Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘faith’

Search me, oh my spirit

at the riptide on my blue veins.

I am at the end of the line

in the deep ocean I lay.

I let the undercurrent shake

my foundations of faith

moored and hidden

a wreckage-

 

beneath the sea weeds

and coral cloisters

beached with visions.

Murkier as mud clouds,

adrift in liquid abyss

disturbed my soul. I

 

an abandoned cast-away.

The once mighty crusader

sailed the troubled waters

has now dropped the anchors.

 

Weighed down, crashed,

beaten and ravaged.

I had forgotten the buoy

afloat in its hope. Angel

caught in the maelstrom

shroud in its mystery

just like a prayer.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

I had a future

of keeping yesterday.

Think of your broken machines

worn-out hands-me-down

wrecked and rusted

and shattered and cracked.

Objects of sentiments

and old coins in a jar.

 

Think of promises

in need of restoration,

clearing carpet stains

and cigarette burns.

Your broken bottles

peeled plaster left

pockmarks on walls

bruised on my skin.

 

The bible’s missing pages

incomplete like my faith

transfixed on a television

watching silent movies.

Wondering what is it

that Chaplin mouthed?

Isn’t it ‘God, why thou

has forsaken me?’

 

And the world laughed.

 

At car’s not starting.

At chair’s needed fixing.

Ceiling’s leaking

ugly watermarks

life, slowly dying.

Read Full Post »

I skipped my regular routine attending church services in the morning that Friday.  A week ago, I have already informed our pastor that I plan to attend the Industrial Area church service instead in the evening.  I also missed out our church choir practice that night, which I am so sad about. 

We braved the dusty road leading to Industrial Area. When we have arrived at the place, it was a regular accommodation building intended for company workers.  The road leading to the building is quite notorious with potholes and mountain of construction debris on the side.   We reach the worship place after winding up seven staircases worth of our stamina, of climbing the steps. The place of worship is located in the rooftop.  About 24 sq.m. approximately, capable of seating around 20 people, right there along with the clothesline of wet laundry left out to dry.

The truth is, I am not expecting it.  Of all places, to hold a church service.  A rooftop towering over other rooftops of factory buildings in the midst of desert wind and the usual darkness of the evening.  I am used to attending house of worship with the comfort of sheltering oneself against the external elements, such as rain, heat and dry wind.  That night is a wake up call.  Believers are called upon to honor the Sabbath, wherever, whenever and whatever it takes.  Be it under the shade of the tree, or under the canopy of the bridge, or an open field. 

I am deeply humbled by the fact that here in the wide stretch of the desert, away from the comforts of the homeland, people who are disciplined in faith, are braving the routinary grind of their overseas life, partially isolated to the urban centers.   This is mission’s work,  a life dedicated to the cause of bringing the Gospel to the far reaches of places.  Administering the continuous flow of the message and strengthening people’s faith in God.

I admire my pastor, who is a missionary himself, for the kind of passion he have for the lost  souls and bringing them all to Christian faith.   His silent ways are a steady yet constant reminder that complacency has no place in Christian service.  Believers are ought to steer clear of their comfort zones, sacrificing time and effort for building up Christ’s work and taking upon each the individual God’s calling in putting into action all the Christian training they have learned.

I admire my friend Grace, who chose to become a full-time missionary, while administering translation of the gospel to the native tounges of the tribes among the hinterlands of Mindanao and Luzon back home.  She already had the chance to go to India, for some introductory mission’s work as part of her trainings.

Sometimes, it is a pity, when I hear myself, complaining about being so tired to get up early in the morning to begin my morning prayers.  Sometimes, it is a pity, when I see myself, scrambling over reading best-sellers in the night rather than having a bible reading of a chapter or two. Now it occured to me, that what I am doing for the kingdom is not enough.  Christian life calls for able and willing men of faith to stand up and do the work.  Whatever the circumstances may be or a situation they are in. 

The next time, I will go to the Industrial Area to have my Friday church service there.  I need to listen to what God is saying to me, visually.

Read Full Post »

I was on my way to a restaurant that late afternoon to meet a friend, hurrying and my mind was filled with gloomy thoughts. My mind just wandered aimlessly, battling inner fears. 

Rebel as I was, it seems that I am all wearied and fighting against the world, crushed in the agony of my self-defeat- I succumbed into powerlessness.  I have met a familiar darkness of my soul once again. In such a long time.

I am depressed that day.  Defeated by reason. I am filled with anger emblazoned across my face.  That day- I am not the usual masquerading, self-hiding chameleon in the cloak of coolness and charm.  I am likened to a ticking bomb.

I have questions.  And lots of them.  As endless as the broken road markings. My combatant nature would never accept any kind word- even from the most endearing. That was one time I had feared myself the most- who is capable of hurting myself.  Like a jagged knife ready to cut the ventricles of humanity in me.

Somewhere,  in a sudden mysterious way, I heard a helpless chirp.  I stopped and started searching the source  by my side.   And I have found a little bird, that has fallen from a bird’s nest from the nearby palm tree and landed on the ground.  It is too early for the little bird to take flight.  My hardened composure melts gradually into a compassionate being.  How on earth, this hapless sight would pour a cold, cold ice to my raging soul?

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a stray cat emerged. Prowling as if it is finding something to devour.  In my quick thinking, I immediately snatched the little bird from the ground, rescuing it from danger. From harm and from the claws of the enemy-  so vicious and lethal.

Just when I thought, that what  I did, is the right one, I felt a sudden pain.  A stinging one.  The little bird had bitten me.  Surprised as I was, I accidentally dropped the bird away farther  into the ground. Then the next thing I heard is a scuffle in the bushes until the hopeless chirping stopped.

I am overwhelmed.  I just stand there and was filled with a sudden grief.  I can’t believe that life has been snatched away from my very hands.  The life of a fragile creature. A tragic lost.  Tears quietly streamed down my face until it became flood as pent-up emotions surged and overpowered my anger like a dam  breached loose.

That moment, I wonder,  how vivid  this circumstance made my soul saved from drowning and wallowing in despair?  My life, I learned, can be like the hopeless little bird, compared to a  child out of God’s hand.  How powerful can God teach me a great lesson, a stiff-necked person as I am, who never learned from His admonishing?   The questions that I have over-analyzed  for years has crumbled under the weight of God’s wisdom which is mightier than what I can comprehend.

Like a prodigal son who came back to his father’s arm, I did the same coming home to what God has purposed me to belong.  With the lesson of that hopeless little bird, I just knew that my life on earth rest only on His hands.  All I needed to do is to have an unwavering faith and complete trust on Him.  And God has impressed to me to stay in His dwelling place as long as I live.

Read Full Post »

Somebody asked me if it is true, that my age is way past 30’s.  I just told them the truth, nothing less. Maybe it’s just a way to amuse me further, when they thought I am just 26 or something.  But really, inside me is just so younger than what my real age is. I believe that even if we age, one must try to keep a youthful attitude towards an inspiring life.

But folks, I am also into thinking sometimes. It is only roughly eight more years before I reach the 40’s. Don’t misconstrue that I am experiencing some mid-life crisis.  I am just trying to think ahead and be wise about the decisions I have to take in the future. 

Things now are uncertain, but I would like to push myself into realizing the artistic pursuits which I am  always aspiring to do.  I would pursue more frequently my writing. I would pursue more frequently my painting.  I would pursue learning music most especially playing piano. Or maybe, I would get myself involved into the academic work or consultancy work. Or on a more grander scale, I would do missions work  or to be with an NGO group.

Some may think that the things I hope for the future are too ideal.  Unprofitable and would not generate any substantial monetary investment for me.  Which partly is true, but I have learned not to trust too much on these things.  I still abide to put my trust in God, who knows much more than I am, and the One who knows about the future that I have to take.

I am optimistic that eight years before the 40’s is much a life ahead.  There’s just so much more things that can happen. I would only strive to pick or select the things which matters and inspiring me to be thankful of the years passing.  But on the other hand, I too myself, is being realistic, in the sense that I do not know until when will I have to live more.  Nobody knows.  So I try not to attach myself on things.  Because things are just passing. It can be lost. It can fade to obscurity.

What matters most, is that I have lived a life that is fulfilling and enriching.  That I have given myself selflessly to a worthy cause which imparts love, compassion  and commitment to others.  That I have inspired others to live life on simple terms and have faith to the One who is omniscient of all.  

Read Full Post »

A neighbor who lives nextdoor had a caged lovebird hanging in the hallway in our apartment.  I was awakened one morning by its relentless chirping as if I was awakened by some familiar bird songs I once heard from my hometown’s parish church.  There was a surging of long distant emotions that was laid dormant through all these years.  A sanctified feeling of saintly wonder. The innocence of a child in his first communion.

In my reverie I remember that I was walking down there on the aisle to accept God. An obedience to one of His blessed sacraments.  Dressed in white, I clasped both hands as a sign of my faith, allegiance and devotion.  I remember the reverberating sound of the church organ, the ringing of the church bells, the whispered recitation of the rosary, the faint glow of the communion candles, the gleaming chandeliers above, the nauseating fragrance of gardenias, the painted figures of saints up in the ceiling, the adorned relics at the altar, the divine light that streams through the stained glass windows, the choir’s angelic voices and that familiar bird song.  All these things had engulf this child’s frailty. 

I felt afraid. Not because of the magnanimity of that space in which a child like me could not grasp. But because of the idea that I am surrendering to a God that can’t be seen.  That can’t be touched.  How could I ever let this Unknown guard and shield me, while knowing that I am in fact, facing each day without a father and a mother by my side?

But there is this divine force that has swept over me. An assuring voice that gently whispered,  herein I will find refuge and a constant companion.  That herein, is someone who will watch over me and will listen to every word I have to say. And I think then, that the birds perched at the church’s clerestory are my divine witnesses. Like angels in their joyful throng.  Singing their sweet songs as if revelling that another has triumphed to find favor in His sight.

From then on up to this age, I have tried to chase the divine light and that familiar bird song among the many churches I have been to.  To say my silent prayers. To ask for guidance. 

But I have grown impatient over the years. Trying to recollect that innocent moments I have felt during my first communion.  But it never repeated itself.  They are just some fleeting feelings of spirituality that meant little to me.

And these feelings had grown into spiritual discontent. Discontent among spiritual wolves cloaked in the veil of fractured holiness.  Of self-proclaimed shepherds misleading their own flock. Of ministers who pretended like kings in the higher places.  Of preachers who viewed the church as their fiefdom. Of this world’s manufactured spirituality.

I fled away. Far away and shield myself from the magnanimity of this world’s hypocrisy. Even in church, that once I thought to be my refuge.

Gone are those moments of that child-like faith. Gone are those moments that God communicates so closely and the doors of heaven are open for the innocent prayers I used to say. 

And there in the hallway, by the morning light,  I pulled a chair to sit beside that lovebird in the cage and listen to its chirping. I don’t know how long I am sitting there and drifted away from this realm. But what I felt is that I am ushered back to that same place where once, my innocence had been. And I felt that God is clasping my little fragile hands into His. The divine light and the bird song has finally returned by my side.

I just hope that this lovebird be loosened and set free from this cage, someday. Like me.  And savor freedom on its wings and fly. Basking in the splendid streams of sunlight. So divine.

Read Full Post »