life and death

An asteroid supposedly passed between the moon and the Earth today, according to this article on CBS news who sourced it from another article in Yahoo! news. It stated:

The asteroid, called 2010 GA6, is a relatively small space rock about 71 feet (22 meters) wide and was discovered by astronomers with the Catalina Sky Survey in Tucson, Az. The space rock will fly within the orbit of the moon when it passes Earth Thursday at 7:06 p.m. EDT (2306 GMT), but NASA astronomers said not to worry…the planet is safe.

Apparently, these kinds of “fly-bys” happen more often than we think, in fact, the last one was just last January.

Vanity Fair called it “pure luck” that the world didn’t end today.

This makes sense as, actually, scientists estimate that the Earth most likely won’t be destroyed until at least 2014, when an asteroid that “could have the effect of 20 million Hiroshima atomic bombs” will approach (and, you know, maybe hit!) the planet.

With all the earthquakes and wars and civil unrest all over the world, plus the weather going haywire and the Global Warming, of course we have to ask, “Is this it? Is the end really coming?”

What if it is? How are you going to live your life knowing the end is near?

If the world stopped spinning
If the end was beginning
Would you even notice if i wasn’t there?
If the world stopped spinning around

(Plumb, Candycoated Waterdrops)

I was reading this yesterday from A Slice of Infinity and thought that this would be a good share for today.

Where was God in all this darkness and blood and suffering? He was right there… even in the darkest of events in history, He brings us out to the other side, to be a testimony of the power of forgiveness over retribution.

Dead People Walking

In war-torn relationships of Northern Uganda, forgiveness is complicated.  Betty was a teenager when her village was raided by the Lord’s Resistance Army, a rebel army known for its brutal tactics and widespread human rights violations.  She was kidnapped as a sex slave for a commander and ordered to commit callous acts of violence as a child soldier, until gradually she was broken and became an active member of the LRA.

After six years of bloodshed, however, Betty managed to escape, running across the country to freedom.  But coming home would not be a simple matter of returning.  She had committed violence against the very people she hoped to rejoin.  Her own guilt and shame was as palpable as the mistrust and anger of her village.  In her absence, two of her own brothers had been killed by the same army Betty fought alongside.

In the midst of such loss, with so many permanent scars, forgiveness might seem hopeful, but perhaps naïve at best.  Is reconciliation even to be desired when brokenness is irreversible?  Does forgiveness cease to be hopeful when neither party can ever be the same again?

The people of Uganda believe it is.  For hundreds and hundreds of children like Betty, terrorized by crimes they were forced to commit and returning home to terrorized villages, tribal elders have adapted a ceremony to make it possible for both.  In a ceremony that includes the act of breaking and stepping on an egg and an opobo branch, the returnee is cleansed from the things he or she has done while away.  The egg symbolizes innocent life, and by breaking and placing themselves in its broken substance, returnees declare before their village their desire to be restored to the way they used to be.  In a final step over a pole, the returnees step into new life.  In many cases, women returnees come home with babies who were born in the bush, usually a result of rape.  When they arrive at the broken egg, the child’s foot is placed in the substance, too.  The spirit of reconciliation, like warfare, must touch everyone.

In a single weekend, Christians have just remembered the crucifixion of Jesus, his burial on Good Friday, the silence of Holy Saturday, and the terror and amazement of Easter Sunday.  In a weekend, we were reminded how the disciples failed him miserably, falling asleep when he needed them most in prayer, denying ever knowing him as he was convicted for being himself, watching him die alone from a distance.  In a weekend, Christians moved from recognizing ourselves in this list of failures to sensing the hopeful confusion of the disciples, the overwhelm of Thomas, and the timid longing of the women at the tomb.  In a single weekend, we moved from complete despair to shocking hope, total darkness to surprising light, the finality of death to the last word of resurrection, from broken and sinful to restored and forgiven.

In this solitary weekend, Christians remember a story that should make the bold and touching forgiveness of war-torn Ugandans seem natural, expected, and necessary, however shocking or complicated or slow-coming it might be.  After the egg-breaking ceremony, Betty went from rebel to ex-rebel, shamed to restored.  “I feel cleansed,” she said of the ceremony.  After a day of being welcomed and celebrated, she adds, “Some of the bad things in my heart: they are gone.”(1)  Alex Boraine, deputy chair of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, notes of such radical forgiveness: “[With its] uncomfortable commitment to bringing the perpetrator back into the family, Africa has something to say to the world.”(2)

Indeed, so does Christ Jesus.  In one eventful weekend, we remember the ugly depths of our sin and stare into the deep scars of the servant who bore it away.  This utter shift in our condition is as overwhelming as Good Friday, as dumbfounding as Holy Saturday, and as inconceivable as Easter Sunday.  But it is our ceremony.  Christ is broken, we are covered in his blood, and we emerge as dead men and women walking.  How beyond our knowing, that in the Father’s inexplicable mercy and loving-kindness, to redeem a slave, He gave a Son.  Yet because God did, in a weekend, we can claim again the mystery; we can claim the power of reconciliation; we can claim Christ, who moves us from perpetrator to family.
Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.

(1) Abe McLaughlin, “Africa After War: Paths To Forgiveness—Ugandans Welcome ‘Terrorists’ Back” International Center for Transitional Justice, October 23, 2006.
(2) Ibid.

i never thought that it would end. seriously. i thought that this was it. the one. the settlement of stef and the beginning of a whole new adventure. i thought that we would be able to fight through anything, but then, in reality, we can only love so much. forgive so much. it just hurt to find out that what we had wasn’t as much as we thought it would be.

while we were together, i knew that that was where we were meant to be at that time. and when it ended, i knew that it was time to go. but still, oh, how i fought it before i caved in.

it ended– like how it usually ends. a lot of tears, promises of “for now” that i’m not going to hold him to, a prayer, a hug and a last squeeze of the hand. then it would be a few days of awkward conversations before finally ellipsis-ing off to silence, private tears and lots of explanations to people’s questions of what happened? are you sure? maybe someday… again?

it doesn’t get any easier, no matter how many times I’ve been through this. we promise the infinite and we always come up short.

but when it was over, the morning after, i woke up with a strange feeling. lighter, maybe because i lost something big that i had been holding on to for over a year and half. i poked my heart to see if it’s still ok, because for some reason it’s not feeling that familiar needle pricking pain after a breakup. i looked at my schedule for that saturday. until the day before, i was going to move out of my apartment and in with some friends in palanan, makati; and i was going to wear my white suit for the first time to our friends’ wedding in tagaytay. just like that, my day was a clean slate, among other things and i was back in limbo. i’m no longer his, and he’s not mine. then i just let myself cry again.

i made decisions that day that helped me function normally even up to now. no running. let go of burgeoning bitterness. let go of him. forgive even when not asked. stay in church. do the job that’s in front of me. stay at home. no awkwardness. be kind. accept kindness when given. pray. praise. give thanks. lean on the Rock that has never failed me ever before.

i hadn’t plan on being strong or brave or funny. or to appear like something tragic didn’t happen. but somehow these things happened too.

it wasn’t until five days later when the word “broken” was mentioned. and i poked my heart again, examined it to see if it was as broken as it should be. but it wasn’t. it was whole– it hasn’t been like this for so long that I didn’t recognize it. i’ve never lost touch with God even before the breakup, but upon realizing that i was whole, i just wanted to fall on my knees at the sidewalk of Ayala Ave. and declare that it was Him the whole time, taking care of me, holding me together even without me asking.

all i wanted was to fall apart but He held me up.

i am cradled and surrounded by so much love that you wouldn’t know that i have just come out of a breakup. and i swear that i have nothing to do with it except to accept the grace that’s being showered on me.

once again, i am made to live my life verse:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. (2 Cor. 12:9)

i love it that even my colleagues find my composure astonishing. my friend even told me, “you make me want to consider getting religion.” and i said it’s not me.

don’t get me wrong. it’s still not easy. i often wish it hadn’t ended, but who am i to complain when i know that the God of the universe is holding me up? i still cry like someone i loved died– because, in a sense, that dream we had died with this.

but once again, i am assured that if i thought that this dream was already great, how much more is the future that God actually has for me (and for him)?

there’s really no escaping Him. He hems me in– behind and before. my wonderful Father, my Savior, my Comforter and Friend. Your works are wonderful, I know it full well.

The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me;
your love, O LORD, endures forever—
do not abandon the works of your hands.

(Psalm 138:8)

“I don’t want to go and see things that will make me change,” I heard one lady say in a video at the International Care Ministries dinner this evening. I think she speaks for most of us today.

As images of poverty and sickness flashed in half dozen projector screens in the Rizal ballroom of Makati Shangri-la, the irony was not lost to the audience, who were dressed to the nines, eating an expensive dinner. But, as Marietta Santos, the grand lady who had invited us there, said, “I brought you here so you would be aware of what’s happening, and to get you to help.”

photo by Jorem/Sheila Catilo for Moms for Moms

“I don’t like seeing these kinds of things,” I heard the lady mutter from across the table from me. I watched her as she just kept her eyes on the table while the rest of her friends murmured and gasped at how most of our fellow Filipinos live.

Even my stomach couldn’t help feel queasy at the site of the squalor people actually live in.

photo by Espen Rasmussen / Panos for MSF

I get overwhelmed whenever I see images like these. There are just so many people in need! How can I– or anyone– help them? Even with all the organizations, volunteers, donations, there doesn’t seem to be an end to the poverty. There will always be people who are sick, hungry, poor, with hands outstretched for help, any help they could get.

I work in a magazine that features luxury, high society, exclusivity and high-end goodies that only a few can afford. Most of the time, I find myself surrounded by these few people, with their shoes that I can afford if I don’t eat for a month, and bags that cost a year’s salary of a managing editor. It’s part of the job. At the other end of the spectrum, but still my job, I see the ugly, the poor and the broken in society. And I meet people who are helping, and looking for more people to help, other people.

I often make this half-meant joke, “Lord, can you give me enough money to give away?” But so far, still not much money is left to give away after the bills. I’m thinking that maybe God wants me to help in some other way.

Because why else would He make me see these things?

from my_sarisari_store.typepad.com

“What does God think about poverty and injustice?” I remember that question raised by a speaker in Station One last year. With so much in the world that is going wrong, God must want to make it right! But how? What is the church doing about it?

I believe that truth does not become really true to us unless it affects the way we live. Truth moves people– often out of our comfort zones and into a place that is smelly, ugly, and in need. So we see these people in need and we feel pity for them. But that’s not enough. That’s not true enough. We have to move. We have to do something.

But what can I do? I don’t have anything, I don’t have much money to give, I’m so busy with work and other things that  barely have enough to sleep as is…

Then God asks, “What’s that in your hand?”

——

p.s. I’m compiling a list of charities for people to donate to this Christmas. If you have a recommendation, just leave a comment below, preferrably with contact details, or even just a website. Thanks!

“I am choosing.”

I always tell myself that, especially these days. Feeling trapped is really a bad way to go. There is always a choice, and if you’re fortunate enough, it’s between two good choices. I’ve been learning, since I was a teenager, that choices lead to future choices, and it’s always better to look at least two choices ahead because I wouldn’t want to be led somewhere where I would have to eventually have to choose between two paths I don’t like.

These days I am choosing to always protect, always trust, always hope, always persevere.

I am choosing to stay.

Today I watched an end of an era… on TV.

Today I wore my boots and a long sleeved blouse and jeans into a rainy day.

Today I loved a cute little doggie too much and scared him.

Today I got a sculpture of a full-bodied woman.

Today I pushed my body to its painful limits.

Today I remembered that my mom, at my age now, was already taking care of two daughters, while I’m living in the city taking care of myself.

Today I walked with the wind on my back and my hair on my ice cream cone.

Today I, with my sisters in faith, celebrated being a woman, wondered at stories and the Author of it all.

Today, I give thanks for this life. For this time in history.

Today, just like on any other day, I wonder if I’m meant to do big things, and if so– what are they and how am I going to do them?

Today, I will do the small things that I have to do and give thanks.

Teach us to number our days aright,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Psalm 90:12

it’s nice to be reminded and to celebrate these small things. this day won’t happen again for another millennium!

(makes me kinda wish that i didn’t spend most of it just trying to feel better.)

but still… *hugs self* i love that i’m alive today.

last night, i was going through some old blog posts and found this essay by Jenny Schroadel that i picked up from Boundless zine she titled “In the Name of Hope”. I posted it at the beginning of 2008 and I guess it’s part of that thing i started last year about not worrying and just enjoying what I have at the moment. and i think, something God wanted  remind to remind me of once again.

Things haven’t been really easy right now for me. But i’m not lying whenever i tell people that i’m just awesome whenever they ask how I am… it’s just that the struggle never stops. There are still some things– emotions, issues, questions, worries– that i daily have to choose to let go of to move forward.

If you want to act in the name of hope, you must first become aware of the voices of despair, that come to us both consciously and unconsciously — voices that sneer, “You mess everything up” or “You’ll always be alone.”

and once recognized, the best way to fight these voices of despair is to do concrete acts of hope. As Steven Press field wrote in The War of Art, “Never forget: this very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to change our destiny…. This second we can sit down and work.”

Over the years, I’ve tried to strike a balance between being open to good possibilities — and being willing to move toward them as they become more tangible, while also admitting that sometimes the things I want most might not, in the end, be what I need.

Years ago, when I was trying to decide if I should go to college or on a short-term missions trip a pastor offered me this advice. He said, “Don’t pray for doors to open. Just keep walking forward and pray that God will close the doors that he doesn’t want you to walk through.” Or as my seminary professor Dr. Albert Rossi likes to say, “Just do the next, best thing.”

But of course, when God closes the door, and hope seems elusive, that’s when we need it most. Hope is the flashlight we hold onto as we stumble through the dark toward the open window…

Hope is not presumption. Even if it spreads its branches toward heaven, it is rooted in the soil of this earth. We don’t just assume — or promise to others — outcomes that have no basis in reality. Hope most often seems to work in the confines of our own experiences, the limits of human time, and in our frail bodies — bodies that sometimes don’t get well no matter how hard we pray.

I’m not expecting that things are going to change and my struggle for hope will be won as soon as I pray, get off this bed, get showered, dressed and out of the door. Today, I will, just as I had in most days before (I can’t claim to be THAT consistent yet), walk and live in the name of hope. Because hope is learned on the job, not inside a room while thinking about it.

“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…As we find hope, we find evidence that He’s just been here. Hope is the bread crumbs that God leaves for us, not just to find our deepest desire or dream — but Him.” (Jarrod Voltz, died of cancer at the age of 29)

One of the best things about believing in God (and I have been called “delusional” many times for this), is that I know that I’m not alone. There is the One, who is much more powerful, ultimately wiser and more patient that I could ever be, who watches over me. And when I hope in Him, it never fails, because He never fails.

And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us. (Romans 5:5)

Today, I will walk in the name of hope.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:7

as the pressures at work and in my personal life (plus the monthly attacks of the PMS monster) are piling up on top of each other, especially these days, i find myself stopping in wonder at the peace that’s keeping me sane through everything.

the month of May and the early weeks of June hasn’t been an easy for me and especially to a number of people close to me. i’ve been to five wakes out of the six that i meant to go to– four people close to me had to bury their parents, my editor in chief lost his best friend the other week, seven days later, his dad passed away as well.  no way am i comparing my month to theirs.

but you know what i mean–those days when most of the things that could go wrong went wrong. we can’t even close our issue for this month (two weeks late!!!) when we were doing rather well before. i haven’t been getting sleep, my dreams have been disturbing. i get to the office in the morning, and i could already feel the strain. people that i count on have let me down…

but the peace! This PEACE that passes beyond understanding has been keeping me together. sure, there are times when i felt the tears trying to get out while on the way to work because i know what’s waiting for me when i get to the office. and there are things that are a wrench to give up, but i have to… when the river does not look peaceful at all.  but even if on the surface, everything is churning, i could feel the peace anchoring me, steadying me, holding me close.

it’s like finding a spot of pure stillness in the middle of this chaos, cold water in a really hot day, snuggling under a warm blanket in a really cold night, a soft soft pillow with fresh linen sheets, a bite of really good chocolate. that comfort that digs deep down and fills you with the warm fuzzies. and without fail, this peace makes me smile in the most random moments in a crazy day.

i’ve been called delusional and all sorts of names lately by people for this sort of conviction, but things have never been so clear when i finally admitted that even if there are things and circumstances that are beyond my control, there is One who is always in control. And the One who is in control is big enough to accomodate the smallest detail of every person’s life. and not only that, He cares about every one. He cares about me! And He wants what’s best for me! He’s never let me down before so I can rest easy on that thought.

this is the kind of peace that doesn’t get affected by what’s happening outside of me.

try to wrap your mind around that.

i guess that’s why they call it “the peace that passes all understanding.”

“There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die…”

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-2)

God’s fair. Everyone gets a lifetime.

(image from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman: Brief Lives)