welcome an entirely new way of life, and a brand-new role that we are about to play, that of a child of God.

When Jesus came to Paul in Damascus, He didn’t only stop him from killing Christians, but to bring him to Himself, and send him to do His will for the kingdom. It is the same for all of us who believe in Him. We were called to be blessed, and to become a blessing to others. We can expect joy and sorrow, triumph and defeat, but even more than that, we can experience the joy of being in fellowship with God.

Enlarging one’s tent does not only involve giving God a room in our lives, but to encompass everyone whom we can reach, people whose lives we can touch through love and compassion and the sharing of the Word of God. But we must also be sure to “strengthen the stakes” lest our tents topple down. And we can do this by immersing ourselves in His Word, and living in His will.

EFFECTIVE WITNESSING

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. I Corinthians 13:2

I have joined many bible study groups online, and I have quit about just as many. I can never understand how some people who profess to have the Christ in their hearts can use their lips to praise God one moment and lambast a fellow believer the next, all in defense of a doctrinal truth, or so they say.

In these groups, you will meet a lot of people with such great intellect you will be amazed at how much knowledge they have at their command. They are so ready to tear at anyone who will dare to come up with a topic that is in any way contrary to their own way of thinking.

But I really think that sharing the truth should be done in a kind and loving way for it to be effective. How come we say that we are Christians, but have forgotten that Jesus, who is the King of kings, came in humility to make his abode with us so He can fulfill the Scriptures and save us? Didn’t God exhibit such patience for His people in Israel who were known for their stubbornness? Hasn’t He been patient with our own foibles? Because no matter how much we know, it is a part of our walk of faith to fall along the way, for we are not yet glorified, and are still in the process of being sanctified. We should just be thankful that we cannot fall out of grace with God completely because He has also made provisions for our weaknesses. (1 John 1:8) If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. (1 John 1:9) If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:10) If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.

People are different from each other in intellect and temperament. They are also different in their quest for maturity as believers. Those who are rich in spiritual things must share them in love and compassion to those that are deficient. We should practice charity, not only with our material riches, but most especially with our spiritual riches. Those who are mature should gently guide those who are not. Besides, Christians are living epistles to the world at large. How can we become effective witnesses for Christ if we behave like unbelievers?

If we create conflict and chaos when discussing the Word of God, instead of leading and enlightening, what does that say about us? People won’t listen, until they know how much we care. A song says it really well, “… And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love, Yes they’ll know we are Christians by our love.” And that’s the greatest way to witness, for didn’t God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)?

PERSPECTIVE

Jordanna and I were on our way to my mother's house for the weekend. We were already on board a jeepney when heavy rains started pouring. Jordanna was so upset because to get to her grandma's house, we have to pass through a vacant lot on a lower ground area. On rainy days, rainwater gathers in that particular place so that means we have to wade through ankle-deep muddy water where all sorts of garbage float around. As usual, Jordanna started grumbling about the possibility of contacting leptospirosis from rat excretion in the water. I was worried about it, too, but I had to try and cheer her up or we'll never get to my mother's. Waiting for the water to subside is not an option because if we do that, we are in for a long wait. We carefully picked our way across the flooded area, taking one cautious step after another so that we wouldn't slip on the muddy water. Finally, we got across with Jordanna's "yucks" and "arghs" resonating in my ears.

"Hey, stop for a while", I said. "Don't keep looking down at the ground, look up for a change and tell me what you see." The girl looked at me askance and with raised eyebrows asked, "Mom, are you in one of your strange moods again?" She started laughing then, and I almost pushed her into the flooded area. "Now, just do as I say or you don't get next week's allowance", I threatened. That got her attention alright. And instant obedience. Kids!

"Okay Mom, Let me see, now that it has stopped raining the sky once again looks bright blue and the sun is shining again.", she dutifully recited.

"What else? Look at the trees."

"Well, the leaves look fresh and green", she thoughtfully said. "They looked tired and dull last time we were here."

"That's right," I grinned at her. “After so many days without rain, they tend to look like that. The rain washed away the thick coatings of dust, bringing forth a new life to the plants and trees. Don't you feel that the atmosphere has turned cooler? Can you see the water drops on the leaves' surface sparkling like tiny jewels when the sun's rays touch them?" "Okay, Mom, give me the punch line", she challenged. "No punch line, honey. All I'm saying is that the way you go through life is just a matter of perspective. You were looking down and all you see was the ugliness of the mud puddles and garbage. You looked up and you saw the beauty of the sun, the sky and the trees. In this life, what you see is what you get. You look for what is bad and you will find it. Look for what is good, and it's right there waiting for you. Even the bible tells us this. So you might as well look for what is good and enjoy your journey here.

" 8 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.
Phil. 4:8

HUMILITY

By humility and the fear of the LORD are riches, and honor, and life.
Proverbs 22:4

One day, the trees in the forest were talking among themselves. The proud Narra tree said: " I have been in this forest for almost a hundred years, and I have stood tall and proud through all those years. I deserve to be called the king of the trees."

"Well, we can't dispute that. You were already here as I was growing up.", replied the acacia tree. "You may be king, but I should be the princess. Look at all these beautiful wild orchids clinging to my trunk and branches. Are they not ornaments worthy of a princess?"

"Very well," the Narra tree replied. "You are now the princess of the forest. How about you, Mahogany tree? What would you like to be?"

"Since my body is hard and strong, I would like to be the captain of the guards. Is that alright, King Narra?" the mahogany tree requested.

"A fitting position for someone of your stature. It should be as you wish.” the King magnanimously conceded.

"And how about me, Your Highness? What shall I be?” a timid voice asked from behind. The king turned around and looked straight at the bamboo diffidently standing before him. He started laughing so hard that the birds perched on his branches were startled and flew in every direction.

"What? You want a place in my kingdom? What foolish ambition. You're not even a tree. You are GRASS! Do you hear that? I don't have any place for you in my scheme of things. Now, quit bothering me.", the king admonished.

All the other trees laughed at the bamboo. They can't imagine how the bamboo had the nerve to think that he can be a part of such a distinguished company of the tall and proud trees of the forest.

Days later, a storm hit the area. Strong winds howled through the forest, thick sheets of rain made visibility impossible, thunders rolled and lightning bolts ripped the sky. The trees fought hard to survive the onslaught of the raging storm. The battle for survival went on all day and all through the night. The next morning, the sun shone brightly as if the storm has never been. But casualties lay around the forest floor, evidence of the fateful event. King Narra has tumbled to the ground, his massive trunk split in the middle by a lightning bolt. Not too far is Princess Acacia, her branches broken and the wild orchids lay scattered around her. Lamenting nearby is the proud Mahogany, leaning dangerously to one side, ready to topple any minute. He looked at the bamboo, still standing straight and tall.

"However did you survive?” he asked in genuine puzzlement.

The bamboo replied, "Very simple captain. I have learned when to bow and when to stand straight and true. I have humbled myself before a mightier force, and it has spared me."

Sometimes we are like the trees in the forest. We stand proud before God, refusing to acknowledge our dependence upon Him. We believe ourselves secure in our own capabilities to go through life with success, until trials and tribulations leave us humbled and broken. We should take a lesson from the humble bamboo. We should surrender our pride, our ambitions and our whole lives to God, because only in Him can we find true riches, honor and life.

Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 18:4

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.

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.

MARIA MAKILING

I usually wake up at 5 am and one of the first things I always do is to open the door to the balcony. I breathe deeply and look my fill of the slumbering Mt. Maria Makiling, never getting tired of its serene beauty.

Mt. Makiling is an inactive volcano, located in Southern Luzon. Its highest peak is 1,130 meters above sea level, not your usual towering mountain that looks majestic in proportion. But it’s so beautiful, like a long-haired woman reclining serenely between the provinces of Laguna and Batangas, undisturbed by the hustle and bustle of traffic on the undulating highway below it.

I grew up hearing much folklore from my elders and teachers. The Philippine culture is steeped with myths and legends, and if you have an over-active imagination, it isn’t hard to get carried away by the many colorful stories handed down from generation to generation. One of my favorite stories is the story of Mt. Makiling .

It is said that during the Spanish regime, there was a beautiful Diwata, a magical being who lives on the mountain top. She was so beautiful and kind that she was beloved in the province of Laguna. She helped the poor people by giving them ginger that turns to gold in the morning. Because of her famed beauty, many suitors wooed her, but three of them were the most determined. Captain Lara, a Spanish soldier who always gifted her with luxurious gifts from Europe, Joselito a Spanish Mestizo who is a student in Manila who had many stories to tell about places and things he has read in his books, and Juan, a common but very industrious farmer. Because Juan works so hard, he always had a good harvest, and his animals thrived. It was him whom Maria secretly admired.

As time passed, the suitors clamored for Maria to choose the one she favors. Maria was forced to promise them that she will give her decision on the next full moon.

When the night of the full moon came, all of Maria’s suitors climbed up the mountain to hear her decision. They were surprised and affronted when she named Juan as the man she loves. Captain Lara and Joselito didn’t take this too well, and together, they plotted against the unsuspecting Juan.


It wasn’t long before fire gutted the Spanish cuartel. Many Filipinos were captured and tortured, and some did not survive the torture that the Spanish inflicted on them. At the prodding of Joselito and Captain Lara, and fear for they lives if they didn’t comply with their plans, the other prisoners pointed to Juan as the arsonist. Juan was taken to the plaza by the soldiers to face the firing squad. Juan was innocent but he was sacrificed by his own people because of cowardice. He died for something he didn’t do, but managed to shout Maria’s name before he did.

Maria heard him and came down from the mountain, but Juan was already dead. With tears running down her lovely face, Maria cradled the lifeless body of her beloved in her arms. She looked at the people with accusing eyes, and they left one by one, guilt heavy in their hearts.

In their fear of the Diwata’s wrath, Joselito and Captain Lara fled to Manila. When Maria heard this, she uttered a curse against the two. It wasn’t long before Joselito was afflicted with a lingering illness that has no cure. Captain Lara was recalled to Laguna when the revolution against the Spanish tyranny broke out. He was later killed by the Filipino revolutionists.

Maria disappeared into her mountains. She never helped the people again because of their betrayal of her beloved Juan.

Now, when you look at Mt. Makiling from a certain angle, you see a reclining woman with long hair. People say that the woman is Maria, the Diwata, alone in the mountain peak , still lamenting the lost of Juan.

A beautiful but tragic story isn’t it? And when I look out in the morning, I think about Maria, how beautiful she is, but how sad in her solitude.

A BLESSING OR A CURSE?

I'm the kind of person who will go out of her way to help an old lady across the street, or to help a child being chased by a dog. I always thank the driver when I get off a public transport, thank the crew getting my order at the fast-food restaurant, or the cashier at the bookstore. It's quite easy for me to get someone to confide in me, or to feel comfortable talking to me, as if I were an old friend. But it's also easy for me to empathize and get involve with these people – feeling their pain, making their worries my own, and generally immersing myself into whatever is currently happening in their lives. People are special to me, whether they are my family and friends, or just strangers.

When people tell me that they appreciate my concern, or my kindness, I think the Lord has truly blessed me. When I have made a person smile, or made him feel good, or consoled someone in the midst of his grief, held someone’s hand in silent support… when I feel that I have touched someone’s life and made a difference, no matter how small, then I know my sojourn in this world is worthwhile. When I manage to teach a child to say sorry and thank you, encouraged an elderly friend that this life is still worth living despite his many aches and waning sight, I thank God most humbly that He has made me aware of the needs of others, and has used me to manifest his goodness and faithfulness. And then I truly feel blessed.

But as I search for words to comfort someone whose loved one is dying, when I feel as if every word I utter does not mean anything at all, or if there is someone who needs help and I couldn’t meet that need and he has to go away empty-handed, or I see the suffering of a friend but there is no way for me to alleviate that, then I feel as if I am cursed. For what use is my life if it can’t ease the pain of someone?

Sometimes, I wish I didn’t care so much. But will life be any easier if I didn’t?

MOVING HOUSE – AGAIN!

About two years ago, we left our old house in Sta. Cruz to move to an apartment near Mitch and Jaybee’s school. It was such a difficult decision to make because the house was so full of happy memories. It wasn’t just a home for my family, but for our church as well. The very first worship service for the first Reformed Church in that town was held in our living room, and later, when a small building was built to house the church, the house became an extension for Sunday School.

Now, two years later, we are moving back. At least my mom and sister are coming back to stay. The girls and I will only come home for the weekends. On school days, we will be in Calamba.

The house is so different now. Two years of neglect has taken its toll, so it would take a lot of money and effort to get it back in shape. Even the yard looks different. My dad, when he was still alive, spent hours tending his plants and fruit-bearing trees. You will never see a clump of weeds daring to show itself on my father’s private domain. Even now, I can still see him busily watering and pruning his favorite “rosal”, spraying the “langka” tree, or just standing in the middle of the yard, admiring his handiwork.

But that was a long time ago. Now the yard is overrun with weeds, the flowering plants have been stolen, some of my Mom’s orchids are missing, and the fence… it’s no longer there. The neighbors have torn down the fence so that they can take a shortcut through our property. Some people have no sense of respect.

And the house itself… the wallpapers are torn, the termites have found their way to the wooden doorframe, and the paint is starting to peel. . The house looks so sad and abandoned I can’t help feeling guilty for leaving it for so long. As I stand in the living room, I remember my daughter growing up in this house. This is where she has taken her first step, said her first word, celebrated her first birthday, her first Christmas. This is where she and her grandfather had played so many times, her childish voice mingling with my father’s deep one as he tells her stories of his boyhood. I remember them laughing together, her laughter tinkling like tiny bells as she and grandpa played horsie on the living room floor.

So many memories. Some were happy, and some were sad. I don’t know if coming back here is a good thing. My mom will remember that this is the house my dad built for her. That she has spent 50 years with him until she lost him to cancer in this very house. That she will no longer be able to see him working alongside her as she tends her orchids, and him, his part of the yard.

Everything is still a big question mark. Will we be able to settle back in this house? Will the happy memories outweigh the sad ones? Will the girls be able to rediscover old friendships? Will Mom be happier here, in her husband’s house? Will my sister manage to look after her in spite of her job? Maybe, time will have all the answers. Maybe we will be staying. And then, maybe not.

EXTREMES

This week has been an exceptional week. I went to a lot of extremes and it amazes me that I survived. God has a way of of making you face up your strength and weaknesses, and then lead you to reaching your potentials. He also shows you who your real friends are, the ones who would stay with you, not only in good times, but especially during the bad times. Some of the things that happened were trivial, and funny, now that I think about it. Some were really heart-rending. But they made me open my eyes to a lot of things. But that is another story.

TONGUES, OR TAILS?

James 3: 5,6

5Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!
6And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell.


Japanese Proverb:

One reason the dog has so many friends: he wags his tail instead of his tongue.


I just wish that people will try to restrain not only their desires and appetites but their tongues as well. Especially if they belong to the Body of Christ. If you can’t say anything good about a person, just keep your mouth shut. Why take the negative side, if you can go the positive? It’s so easy to find something nice to say to a person than it is to malign, and it doesn’t cost anything. It would earn you smiles, and feelings of well-being. The tongue is so small, but so hard to tame. People with wagging tongues should be given tails instead.

FICTION: A MIRROR OF REALITY?

A comment by a fellow Christian about a fictional novel we have both read has made me look deeply at some of the literatures my daughter has been reading. Some of her oldest books were a set of fairytales, some of which were made into famous movies by Walt Disney. To name a few, Cinderella, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast, Hansel And Gretel and The Gingerbread Man. We see questionable values, spiritual and moral, in some of the adult reading materials on the bookstands today. But have we ever looked closely, if at all, at the seemingly innocuous nursery books we give our children? Snow White is a plot of a premeditated murder because of one person’s extreme vanity. Hansel and Gretel of irresponsible parenthood. Beauty and the Beast of a crime committed by the father and paid for by the daughter. I could name a lot more, most of them tackling the subject of greed, envy, vanity, murder, betrayal, etc., etc.

But in all of these, there is something good also. Love, sacrifice, the strength of human spirit, compassion. So we see a struggle of good and evil in mostly everything we read. And we see the same happening in real life. It is a theme that is as old as Adam and Eve. So who is imitating whom? Life imitating fiction? Or fiction imitating reality?

Take the movies- The Lord of the Rings, all three episodes was darkness versus light, temptation every step of the way, betrayal, hunger for power, but good triumphed in the end. The same thing for Starwars.

Even newspapers are interspersing their reports with fiction. A sex maniac of a congressman appears sparklingly clean in the newspapers, when everyone knows he has raped a couple of young girls. But he has paid a lot of money for good press, so there you are. It’s a mean world out there. The bottom line is only God’s Word is infallible. It is the truth, it doesn’t change, it’s reliable, and it has withstood the test of time. In everything we read, everything we see, we have to display a great amount of discernment in separating the chaff from the wheat. Not so, with God’s Word. We can count on it to be what it claims to be: THE WORD OF GOD.

RAPHAEL ANGELO

MY DAUGHTER & I

My daughter and I are the best of friends. We tell each other almost everything. And I think when I decided that I will treat her always as an equal, I made the right decision. Raising up teen-agers is a dangerous occupation:-D. Once you lose control, it’s the end for you. So, starting on equal footing is a good thing, in the sense that my teen-ager has to take responsibilities in maintaining a balance in our relationship. Granted, she’s only 16, and needs to learn a lot yet about life, but because I am a parent who is not a control-freak, she is not afraid to voice out her opinions, or to talk about her problems. This way, we have a chance to talk things out and more often than not, we arrive at a decision that is acceptable to both of us. Also, I have set certain parameters, and I made sure she understood them. She knows when something is out of bounds, but like any teen-ager, she would try to push me and won’t stop until I push back.

Trust is very important to me. She knows that and acts accordingly. The only time she ever attempted to defy me was when she was seven. She was in first grade, and the one cardinal rule that is to be kept at all cost, is that she doesn’t leave the school premises until someone from my family picks her up. But alas, like any kid just having a taste of freedom, she went off with her friends to a bookstore 3 blocks away from her school. And my sister, her biological mother, chanced upon her there. When my girl saw her, she started crying and didn’t stop until they got home. That was the last time she ever pulled anything like that.

When she started high school, I got her a mobile phone, and one of the new rules, was to call me up if there is something that will keep her in school past the time when she is supposed to be off, or if classes were shortened and she has to come home alone because the guy who drives her to and from school is not there yet.

I’m not saying that my way is the best way to treat a teen-ager. It works for me, but I don’t know if it will work with anyone else. And I’m not saying that my daughter is a perfect daughter. She isn’t. She could throw the mother of all tantrums and she would try to ride roughshod over me if I let her. But the most important thing in our relationship is trust and honesty. And this the foundation on which we have built not only a parent-child relationship, but friendship as well.

JORDANNA

HOT MAMMA , ANYONE?

I saw this funny joke on the net. With apologies to the unknown author, let me share it with you.

Morris, an 82 year-old man, went to the doctor to get a physical. A few days later the doctor saw Morris walking down the street with a gorgeous young woman on his arm.

A couple of days later the doctor spoke to Morris and said, "You're really doing great, aren't you?"

Morris replied, "Just doing what you said, Doc: 'Get a hot mamma and be cheerful.'"

The doctor said, "I didn't say that. I said, 'You've got a heart murmur. Be careful.'"

Had a good laugh? So did I. But it asks for serious thinking. How many senior citizens do I know that are lonely, sick, and alone? Too many, it breaks my heart. There’s this old guy I know, just 65 years old. He’s always drunk. Day or night you’ll see him inebriated. He was abandoned by his wife and children many years ago because he is too poor, and didn’t have much education, so good paying jobs eluded him. He is just waiting to die, he told me. For him, life is so empty there is no sense in living. So he is slowly poisoning his system with alcohol.

Then there is this woman, 63 years old. Widowed, misunderstood by her children, and left alone by them most of the time. But she met this man, much younger than her; he must be between 45-50 years old. They fell in love and are now living together. You’ll never know the amount of flak she took for taking up with that man. But look at her now, looking younger than her 63 years, happy too, I think for she always wears a smile on her face.

How many times have we taken our elders for granted? Have we ever tried to think about the many sacrifices they have made for us? Now that we are grown up, do we tell them often how much we appreciate what they have done for us? Are we doing anything to make them feel loved and valued? Or are we driving them to ease the loneliness they feel in the only way they know how? Like alcohol or affection from other people, affection which we can give them because they deserve it?Let us give more attention to our elderly family members and make them happy and content and spare them the feeling of having outlived their usefulness to the family. They have done a lot for us, so let us return the favor.