For last year’s Good Friday, my friend Menen and I went to Ayala Center and walked around with placards that declared “Jesus Lives!” We got some people’s attention– mostly guards, but we shared the gospel to them anyway, even if they tried to turn us away by assuring us that they know already and would rather do something else than hear about it again.

Today, my family and I went to Church Simplified’s Stations of the Cross at High Street. I was with Sky and I explained the stations to her and encouraged her to participate. While going through each stations, I noticed people wiping tears from their eyes, I got teary-eyed myself as I reflected on Jesus’ crucifixion and also the present day applications that each stop suggested. At the end, when wewere taking communion, I also got Sky the juice and cracker, we sat down and tried to explain to my 3-year old niece what communion means. The bread stands for the body of Christ that was torn and beaten and crucified for us; the juice was His blood (I had to explain the blood part by pointing to her latest booboo on her knee, that blood is the red stuff that came out of that), we are doing this to remember what He did on the cross for us. We ended with a simple prayer: “Thank you, Jesus.”

Mom said earlier this evening as we waited out the annual Good Friday procession of the statues of saints of the Roman Catholic church here in Imus, the parade’s pretty long because of all the people who didn’t go to church the whole year and wanted to make up for all those Sundays they missed by carrying a candle and marching in the procession. I hope it’s not like that with us, but in the sense that we don’t just be “devout Christians” during Holy Week, but remember Christ’s sacrifice for us and reflect on and apply what it means to our daily life.

Happy Holy Week everybody.

Reading references:

Anyway, it’s almost 2am here and I know it’s 3am at home and I’m still wide awake, so I’ll get on with today’s Bangkok Godspotting edition–

This is the Wat Arun (Temple of Dawn) taken from our river boat dinner cruise. It’s this awesome monument that reminds me of intricate necklaces and jewelry, for some reason. Bangkok has thousands of temples to Buddha, I even saw golden statutes of Buddha in different poses along the freeway coming from the airport. There are altars in almost every block. Even the river cruise boat has an altar at its prow. But when I saw Wat Arun, I was immediately reminded of the other religious monument that just overwhelmed me by its majesty: St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican City. I remember walking into that enormous cathedral and was just reduced to a sobbing mess because it is just so BEAUTIFUL. While I didn’t cry at Wat Arun, I murmured to myself, “Oh, the things that men build for their god.”

I wonder how long it took to build Wat Arun, how many people labored to raise its tower high. How many skilled artisans worked on the details and finishing? All the love, the worship and fear poured into that one great monument. The same goes for St. Peter’s Basilica. But I’m not going to do any comparative theology here, but rather ask– how’s my worship?

While God does not require great monuments built in His name, I wonder when was the last work of my hands became worship to Him? When was the last time my blood, sweat and tears were poured out for His glory? When did my life inspire amazement that pointed to my Maker? Worship is not supposed to be confined in temples or cathedrals, it’s to be done out there where it would be good for the world too.

“‘I saw the Lord always before me.  

No wonder my heart is glad
and my tongue shouts his praises!
My body also rests in hope.”

(Acts 2:25-26)

“Hope is learned — it is not a given. You don’t just do it; you don’t just have it; you grope for it in the dark.”
(Jarrod Voltz)

I’ve written a lot about hope, and I don’t know if I’m repeating myself right now, but when I saw the Hope in a Bottle* bottled water at the office (we just had a small press launch for it), I couldn’t help making a joke when my colleague opened one and drank from it– so what does hope taste like?

Colleague: tastes just like water.

Even if she didn’t really mean for it to mean more than that, it does make a lot of sense. Water is essential to life, just as hope is, albeit in a more metaphorical way. So maybe hope is kinda like water– it refreshes, it brings strength to weary bones. It gives life, not just the body, but the soul too. Too much water, it can drown and kill, too little (or none of it for a time) and you die of thirst.

Going with the water=hope analogy, my friends finally got to catch a screening of The Hunger Games yesterday. I loved the books and have heard mixed reviews of the movie. It  could have been better– being neither bad or good– but something jumped out at me while watching it. It’s that exchange between the game master Seneca Crane and President Snow why they hold the annual Hunger Games instead of just lining up the 24 tributes every year and executing them. “It’s because of hope,” President Snow said, Neither too much or too little, just a containable amount of hope to keep the districts in check. It’s a delicate balance, since too much might cause another revolution again, too little and people would just stop working and just die. I’m rereading the books, and as of this writing, I’m at the part where Katniss is starting to succumb to dehydration. It’s no wonder the other most important advice that her mentor had given her was to find a source of water. It’s essential to her survival in the games.

I don’t really know how too much hope can kill– maybe it’s because when we have too much, it’s sets us up too high and for a big fall when we don’t get what we have been hoping for and it leads to despair and pessimism or apathy.

Here I go defaulting to the hope that doesn’t disappoint. The hope that we have in Christ Jesus. But that’s it, right? Everything on this earth is bound to disappoint us. Human love– not matter how strong and sincere and well-intentioned it may be–fails. People fail. After a while, Jeremy Lin and the New York Knicks started losing again (but they’re winning again, so huzzah!).

But we need hope. To keep on moving forward. To live. As Jenny Schroedel wrote, “Like small rivulets that flow through rocky places, hope invites us to follow it back to the Source.” As we find hope in this chaotic world, we find God.

* Hope in a Bottle is a project of Friends of Hope Inc. All proceeds from the sales of this bottled water goes to building classrooms for public schools all over the country. This cause is supported by numerous local celebrities such as Dolphy, Nanette Medved, Boy Abunda, Winnie Monsod, Joey de Leon, Jericho Rosales and Bea Alonzo–each one of them came from a public schools. Hope in a Bottle is available at Krispy Kreme, Jamba Juice, Seattle’s Best, Rustan’s Shopwise, Kenny Rogers Roasters, Super 8, Suy Sing, Landmark, Ultra Mega Wholesale and Retail Mart, South Supermarkets and select Robinsons Supermarkets.

“Now, I’ve found, the greatest love of all is mine
Since You’ve laid down Your life, the greatest sacrifice.”

(“Majesty,” Martin Smith)

Why?!

I mean, basketball fans, I can understand, but after only two weeks and seven consecutive wins, he’s got the world (at least the parts of it with internet and isn’t at war or famine) watching and cheering him on. What is it about this kid that makes us connect to him?

My guess is hope.

And hope come from character, which comes from perseverance, which comes from suffering (Romans 5:3-6), and everyone in this world, in our own way, knows about suffering. From the baby who just got out of the warmth of his mother’s womb and just rudely pushed out into the cold and bright world (no wonder babies cry when they get out), to old people who are slowly breathing their last, suffering and struggle are there all the way. And this is true for EVERYONE, Christian or not, living in developed countries or not. Some suffer more than others, of course, but what keeps us going and pushing, straining against the tension, even fighting against quitting? It is hope. Hope that this too shall pass. Hope that we can get over it. Hope that tomorrow will be better. Hope that there is reward when all the struggling is over. Even the most despondent of people can open their eyes and keep on breathing. Most of us still get off the bed even if we don’t feel like it. Bridges are finished. Work gets done. Fat is exercised away and muscles are built. Games are won. Our mothers still love us.

Just as we cheer whenever someone like Lin pushes and shines through his suffering through perseverance, we feel that it is a tragedy whenever someone gives up. Suicides, euthanasia, quitting, breakups, divorces are all tragic because it means that someone has let go of hope. Of course, hope, perseverance, character and suffering are all measured differently in each person so we can’t– and shouldn’t compare. We can only encourage each other to go on, to keep moving forward, and to never give up hope. Whatever hope that they may hold on to. Our hope is the kind that never fails or puts us to shame (it’s Jeremy Lin’s brand of hope too!) because of God’s love that has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit given to us through Jesus Christ. This is the hope that the world needs, our perseverance through sufferings, and the joy that we have despite all evidence contrary speaks volumes in a world desperate for this fuel that they need to never give up.

“how are you feeling now?” my friend asked me online just a few minutes ago. I guess she was referring to my day yesterday wherein I wasn’t really feeling all that great, and after a couple of years of not having depression, it was strange seeing it rearing its sad face peeking through my metaphorical window, asking if it’s ok to come in. No, it wasn’t ok to come in, and the whole day was like a roller coaster wrestling match (sorry for mixing my metaphors) with self-pity as I just kept on praying and pleading for more of the grace that I already know was enough and that was already given to me.

“My grace is enough,” He assures me time and time again. Even if I didn’t open my Bible, I know where it is, where to find it. I always went back to it. And throughout the day the grace that is always enough covered my big and small mistakes, carried my unwilling ass from one task to another. Raised my spirits when I just couldn’t even lift the corners of my mouth for a smile.

Things are changing again. And while I used to boast that I thrive on change, the in-between time is sometimes so uncomfortable.

I’m at a crossroads again. Weird, wasn’t I just here a few months ago? Did I miss a turn somewhere? But lead on Lord.

Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

(Monday’s Child, traditional)

What if

we sleep early and wake up early? Like 9 or 10 pm early and 4 or 5 am early?

What if

we meet up for breakfast and coffee (well, you guys can have coffee) somewhere in one of those 24 hour places in the Makati CBD area while the rest of the world is asleep and start our day with good company, intelligent conversation, and maybe even prayer to start the day?

What if

we do this once a week?

Wouldn’t that be cool

to get at least one gimmick in with friends once a week and get a good night’s rest too? According to studies, sleep before midnight is twice the quality of sleep we get after midnight that’s why even when we wake up extra early the next morning, we don’t feel groggy or tired.

and wouldn’t that be cool

to walk around Makati before it goes into its rush hour mode? the air is still chilly, and quiet. hardly any cars on the street (which reminds me, I should bring my longboard to the apartment already.).

It’s really a great way to start a day.

What do you say?

(Yes, I am aware of the irony of this post because I know I have a reputation as the girl who never sleeps. But I’m changing my sleeping patterns slowly but surely– except when there are deadlines, like right now. But, anyway… it seems like a good idea while I was walking down my street coming from breakfast this morning at 5:40am.)

Children of the 80s, remember that Mighty Kid Christmas commercial where the kid in the car gave his shoes to the street kid? The memory still makes me teary-eyed because it was a rather selfless act in a holiday where sometimes it’s about receiving presents. And he was a really cute chubby kid so happy with his shoes until he saw someone who needed them more.

Anyway, my friend is organizing a gift campaign to give shoes to the children in poor communities. all you have to do is pick a kid (or more) by tagging or leaving a comment under his/her pictures. and you can receive his/her shoe outline via email. buy her/him a pair of shoes. I can organize a one-time drop-off at my friend’s if ever you guys want to join. I participated last year and it was nice to go shoe shopping for children who I know don’t get new shoes all that often.

so, game? It’ll certainly make their Christmas.

To see the Facebook album click here.

I wish for more quiet times with You, but then again. Maybe that’s what all these crazy traffic jams on EDSA are for.

p.s. I love You. My heart beats for You.

With a bunch of people I’ve never been to the beach (and most of them I haven’t met) before.

And I got to watch a sunset over a beach (and province) I’ve never been to before.

It’s the last month of my 20s and I’m so grateful that I can still look forward to more first-time weekends like this one.

God’s too good to me.

(How He loves us so.)