Cc and Bcc

It was business emails day in class—how electronic business letters can effectively be used in the workplace. My students are all familiar with how email works; they've been using it for some time.

But emails per se and effective business communications are two different animals.

One is of the wilds (the kind they know).  Just type your thoughts at random, with no regard for format or rules.

And the other is of the circus, under a tent, properly trained and tamed—it does exactly what it should do: move and make the reader react favorably (the kind they need to learn).

When I started discussing Cc and Bcc, they gave me glazed, unfocused eyes that said “hohum.”

That was when I realized that these kids were born long after carbon paper had gone extinct.

So I went through the whole song-and-dance routine. Cc, I said, stands for "carbon copy.” Those listed in the Cc: field of a message will receive a copy of that message. All other recipients will be able to see who received a copy of the message. Cc is useful when you wish to share a message with someone but are not requesting that he replies. 

Bcc, I explained, stands for "blind carbon copy." The difference between Cc and Bcc is that Bcc recipients are invisible to all of the other recipients of the message (including other Bcc recipients). It is useful when you don't wish to share your recipients' email addresses with everyone who receives your message.

They gave me eyes that pop when light comes back after a long brown out. 

Funny how I thought all along that the kids of this electronics generation should be teaching me instead of me teaching them.

Well, I have been breathing far longer than they have. The blessing of being a teacher is having the opportunity to share the grace of experience earned through eons to a wide-eyed captive audience.    

Baggy Pants

Just as the fashion world is into tight-hugging trousers, my roommate went in search of baggy pants.

The trouble with fashion trends is that shops carry only them and junk everything else. No clothing store—not one that Tony has doggedly trekked to in the last two months—carries baggy pants anymore.

“How can they stop making comfy pants?!” I think he might have been asking himself, loathe to wearing anything that hugs skin. “They’re the most comfortable apparel next to pajamas!”  He didn’t say those either, well, not aloud for any ear to hear.     

Then yesterday in a mall, while walking through the men’s section on our way home, he cried, “Eureka!”  Again, I actually didn't hear a peep, but that was what he might have exclaimed when he asked me, “We are in no hurry, are we?”

Next thing I knew, he asked the salesgirl for a pair in his size for fitting.

Naturally, it fitted him to a tee. The price was a bit steep, but he ordered them in all colors! Unfortunately, the shop had only two available, in similar colors. He took them both anyway and is now one very happy, two-new-baggy-pants owner.

Okay, that’s according to me, despite the impassive demeanor he demonstrates through his long treasure-hunt sojourn. It's because I yield to fashion trends, discomfort notwithstanding; he defies them (abhors them even), comfort is everything.     

As I was leafing through the dailies this morning, muttering to myself, Baggy pants are so passe, I read in the fashion section, “Baggy pants are coming back!”

Life indeed is full of grace. 

Now, mulling over my husband’s counter-trend attitude, I wish all Christians would likewise be adamant about following world trends when it comes to their faith.

Jesus said to His disciples,  "If  you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you.”  John 15:19 (NKJV)  

The Worst and Best Fear

A new fear or phobia, which was not even an idea in my youth, has popped up among the electronically-wired generation today. To them, our ancient fears below may now be utterly prosaic:   

Acrophobia (fear of height). Today's kids go bunjee jumping and ziplining, and are into extreme sports.

Arachnophobia (fear of spiders). Computer-generated movies now feature gigantic spiders the size of buildings and young audiences lap them up—the creepier the better.

Ophidiophobia (fear of snakes). Current TV food channels show exotic serpents made into delectable recipes. Reality TV feature people fondling snakes.  

Cynophobia (fear of dogs). Pets are all the rage; dog clinics, shops and salons abound; dogs sleep on their masters’ beds. 

Astraphobia (fear of thunder and lightning). This century's eardrum-breaking music on ear phones are louder than claps of thunder. 

Trypanophobia (fear of injections). Tattoos, tattoos, tattoos.

‘Nuf said.

So now comes the world’s worst fear. Nine out of every 10 people aged under 30 admit to suffering this new phenomenon: Nomophobia. The fear of having No Mobile phone.

These self-confessed addicts spend four to six hours a day on their mobile phone, checking it every ten minutes, and placing it next to their bed at night (it’s the new Teddy bear). They become anxious when their phone loses reception, runs out of battery, or is misplaced.    

Have mobile phones become as addictive as shabu, cigarettes, and gambling?

On the upside, older people are in no danger of being nomophobic. Often I forget to check my phone, or bring it with me when I leave home. I don’t take it to bed nor to the bathroom. I don’t get panic attacks if it is missing. 

Up until two weeks ago, I had a dumb Nokia phone. Now that I have been persuaded into buying my new smartphone, I am struggling with the how to use it. It will take dollops of grace for me to master half of its functions. 

In contrast to this worst fear is the best fear—a fear that does not cause panic nor irrational behavior. We read about it in the Bible at least 300 times: Fear of the Lord.

Scripture is full of examples of how fearing God is a positive thing. Joseph wins his brothers' trust when he declares he is a God-fearing man . . . it was because the midwives feared God that they obeyed Him and spared the Hebrew babies from the authorities . . . Pharoah brought disaster on his nation because he did not fear God . . . Moses chose leaders who feared God and therefore wouldn't take bribes. There are many more.

In the New Testament (Matthew 10:28), Jesus states this even stronger, "Don't be afraid of those who want to kill your body; they cannot touch your soul. Fear only God, who can destroy both soul and body in hell."

Fearing God saves us from caving into irrational fears such as nomophobia. That's why hearing someone is God-fearing actually makes us trust that person more. People who fear God become sensitive to other people’s needs because their thoughts are not centered on worldly gadgets.  

Fearing God frees us from even the worst fear in the world.

  

Top photo credit

Five-star Dad

Here is a letter a father received from one of his children. He keeps this in a special place in his heart, treasuring it more than anything he ever owned.

Hi, Dad!

How do I love thee? Let me count the stars. You’re a five-star dad! Thank you for the five important stars you bequeathed to me, now shining brightly to light my way . . .   

1.    The star of priority – to love God more than anyone or anything  
2.    The star of a clean and unsullied life – to never let my guard down when temptations come 
3.    The star of courage – to make tough decisions and to stand up for what is right   
4.    The star of discernment – to choose with whom to hang out; and what new ideas to trash or treasure   
5.    The star of fortitude – to move on despite disappointments and difficulties     
 
I thank God that you are my father. On Father’s Day, dinner’s on me in a five-star hotel, no less. Would you be free? 

Love,
Larry (not his real name)

What a blessing to have a child like this. And what a father he has!

To all dads reading this, Happy Father’s Day! 

“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.”  Proverbs 22:6 (NKJV)

(This is the last in a series of  four blogs leading to Father's Day in gratitude to our heavenly Father for the grace of dads in our midst.)

photo credit

A Salute to Single Dads

Two days from now, on Sunday, many parts of the world will celebrate Father’s Day. I wish to pay a special tribute to all single dads who see to their children’s needs all by themselves. 

Research studies have shown that single moms, wired to be caregivers and multi-taskers, have better coping mechanisms and resilience than single dads. That’s why I have always held singles dads, who do a remarkable job of both dad and mom, in high esteem.

In Oh, Mateo! (illustrated by Beth Parrocha-Doctolero)—a series of 15 books plus a one-year devotional revolving around eight-year-old Mateo—I draw attention to a single dad, Ador. 

A poor farm hand, Mateo’s father lost his wife when Mateo was baby, but he slogs on, works hard, and does his best for his little boy despite dire lack of resources.

Mateo is growing up to be a responsible, happy, and adventurous boy, well-liked in the neighborhood. His father Ador has instilled in him Christian values, the blessings of life, and God’s amazing grace.

 

In Sunday school, Teo and his classmates are asked by their teacher to write a letter to their father on Father’s Day. Here’s Teo’s letter . . .  

Dear Tatay,

You are my superhero. And Apong Cion said that because Nanay is already with Jesus in heaven, you do a super Nanay job, too.  But it is not Mother’s Day, so this is only for F-A-T-H-E-R.       

Thank you very much for . . . 

F – Framing Nanay’s photo so I will always remember her.   

A – Adding coins to my alkansiya. It’s almost half full! 

T – Taking me to Sunday School to learn Bible stories. T is also for the Tree house you built for me.

H – Helping me and my friends make kites. Yey! H is also for my Half of the fresh fruits you bring home. 

E – Explaining why I need to always pray and always read.

R – Rushing home from work when I am sick to give me a sponge bath. R is also for Nanay’s Recipes which you teach me to cook with the secret ingredient.

Happy Father’s Day, Tatay!  Oh, I should greet God, too, right? Because He is the Father of all.  Happy Father’s Day, God!  

Love,
Teo

“The father of godly children has cause for joy. What a pleasure to have children who are wise.” Proverbs 23:24 NLT

May God give all struggling single dads the wisdom and fortitude to raise their children in the way they should go. 

(This post is the 3rd in a series of  blogs leading to Father's Day in gratitude to our heavenly Father for the grace of dads in our midst) 

Translations:
Tatay – Daddy
Nanay – Mommy
Apong – honorific for an old woman
Alkansiya – piggy bank

Many Dads

Francis (not his real name) was in his mother’s womb when his father died.

“But I grew up having so many father-figures in church,” he tells his friends or anyone he encounters. “Not once have I felt fatherless. Most important of all, I have our Heavenly Father who has been with me from inside the womb to where I am standing today.” 

On Father’s day, Francis gives about a dozen of his surrogate fathers each a token gift to show his appreciation of their support and love.

Unlike Francis, some people struggle with Father's Day—especially those who only have adoptive fathers, those who may be living with stepfathers, or those whose birth fathers have died. 

Jesus’ statement to Mary after His resurrection should encourage those of us who feel fatherless, “‘Don’t cling to me,’” Jesus said, ‘for I haven’t yet ascended to the Father. But go find my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God’” (John 20:17).

Jesus gave all of us an open relationship with our Father God.

Thank you, Lord, for giving us fathers through whom we found our Heavenly Father.

(This post is the 2nd in a series of  blogs leading to Father's Day in gratitude to our heavenly Father for the grace of dads in our midst.)

Dear Father

Father’s Day is as much about You as it is about my earthly father. Everything I know about You and Your grace I first learned from him.

You guided my dad as he instilled wisdom in me. Through him, I felt Your love every day while growing up. Through him, I know all about Your promise never to leave me. 

 

Thank You, Heavenly Father, for sending Your only Son so that my dad and I can have the gift of salvation.

On Father’s Day, I want to thank You for giving me a father from whom I have witnessed how love can be passed on.

Someday, when I become a father myself, I pray that my children will see You in me—that I am there for them as You are with me.

Signed
(Every son/would-be father who feels the same way)

(This post is the first in a series of blogs leading to Father's Day in gratitude to our heavenly Father for the grace of dads in our midst.) 

Where Are the Dinosaurs?

There are many scientific theories why the dinosaurs are gone from the face of the earth. 

Asteroid, huge volcanic activity, severe ice age, climate change, and deadly disease—all these theories present possibilities that could have altered the sun, water, and atmospheric conditions on Earth, causing the death of dinosaurs.

There is one reason that laymen toy around with: Dinosaurs were too big to fit in Noah’s ark. So they were left behind and died in the flood.

They were humongous all right, but in God’s infinite wisdom, He could have easily commanded Noah to have baby dinosaurs or dinosaur eggs to get in there.

Speculations are always rife about what happened and what did not happen in Bible times. That’s why interpretations of all kinds exist today. Scientists also continue to look for concrete proofs of many theories. 

The only antidote to endless speculations is faith. No human mind can ever fathom the depth of God’s wisdom.

Prophet Isaiah explained it in Chapter 55, verse 9: “For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”

Note to self: never rely on man’s wisdom about the Lord’s works.

May God’s grace strengthen our faith so we will continue to believe that His words are enough.

Fellowship in Suffering

Six of my close friends are battling cancer, in various stages, at the moment. And so are many of my friends' friends and loved ones. To some, chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, and medication are options. To the rest, none is left.

But they are walking on a common road, treading on the anguish of physical, financial, and psychological pain every day. 

So we suffer with them, spending much of our prayer time on their distress. In our prayer groups, we reach out with compassion and have entered into the fellowship of their suffering.

While this is right, Apostle Paul wrote to the Colossians (1:24 NLT), “I am glad when I suffer for you in my body, for I am participating in the sufferings of Christ that continue for his body, the church.”  Meaning, we should try not to become consumed by our own hurts, and the hurts of our suffering loved ones; we need to find time to think and share in Christ's suffering. 

When I was in Bacolod last week, my new friend, Glenda, shared with me her “secret” to inner peace: “Each time my mind is in turmoil and my heart is in pain, I meditate on 1 Peter 4:13 (NLT), 'Instead, be very glad—for these trials make you partners with Christ in his suffering, so that you will have the wonderful joy of seeing his glory when it is revealed to all the world.'”

In suffering, we are actually in fellowship with Christ, who suffered so much more for our sake.

There are so many Christian books dealing with human hurts (depression, fear, rejection, crumbling of marriage, loneliness, single-parenting, etc.), helping us how to cope. Yet so little is written about sharing in the sufferings of the Lord.

As human beings, we need all the help we can get, but we desperately need to pray with Paul and Peter that we may understand Christ's sufferings.

“May His grace help us get our eyes off ourselves and our own hurts, and remember that when we suffer, we fellowship with our Savior,” Glenda reminded me.

Amen.

Sleeping with a Bibliobibuli

The person with whom I share my bed is a bibliobibuli.

For emphasis, I repeat: bibliobibuli. 

The word sounds gross, and seems like a crawly insect or a creepy virus, whichever is worse. But that’s what the father of my sons has morphed into in the last couple of years.

Women of Faith

They came from all over Panay and Negros, mostly on public buses. Some had to scrounge around for transportation money. Some were sponsored by church mates. Some saved up for a year. But they came, bringing along zest and zeal to fellowship with and learn from each other at the national women's convention of Conservative Baptist Association of the Philippines. 

“This is grassroots, Grace, not your usual corporate audience,” said one of the organizers, untiring leaders of their local churches who, I am sure, financed the logistics with gladness. “You are the only speaker.” That scared me a little, but c’est la vie.

Bacolod Beckons

The last time I was in Bacolod, I said good-bye to friends at the old airport. This time around, I am welcomed at the new one.

From there, we drive on a highway surrounded by unending stretches of sugar cane fields.  This cool, refreshing place is definitely not Manila.

On second thought, it is Manila—when Tony and I were setting up our first home four decades ago. It is also my little hometown, Umingan, four decades from now.  Bacolod is beautifully in place, between urban noise and rural quietude. When we get to the commercial area, I still see the quaint old houses. People are sparse but familiar Manila sights like Jollibee and big malls now populate the place. Modernization is taking place. I hope it doesn’t go too fast and furious.

I missed my deadline for a newspaper column because there is no internet connection in the hostel where I am billeted. Well, the world can wait. I am in the midst of quiet soaking in new friendships with women of faith. I am here to listen to their grace stories and tell my own.

We will be enriched by the exchange.     

Suitcase of My Heart

On my last day in Cebu last week, I blogged about packing the suitcase of my heart with a ton of memories. It would have been declared overweight at the airport.

Now here I am, back to my desktop in Manila and the memories linger like an LSS (Last Song Syndrome) . . .

Day one:

From the Cebu airport, I was whisked off by five young ladies to a café where we were scheduled to have light snacks. What I had not counted on was their definition of light. We had the works, direct from the chef who makes every plateful of goodies seem like it was slaved over by an Italian momma—pasta, cakes, etc. It would have sufficed for dinner, but no, my lady hosts said we would have a proper dinner after my first “gig,” a talk to the youth group of the The Living Christian Church.

Youth groups in every Christian church have one thing in common: they exude the indescribable look of being with the Lord from an early age, starting with toddler’s Sunday School. They sang and played on various musical instruments praise songs with verve and gusto.

Day two:

I couldn't get over my big hotel room, too huge for one puny me. It was one floor up from the venue of “Thank God, I Am a Woman,” which gathered over a hundred ladies who gave me the best compliment a speaker can ever hope for: rapt attention.

A few volunteered to come up on stage to answer questions and share their thoughts. One lady so touched me when she said, “I found God in Cebu.” That proved what I have always believed about Cebu: it is one special place. The Living Christian Church on its 25th anniversary was generous to the core, pouring out prizes and serving a full-feast meal masquerading as snack.

Then to the southern seaside, out in a new commercial development about ten minutes away. Just-caught seafood variety and a lively conversation with new-found friends decked our table.

(In between these busy events, I had time for a quiet chat with newly-introduced friends who share my advocacy for children.)  

Day three:

Brown out, “for the first time in years.” The heat was overpowering, but the passion in worshiping God on Mother’s Day was even more so. I was asked to speak about my mommy-hood, a privilege that would not have been possible without grace. 

A luncheon with the church’s board over the famous Cebu lechon, Chinese and Cebu rice, and dinuguan (pork blood stew) capped my fellowship with my church host.

But before my flight back to Manila, I had a short respite in a beautiful home, where I wrote “Cebu Charms” and was served more snacks. 

Then I was privileged to be a part of the intimate family dinner of Pin, the lady whose signature marked the e-vite from her church group. Encounters such as this does swell the heart, and packs even more weight in the already brimming suitcase that lodges there.

A carton of goodies was the icing on my Cebu cake from Pin and her family at the airport.

(I would  name names, but I wish to respect the privacy of everyone who went out of his/her way to pack my heart’s suitcase with grace upon grace upon grace.)

Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to meet people whom you have blessed with exceeding goodness.   

Grace Is Unfair

Injustice thrives on earth. Justice does not and will not come while we are clothed in mortal bodies. Life is not fair.

And so is grace.  Grace. is. unfair.

Philip Yancey, in his book, What So Amazing about Grace?, says, "The free offer of grace extends not just to the undeserving but those who in fact deserve the opposite."

The criminal beside Jesus on the cross was immediately given the grace of forgiveness, his past sins all wiped clean. All he did was believe.

Grace makes no exception. It comes to everyone—scam lords and scam victims, faithless and faithful, rich and poor, corrupt and honest, sinners and saints. All we need is to recognize and seize it. And believe.  

Likewise, Apostle Paul, who spent half of his life preaching about the saving grace of Jesus, received the grace of being content, of knowing that in his weakness, he is made stronger. 

We are prone to whine, grumble, and complain, "Life is not fair!" But praise God that grace is not fair—it comes even to whiners like us.

"Each time he said, 'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me." 2 Corinthians 12:9 NLT

Photo credit

Cebu Charms

I am in Cebu, the city that charms me over and over again. I have been relishing my stay here for the last three days.

By midnight, if my flight doesn’t get delayed, I should be back home in Metro Manila.

It has been a three-day adventure, which I spoke of in my regular column for the Freeman, “Big Little People.”

“Thank God, I'm a Woman!” was why I got invited to fly to Cebu.

But this was just the beginning grace, like a scrumptious aperitif in a full-course meal.

I will go home with the suitcase of my heart packed with so much grace it will tip the scales to a ton—overweight by airline standards.  

What a generous God we serve!

Tattoo

To tattoo or not to tattoo? 

This was a question Sophia (not her real name), who had always wanted one, asked herself.

A Christian, she had read Leviticus 19:28, “Do not cut your bodies for the dead, and do not mark your skin with tattoos. I am the Lord."

But in context, she thought, this specifically referred to the pagan religious rituals then. God only prohibited His chosen people from heathen worship and witchcraft so they will not be led away from Him.
 
After having resolved the issue in her mind, Sophia had her wrist tattooed with the letter “S” surrounded with flowers.

A few weeks later, however, her father fell gravely ill and needed blood transfusion immediately. Sophia’s blood type was a perfect match. Unfortunately, the doctor turned her away because she just had a tattoo. 

Sophia wept bitterly, feeling profusely guilty for her act.

To tattoo or not to tattoo?

This is a personal choice. But a question we may ask ourselves before we decide is, “Will my decision give glory to God?”

(Based on an entry in my book, Grace@Work, a devotional for the workplace,  to be launched in September.)

Last Three Minutes

Our one and only grandchild, Adrian, celebrates his seventh birthday today somewhere in another world people call the US of A. 

Obviously we can’t be there because oceans and air miles separate us. But I remember him fondly now as I look back to the last time he was with us late last year.

His parents left him with us for three days and in those treasure-filled hours, we relished indulging his pleas for “last three minutes.”

A well-disciplined kid, he knew he had to live with some parental rules. But we are no longer parents, Tony and I, we have morphed into guiltless doters. So when Adrian had gone beyond scheduled meals or naps, enjoying whatever activity he fancied, we would say “Enough.”

He would counter with a syrupy, heart-melting smile, “Last three minutes, please.”

We relent—too quickly. Our last three minutes is not absolute. It is a grace moment; it goes beyond the ticking of the clock; it purrs to the little one's bidding. 

And this perceptive, smart boy knew it. (Ooops, and now his parents know it, too!) 

On his birthday today, our wish is that he remembers and will come back to revel in  those last three minutes outpoured by his doters somewhere out in a world doddering seniors like us call home.  

Happy birthday, Adrian! May you grow up knowing and loving our God, the One who gives us the chance to experience the joy of granting you the last three minutes.

 

Sale

This four-letter word has pushed me into a quagmire (and all its synonyms) again and again over the years. But I keep falling for it.

Discount: 50% to 70% today only. Buy-one-take-one.  Closing-out sale. Buy any three for only P1,000. Additional 10% discount to Visa card holder.   

Do you find these irresistible?  I do, said in a coy whisper. 

I also get weak-kneed on all their derivatives. So in an act of rare courage, I now say to myself: I am a disgrace.   

I’m on my teaching summer break and in between books; I try to catch up on what I have not caught up on—my cabinets and drawers.

I discover these clothes still with price tags and I try them on. Not one fits. It is either too loose, too long, too tight, too short, too-anything.

What are they doing in my closet?! 

They were on sale—ON SALE—and came only in those sizes and conditions. I had in mind, at the time of ecstatic-frenetic buying, to alter them (I was a seamstress in my other life, and a seamstress in my future life), but that thought remained a thought.  An author’s brain has two doors: one is a freezer and that’s where those on-sale-thingies-to-be-altered got stored. 

I vow to work on them so they would finally fit my non-haute-couture size before classes begin in June, and during brief gaps in my writing and speaking blitzes these two months. Whether I will be successful is another story. 

Well, hope—like grace—springs eternal.

I would have ended this blog with that resolute statement, but a friend just called and gushed, “There is a sale at Alabang Town Center!”  

Dot, dot, dot.    

God Is Where You Are

In the Bible, Jacob was on a long journey to find the girl he would marry. On his way there, who would he meet?

God.

He appeared to Jacob in a dream and made a promise to always be with him and bless him. 

In Genesis 28:16 we read, “Then Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, ‘Surely the LORD is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it!’”

How glorious it would be for us today to also meet God the same way!

Well, God is here. But where?

In the doctor’s clinic where a friend learns she has breast cancer. In the funeral parlor where a mother grieves the passing of her son. In a war zone where a soldier fears for his life. In prison, where an inmate suffers pangs of conscience. In an office where someone just lost his job.

Where?

In all the places where we long for a loved one far away, where we wait for an unfaithful  spouse’s transformation, where we seek the forgiveness of someone we have wronged, where we fellowship with our faith family.  

Where?

In all the places where we need protection, comfort, wisdom, discernment, peace, courage, self-control.

God is in our home, in our circles, and in our place of work, too. We simply need to call on Him and believe in His presence. 

God is . . .

 

Dear God, make me feel Your peace in all the places where I need You. Amen.

"I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence!" (Psalm 139:7 NLT)

***

(Note: This is one of the entries in my new book, "Grace@Work," a devotional for the workplace, to be launched in September this year.)  

Mind of the World

Whether we like to admit it or not, we are hinged to the mind of the world.

We are deep into world trends; we are in-step with where the world is going.  

We say what is politically correct; we are wired to what is new and hip; we are afraid to offend the LGBT group; we wear the latest fashion; we read best-selling books; we watch current blockbuster movies and TV hit shows; we have the latest gizmo; we use newly coined words; and we tweak our Biblical doctrines to make us and others feel good.

We certainly are in the groove. 

If we are not careful, we could be trapped in the abyss, and we would have a hard time escaping.

How should a Christian live in our world today? 

Colossians 3:2 (NASB) says, “Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth.”

Simple but difficult. Here’s a suggestion on how it could be done.

Ask yourself a second question—the more important one—each time you are in doubt about your action.

1. Will people think I am too old-fashioned?
2. Will God? 

1. Will people be happy with my decision? 
2. Will God? 

1. Will people hate me for saying this? 
2. Will God?

1. Will people ostracize me for what I am about to do?
2. Will God? 

1. Will people think I am successful and have arrived?
2. Will God? 

Clearly, Colossians 3:2 is all about the mind of God, not the mind of the world. It is about things in heaven, not things on earth.

It is where we need to ask for guidance and grace that could only come, not from the world, but from above.   

(One of our Pastor’s Sunday messages in my own 300-word reflection.)

Photo credit

A Glorious Sunday

“He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay." (Matthew 28:6 KJV)

Because Jesus conquered death, those who accept Him in their heart and have faith in Him will also conquer death.

Not one of those who believe in the risen Lord will remain in the grave. We, too, will rise.

Grace, not grave.  Hallelujah!

It's a day we ought to celebrate. My old header comes down.

My new one, from our painting session in church after the Easter service on the theme “A Glorious Sunday,” goes up.

Happy Resurrection Day everyone!

Photo credit: Empty tomb

The Gift of Mom

"This time, this date, and on Good Friday, too, the Lord took Mama home. Join me in prayer of thanks for the gift of Mama Chit."

This was the first text message I received this morning, sent to me by my sister Aie. She and my siblings will all be together today in our hometown to commemorate our mother's death anniversary.

Mom suddenly left for her heavenly home on a Good Friday 11 years ago. From that day (April 18 does not fall on a Good Friday every year), we have been having special thanksgiving services on Easter Sunday.

This is the first time that the lunar calendar coincides with the solar calendar—April 18 is Good Friday. But this year, I cannot be there.  After my three-day hospital ordeal a few weeks ago, I have dreaded being too far away from my doctor.  It’s probably because I have not yet caught up with my 100% self. 

“It’s just your imagination,” JR tells me.  Or maybe it’s just a post-confinement trauma. 

Whatever it is that keeps me home today, I am with my siblings in praising and thanking God for the gift of our Mom—she who loved the color purple, and who, in life, was a vessel of God’s grace to many.

May her legacy of generosity (with her personal possessions, time, love, and everything good) live on in the hearts of her children, in-laws, grandchildren, relatives, and legions of friends.

LOG University

Have you heard of LOG University?

Neither had I, until I re-connected with an old friend—a young and courageous missionary/pastor in a religious-intolerant country.

He's on a brief home leave and makes time to visit our church, where he used to worship. As he and I chat over pancit, served after our Mission Month celebration, our topic moves from serious writing to blogging. 

“I visit your blog regularly,” he says. “Wow, you sure are prolific!”

“Every three to four days,” I laugh. “I try to keep to that rhythm and so far, I have remained faithful for almost seven years. Stay on schedule, or you'll lose your steam.”   

“It was you who started me on blogging,” he adds.

“Me?!”

“Yes, you and JR,” he replied. (JR is my youngest son, with whom this young missionary has worked in the Lord’s service while in the Philippines.) “Both of your writings have inspired me to keep writing, too—and now on blogosphere.”

“Really? How nice!”

“I call your blog my LOG University.”

“LOG university?” I repeat like a parrot.

“Leaves of Grace University,” he explains.

“Oh.” At this point, my vocabulary runs dry. 

“It teaches me to . . .”

At this point, too, my mouth turns into a Sahara desert. A conversation such as this always humbles me, and makes me wonder how it is possible for my writing to inspire others to do the same—and how such an encounter encourages me as well. 

Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing. 1 Thessalonians 5:11 (ESV)

And I go back to grace—my blog’s title and only reason for existence. A LOG University begins with grace.

Looking for Directions?

Guess what is the most accurate system in providing locations. The GPS? Google Maps?

No to both. We got lost a few times using one or the other.  

There's a guaranteed, error-free way, and it's perfectly Pinoy: the tricycle driver.

Ask him how to get to where you are going, and he’ll tell you the exact and quickest route. No tricycle driver ever disappointed us yet. And I don’t think one ever will—not any time in the future. A tricycle driver, whom I call grace on the road, sure knows his path.  

This brings me to an odd but accurate comparison in locating directions: The tricycle driver and the Bible.

“Turn right on the second road, go straight till the traffic light, then turn left. It’s the second building to your right,” said the tricycle driver. We got there without delay.

The Bible gives us the most accurate and the only direction to where we should go in life. Without it, we will be lost—detouring and going around in circles—ending up on every road but the right one to our destination.

Thomas asked Jesus, “. . . We have no idea where you are going, so how can we know the way? Jesus told him, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me.’” (John 14:5-6 NLT)

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Random

Life is not linear. It is circular, annular, orbicular, and spheroidal all at once. In short, random.

Take the passengers of flight MH 370. At the airport departure lounge, they must have been laughing or drinking or idly chatting. Then, boom, the plane is lost and to this day it is missing.

One day I was merrily blogging, the next day, bang, I was down with an ailment that rendered me useless.

My friend Yoly was planning her next trip out of town, then, with no danger signals, wham, she was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer.

My friend Lucy, who was experiencing tremors in California, posted on FB, "Earthquake is fine as long as it stays just that—a quake and a shake. I'm good with that. But the worst moment is waiting for what will happen next. Will the building crumble on you? Will the earth open and swallow you?"

Another friend, Gilbert, replied, “No one knows, Lucy. Tonight I was just paying for my groceries when a series of stampedes broke out because there was a gunman firing shots in MOA. Life’s random like that.”

Mr. Perchado was a struggling chauffeur all his life then, pow, his employer bequeathed to him his fleet of vehicles, including his private plane. 

Because life’s random, our last breath could come tonight. Do we know where we're headed from there?  

Amidst all our random acts of kindness and unkindness on earth, the grace of salvation is not random. It permanently resides where humans reside through God's kindness. Today is the day to take it on. 

For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. (Romans 10:13 KJV)

Pity Party

Say “no” when you get invited to a pity party. Stay as far away as possible!   

I got invited to one, and to my forever regret, I accepted.

My husband rushed me to the emergency room one night last week because I was looking and feeling like a disaster victim in the throes of death. Immediately, tubes were strapped on to me and all sorts of needle pricks came at me to find out what had gone haywire in my system.

They found out soon enough—potassium and sodium had dropped to precarious levels—and I had to be confined: the perfect setting for a pity party, with a hospital gown to boot.

In that three-day party, you ask yourself questions: Why me?  What did I do to deserve this? Can I take all this suffering?  Is this the end? You become so self-absorbed you fail to see and grab the grace that hover about for the taking.

I was jolted out of my self-indulgence when I read the messages in my mobile phone: 

The first one came from a friend, asking for prayers. She was due for her first chemo session but didn’t have the money. So she asked her friends to pray that her application for a loan be approved.

The second message came from another friend whose husband had a kidney transplant years ago. He’s ailing again due to organ rejection, and needed immediate cash for hospitalization.  

The third was from our pastor, reminding me of God’s love and power.

While I was wallowing in self-pity, people all around me were likewise fighting their own worse battles. I was not alone, but I chose to be, nursing my fears as though the world conspired to rip me apart.

Pity parties make you forget, “It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” (Deuteronomy 31:8 ESV)

By the power of His Spirit, I will not attend a pity party again. 

What Is a Friend?

I am guilty of using the word “friend” like a tic, trivializing it. Maybe many of us are.

We refer to someone we have met a few times, or get in touch with also a few times, as “my friend,” but is she really?  Does she even consider you her friend?

Will she take a bullet for you, if necessary?
Will she drop everything to come to your rescue?   
Will she give you her most treasured possession?
Does she pray for you as often as she prays for herself?
Will/do you do all of the above for her? 

If the answer is “yes” to all, then, indeed, she is a friend. And so are you.  

 

Tall order. But that is how friendship is, as demonstrated to us in the Bible—between Jonathan (the son of then current king, Saul) and the would-be king, David.

When Saul wanted to kill David, Jonathan tried to avert it by speaking to his father. Then he did something more—he alerted David about his father’s plan so David could flee. "And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul." (Samuel 18:1)

Jonathan also gave David five things:

His robe, which symbolized his stature as prince and heir apparent. He gave it up for David.

His garments, which symbolized all the honors, battles, and credits he had won. He passed them on to David.

His sword, which was one of only two swords among the Israelites. One was owned by king Saul himself. Jonathan gave David even his self-defense.

His bow, which was Jonathan's most prized possession. He bequeathed them to David.

His girdle, which held his sword, his bow, and his garments. He gave David everything he ever owned.

The Bible says that Jesus is the offspring of David. If Jonathan could give all to David, how much more should we give Him, our King, the greatest Friend we could ever have, He who is called the son of David? 

Can we give Jesus our all? Our robe, our garments, our sword, our bow, and our girdle?

Tall order? He gave His all to us on the cross. Grace happened there. It continues to happen every day of and for our lives. It is happening now.

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Lazy

“The first word you can find in this word-search puzzle describes you." This  message was posted by someone on his FB wall.     

 

The first word I found was “lazy.” 

I should have simply shrugged it off because it describes exactly what I try not to be. According to my friends, I am "forever spinning," "antsy," "restless,"  "always on a green light," "impatient," etc.

Maybe they are right. As soon as I wake up in the morning I need to do something or I feel like a dead duck, dishonoring the loving God Who created me. I don't even take naps, unless I am strapped to the bed sick or recuperating from an illness, which is is where I am at the moment.

I believe that "lazy" has no place in the dictionary. It shouldn't even be there. How can anyone be content sitting around (or sleeping) and doing nothing?  I think it is unconscionable to waste the abundance of grace that is given to us for our free use to lead productive lives. 

The Bible is strewn with verses on what happens to sluggards and sloth. My favorites are those that speak of the four small wonders on earth, Proverbs 30: 24-28 (MSG):  

“There are four small creatures, wisest of the wise they are—

“ants—frail as they are, get plenty of food in for the winter; marmots—vulnerable as they are, manage to arrange for rock-solid homes; locusts—leaderless insects, yet they strip the field like an army regiment; lizards—easy enough to catch, but they sneak past vigilant palace guards.”

All four tiny creatures—ants, marmots, locusts, and lizards—are anything but lazy.

Unfortunately, some bigger beings can’t be the same. Laziness, stay away!  

Dear Heavenly Father

Your grace has been more than enough for my daily needs, with some overflow for those that I want. Now, you have even shown me what this means, “I have need of nothing.”

As our Jehovah Jireh, you provide your children everything. Including coming home after three days in the hospital with a debilitating ailment that came like a dark night and went with your healing.  In Psalm 34:10 (NKJV), you said, “The young lions lack and suffer hunger; But those who seek the LORD shall not lack any good thing.”

Thank you making me see another sunrise and more in the days to come. It wasn't my appointed time to see you face-to-face.

Thank you for loved ones, friends and faith family in church whom you have called to uphold me in prayers.  

Thank you for our Pastor who has ministered to me about your power through a text message.

Thank you for the efficient caregiver you gave me in the person of my husband, who saw to all my physical needs.

Thank you for my sons who have shown their concern while I was imprisoned in tubes on a hospital bed.

Thank you for Ate Vi who took care of our home for me while we were away.

Thank you for the time to study your word and for speaking to me through a book sent by a nephew in Singapore. It was my reading staple.

Thank you for my two doctors and all the medical practitioners in the hospital (both in the emergency room and in room 411) who were at my beck and call.

Thank you for the hospital accommodations (that try to rival a hotel’s) and for the staff who all gave me a nod of warm welcome.

Thank you for making me glimpse yet once again, with clearer lenses, what Paul said in Romans 8:32, “He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?”

As I recover my strength, thank you for enabling me, these few minutes, to write this prayer-blog.

Amen.

All the Same?

People/acquaintances of a different faith would often say to me, “We all believe in God, so we are all the same.” 

I'd get stymied, unable to explain what I believed in, because time was short and I didn’t know how to distill the many differences. 

Up until I stumbled upon the five solae/solas. And now I can explain my faith with five fingers in five minutes.

 

I believe in:

1. Christ alone (solus Christus)

Only Jesus can be a mediator between God and man.  By giving His life as a ransom for my sins, I have a chance to live forever in heaven. All I need is receive Him in my heart as my only Savior. John 14:6 (NLT),  ". . . I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me."

2. Grace alone (sola gratia)

Only by the grace of Jesus could I be saved. By myself, my abilities, my skills, and my good works, I could never merit salvation even if I kept trying. Ephesians 2:8, “God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can't take credit for this; it is a gift from God.”  

3. Faith alone (sola fide) 

Salvation is a free gift to all who accept it by faith. Hebrews 11:1, "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."

4. Scripture alone (sola scriptura)

The Bible alone is my source of divine revelation, my source of authority and truth. 2 Timothy 3:16, “All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives. It corrects us when we are wrong and teaches us to do what is right.”

5. Glory to God alone (Soli Deo Gloria)

Because salvation is of God and has been accomplished by God, we must live our entire lives for His glory alone. Self-esteem and self-importance are not alternatives to the gospel of Christ. 1 Corinthians 10:31, “So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.”

“So is your faith the same as mine?” I ask after my five minutes.

The answer I usually get is silence. I fill in those silences in my books. Because I think I can write better than I can talk.

International Women's Day 2014

A friend of mine, M, a Zonta club president, wrote me a note ending with a big "please?" and I caved in. It was an invitation to speak at a district (18 Zonta clubs) gathering to celebrate International Women's Day.

Wearing red lipstick and armed with my laptop, a flash drive, and a hard copy of my talk, "The Power of Lipstick," I entered the hallowed halls of the clubhouse that was the venue, and I was dazzled by a bevy of influential women, all leaders in their fields, sporting power clothes in the Zonta color, yellow.  

And my knees turned into jello.

What could I tell them that they haven't heard before? This is the perfumed set that travels the world, debates hot issues, breaks new ground, and advances women's status worldwide.

I did the only thing I know how to do: not talk, but tell stories. Stories of strong women of faith who so inspired me (and continue to influence my life) that I wrote about them in my books.  While preparing my speech, I realized that I have been writing about empowered women for some time and in so doing, I am also an advocate for the majority of women who are underprivileged, with only my computer in my little workroom. 

Despite my ammo that day, or because I am not a techie, my slide presentation freaked out on me. But I had one tool left—grace. When everything fails, it enables me to come through. And these photos tell the story of that successful yellow rose day.

To say the event was beautiful would be diminishing its significance.  It was more than that; it was a perfect International Women's Day.

To every woman—wearing lipstick or not—reading this post, celebrate! Like any Zonta woman, you can make a difference right where you are, with what you're doing, if you do it with excellence and gratitude.   

Wordless Wednesday