Yes Means No (?)

Hebrews 12 tells us in no uncertain terms that our first priority should be a life with Christ. And the key to such life is discipline. 

The chapter begins with, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” (NLT)

One of the weights that slow us down is the word “yes.” We say “yes” when we mean “no.” Why? 

“I do not want to be mean or unhelpful.” 

“I get caught off guard.”  

“I don’t want to miss out on an opportunity.” 

And so we say “yes” when we shouldn’t—and neglect our first priority. Saying “no” should be simple, if we are to heed Jesus, Who said in Matthew 5:37, “Just say a simple, ‘Yes, I will,’ or ‘No, I won’t.’ Anything beyond this is from the evil one.” 

Prioritizing simply means saying “no” to earthly convenience that blocks our journey with and toward Jesus. Many drug users got hooked by not saying "no" to a party where marijuana and alcohol are served. After the first puff or first sip came the knell of addiction.  

Miss X, a school counselor who faces students in trouble because they couldn’t say “no” has this advise: “Don’t answer right away. Just say, ‘Let me check my schedule and get back to you. Asking for time gives you a chance to look for wise answers.”  

In the end, however, a simple, direct “no,” as Jesus said, should eliminate the expectation of any other answer and immediately frees up both the person asking and the person answering. 

But this is easier said than done, especially if we don't want to be excluded from the groups we belong to. We need the grace of self-restraint not to say “yes,” and the grace of courage to say “no.”

Anesthesia

What a three-year nightmare it had been!  All gone, at last. 

Here's a brief numerical rundown: 

The first quarter of the year 2020 was packed with many catastrophic events in the Philippines, not to mention the wars and disasters around the globe. Our Taal volcano erupted, displacing over 80,000 residents, and rocking the area’s 14 kilometer radius with over 900 earthquakes. Because schools were used as evacuation centers, 2.4 million children were affected.    

Days later, massive cases of Covid-19 infection, which originated in Wuhan, China, were reported daily worldwide. In just a few days, over 5,000 had died, prompting the WHO to declare the virus outbreak as pandemic. Basketball legend Kobe Bryant perished with eight others in a helicopter crash.  

In 2021, 28 earthquakes and over 200 floods around the world were recorded. Homes and crops were destroyed, in addition to more Covid infections and death. 

In 2022, Russia invaded Ukraine, and flattened structures, leaving people lifeless and the world's equilibrium unsteady.  Hurricane Ian struck the USA, causing damage worth US$ 100 billion. More disasters rambled on and on.

These were more than enough to cause hysteria, grief, and panic shared on socmed. 

A friend's post screamed in bold, big letters, “The Christians are better off at this time. As an Atheist, I have to suffer the pain brought about by horrendous events, while the Christians have an anesthesia.” 

Anesthesia?! 

Anesthesia (local, regional, or general) temporarily stops the sense of pain in any area or all parts of the body.   

Our God said in Isaiah 54:10 (NLT), “For the mountains may move and the hills disappear, but even then my faithful love for you will remain. My covenant of blessing will never be broken’ says the LORD, who has mercy on you.” 

Believing this, we find our sense of pain and despair leaving us. Knowing that we are loved and protected from harm, we rid our heart of panic and hysteria. 

This may be called anesthesia by those who do not believe in God, but those of us who do call it grace. Unlike anesthesia that wanes in a few hours, grace is permanent, unending, and overflowing.      

May this verse assure us of God’s constant care and presence: 

“The Lord is my light and my salvation—so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?” (Psalm 27:1) 

Does Grief Ever Go Away?

To those of us who have lost a loved one (or more), grief is not a temporary guest. It stays. 

Fun and laughter, successes, and the company of friends and faith brethren dull the pain, but the ache does not really go away. It makes its presence felt now and then—in varying degrees. During seasons of grief, we can lean on God’s promises: 

“My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever.” (Psalm 73:26 NLT)

“Jesus told her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even after dying. Everyone who lives in me and believes in me will never ever die. Do you believe this, Martha?’” (John 11:25-26) 

“. . . Our earthly bodies are planted in the ground when we die, but they will be raised to live forever. Our bodies are buried in brokenness, but they will be raised in glory. They are buried in weakness, but they will be raised in strength. They are buried as natural human bodies, but they will be raised as spiritual bodies. For just as there are natural bodies, there are also spiritual bodies.” (1 Corinthians 15:42-44)

A dear friend, who suddenly lost his Mom last year, had internalized all these verses when he wrote me, “Grace, the Lord does not really take grief away; he surrounds our aching heart with flowers.”

My one-word whisper: Amen.  

Screenshots Speak

Sometimes screenshots speak so soundly, additional words might blur them. I am therefore uploading them as is, as posted on FB by then a cute little girl (now a lovely lady). 

It's a tough job to be seen as a role model. How does one continue being so? 

Scripture says, listen and you'll hear grace loud and clear. "Your own ears will hear him. Right behind you a voice will say, 'This is the way you should go,' whether to the right or to the left." (Isaiah 31:21 NLT) 

As I celebrate another birthday today, I look back to messages of grace such as this. Is there any other way to uplift heart and soul? 

Celebrating a Calling

Today, the Cultural Center of the Philippines, in partnership with the Philippine Board on Books for Young People (PBBY), celebrates the 40th National Children’s Book Day (NCBD). 

The event, held every 3rd Tuesday of July to commemorate the anniversary of the publication of Jose Rizal’s rendition of the folktale The Monkey and the Turtle (July 1889 issue of Trubner’s Oriental Record in London), started at 9 AM and will end at 3 PM. 

And I am home celebrating this special day in the quiet corner of my writing room. 

With thanksgiving to the Giver of grace, I look back to that time, over 20 years ago, when I started writing books for children—and never stopped since. These are the published ones. 

I have many more drafts hiding in my drawer. Whether they will be published or not does not depend on me. The decision rests upon publishers.  

After my exit from the corporate world, I did not set out to be a children’s book writer. All I wanted to do was write. And write I did and have been doing, non-stop—seesawing from fiction (children’s books) and non-fiction (faith-based books for adult readers). 

Knowing when I started does not mean I also know when I will stop.  Again, it is not my decision. It’s a date I leave to the One who made writing my calling. 

To all children’s books authors, this is our day. Let’s pause to celebrate it. 

Dance, Seniors, Dance!

After I received this hand-me-down watch from son #3 about a year ago, I started dancing—in private.

Dancing is the quickest way to increase the number of my steps, which this gizmo records daily. How rewarding it is to reach my quota of 4,000 steps! On some days, I go beyond this magic number. 

It is less than half of what I used to make in my younger, healthier days, but hey, it’s a feat nonetheless. 

My dancing time is between 3 and 4 PM when Tony rides his stationary bike. He’s a music freak so I dance to the tunes he plays. My dance steps? Maskipaps (Filipino slang for anything goes). I wouldn’t dare dance this anywhere else. 

But, whoa! 

One Saturday every month, our church has this gathering of seniors (grandparents all), which I attended recently. An important part of the program is, one guess, dance! “For better mobility and blood circulation, let’s dance so we can continue serving the Lord in our sunset years.”  

We are told to stand up, one meter apart. Then the video plays—a clown shakes his hips and hands, then gestures for us to follow him. Like fish to water, I dance! We dance! 

To the right. To the left. Turn around. Bend down. Look up. Shake. Step. Rattle. Step. Roll. 

Pant, pant, pant. 

Well done! My watch (PINK arrow) hits 6,000! Not bad for a once-a-month spike. 

Then we are reminded of the Word by our pastor. Simultaneously, I feel like David in Psalm 30:11-12 (NLT):  

“You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy, that I might sing praises to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever!” 

Around several tables later, we snack on healthy food and look forward to next month’s Saturday of grace—and dance again. 

Secret and Serendipity

A secret remains a secret unless purposely revealed. Serendipity, on the other hand, is finding something you never purposely looked for, or never expected. 

Secret may be something that only you and your BFF know. Serendipity is like meeting a childhood friend unexpectedly, after many years, in a place far away from where her family moved to. 

Both words are important in our study of God’s Word. 

“The Lord our God has secrets known to no one. We are not accountable for them, but we and our children are accountable forever for all that he has revealed to us, so that we may obey all the terms of these instructions.” (Deuteronomy 29:29 NLT) 

God has many secrets—things we could never fathom with our finite mind. Science tries to find out why things are as they are, but they remain a secret and undiscovered. Believers in Jesus take those secrets by faith. “Faith shows the reality of what we hope for; it is the evidence of things we cannot see.” (Hebrews 11:1) 

“Serendipity occurs,” wrote Charles R. Swindoll in his book, Wisdom for the Way, “when something beautiful breaks into the monotonous and the mundane. A serendipitous life is marked by ‘surprisability’ and spontaneity. When we lose our capacity for either, we settle into life's ruts. We expect little, and we're seldom disappointed.”  

Every time we read God’s book, we find surprises and spontaneous revelations—insight we could never understand on our own. 

People have been panicking over the Covid-19 virus that has killed thousands of people. In our Bible study, it was serendipitous to discover that panic is caused by fear of death. After reading John 11:25, “. . .’I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even after dying,’” we asked ourselves, “What is there to panic about?” 

May we be content not knowing the secrets about God. But let us enjoy His serendipitous revelations as we read about His grace in His book.  

I Broke My Fast

Writing, for me, is like eating; I can’t live without it. Fasting, therefore, can’t come into the equation—not even as a thought. The Covid-19 pandemic, a force majeure crisis, made me write even more. 

But then, like eating, writing comes with side dishes, special events that require physical presence: book signing (meet and greet) and conducting writing workshops.  I had to fast from those sides, not because I wanted to, but because health protocols ordered it. 

In those three years, I did not not conduct any writing workshop. Although I had invites to do online ones, I declined. I believe that writing workshops should be done face-to-face. Questions and doubts about one’s writing can only be truthfully and thoroughly answered through presence, heart to heart, eyeball to eyeball. 

Time was ripe when I got an invitation recently from the principal of the Philippine Christian School of Tomorrow (Paranaque)to conduct an onsite workshop for the students (ages 12-17) who are passionate about writing. 

I know all about passion for writing. I must have been born with it, but the path to finally be published and “write right” has been strewn with self-help frustrations. 

For this school, I broke my fast! 

Since I officially became an author, my dream has been to help sharpen the pencils of aspiring writers so that the journey to reach their writing destination will be smoother and less arduous than mine had been. 

It was a two-day meet-up. There was a break in between for each of them to spend time on his/her writing assignment—a magnum opus that never yet got the attention it deserves. 

In the first hour, on day 1, the passion was palpable. Everyone was engaged and engaging.

Then in the last hour, on day 2, after their masterwork had been read and discussed, the passion rose to unprecedented heights. Amazing output! The depth of feeling and thinking is beyond many adults I know can hope to reach. 

Their pencils have been sharpened (not by me, but by themselves, with fresh possibilities of where their writing can take their readers and them). 

Grace was written all over the place: on our faces and on their manuscripts. It was a time to write right. It was a happy place. 

Close, Open

For three seasons a long time ago, with five years in between each season, I taught my three sons to close-open their tiny hands.   

According to their pediatrician, a baby’s hands are clenched at birth. Even if I tried to uncurl their fingers, they will curl back into tight fists—a reflex a baby is born with. At around three months, he will begin to open his hands on his own and will soon learn to open and close them. A milestone!  

And so I’d sing a rhythmic “close, open” to hasten the learning process.   

Was I shocked in our church’s senior gathering when Cely, our facilitator (Doctor of Nursing Practice [DNP] focused on geriatric care), stressed these words: 

“Close-open your hands upon waking up in the morning!”  

“Huh?!” 

“As we age,” she continued, “our hand function degenerates, reducing our finger strength. Some might feel pain, weakness, numbness, and stiffness, which are symptoms of arthritis. C'mon, follow me!”  

So my faith sisters and I closed and opened our fists to the rhythm of Cely’s  prompts, “close, open, close, open.” 

She assured us, “This is an intervention that improves the mobility and strength of your hand and to relieve you of its discomforts.”  

As Tony and I celebrate our 53rd wedding anniversary today, I look back on how we took care of our three babies. This is the same care that we should be giving our aging bodies now that our sons are all grown. Cely calls this “Self care for the elderly,” which is her health ministry dubbed as GIFT (Growing in Fellowship together with Jesus). 

There are no gongs and cymbals to mark this special day. Taking our cue from Cely, we will simply close our gnarled hands in heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving as we remember the Lord’s grace for 53 years. And then we open these hands to take care of the bodies He blessed us with, so that we can continue to grow in fellowship with Jesus.   

“Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself . . .”  (1 Corinthians 6:19 NLT)