God

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6
Oct 09

Catch me on Churchianity

In a continuing effort to “make your voice heard,” I’m now a regular contributor to my friend Francis’ weekly podcast. Topics are about church, Christ, and life in general. We’re on our second week, which, in startup podcast terms, is considered a great success. (Most aborted podcasts start with “testing testing, is this thing on?”).

For hours worth of me stammering and fragmented thinking, kindly check it out at:

Churchianity

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15
Apr 09

The Middle, Part 4: Montage.

Pop culture alert.
 
There’s this song in the movie “Team America:World Police” called “Montage,” which best illustrates how overplayed that movie technique is:
Show a lot of things happening at once,
Remind everyone of what’s going on (what’s going on?)
And with every shot you show a little improvement
To show it all would take too long
That’s called a montage (montage)
Oh we want montage (montage)

And anything that we want to go from just a beginner to a pro,
You need a montage (montage)
Even Rocky had a montage (montage)

In the movie that is my life, I feel sometimes like I’m in the montage. That section full of little gems betwixt long spans of inane grinding and routine. That section that’s headed somewhere but going really, really slowly. The section that–when the retelling finally comes–will be heavily trimmed to a sequence of short clips to keep the pacing going.
 
Take my 5k goal, for instance. I would probably spend the exposition on that all-important first run. But the 14th, the 15th, the 23rd run? The mornings when I have to convince myself to go running? Showing only one will suffice.
 
Little stories worth telling placed between spans of seasons with littler stories. Something’s bound to get cut.
 
Everyone does that. Biographers and journalists and documentarians. My favorite memoirist, Frank McCourt, does that. In his three books he doesn’t record every single day of his life. Just the ones where he’s deemed to have a story worth telling, or at least one where he can skillfully tell and retell and dedicate chapters and pages and long drawn-out passages of paragraphs and super-long sentences where he rambles on and on in that often self-deprecating tone of his.
 
The Bible does that too, ya know. You know how the Israelites were stuck in the desert for 40 years? If we had to tell stories from every single day of that, or from the centuries between the Old and New Testaments, it would be an infinitely longer record. Even the retelling of the ministry of Jesus has sections cut out from it. The very last verse of John gives the reason:
“Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”
 Our lives would fill books, and yet in the retelling, we summise it to a single volume. Something’s bound to get cut.
 
And that’s the challenge for me. Even if I know I’m not going to remember each one of these days, even if the only ones I remember will be cleverly pared into little clips bunched together with a sweet pop song playing over them. Even then, I still have to carpe diem my way through them. Still play my part to the best of who I am. Still have to treat each scene like it’s part of the story. Because they are.
 
I wrote this line a few seasons back. I’ve yet to make a song for it, but I feel like it’s absolutely fitting:
 
“Love is the everyday, the asinine moments of the day.”
 
I have a vague sense of what the finish line looks like, and I’m convinced deep down that I’m headed there.
 
That makes living in the middle worth it. 
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10
Apr 09

The Middle. Part 3: Verbiage.

To me, the longest words ever are “yet”, “soon”, “someday”, “shortly”, “eventually”, “in a moment”. My personal favorite: “anon.” They give the utterer the license to be vague and inconclusive. The span between saying such words and the fruition of whatever it is that’s coming? It can be as short as ten seconds or as long as, well, eternity.
 
Anyone who hears those words can find either assurance or frustration in the vagueness. To me, what they’re saying is: “Wait a while, I know or don’t know until when, but wait a while.”
 
“How long?”
 
“Trust me. It’s coming.”
 
That’s the struggle.
 
Waiting is brutal. Especially when it seems I’ve got nothing to cling to except a promising word. A single, vague, inconclusive word.
 
Sure, there are things to be taken care of while I wait. To take my mind off of the monotony. To revel in the process. But there are days when I get a hint, a wisp, of what a particular ending to a particular situation looks like, and once again I ask the question: “When?”
 
I’ve asked God for the big things. I’ve asked God for the little things. He’s told me they’re coming. I’ve asked Him when, and I always get this: “Anon.”
 
Nah, I’m just being fancy. I really something along the lines of: “soon”.
 
There are times when I ask: “Is it now? Is it now? Is this it?”
 
And I get: “Not yet. Soon.”
 
And with that, I’m being asked to, once again, cling.
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9
Apr 09

The Middle. Part 2: Honesty.

kingdavidcpcopyMy favorite Bible character is King David. I remember back in Sunday school (as both a student and eventually, teacher) we’d have these paper-cutouts of Bible characters we’d stick on feltboard as a means of illustrating whatever story we were learning that week. I could swear David came in two forms: one in shepherd clothes (with the sling! the sling!), the other regaled in kingly costume.
 
To have those two cutouts would be cool. I’m just saying.
 
Anyway, several times in the Psalms, this warrior / philosopher-king after God’s own heart asked his Maker this brilliant question:
 
“How long?”
 
As in the following examples: 
My soul is in anguish. How long, O LORD, how long? (6:3)
 
How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts  
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me? (13:1-2)
 
How long will the wicked, O LORD,  
how long will the wicked be jubilant? (94:3)
What’s fascinating to me is that David speaks to God with both reverence and … is that impatience?
 
Ah, marks of a vulnerable man, being open and honest with his God. David, in his shepherd days, in his days as a soldier and refugee, in his days as a king, was always in the midst of a huge struggle and crisis of faith. It was inescapable. So he did what any normal human in that circumstance would do: Scream at the heavens and complain.
 
(I don’t, but that’s because I don’t have the luxury of wide open spaces like David did back in the day. If I were to do that, the neighbors would get extremely concerned and not invite me to their next barbeque. And I love me some barbeque. So instead my complaints are kept private.)
 
I dunno, I guess David knew God well enough to know that he could lodge complaints without fear of getting smote, Old Testament-style. I guess he knew God’s grace, and His ability to look on us with tender compassion, even when we doubt.
 
I guess David knew that God would be okay with him asking “Are you even doing anything?” Even if God knew that David, in his heart of hearts, already knew that God was doing something.
 
Thing is, it doesn’t stop there. The impatience and the screaming isn’t the only thing going on. Reading further down the Psalms, David says more.
 
The LORD has heard my cry for mercy;  
the LORD accepts my prayer. (6:9)
 
But I trust in your unfailing love;  
my heart rejoices in your salvation. (13:5)

When I said, “My foot is slipping,”
your love, O LORD, supported me.
When anxiety was great within me,
your consolation brought joy to my soul. (94:18-19)

It’s not that David was taking back his previous remarks. It’s not that he was trying to “butter up” God with flattery.

I think David’s relationship with God had reached the point where he took both the good with the seemingly bad. That he couldn’t just simply stay impatient and mad at God forever, because he knew that He had always–and always will–come through for him. So David returns to that which comes most naturally to him–praising. Satisfaction. And so the openness and honesty comes full-circle.

To me, those verses say: “There. I’ve said my piece. I’m done complaining. I’ve always known and will always know that You’re good, that You love me, so I’ll get back to trusting in You. I’ll get back to waiting.”

Which is something I end up doing too.

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8
Apr 09

The Middle. Part 1: Tenses.

“It just takes some time, little girl
You’re in the middle of the ride
Everything, everything will be just fine
Everything, everything will be alright, alright.”
- Jimmy Eat World
At the forty-minute mark of this morning’s run, I wanted to be at the sixty-minute mark.
 
There are days when the run is just that, a run. The sun is up, my earphones are snug and blasting fixed-tempo electro-dance goodness into my ears, and each step is easy and enjoyable (considering my weight, of course). The hour goes by quickly, and in no time, I’m back at my door.
 
Today, however, I was made acutely aware that my run had a finish line, one that I wanted to reach as soon as possible. Not necessarily by running, of course. Maybe a friend could pass by and pick me up and take me home, or I could hitchhike my way back. My weapon of choice would probably be a wristwatch that speeds time so those last twenty minutes would zip by, and a blink later I’d be at my doorstep.
 
No such luck.
 
Minute 41 (or so): As I crossed the street at 155 beats per minute, I thought about Paul’s words to Timothy, written as he was nearing the end of his life:
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”
Fought. Finished. Kept.
 
Past tense.
 
The people in the Bible, the people like Paul? Their stories are complete. I take comfort in their stories because I know how their stories end. When he wrote those words to Timothy, Paul had completed his missionary ministry, as well as his writings, and by life’s end, God had worked out all the kinks until Paul was exactly what God had in mind for him.
 
Fast forward to me. Present tense. Much like my run, there have been lots of times when I’ve been in the middle of something and have wanted to reach the end in a blink. Countless times I’ve wanted to wake up and already be fit, to have reached my goal weight. To be more faithful, more trusting of Him. To see these projects and pet projects of mine already completed.
 
Most importantly, to be able to sit fondly at some cafe with some friends, sit back in satisfaction and recount “the good old days”. I would preface each memory with “Remember when?” and end with: “Good times, man.”
 
(Note: I’ve already done that with friends, so I know how happy it feels to reminisce about past successes. Good times indeed. Am I THAT old?)
 
Truth is, I know. I know I can’t always look forward to the day when I can speak in past tense. It’s too early for that. I know I’m supposed to enjoy each step, be they easy as pie or laborious. I know the journey counts as much as the destination. I know God’s called me to live here and now. I know I shouldn’t feel stuck in drudgery and monotony of the day-to-day. I know “tomorrow has worries of its own.”
 
Truth is, I know. I just need reminding every, oh I dunno, every single time.
 
So as I hit minute 42 (or so), bearing in mind Paul’s earlier words to the Philippians: “I press on toward the goal to win the prize…”, I decided to paraphrase his words to Timothy into something more, er, apt: 
“I am fighting the good fight. I am finishing the race. I am keeping the faith.”
Fighting. Finishing. Keeping.
Present tense.
 
By the way, I did get to sixty minutes.
God / music / personal / worship — 3 Comments
25
Mar 09

Bing Rodrigo Music

untitled-1So I started a little side project today: I’m posting my Dad’s, Bing Rodrigo, music on YouTube. Check it out here.

My Dad passed away almost eight years ago. One of the last albums he ever cut was a collection of tagalog praise and worship songs produced by my old church. It’s my own personal favorite of his albums, as I have deep personal ties to some of the songs on it.

I was sorting my MP3 collection today and found that album. (Would you believe it? After shucking hundreds of albums-not-mine I actually found even more valuable stuff.)

It was then I realized: I am one of only a few people who actually have these songs on MP3. It would be an absolute shame to let these songs remain hidden.

I’m not reminiscing about days gone by. This isn’t just for my family and friends. It’s for all those people out there who love my Dad’s music (they’re still out there) who would love to hear “new” material, especially those he kept closest to his chest.

I’m posting these, so the songs won’t get lost, and so their Message would still come across.

Here’s a sample. It’s my favorite song of his.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jm3lrgLF4Ng]

Here’s the English translation:

Lord, You are good
No one compares with You
Everything comes from You
You never change

Lord, You are good
No one is above You
Your mercy endures forever
It’ll always be gained

I want to praise You
I want to sing to You
No matter what I go through
I will still praise You

I want to praise You
I want to sing to You
No matter what ails me
I will still praise You 

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6
Jan 09

mantras

guard your heart.

don’t stay idle.

stay focused.

keep praising.

man disappoints. God anoints.

trust Me, He says.

it’ll come, it’ll come. what you’re waiting for, it’ll come.

i will not succumb to self-pity.

it’ll come, it’ll come. what you’re waiting for, it’ll come.

trust Me, He says.

man disappoints. God anoints.

keep praising.

stay focused.

don’t stay idle.

guard your heart.

God / personal — 1 Comment
5
Jan 09

lydia

her small, thin, fragile frame was propped on the bed, a transparent breathing mask covering most of her face. she was in the hospital because her lung had collapsed. the doctor’s detached sentiment was, “it’s only a matter of time.”

surrounding her were friends she hadn’t seen in years. my group was but one pack in a steady stream of people who had visited her over the past two days. friends from her old church. friends from her current one. all to support, to show love. all chatty and upbeat. i was wondering how the person she was sharing a room with could cope with all that racket. good thing lydia would be transferred to a suite soon enough.
 
in her state, she shouldn’t be talking. she didn’t need to. while her friends encouraged her, urged her on, pointed out her steady heartbeat on the monitor, she could have just smiled and nodded.
 
but she wanted to talk. she had to. her friends were here. and though she was addressing the room, i could swear she was looking right at me. as if what she had to say were meant, nay, reserved for me.
 
there she was, labored breaths escaping through failed lungs, currency for choice words muffled by an oxygen mask, and you know what she spent those precise words on?
 
praises.
 
praises and laughter.
 
“God is good.”
 
“what I’m going through has a purpose.”
 
“His name will be glorified.”
 
and so it has been for her. for all the years i’ve known her. through her first debilitating disease and surgery thirteen years ago, when her doctor said she would never walk again. as she experienced a miracle recovery. as she walked for the rest of her days with a cane. through her two daughters’ weddings. through facing the worst kind of heartache from those who were closest to her. when she found out she had cancer. when it spread to the rest of her body. while she had to take care of her ailing mother in spite of her own ailments. when her lung collapsed. when the first opinion was, “it’s only a matter of time.”
 
praises and laughter.
 
that was her. a life of praises and thanksgiving. of trusting in a God who will come through, even if the evidence points otherwise. a life devoid of feeling sorry for oneself and always looking to Him, especially during the afflictions.
 
i’ve been a worship leader for eight years. i stood in front of the congregation and i sang the songs and played the music till the strings popped on my guitar and my fingers were calloused and green and my throat was sore for days on end. but i’ve spent more time doing those things with a cynical heart. i think about how much breath and spit i’ve wasted complaining, grumbling, shouting at this God that i say i praise, bad-mouthing and blaming the people and circumstances He has brought to me. i think about all those times i’ve fallen repeatedly into self-pity and depression, for the same pathetic reasons, instead of looking up to the sky and adoring Him.
 
it’s disgusting.
 
if i don’t have the right attitude, the thankfulness, the love, then everything i have, everything i do is garbage. if i can’t find it in me to praise and thank God for each moment of every day that i have, then i will not survive even the trivial, mundane, repetitive, boring moments. how do i expect to survive the crises?
 
i don’t know how many breaths lydia’s got left to spend. i don’t know how many i’ve got. but i know what she’ll be using those remaining breaths for.
i’m asking God for the heart do the same.
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2
Jan 09

tithing and trust

if there’s one thing in my life that i truly believe that God is in control of, one thing where I know He will come through for me, the one aspect I do not (and probably have never) worry about, it’s money.
 
which is funny, considering the other things i’m having trouble leaning on Him for.
 
how i wish i was as trusting of Him in the other aspects of my life. i mean, if He’s already taken care of my food and clothing, what more the other stuff, ya know? and yet i fuss and agonize, analyze and over-analyze, as to why i’m failing, why i’m frustrated over a certain aspect of my life. i wonder aloud as to why He hasn’t come through. i talk to my friends about it, to the point of exasperation, and they say differing versions of the same thing (TRUST!), but i’m loath to heed their advice.
 
i’ve made this excuse to myself: “i want to trust Him, but i don’t know how to. i don’t know what it looks like.”
 
when i look at how relaxed (or detached?) i am with money, i feel weird. almost as if i NEED to be worrying about it in order to feel normal. but i can’t. i just can’t. i’m just naturally at ease with it. no mantras or big declarations. just quiet assurance that: “He’ll come through. He’ll be there. He’s been there before.”
 
that’s when it hit me: i already know what trust looks like. it always just felt like a passive trust, but it’s trust!
 
see, i really really suck at making my own money, but that’s the beauty of it. because i know the impossibility of this feat, God demonstrates His faithfulness. i’ve always tithed, and He’s always come through. sure, it seems like an irregular cashflow (life of a freelancer!), but i’ve never lacked. i receive income in the most peculiar of ways (no, i don’t really sell my body to the night, as i may have led some of you to believe), but it’s income. and always at the right time. i’ve learned a couple of Biblical truths (most especially the Sermon on the Mount) about money and worry, and they’ve always been proven true.
 
and i look at those other aspects, and i see it: my attempts to take control. to take charge. to get the credit. i fall back on what i know, what i’ve observed in humanity, my common sense, and i’ve thought that it’s enough to get me by. then i feel like, since i’ve got this great worldview, i deserve what’s coming for me.
 
and when the disappointments come, i fall on my established worldview and start pointing fingers at the most reasonable targets: society, the government, blondes, the devil, God.
 
wow. no wonder, right?
 
i’m thankful for His grace that gives me breathing room to discover these things about myself, and time to correct it and come back to Him. i guess He’s been waiting all along for my surrender, my daily trust. passive and detached and naive and ridiculous, but still trust.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” Philippians 4:6-7