Back to Basics: CAMACOP

Worshipping the Lord in the same church, Christian And Missionary Alliance Churches of the Philippines (CAMACOP), for the past 45 years, I can recognise its logo miles away. In fact, I can name what those four symbols mean. The Fourfold Gospels they are called.  

Through all these years, however, I never found out how those symbols were birthed. I had assumed they have everything to do with my faith walk and that they are, and will always be, the basics of our church.  

Then one recent Sunday, our guest preacher, Pastor Sam Carino, focused on that logo. He spoke of the vision of A.B. Simpson, who founded CAMACOP in 1887. 

He left out the many teeny details about the founder’s inspiring work, but one thing is crystal clear: it is a story of grace. And that the central theme of the logo is what we should uphold: 

Christ is sufficient. 

This theme A.B. Simpson lived and carried to his grave. His epitaph?  “Not I but Christ.”  His wife Margaret’s? “Jesus only.” He likewise encapsulated this theme in a hymn (it never fails to move me) he himself wrote. The first stanza and chorus read like the nucleus:   

Jesus only is our message,

Jesus all our theme shall be;

We will lift up Jesus ever,

Jesus only will we see.

Jesus only, Jesus ever,

Jesus all in all we sing,

Savior, Sanctifier, and Healer,

Glorious Lord and coming King

Those of us who attended the worship service that morning were fed with a most meaningful message—the core, the basic pillar that holds our faith together and up. 

It was made more meaningful when Pastor Popoy, our young interim pastor, sang "Jesus Only" with heart and soul. 

A Crowd of 100

One of the events on writing I was invited to this month of November gathered a crowd of 100, composed of college students taking up education, some professors, book enthusiasts, and would-be authors.   

It was online so it freed me from travelling to Laguna (with the threat of bad traffic and Covid-19 still in the air). The organizers sent me one of my photos from my timeline and asked if they could use it for the poster. I cringed! That was taken ages ago, when the pandemic was not even a premonition.  

So I sent them my blurry photos (I have nothing better) taken online by friends during webinars. The layout artist must have cringed as well and did something about it quickly. Result?  

A 20-year-younger-and-20-times-prettier than my old photos in my FB timeline. When Tony saw it, he asked, “Who’s that?” 

The audience must have asked the same question when they finally saw me online. But this was overtaken by animated and free-flowing exchanges. There were tons of questions—no dead air—which is what I enjoy most when conducting seminars or teaching. 

You can tell by looking at the photos that I immensely enjoyed myself. It was one of those times the Lord crowded my day with so much glee that gratitude for His grace cannot stop.  

What’s Up, November?

To the delight of children’s book authors, the Department of Education (then headed by Secretary Armin Luistro) in 2011 declared, as one of its programs, November as National Reading Month. It is to promote the love for reading among school children. 

The celebration of Reading Month focuses on both reading and reading comprehension. This has been my advocacy from day one of my writing journey.  So the Reading Month, which I actually consider  a ministry, is grace beyond telling. 

November is one of my busiest months, because all schools hold reading/book events and I am privileged be invited to quite a few of them. 

This month is no exception. Because of the continuing threat of Covid-19, however, book events are still online. The upside is, from the comforts of my working nook, I can actually attend them all.  

One that particularly charmed me was an invitation from my hometown, the setting of 16 of my books (Oh, Mateo! series). The Umingan National High School has a worthy Project called: Reading H.A.B.I.T. (Hold a Book; Be in Touch). They go out to the community and establish reading hubs for younger children. 

In all my book talks, I stress the importance of reading. But I do not have the luxury of time to explain its endless rewards and benefits. 

That’s why this cartoon, which I downloaded years ago, caught my eye. It explains in images, with simple and sparse words, the bountiful blessings one is flooded with from reading. 

Happy reading month! 

Dead Air

“Miss, we can’t hear you!” a loud voice from one of my online students boomed out, startling my face-to-face class. They roared as though it was the funniest thing on earth. 

On the contrary, it was the most tragic thing I ever heard. A hybrid class is worse than an online one. 

I declared, “Aside from being terrified of technology, what I hate most about it is dead air.” 

“Dead air?!” they chorused.  

“Yes, dead air,” I stressed. “In my time, dead air was a heinous crime.” 

The pandemic brought in the spectre of technology for which I would never be ready. An online class needs human acuity; a hybrid class requires superpowers to engage both face-to-face and online students, anticipate glitches such as the screen going blank, my headphone going mute, or my clicker going pfft, plus a million other things.  

“Miss, what is dead air?” they pressed.

“It is a period of silence in radio broadcast. When I was your age, I had stints in radio and when on air, I had to keep talking, because if I paused even just for two seconds, the listeners would hear only dead air. As the radio host, I could be fired. Having that mindset, I see dead air as anything that interrupts any presentation.”  

“Ohhh.” 

“In the middle of a spirited lecture, a ‘Miss, we can’t hear you!’  is dead air.” 

“Ohhh?” Their faces mirrored an unspoken, So what's the big deal? 

I forget that students today have embraced dead air. They are the “undo” generation. With a button, they can delete anything and start over. If one site does not interest them, they go to the next one. Being unable to connect immediately or being cut off in an online class is trivial.  

 

Seamless, flawless presentations are a thing of the past. This I need to accept or have a nervous breakdown. I exaggerate.

But really, my generation and my students’ are polar opposites. I need the grace of understanding (tolerance?) to take theirs on as a fact of life.  

16 Was Unforseen

 These leaves complete their 16th year this month. I didn’t plan it that way. 

When I started blogging in November 2006, I thought I couldn’t maintain the rhythm (twice a week) I ambitiously assigned myself. A year was all I thought I could manage. 

Writing, however, has become a huge part of me. 

There are just too many things to write about—24/7 is hardly enough.  Between book and article writing marathons, and reading the Word, which require a lot of musing and reflecting, I’d use the idea overflow on a blog or two. 

What I called on day one as “leaves of grace” has remained unchanged, because indeed, leaves are those pages upon pages of words about a Saviour Who is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. 

But technology has taken a quantum leap upward and forward: new complicated features, new layout and art styles, new sites, new information, new attachments for gadgets, plus many more. This torrent of breakthroughs I have embraced, with joy and gratitude.   

It’s been like joining the big league of techies. Although I could never keep up, I relish trying. 

“Wow, did you actually do the collage in your last blog?!” my artist friend asked, with unhidden skepticism. 

Hah! I suprised her with many more after that. 

Seriously, blogging about grace keeps me renewed, despite the increasing struggles of aging like joint aches and pains, insomnia, indigestion, failing eyesight, plus waning interest in shopping. 

“. . . we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” (2 Corinthians 4:15-16 NIV)

Oh, my numbers? 

    • Over 1,650 blogs 

    • About 1.2 million guests 

    • Unnumbered change of headers 

    • 16 years of daily grace 

Photo credits: shutterstock.com and unsplash

Neck and Neck

How’d you like the chicken cooked? 

Neck. 

What’s your favorite chicken dish? 

Neck. 

Should we order fried chicken? 

Neck.

However you rephrase a question about a chicken dish, my answer would be “neck.” It matters not how a chicken is served or cooked—broiled, roasted, grilled, poached, braised, sauteed, steamed, fried, boiled, etc.—I’d go for the neck. 

You can have all the other parts, but leave me the neck is an unverbalized plea at home that my family knows so well. 

Consider these facts: 

    • Chicken necks have high levels of phosphorous, which is vital for bone health, as well as moderate levels of zinc, copper, magnesium, and iron. They likewise  contain glucosamine and chondroitin which are both linked to healthy joints. 

      

    • A stretch of land (about 22 kilometers) around the city of Siliguri in West Bengal, India is called Siliguri Corridor, but more popularly known as Chicken's Neck. It connects the seven states of northeast India to the rest of India.

      

These astounding data have nothing to do with my astounding love for chicken neck. 

So why indeed do I love chicken neck? Because.    

“And God is able to make all grace abound toward you, that you, always having all sufficiency in all things, may have an abundance for every good work.” 2 Corinthians 9:8 NKJV

photo credit (top): istockphoto.com

Rainy, Lazy Day

Every morning after breakfast, Tony and I have this ritual (not by choice, but by force of circumstances) at our terrace. With our piping-hot coffee, we read the morning papers, chat about some columns and the news, watch the birds that come to visit, then solve the puzzles. 

On Nov. 1, the rain was pitter-pattering on our roof and the wind was wafting softly. It’s the kind of weather that makes one lazy.  

Ah, but we had an assignment from Irene, a niece, who is in charge of our coming 78th clan reunion, happening at the end of the year. She sent t-shirts for us to wear for a video message. She also sent two mugs, which we decided to use as props while being shot. 

The only person available to do the task was Mother Teresa, who is as technologically challenged as Tony and I. And so we spoke our lines to the camera—a few, no, many times—but the videos turned out jerky and blurred. 

This went on for almost an hour (endless trials and errors), till son #3, who was rushing to somewhere, heard the ruckus and volunteered to do it with his camera. The video was done in 19 seconds and off he went. 

But the morning epic production was not all for naught. Mother Teresa’s experiment with the video button surprisingly turned out passable still shots. Here they are: 

As for the video, I sent it to Irene ("okay na okay!” she wrote) as soon as son #3 got back home. 

If you think we’re lazy, there are two others far lazier: Judge (left) and Attorney.

My LSS that day:  

“Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, 
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.”

By Robert Robinson (27 September 1735–9 June 1790)