What does Mother's Day elicit?
The implicit magnanimity of God's pursuit.
Whenever I thank Mom ...
I find myself redirected to the staggering gravitas of Christ's love for all of us.
Sightings
Alpha and Omega.
To see all things all at once.
Beginning and End.
Photography: Renchi Arce
Known
God audaciously claims to know me in infinite terms.
If this is true, my prayer ought to be terse:
Help me cease naming You, O God. Give me my name, instead. Amen.
Photography: Yen Baet / CarnevalediVenezia–with Florine Houée
Public Ride
For years, I took the Jeepney to commute from house to school. The trek was always nerve-wracking. No foreigner who has gone through accosting Manila roads would dare handle the wheel.
But it was a necessary ride.
I remember the long queues that were more like wrestling events before one secures a spot.
Then the polluted breeze powders your collar to grey. The smoke in your eyes lulls you to naps. The chatter of lovers drowned in decibels of high-trebled pop fills your imagination with all sorts of drama.
Such were my long public exposures.
But there was something deeply precious about those memoirs. Each day, I get to see different people. I get the opportunity to be in proximity with strangers who share a common thrust ... to get to where one is headed ... fast.
I guess, this applies whether one zooms through NYC Subway or Tokyo's Hikari Shinkansen.
There is so much that I miss while currently confined in my private commute.
All is silent. All is comfortable. While the rest of the world strains just to hitch.
Strange, but I deeply long for those wild days.
Just like the land of Aslan, where all is not safe except the Lion's goodness.
photography: Paolo Esquivel
What If God Truly Speaks?
We are oriented by ideas much more than we'd care to admit.
Our speech is comprised of all the sum total of tutorials we have imbibed either consciously or unwittingly.
Thus, our projection of God hails from a dynamic that is subjectively personal.
How does God speak?
Of course, He speaks with words.
Does this have to be in written form at all times?
One thing I'm certain of: I do text my wife but our conversations are made full when they are up-close and script-free.
I do subscribe to the Written Word as God's final say.
But what if God truly speaks?
Is He confined to mere text?
If God is God, His speech should emblazon His substance.
Did I just hear from Him today?
Scam
The Cambridge Advanced Learners Dictionary & Thesaurus defines the word scam as "an illegal plan for making money, especially one that involves tricking people."
The 1904 English Dialect Dictionary refers to it as an allusion to "impurities in rocks and minerals." It is often used likewise in reference to stain or patchy marks.
In our daily social intercourse, we have all been systemically victimized by duplicitous elements who personify the insidiousness described above.
Thus the scammed develops an aversion to any liking of what fashioned the fall for folly.
This is both advantageous and dangerous.
It is beneficial in that it safeguards from further naive involvements.
It is detrimental in that it impulsively dismisses a true opportunity.
We have seen seasons of political scam, religious scam, financial scam, relational scam, to name a few. The Psalmist is unreserved in provocatively decrying that our world runs on blotched soil. The middle name of our fallen locus is scum. No wonder, scam comes handy as its nickname.
Whether we are settled in North Cotabato or North America, the compass tilts towards chicanery. We fool each other by defaulted orientation.
There is only one way towards the egress.
When we are given eyes to see our own smear and name our illicit propensities, then we are enabled to appropriate God's mercy and infuse the grace that allows us to live distinctly.
Suddenly, whatever we do is done without dirt and for God's glory.
Artist: Eugenia Alcaide / Insidious / Main Gallery: Artinformal
Wife & Mother
I have but a few words for the woman of substance who is both my wife and mother to my two daughters.
You are so real.
Holocaust
ὅτι οὐκ ἔστιν ἡμῖν ἡ πάλη πρὸς αἷμα καὶ σάρκα, ἀλλὰ πρὸς τὰς ἀρχάς, πρὸς τὰς ἐξουσίας, πρὸς τοὺς κοσμοκράτορας τοῦ σκότους τούτου, πρὸς τὰ πνευματικὰ τῆς πονηρίας ἐν τοῖς ἐπουρανίοις.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. {Ephesians 6:12 NIV}
I was at the Synagogue of Beth Torah last night joining the league of those who remember by citing the names of those who perished in concentration camps. The last person I read died at the age of 3.
The last word is not death.
He has spoken the vanquishing of its horrific sting.
Christ has conquered.
Graphic Artist: Jesse Sosa
Just A Few More Days
I am counting seconds.
My eldest daughter will be walking down the aisle.
I will be in step with her while the music plays and hop to face both before I get to officiate the matrimonial vows while anchoring joyful tears.
The story of Nika & Emeka is God's script nonpareil.
The one-flesh mystery is truly God's doing.
I wish for all the world to see the spectacle of grace and mercy.
Just because of finite invitations, I covet your attending prayers for Christ's resplendence to be the sole wonderment on this wedding night.
Just a few more days ...
photography: Chester Canasa
Wondering
The alternative to wander is wonder.
Pathways are notorious for their provocative curiosities.
I have entered a thousand and one doors that cul-de-sac towards nothingness.
I walk.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
The alternative to wander is Wonderful.
Pathways find their True North through the sole Guide.
I have entered the only Door that leads to a thousand and seven wonders.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
I walk to follow the Way, the Truth, the Life.
He goes by Yeshua, a.k.a. the Step Finder.
photography: Yen Baet
Tin Heart
The Wizard of Oz is on to profundity while portraying the cowardly Lion needing courage, the Scarecrow seeking a brain, and the Tin Man longing for heart.
The latter languished from a debilitating heartbreak and has since decided to pursue the hermit's resolve to veer from any emotional entanglements. Through the years, he turned metal and his feelings disappeared.
I know a lot of Tin Men.
Tin Women, too.
I was one of them, you see.
Like all others in the reclusive cave, I somehow subscribed to the whisper: "I think you are wrong to want a heart. It makes most people unhappy. If you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart."
I was unbreakable ... but damned.
When I met Christ, the first thing He dealt with was the nucleus of my being.
I used to drink from wells that fill me for a day or two. But the cisterns never satiate. They merely seduced me with delusive porn. In Christ, the water He offers is living. I no longer thirst.
Christ knew my thirst. Before He conquered my heart, he wailed: "I Thirst!"
The Tin is gone.
The Win is done.
Sketch Artist: David Talaguit
1966
One was forged with steel.
The Other softened by still.
Both red by color of Redemption.
Royal View
The centrality of the Gospel is occasioned by its historicity,
When Christ died on the Cross of Calvary, His death was forcefully thrown down to represent the tempest that I should have incurred.
It was an event that literally hung me on a tree, broken and convicted, by proxy.
When Christ rose from the dead, His resurrection was forcefully thrown up to represent the conquest that I should not have known.
It was an event that literally hung me a crown, whole and royal, by proxy.
The majestic news of the Gospel reveals the magnanimity of God's grace in granting every believer His full and perfect record.
All the medals of Christ are consequently pinned on the chest of anyone who calls on His name.
A throwback conversation reflects this poignantly:
Nika: Dad, I need to really be honest. You need to know that I am being called to New York.
Me: New York?
Nika: Yes. I feel strongly led to pursue Fashion there.
Me: There are lots of good schools in Texas ... and you know ... I cannot afford New York ...
Nika: I know Dad. I am just letting you know what I believe is from God.
Me: How do you know?
Nika: I am being called to be the next Coco Chanel.
Me: Who is Coco Chanel?
Nika: A different Coco though. I will represent Christ in the world of fashion.
Me: (looking intently at her ....) I'll give you a week to process all these. Seek the Lord's wisdom and we'll talk again.
After a week:
Nika: I read through the Book of Esther and I must go, Dad.
Me: What's in the book that leads you to this?
Nika: It's all done. I am just following His lead.
Nika went on to pursue Fashion Merchandising at the Big Apple. She interned at Ermenegildo Zegna, graduated Summa Cum Laude and was offered a lead spot at Barney's of New York. She is currently department head at the leading luxury consignment portal while seeking to give birth to her first venture as sole entrepreneur.
She is gifted with a resplendent crown not because of any merit but singularly due to the scandal of her Master's Cross and the Miracle of her Redeemer's Rouse.
Public Read
Faith is intensely private.
When it goes public ... it is intensely privately viewed.
Flight
Born.
Laughter.
Joy.
Play.
Run.
Applause.
Tears.
Joy.
Discovery.
Wings.
Flight.
Joy.
My youngest daughter Kara soars on fuel of God's indefatigable grace.
Graphic Design Intern at Chloe + Isabel / Creative Director at Diwa Dollhouse
Sweet Delight
The halo-halo (mix-mix) is one of the Philippine's fine dessert. With laced shaved ice, succulent sweets intercourse for a truly satiating gourmet.
The originating recipe seems Japanese: mongo-ya. There are competing traditions like the Singaporean "ais kachang," the Malaysian "air batu campur," and the Vietnamese "cha ba mau." No Filipino fiesta is quite complete sans its finale.
My issue with this delight involves the optics. My eyes bulge while impatiently seeking to get down to the good stuff. So I spill a lot while slurping.
A Franciscan brother once shared a French version of this delicacy. He demonstrated how the Parisian engaged the tall glass.
I normally thrust my long spoon directly to the mix, often frustrated by the stubbornness of compacted ice. It takes effort to punch through the slush before one gets the goodies.
Not for the frenchman.
The spoon is gently slid towards the side, all the way down. Then ... the magic of a few soft lifts from the bottom up: the ice surprisingly melts ... ushering the glory of taste.
But that's halo-halo.
Why do I catch myself in such similar predicament each time I find attraction?
I went through life cascading through the brutalities of life's winding roads. The path's are well beaten and iced. All sorts of travelers seeking the best of luck. One day ... I got introduced to a tour guide, not from France, but from another world.
He showed me the dig for true delight.
photography: Yen Baet
Sky
"The point is the love story. We live in a love story in the midst of war." John Eldredge
The image of chaos both in the ancient times and now, finds representation in the mystery of water. On board a vessel over the Atlantic, I gazed with reasonable fear at what seemed like the unrelenting chant of an unknown warrior. The monster of war waves its flag.
On the second day of creation, the element of expanse constantly intrigued me:
And God said, "Let there be an expanse in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters." And God made the expanse and separated the waters that were under the expanse from the waters that were above the expanse. And it was so. And God called the expanse Heaven. And there was evening and there was morning the second day. Genesis 1:6-8 ESV
There is the obvious context of existing warfare. A divine space had to be created to set the dividing wall.
I guess the reason why we have the Sky is for us to be reminded of a protective vest that is made available through the auspice of God's shielding love.
Whenever I droop in spirit, I force my senses to look upward.
I do put on the armor but I am quick in asking God to guard my heart.
All Hat No Cattle
The gimmickry of unaccounted possession betrays worth that is directly proportional to the emptiness of its bearer.
Some years back, I read a book on the true nature of millionaires revealing their ironic propensity towards simplicity. On the contrary, those who feign opulence seek to go for the exotic and rare.
I do understand the practical distinction between cheap and dear. I once heard the adage that it is the lesser stuff that makes our lives complicated. You buy a lemon, you get juiced.
The allure of the hats we wear however is in their capability to hide what is truly in our hearts. I know a handful of opulent men who shine bright not because of swag but depth. I know a fleet of desperate men with shiny steeds but all husk.
God owns the cattle of a thousand hills.
He is the One who give out hats and boots to those who are willing to purvey simplicity.
I Do
The origin of marriage finds its true roots in the Garden of Eden.
When God declared that it was not good for man to be alone, the first female was introduced to form a most unique entity.
I have had the privilege of up-close scrutiny towards this one-flesh mystery.
Do you take this man to be your husband?
Do you take this woman to be your wife?
Wonder never leaves.
The gravitas of marriage is found in its primary essence.
It is a gift granted by God for a singular purpose.
It is to demonstrate divine loyal love from the One who crafted it.
No wonder, God thought that it was very good.
photography: AlexMpix
Mediacre
Media was meant to facilitate good report.
I grew up with TV.
I often wondered why commercial interruptions incessantly tripped my favorite episodes. From a child's perspective, the repetitious innuendo of peddled products was non-sense. I just had to live with it, not mindful of its subliminal thrust to my soul.
The assault of advertising is insidiously epic.
We end up buying stuff not because we need it but because of a push from some savvy corporate force that won't stop at anything but sell.
It has been rumored that Coca-Cola sold 25 bottles the first year.
The longevity of soda is truly borne out from intentional fizzle. The thinking tanks are paid to do their job. We need to heed their need.
Redemption is necessary in our world-gone-crazy over stuff. There is really nothing inherently wicked in the products we buy. It is in the mindless paradigms of consumption that we fall prey to mediocrity.
The scare of media is when I catch myself hurrying to secure my lot on some goods that are supposedly good but are not.
I have to watch what I buy. And that includes the watch that I buy.
