Psalms of a Loved Wretch

Your note has been published. On Marriage, A Contrast on Secular Philosophy With Christianity

2009-05-31T19:37:00.001-07:00

This is a comment I wrote in the Protect Marriage: One Man, One Woman page here on Facebook. What do you guys think? You can rebut or make suggestions to make this argument stronger. Thanks. I pray that you may be edified as much I had been when I was writing it.

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Having read through the comments, it seems to me that a very common problem in the grounds of debate is the apparent separation between state and church. No reconciliation—no, not even on the grounds of discourse—will be achieved if both sides are “just camping” per se. So here’s my take. And I hope that it builds some sort of common ground out of the great schism that is so evident between the arguments of each side. It might be long, but I hope you can read through it and make some rebuttals if you find weaknesses in my constructive.

The spirit of our postmodern world, which is evident in our politics and pop culture, can be summed up into a few words: "Each to his own", i.e. follow what your heart says and do what you think is right as if morality is a relative thing—and this is based on the false presumption that happiness is the highest virtue that one must attain. The tolerance for homosexuality was born out of this philosophy. But the problem with this philosophy is that, instead of promoting goodness [supposedly], it actually nourishes the problem of evil, e.g. the Holocaust (which the Nazis thought was the right thing to do) and the impending murder of all humankind if homosexuality continues to emerge (for procreation is hindered). So how do we solve this problem? Clearly, the postmodernist philosophy of relative morality banks itself on the human individual and its preferences, which manifest by means of nature and nurture. It is a man-centred system of beliefs.

To achieve a constant moral direction (for not all directions are right; the truth only goes one way, because if all directions are right, there would be no morality—and that’s already going down the path of nihilism, which basically stipulates that life has no meaning at all), morality must bank on something (or Someone) above the individual. It is ok to be happy, but it is not virtue, i.e. that which is good in and of itself, for not all happiness leads to good, e.g. a murderer relishes in the pleasure of his murderous act. A clear ethic must be presented by something that is above man, which is God, to dictate that which is good and bad. And to achieve goodness, we must follow that ethic presented by God. This is God’s Law that I am talking about—and yes, a lot of it is disagreeable to us humans because it was written by God out of His holy preference that shuns sin; not of our preferences, for there are many of us and our desires vary. And not one of us can say that he is more right than the other, for no one can truly rule over the other; for no man has the inborn and prescribed authority and power over others upon birth. Only that which is above man must have and can have sovereign rule.

Happiness then is not that which each individual must be fixated on. Rather, it is the OBEDIENCE of the one true morality that is revealed by God. But it is clearly observable that no man had ever completely obeyed the rule of God, including David, Moses, and all the other patriarchs in the Torah, Qur’an, or Bible. The only one documented person who was able to completely follow the law was Jesus, who died on the Cross so that mankind, in his fallen state of perpetual disobedience to God, maybe saved and be happy in heaven—this is the greatest act of LOVE and GRACE. Having said all this (and having justified that it is only by God’s design that goodness and happiness are both achieved, for it is possible that they should not be mutually exclusive of each other), humankind ought not to espouse homosexuality, because all prophetic vision inspired by an omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent God (Islam, Judaism, Christianity) says that homosexuality is against His will. NOTE: Polytheism is a weak philosophy because it does not accurately fulfil the definition of “God”. Notice that in Hinduism or paganism, their gods have both human and animal attributes. They are not all-powerful gods. They are merely rulers of certain realms, i.e. the sky, the earth, the waters, etc.

This now begs the question of how those of us who have fully understood the wisdom in this to those who have not. Because we must treat homosexuality as any other sin, we must also administer the same way to homosexuals as we would onto those who have committed any other sin in the way that Jesus had. Remember that Jesus was not afraid to be in the company of prostitutes and liars and all the other “scum” of society. He loved them. He came to “save the sinner, not the righteous man”, for the righteous are already saved. We must share onto homosexuals that they are as much loved by God as He loves the murderer, the rapist, the thief, etc. It is in this sharing that we hope that the homosexual builds a relationship with God and be sanctified. And out of this sanctification, we must pray that all homosexual desires are removed. We pray because it is only God, in His unquestionable sovereignty, who can do the sanctifying. Because of this, I believe that if a homosexual was to turn to God, he/she would be transformed into what God wants him or her to be: man or woman; male or female.

Lastly, because we have established that there is only one true morality, we must not divide our lives in two and live a “secular life” and “religious life”. If we really are believers, we will walk our faith. In this morality, there is no distinction between being politically-correct and being correct in the eyes of God. Secularism serves man. Religion serves God and does man good through God. To allow same-sex marriage is immoral. So for the sake of mankind, goodness, and God, I humbly disagree with the motion to allow same-sex marriage. Do not follow your heart. Follow God and the His truth as inspired in the Bible.

(I say Bible, because Christianity has a stronger and kinder case than Islam and Judaism even though all three prohibit homosexuality. :D But that is an entirely different subject matter already.)

Phile de Dieu, Phile de parents, et Philosophie

2009-04-23T13:53:00.000-07:00

Phile de Dieu, Phile de parents, et Philosophie
22Apr09
Charles Close, Waterlooville

Today’s heated conversation with my mother and father on the topic of shifting to Philosophy was expected, what with my reason that it was God’s conviction that prompted to me think that Psychology is not the subject for me (for the reason that my studying Psychology may harm my Christian views) and that Philosophy, which I had taken interest previous to Psychology, is more complimentary to my inclination to ask metaphysical and ontological questions, which I am now very convinced is a hunger that God gave me to delve in and question ancient and modern worldviews in hopes that I will grow deeper in faith in Him.

Of course, those who are aware of my recent break-up with Mars will be disposed to believe that my dissatisfaction with Psychology grew out of the pain of seeing, on a day-to-day basis, someone whom I have lost out of [un]fortunate events (for Mars is also majoring in Psychology), but the recent discovery that Mars too will be shifting has not deterred me from this conviction. In fact, the disappearance of the fear of the thought of being in the same classroom with her was a sign, I believe; and that only strengthened this conviction. Therefore, I say that my desire to shift is not out of the current enmity between Mars and me.

Neither is it out of a desire to be with Mars for God had already convicted me that what had gone on between Mars and I while we were still a couple (though critical in my awakening to the importance of understanding sin, which consequentially moved me to be in a joyful and thankful state for God and His grace) was not what God would intend for His children. I feel myself to be, slowly but surely, shedding off the hopes of a romantic reconciliation with Mars. Indeed, the presence of the enmity is testament to that; however, this does not mean that I am not seeking for a platonic reconciliation with her. I dearly hope for that as God had commanded me to live in peace with all peoples as best as possible despite the perpetual conflict of my Christian views and the world’s views. I also believe that I am emotionally and spiritually mature enough to make decisions not out of an attraction to a girl, but by the affirmation of God’s will through prayer, outward and inward convictions, and meditations on the Word of God. Therefore, I also say that my desire to shift is not out of a desire to be with Mars.

The beginnings of this conviction was when I started to question my place in Psychology after I experience a revitalization of my faith in God—and this question intensified when I said out loud, “Why am I in psychology?” and Noel, who I met up with on our way to Core, replied, “Yeah. When we get to a right relationship with God, we often ask why we do what we do.” I also remembered a warning that Anna, a pastor-friend who graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology, gave me: that “90% of psychology’s teachings go against the Bible.” More or less, the weeks that followed were spent questioning and seeking answers about this aspect of my life, until a philosophical conversation with Steph and Micah moved me to ponder on the prospect of studying Philosophy in Silliman. This pondering and considering continued right up until I arrived home in England.

Brought into the mire of all that pondering and praying was the prospect of studying in England instead. But I realized that my desire to study in England was primarily out of the want to spite Mars. Secondary were the reasons that studying in England would quicken the run of things so that I could get a job and earn money as soon as possible. So I had to discard that option; God does not want me to hate.

With Mars out of the picture (and the decision to return to the Philippines made certain), there was only my parents, as the financiers of my education, to be informed about this conviction. In my pondering, I had also taken my parents, as the physical manifestations of God’s providence in the area of my upbringing, into consideration. I am well aware that my mother works her socks off to provide the fundamental needs for my brothers and me (and the other people in the Philippines whom she supports); this was made evident to me when I discovered that she had applied to three nursing agencies to work extra shifts. The economic downturn has made the load on her exponentially heavier, so I had to pray and consider everything again and again. How would I break it to my mother that God has convicted me to transfer yet again to another course? How would I tell her that her eldest son may graduate simultaneously with or after her second or third son?

Everything that she said today was expected to an extent. I knew that she would try to convince me to choose the path where it is more certain for me to get a decent job to feed, clothe, and house myself with, i.e. the study-in-England path. I know her to be a worrier, especially for the well-being of her children and all her life, she had worked only for that—and for doing so, I do honour and thank her. But that tight spot is not avoidable when this conviction seems to go against Ephesians 6:1. A part of her will think of me an ingrate for her efforts, as will my father, but the truth is my soul knows that I will be more edified in Philosophy than in Psychology—and because of that, I know that God will be more glorified in my life if I choose Philosophy. And that is the goal now: God’s glorification.

It may mean that I will be living in the shadows of my brothers’ success; or that I will disappoint the many who have put their hopes on me, but I have surrendered that all the dreams that I have hold on to for me and for my loved ones will have to be founded on the Lord alone. It’s just that in this largely individualistic world that we live in, submission to a Supreme Being is the most difficult action to take. This age has taught us that we must fight for success; that we have to rely on ourselves to survive instead of trusting in God. I cannot follow the trends of the world for it has forsaken God.

So, it is in the spirit of submission that I have decided to pray for this decision to shift to Philosophy again. If it is of God’s, it will happen. If it is of God’s, His Spirit will enter my parents and agree to it.

Of Deborah Drapper: One Way God is Working in the UK

2009-04-18T16:50:00.000-07:00

Of Deborah Drapper
19Apr09 00:18
Charles Close, Waterlooville

I had always been concerned with the state of Christian spirituality in England since I first arrived here. Indeed, a former bastion of Christianity in the West, England, unfortunately, has become spiritually dry as the young generation are deceived into idolatry and the vast majority of any congregation are septuagenarians or older—and we still don’t know the exact number of those who truly believe in Christ among them. Literally, the Church is dying in England and I thought that God had turned His back on this place.

That’s what I thought.

Out of His forgiving love, God will never forsake anyone—and there is a glimmer of His presence in England in the form of Deborah Drapper, a 13 year-old girl who is just brimming with faith in Jesus Christ.

However, I disagree somewhat to the restrictions that her parents have put on her. She is homeschooled and rather out-of-touch with some of the happenings in the world. Time will only tell if her parents' isolationist approach to her upbringing will be benificial to her faith or not.

To Shift [again?]

2009-04-17T17:36:00.000-07:00

To Shift [again?] ?
17Apr09
Charles Close, Waterlooville

If things had not happened as they did, I would be graduating next March, but a series of unexpected events had kept me from the conventional run of things. I went through grade seven, wasted one year of college while I was in Havant College here in England, enrolled in Silliman University for the first time on the second semester, and then shifted from Medical Technology to Psychology the following school year. And now, because of a revived desire to go deeper from the study of mind and self and into study of existence itself—with all the metaphysics, aesthetics, logic, epistemology, hermeneutics, and ontology and whatnot that comes with it—I am considering shifting to Philosophy.

The hunger had always been there, but was never that evident. All inklings of technical philosophy that I have encountered in Silliman were through conversations with Twiggy, Lou, and Micah. Discussions with those three are rare but they are truly a treat—even if there is some disagreement to their premises and arguments. Psychology also seems to have lost its flare and does not endear to me as I had initially thought it would. Furthermore, I questioned my place in psychology after my reawakening to the Christian faith, because I realized it to be inherently leaning against Christian teaching. Anna, my Psych-11 teacher who has gone on to become a minister had warned me that “90% of psychology’s teachings are against the Bible”. Granted, there is some biblical validity in some psychological discoveries, but as a field that banks on the scientific method, which seeks to answer only the questions it knows it can answer, Psychology is not the deepest one can go in pursuit of answering some upstanding questions—questions that I am hungry to be answered, and answers I would like to verify through secular means.

Right now, there is an excitement felt in the prospect of starting anew again, but naturally, there are some things that have to be considered before I can arrive to a final decision:

1. God- I do ask if this is something that He would want me to venture in. It goes without saying that much prayer will have to be done to be convicted if Philosophy is indeed for me.

2. Parents- they hold the money. And they will not be happy if that diploma—and my employment—will be delayed longer. I am also yet to propose my plans to them.

3. Teachers- some Philosophy teachers seem to be notorious of being “regressive” in their teaching methods, but at the end of the day, Philosophy seems to be one of those subjects that you have to do a lot of self-learning anyway.

4. Certain people who might shift to Philo also- it’s this one that I’m currently having a fixation on. I recently discovered that a person I want to avoid (yet desire to reach out to) is also thinking about shifting to Philosophy. And I really don’t know what God is trying to pull here.

So at the end of it, I have to go back to no.1 and pray about it. I really need a sign, Lord. Or would You rather have me study here in England?

...and a[nother] blogger is born.

2009-04-17T16:28:00.000-07:00

...and a[nother] blogger is born.
17Apr09
Charles Close, Waterlooville

Yes. Gus is now a blogger. If by genuine intrigue or by “accident”, you drop by and read the contents of this blog, I forewarn you that what you will read may not of interest to you. (Take the title as a hint.)

I’m not obliged to explain why I’m blogging so I’ll just keep my reasons to myself—and I’ll leave you to enjoy [or not] my rants, my epiphanies, and the things that I bear interest on.

Of Gutsy Guilt and Cheap Grace

2009-04-17T14:54:00.000-07:00

Of Gutsy Guilt and Cheap Grace
Corner Pierce Street-St. George Street, Macclesfield
12Apr09

I realized today that my desire to write has something to do with my being away from home; I have observed that my bedroom is the place I like to write in the least. In the past two weeks, my family and I have been going to different places in England—and t is noticeable that the previous entries were all written at different places. We are here in Macclesfield to visit some family friends. We have been here for three days now; and today is Easter Sunday—and, naturally, the first thing we did was go to Mass at the local Methodist Church, which has been the preferred church to go to since we first arrived in England almost eight years ago.

There is always a delight felt in the attendance of Mass, but it has been embedded in my mentality that the majority of English congregations (or a congregation of any nationality, in fact) lacks the passion that I have become accustomed to in the Dumaguete churches. That mentality has not been properly challenged, but I do hope that England, like China and Korea, would experience a spiritual revival to carry on the legacy of outstanding British Christians such as Oswald Chambers, Charles Spurgeon, and C.S. Lewis—and, indeed, for the sake of the pursuit of God’s will.

Like most of the churches in England, at least 90% of the congregation of the Macclesfield Methodist Church are aged 50 or over. Moreover, the sermon, though thought-provoking to a minute extent, was not as filling as the sermons in the Dumaguete churches like Calvary Chapel in particular. Because of that, I was inclined to read the book that I bought just before I left Dumaguete during some parts of the service, John Piper’s When I Don’t Desire God How to Fight for Joy—and in there, I was gifted with the enlightening lesson of gutsy guilt and cheap grace.

In the sixth chapter of that book, John Piper succinctly explains how Grace fits into the Christian story. Basically, it goes like this: We are all born sinners and we all deserve to burn in hell. I deserve to burn in hell. Jordan Carnice deserves to burn in hell. Micah Dagaerag deserves to burn in hell. My family deserves to burn in hell. The Pope deserves to burn in hell. Even the twelve disciples deserved to burn in hell. Even the most prudent, the most humble, and the most virtuous person you know who has not accepted Christ as his or her saviour deserves to burn in hell, because all fall short of the glory of God. But because God loves me, Jordan, Micah, my family, the Pope, the disciples, and the most virtuous person and everyone in this world so much that He wants us to be saved from His own wrath, He became down to earth as Jesus Christ to preach of His love and grace so that we may believe in Him, be washed of our sins, and live an eternal life—just so that we can be saved from God’s wrath and from eternal condemnation in hell. And that was His grace—and the Cross reminds us of that.

But what is gutsy guilt?

Gutsy guilt is that distinct guilt that a believer feels when he realizes that he is a man of sin—and this guilt is so necessary in realizing and respecting the Grace that God has gifted him, because the believer realizes the seriousness of his sin. It is observable in those who truly walk the narrow path that there is this sense of guilt, but it does not overpower their joy of being saved—God would not allow that. And out of this guilt, there is an overwhelming feeling of gratefulness for His grace. Without this guilt, grace cannot be realized to the believer. Without this guilt, His grace is cheapened into feel-good Christianity.

A Rant [?]

2009-04-10T17:00:00.000-07:00

A Rant [?]
Charles Close, Waterlooville
08Apr09 04:37pm

I suppose it’s been a long time coming, but today, waking up just felt like a mistake. After last night’s ordeal to try to go to sleep, you woke up at 2pm, which meant 9pm in the Philippines, so you had hoped that some friends would be online on Facebook, but going on Facebook proved to be just the most venomous thing.

There is a desire to be left alone on the “road to recovery”—and you really thought that this was already mutually known between you and her given that you had not initially respected her desire to be left alone. A return to England came with the concession that neither of you should cross paths again—not yet anyway—but Facebook, the most obviously effective way of communicating with other friends in the Philippines, seems not only a gift, but also a bane. Crossing with her, even on the online community, proved to be unhealthy for the heart. Really, you felt that the knob had been left unlocked for the Enemy to casually walk into your heart and just rip everything down again.

After a devastating break-up, you would expect that someone would have nothing to do with you anymore—or at least do nothing that would agitate things again—because that you know yourself to be heaving inch by inch away from the fallen scaffolds of that “process” called love. And you know that that is only the beginning of it, because after getting away, you would have to look at the debris and see what pieces you can scavenge for the “rebuilding”. But most of the time, even the debris beckons to you to just look at it in sadness—and you know that you’re doing exactly that when you force yourself to be out of the bathroom before the confines of the room allows for reminiscing and the coldness of your tears drain away the warmth of the water; when you pray every bloody night that in an instant, she would forgive you and that you would forgive her, because you don’t know whether it’s guilt or impatience that you are feeling. Then you weep. You just bloody weep when you succeed in convincing your family to just leave you at home on a day supposed for outing. You weep. You pray. You pray again and again thinking that the frequency of your prayers would make your chances better. Then you watch videos on the internet so you could follow a story besides your own. And then you excuse yourself of having fallen asleep when your family, upon their arrival, asks you why you haven't answered their calls and if you have cooked dinner while they were away.

The next day, you feel a capitulated happiness when you discover that she herself has “de-friended” from Facebook—and then you condemn yourself for allowing her to do that first. Then you weep again.

But love takes on a different meaning when you remember that you weep not because you hate her, but because you hate yourself more than you hate her—and really, at the end of it, you feel that your prayers are being answered.

Of Grace and Justice

2009-04-10T15:23:00.000-07:00

Of Grace and Justice
10Apr09
The KFC at Fratton Park, Portsmouth

It is Good Friday, but sadly, the English climate has denied [once again] the people of Portsmouth a more appropriate or acceptable weather on this special spring day. Today celebrates one of the most important moments of Christian history—no, make that all of history and eternity—but it seems the salvation from our sins is totally unrelated to the weather. Really, God could have granted us some sunlight, but I’ll take the cold rain—it gives the perfect solemn mood for some reflection and writing anyway. Lord, I do thank you for the horrible English weather. Honestly.

All this rain and today’s occasion brought back the memory of the days before Odie left for Japan to study at the International Christian University and get a cute Japanese girlfriend, when he and I had a little chat about Grace and the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. He described Grace to be “undeserved favour”; and that the cross is one of the most definitive images of God’s Grace. At that time, I was having my first reading of Philip Yancey’s book, What’s So Amazing About Grace?, which I stumbled on in my old Korean roommate’s bookshelf—but surprisingly, the book turned out to be the property of arguably one of the most delinquent persons in Silliman University, Navaka Gunasingha. This entry is just another exploration on the concept of Grace.

The necessity of a solid understanding of sin, which is often left out in the so-called “seeker-sensitive” churches today, was made more apparent just before I left for England. “Undeserved favour”—it didn’t strike anything much until I had acknowledged that I was born a sinner and that what I rightly deserve is the wrath of God. The numerous moments of outbursts of pride, of greed, and even more heinous sins should make me a deserving target for a lightning bolt, but the element of sin in the Christian story cannot stand alone without Grace. After all, “the Christian life is all about Grace”, said John Piper.

I have always had this obsession for Grace, most likely because it’s the most mind-blowing concept I have ever encountered. It’s radical. It’s out of this world. It’s amazing! It clearly cuts the line between simple condoning and selfless forgiving. To condone is to merely say, “What you did was ok.” To forgive is to say, “What you did was not ok, but because I love you so much, I don’t want you to feel accountable for it anymore. You’re forgiven.” This clarification not only made me understand that a grounded moral standard has been lost in this world where many things are increasingly made more permissible without taking into consideration if they are in line with God’s will—then again, the world has made itself deaf to God’s voice these days—but it also made me question the opposite concept of justice.

The justice that most of us know today, though derived from God’s law, has been repeatedly moulded, over time, to suit our desires—not His. However, I’m not saying that we should totally abandon the law that we know—it’s necessary in keeping order in our society, but again, the world’s is the world’s and God’s is God’s. Let the world keep its order, but I have discovered that conformity to its order and trends, if not kept in check and allowed to reach the levels of idolatry, is murderous to the soul. There is indeed a delicate line which separates a Christian’s duties as a citizen of the world and as God’s forgiven child, but that will be something that can be investigated further in a different entry. In our world, especially now that there is a greater sense of political awareness and involvement, people value their rights most—our rights of freedom of speech, property, choice, etc. In a recent chat with Karyll, she mentioned that, for the reason that we are so engrossed in the upholding of our “rights”, we are deprived of the chance to forgive and experience God’s Grace. But what’s so mind-blowing and offensive (and of pinnacle beauty) about Christian Grace is that once we receive it, we are encouraged to let go of our rights. Such surrendering is a sign that an individual has the desperate wish to be completely abandoned to God’s will. So what do we do when others violate our rights no matter how gravely? Just forgive?

The Christian answer is yes.

One of the most shocking stories of Grace I had read was of Gordon Wilson, an Irish man who forgave the IRA terrorists who, in the process of bombing Dublin in 1987, killed his daughter. He said of the bombers, “I have lost my daughter, but I bear no grudge . . . I shall pray, tonight and every night, that God will forgive them.” Most would have demanded for revenge—or “justice”—against the bombers, but often times, that measure only leads to the suffering of the opposing party. I have come to see that justice—or the protection of my rights when offended—does not necessarily nullify the pains of the offense. And dearly do I try to just pray every night that God will forgive those who have offended me and that He will also give me the strength to forgive, just like Gordon Wilson.

God’s loving Grace is so encompassing that not even justice can stop it. More and more, I see that it is not justice that the offended and the offender are clamouring for. It is Grace. We desperately need it, but we don’t deserve it—God gives it nonetheless.

And really, had it not for the rain and the solemnity it brings, both of which are God’s gift through His grace, I would not have felt His grace so lively today.

“If God can forgive me, a sinner, shouldn’t I forgive those who have sinned against me?”

Of Memories, Realities, and Lies

2009-04-09T16:17:00.000-07:00

Of Memories, Realities, and Lies
Charles Close, Waterlooville
10Apr09

A long time ago, I had diagnosed myself to be a nostalgic person. The desire to return to the old and new memories of blissful moments with friends just seems to have a foothold in my daily life. I suppose the reason I arrived to that thus-far-accurate conclusion is the soul-cleaving combination of my tendencies to be a depressive loner, the many attachments that I forcefully had to let go of in my constant moving of living-places and the view that nothing just seems enough. In a bid to retain any wholeness from out of all the fragmented memories, I associated people to feelings and things: the pain of loss to Mrs. Wyvill, my English teacher who was absent in the front of the classroom for four months after her daughter’s death; the freedom of selflessness to Anna, my psychology teacher, mentor, and minister whose family could not accept her decision to become a woman of the cloth; juvenile and unrequited love to Gabo Marquez’s biggest fan, who is also a melancholic person in her own right (she knows who she is), etc. It was like some sort of “networking”—webbing pieces of memory so that, somehow, life would at least be given form and shape when too much movement was already causing fragmentation. It was a bid to put things in order just so that there will be some depth in the broadness of things. Everyone does this, I suppose, but, for me, it’s become a fixation. Often times, the components of that combination turned out not to be exclusive of each other in such a way that severed attachments was caused by regular solitude and regular solitude caused severed attachments. Hurrah for me for solving that basic equation, but seriously, because of that, I sometimes think that I may have some sort of socializing problem. However, that’s not the point because there is already a surrendered contentment—or contented surrendering—in the realization that companions will always come and go—even if their coming and going are too quick to even start cherishing the friendship. Really, companionate love is difficult to come by in this devilish world—and really, it just seems like reality wants us to raise our white flags.

In deceptive notes of existentialism, the grace-less artist and other self-proclaimed prime-movers would sing, “Whatever is painted in our memories will only be the reality that we know. Whatever reality we know will dictate our being. Poverty is a reality that is most real to those who live in it. Art is a reality that is more real to those who appreciate and make it. Melancholia is a reality that is most real to those who live in the pit but want to climb out of it. So do what you want to make yourself happy. Find your place in the world. Look at the realities of the world and then make your own. You are in control.” But that is just a half-truth of a song.

Anna once wrote to me in the first Blue Letter: We have to stop and just look before the memories take over us. But, sometimes, I think that what she really meant was that we have to stop and just look before the realities and offers of the world take over us. Look for what? What is so wrong with the world and all its realities, both ugly and beautiful, that we have to look something beyond it?

Most of us have accepted that this world offers so many realities—or more truthfully, so many possibilities that we, out of our God-[given/forsaken] free will, can make real. We hear the world beckon to us, “Come. I offer happiness in drugs, in the approval and company of many, in self-satisfaction for your efforts, in unnatural sexual ventures, and in the attainment of intellectual standards. And there’s so much more where that came from.” But is it really our duty to make things real for us? Are the memories that we have made and will make the only reality that we could and should ever know? Is this world there is to it?

Those who have accepted the offer of this world, the so-called relativists, would say, “You can do anything, just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. Anyone can be who they want because in this world, it is each to his own. They can make their own dreams, follow their heart, and cut their own path.” Looking back now, I realize that I was once a deceived relativist who told himself that the only way to happiness is to follow his heart and his urges to be an environmentalist, a writer, an artist, a Campus Ambassador, a peace activist, and whatever else that I wanted to become to reach my goals, happiness, and gratification. And for transparency’s sake, I will even reveal the fact that I had bisexual urges—but, especially out of recent happenings, I am thankful that God had derailed me from that path.

In my longest stint as a backsliding Christian, when I thought that it was my duty to “cut my own path”, I looked around for that thing, which I was not sure of until I actually found it [again]—or should I say It, because when I found It, It was He. I had thought that it was the absolute truth that I had to find—something that was beyond the reality [or lie] of relativism, a worldly construct that I, in my now-more-or-less-steady walk with Him, increasingly believe to be more deathly oppressive and less freeing. And indeed, He is the absolute Truth—He is the ultimate, complete, and flawless reality. There becomes no reason left to listen to counsel that does not point back to Him, because I previously had found the Truth, and when I delved into the deceptively sweet sins of the world, I let go of that Truth and I was lost. But thankfully, O God how thankfully, once a soul has tasted the sweetness of Your love and grace, everything else turns out to be of unsatisfying sourness and bitterness—and here I am, panting for Your sweetness like the deer who pants for water.

Presumably, the relativists that I have now been set apart from would say, “Hey, Gus. Suit yourself. If you’re happy with being a Jesus-freak, then go.” And they convince themselves that being a Christian—or having an intimate relation with Jesus Christ—is just another of those things that is offered by the world. But the thing about being “saved” is that there is an open exclusivity (for the lack of a better figure) to its eternal sweetness, because looking to God was not just a change of what I wanted to mind, it was a renewal of my mind itself—and it is a daily renewal; a daily conversion; or a daily opportunity to just be thankful. I then knew that what I have been given is beyond the world. Once I found myself to be entering this “other side”, the truth that it was not my happiness that was and should be primarily at stake became clear; rather, it was His happiness; His glory; His sake. It was never about me, the people around me, and the rest of the world. It was, is, and will always be about Him. And the relativists will not find that truth when the realities (or should I call them lies now?) of this world are all they see. I know, because I used to be one of them and said the very same sneering words to those who are not ashamed of their burning passion for Him. To be honest, there are those who can testify that I once bore false witness to my Christian brothers. And I listened to many more others who would mock their graciously-given efforts to proclaim of Jesus’ love and God’s grace—and I am ashamed to have just listened, nodded, and turned my back on my brothers.

Being graced though doesn’t mean that the memories and “realities” of this world will disappear. From the day that I was born, I was made to be corruptible by them, because at that same moment in my worldly existence, I had declared the world to be mine, I had declared myself to be mine, and I had declared that I would run myself and the world. Just like those who have embraced the world, I am also human—and by default, the “realities” of this world will take over some part of me in one way and at some point or another in the future. The “new” Gus is not exempt from “falling short of the glory of God”. In fact, many will be critical of this “new” Gus—heck, even the “old” Gus had many critics. But I thank God, my Lord Jesus Christ who died for my sins on the cross and saved me from His wrath, for moving Micah to remind me “that how [people] think of [me] is not nearly as important as how GOD thinks of [me],” because I now feel that divine joy knowing that I have been granted His grace—O Grace, that beautiful and sweet word. I will always be in this pit of nostalgia while I still have a life in this world, but there is a divine joy in knowing that, out of Grace, there is the One who has His unceasing grip around me—and I know that someday, He will completely pull me out. Because of that, this fixation for life to take form from the fragmentations that have recently occurred, or any other struggles present and future, should not be entrusted to the realities of the world, but to His perfect will. The world may see me as a melancholic person, but there will always still be that quiet hoping inside me—and there will be no more nostalgia for the broken “realities” of the world, only a yearning for Him, my one true Companion and Redeemer who saved me from the lies of the world.

“We were meant to live for such more. Have we lost ourselves?”

“It is good to lose ourselves. It is the only way we can find life in Jesus Christ.”—“Baby Face” Cyril Polino :)

Of Home

2009-04-07T04:41:00.001-07:00

Of Home
04Apr09 04:51pm
Alexandra Palace, Tottenham

Among many other things, I have always been transparent about my dislike for long-distance travel. It is really only by inescapable requirement or the rare presence of a personal desire on my part to go to other places that travel becomes even as much as a minutely enjoyable venture.

Because of that, I often feel like an oddball in a clan that has taken advantage of the divine gift of spatial intelligence; in his unemployment, my father has made driving (and all the other motor-head stuff that comes with it) one of his idols. The people on my mother’s side of the family, on the other hand, have been an interesting mixture of farmers, mechanics, and drivers—professions which, in one way or another, demand a certain level of sense of direction. My mother herself is such an avid navigator/backseat-driver that it will never be a surprise to see her arguing with my father about which exit in the round-about to go through. That kind of movement is something that they can ordinarily pass off, but there is just something about moving—or more precisely, the whole idea of distance—that stirs something very distinctly spiritual in me.

Significant moments of my childhood include the frequent moving of houses, of schools, and of countries. Almost ten times, I went to one country to another. Ten times I moved schools. More than ten times, I moved houses. And all these new places always come with new people to meet and make friends with; new styles of living to adapt to; and new privileges, but they always come hand in hand with new problems. Because of that, there becomes an inevitable clamour for rootedness in a person who, like me, could never clearly determine where home was—that place where one could safely run to for a shelter when all the wounding raindrops of reality become torrential enough to derail one from where one should go—because there does not seem to be a particular place on this beautiful planet that I can confidently declare to be home. A family friend once said that a blank canvass is a painter’s greatest terror. For me, there was always a blank canvass shoved in front of my face before I could look at what I had previously painted (or even worse, before I could finish what I was previously painting). Sometimes, life is that kind of terror.

When the decision to go back [home] to the Philippines was conceived in my mind, I had thought that the clamour to be rooted in one place would be satisfied. Indeed, there was an independence that was initially enjoyed, but that only turned out to be a juvenile perception of freedom. Dumaguete was a place that seemed to lock and fit into the lifestyle that I had desperately dreamed of during soul-stagnating nights in England. The people I met in Dumaguete did not seem new because of that. And there seemed to be too many privileges to even start thinking about the problems that would eventually come.

But Dumaguete was not a dream. It was a real place complete with raindrops—and it became a torrent when the girl of my dreams (there’s that word again) decided to put a stop to an intricate relationship of platonic, romantic, and spiritual love. Indeed, that girl was elemental in my perception that Dumaguete was home. And even as I write this, I can say that my season of broken-heartedness is yet to reach its longed-for climax. But thankfully, by Grace, this torrent [de]railed me into going the Right way.

Towards the end of my second year in university, not long after the increasingly fractious separation between my ex-girlfriend and me, Home beckoned before my brother and I went back to England to finalize our British citizenship and claim our passports. Out of desperation, when all the rationalizing and explanations of how and why things happened could not fill the empty space that the circumstances had led up to, I was gifted with Christ’s love and forgiveness; and He welcomed me back to His Home like the unconditionally-loving father of the prodigal son.

It is Home, because it is not just the home that many people believe to be a place of security and safety. By God’s grace, I returned to His kingdom, a place whose people, in fellowship, are true family; where His eternally-loving lifestyle is gifted and not imposed; where all problems are opportunities; and where dream and reality have no discrepancy.

When I found it, travelling ceased to be a burden and began to become an opportunity to marvel at His omnipotence through His incomparably beautiful creation; at His omnipresence that no measure of distance could invalidate; at His omniscience that I take comfort and trust in as He leads me to life.

Homeless, I was often lost—and will probably get lost again in my chronic prodigality—but I was always found and will always be found, because by His Grace, I am home in Jesus Christ.