It’s been a week since Typhoon Ondoy (Ketsana) whipped Metro Manila and its surrounding regions with the worst rainfall in recorded history. I don’t need to burden you with figures; you can look those up on Wikipedia and the news websites. Let me instead tell you my story.

I had left the house early that morning to take the admission exam for my graduate studies at the Ateneo de Manila. I only thought it would be a regular rainy day; I left my umbrella at home. Since my car was running low on fuel, I loaded up on gas before I drove off to the campus.

When I arrived at  around 7:30 am, the rain had just begun to come down. I managed to walk calmly to the testing center since the rain wasn’t that bad yet. My jacket protected me from the downpour quite well, so I didn’t worry about it.

As I was taking the test, I noticed that the rain outside was only getting stronger and was not showing any signs of stopping. The horrific downpour continued through the morning. Between the half time break and the end of the test, it only seemed to intensify.

The test ended at 12 noon. I decided to go as quickly as I could to my car and go home; the test was exhausting and I just wanted to relax with a good lunch and sleep the rest of the afternoon. Little did I know that I was in for the long haul.

The rain was coming down in sheets. Since I was wearing waterproof hiking boots and my jacket was quite thick, I decided to make a break for it and ran the 200 or so meters to my car through the driving rain.

In hindsight, it was probably not a good idea. While my boots themselves were waterproof, the pools of water splashed up past my ankles as I ran through them and soaked into my socks. My denim jacket wasn’t waterproof and my wool hood was highly absorbent, so the water soaked me through very quickly. By the time I got into the car, the rain was coming down like a madman.

I quickly stripped off my jacket and outer garment. Thankfully my inner shirt was still dry, although my pants were soaked up to my thighs.

As I started my car, I noticed that the line of vehicles headed for the exit was not moving. I remembered that it was the Ateneo Grade School fair, and so they might have ended early due to the horrid rain. I took a cue from the other cars and followed them to a new egress from the parking lot that I had not known of.

Since there weren’t that many cars passing through the exit road, I thought I could get out easily. Or so I thought. I ended up hitting thick traffic that was barely moving. This was unusual; Ateneo rarely experienced a jam of this magnitude. The rain was still coming down in sheets and I could barely see the high-rise condos along the road.

I looked out of the University’s fence and saw that there were cars going in the wrong direction along the Katipunan avenue, and that they weren’t moving. The flood was so deep that the cars couldn’t progress at all. I also noticed that the creek that was flowing along the road had swelled into a raging river.

That was when I did a double take. There was no creek alongside Katipunan avenue. The raging river was Katipunan, and the counterflowing cars were actually in the right lane. Realizing I was trapped, I decided to call my mother and tell her my situation.

My mom knew what was going on and she said that it would be a good idea for me to stay inside the campus first, as the situation was quickly turning bad all over the city. Better for me to stay in the relative safety of the campus than to risk damaging my car in the raging floodwaters. Before I hung up, though, my she gave me another piece of bad news: my brother, who was abroad in Malaysia, had been hospitalized with a fever. He had woken up that morning to find himself unable to move. My father had already booked a flight out of Singapore to see him.

The news was heartbreaking. Despite my brother being the more athletic of us two, he was always the one who ended up getting hospitalized. I was never sick enough to need surgery or hospitalization. Since we were children, I would often find myself at his bedside keeping him company in the hospital. I said a quick prayer for him and returned my focus to driving as the traffic began to move again.

It took me about thirty minutes to get out of the jam and onto University Road, which leads deeper into the campus; I decided to look for a parking spot and get lunch. Unfortunately, the guard at Xavier Hall refused to let me park there to get food at the canteen, so I decided to park at one of the higher-up parking lots and wait there.

I took off my soaked socks and boots for a while and also looked into my backpack to see in what condition my belongings were. My bag was water-resistant so I didn’t expect the rain to penetrate.

Unfortunately, it did. There was some moisture on my laptop, which I quickly patted dry; there was also a small pool of water inside that thankfully did not damage my books. Out everything went.

Trapped, soaked, and slightly hungry, I decided to go ahead and pray.

I thanked God that I had a car and that I was in a relatively safe place. I would learn later that the flood rose so quickly that many people were trapped along the road and had to abandon their cars. I thanked God that my family was safe–mom was at work in a high building, my brothers, father and grandmother were safely abroad, and our house was still untouched by the rising floodwaters. I thanked God that I at least had something to do while waiting; my iPod was fully-charged and I had filled my car with gas that morning.

I then cracked open my Bible and found the following passage:

Psalm 107

1Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;

his love endures forever.

2Let the redeemed of the LORD say this—

those he redeemed from the hand of the foe,

3those he gathered from the lands,

from east and west, from north and south.^a

4Some wandered in desert wastelands,

finding no way to a city where they could settle.

5They were hungry and thirsty,

and their lives ebbed away.

6Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,

and he delivered them from their distress.

7He led them by a straight way

to a city where they could settle.

8Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for men,

9for he satisfies the thirsty

and fills the hungry with good things.

10Some sat in darkness and the deepest gloom,

prisoners suffering in iron chains,

11for they had rebelled against the words of God

and despised the counsel of the Most High.

12So he subjected them to bitter labor;

they stumbled, and there was no one to help.

13Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble,

and he saved them from their distress.

14He brought them out of darkness and the deepest gloom

and broke away their chains.

15Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for men,

16for he breaks down gates of bronze

and cuts through bars of iron.

17Some became fools through their rebellious ways

and suffered affliction because of their iniquities.

18They loathed all food

and drew near the gates of death.

19Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble,

and he saved them from their distress.

20He sent forth his word and healed them;

he rescued them from the grave.

21Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for men.

22Let them sacrifice thank offerings

and tell of his works with songs of joy.

23Others went out on the sea in ships;

they were merchants on the mighty waters.

24They saw the works of the LORD,

his wonderful deeds in the deep.

25For he spoke and stirred up a tempest

that lifted high the waves.

26They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;

in their peril their courage melted away.

27They reeled and staggered like drunken men;

they were at their wits’ end.

28Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,

and he brought them out of their distress.

29He stilled the storm to a whisper;

the waves of the sea were hushed.

30They were glad when it grew calm,

and he guided them to their desired haven.

31Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for men.

32Let them exalt him in the assembly of the people

and praise him in the council of the elders.

33He turned rivers into a desert,

flowing springs into thirsty ground,

34and fruitful land into a salt waste,

because of the wickedness of those who lived there.

35He turned the desert into pools of water

and the parched ground into flowing springs;

36there he brought the hungry to live,

and they founded a city where they could settle.

37They sowed fields and planted vineyards

that yielded a fruitful harvest;

38he blessed them, and their numbers greatly increased,

and he did not let their herds diminish.

39Then their numbers decreased, and they were humbled

by oppression, calamity and sorrow;

40he who pours contempt on nobles

made them wander in a trackless waste.

41But he lifted the needy out of their affliction

and increased their families like flocks.

42The upright see and rejoice,

but all the wicked shut their mouths.

43Whoever is wise, let him heed these things

and consider the great love of the LORD.

I realized I had so many things to be thankful for at the peak of the bad weather; after I heard the extent of the damage and saw some of the videos on the Internet, I was even more thankful. I also said a prayer for all of those who were suffering in the horrible weather.  After I prayed I took a look at my books and tried to read.

Eventually, restlessness got the better of me and I went to go take a look at the traffic. The line of cars leading to the exit still hadn’t moved, so I decided to drive over to Bellarmine hall and rest there. I had remembered there was a canteen there, as well as some vending machines. I was able to find a relatively sheltered parking spot and made a run for the building.

I arrived at the canteen just as they were closing up for the day and managed to buy a bowl of hot noodle soup. It wasn’t what I was hoping to have for lunch, but it was definitely great to have when I was all wet and chilly. I had just enough coins to also buy a low-end mocha frappe from the vending machine to keep me awake throughout  the afternoon.

I had heard from other stranded people at Bellarmine that Marcos Highway was already badly flooded and that many houses in the Marikina and Cainta area were being inundated as the rain kept coming down. The line of cars was still not moving, so I decided to stay put for another hour.

I tried to leave the campus twice, but unfortunately the traffic was not budging. At 3:30 pm, I tried to leave one last time, and I saw that the traffic was beginning to move slowly out of the campus. By this time, the creek that crossed under Katipunan avenue had begun to subside, so the floods on the road itself began to drain out. I was soon able to leave the campus.

Initially I had planned to pass Xavierville Avenue and take the Edsa route. However, when I got to Xavierville, it was not moving at all. I then turned back and took a long detour so I could reach the other route through UP. At first the trip was quick and I breezed through Katipunan avenue without much trouble. Then I hit CP Garcia, from whence everything was a crawl. Even when I thought I could avoid the insane traffic along Commonwealth Avenue by taking a detour through Teacher’s Village, I ended up hitting a solid wall of vehicles.

It was beginning to get dark at this point so I used my car’s trip meter and my iPod’s stopwatch to measure my progress. It had taken me 2 hours to move 400 meters.

As we neared the Commonwealth-QC Circle intersection, I realized what was causing the traffic: vehicles were counterflowing along QC Circle into Commonwealth, which wasn’t moving either. To make matters worse, just as I was about to go around the counterflow, the delivery van in front of me collided with an incoming SUV. It took me quite a bit to maneuver out of that pickle, but thankfully the cars behind me were able to give me enough space.

When I finally got around that obstacle, it was smooth sailing until I got to North Avenue, where I immediately turned back after learning that North Avenue was congested because the traffic at the Balintawak cloverleaf was seized up.

I breezed through Quezon Avenue, only to see that the underpass was flooded up to 2 feet deep. I didn’t want to risk passing through, so I turned back once more and decided to see if I could camp out at Philippine Science High for a while. Thankfully I had my ID and the guard recognized me, so they let me stay for a while. After half an hour, I decided to brave the last leg of the trip home.

The Edsa-Quezon Avenue intersection above the underpass was stuck. A bus had blocked the U-turn slot, and the traffic from the intersection all the way to Balintawak was frozen solid. It took a solid 20 minutes before the bus moved out of the way, and even then an SUV almost blocked my turn.  I finally arrived home at 9:15 pm, taking 6 hours to drive what usually takes 20 minutes.

Day 2: The Aftermath

It was the day after that I had learned just how badly other people had suffered. Entire villages that had never experienced flooding before got hit incredibly hard. People had lost their homes. People had lost their houses. Many people were in a bad place.

Pastor Jonathan and my discipler Aumar gave a very good joint sermon on how people saw Jesus—Judas saw him as at best a shallow sense of religion and at worst a source of profit; Mary (Martha and Lazarus’s sister who anointed Jesus’ feet with expensive perfume and wiped them with her hair) saw him as a precious and beloved Lord. Judas’s relationship with Jesus was based on his own wants and led to his own destruction; Mary’s story gave both Jesus and her honor and is now preached wherever the gospel is preached, as Jesus himself had prophesied. Mary gave of herself to her God in an extravagant, humble and self-abandoning manner–by wiping his feet with her hair, she was saying “the worst part of you is better than the best part of me.”

I was thinking about this and eating lunch at a nearly empty Podium. I posted on my Facebook profile that I wanted to find a way to help the people. Soon after one of my friends posted that there was going to be a relief operation at CCF–perhaps the first large-scale relief operation we held there. I was already home when I got her reply, so I wasn’t able to join, but I vowed to help out the next day. And help I did.

Day 3-4: Cheerful Giving

My mom and I went to CCF to help out and pack relief goods. The operation was rather hectic and somewhat chaotic, so it got tiring quickly. Yet we both found the strength to keep at it. It was the first time I had ever volunteered to take part in such an effort, and I really felt the love of God coursing through the place. It was one of the most fulfilling things I’ve ever done.  This continued until the second day.

Day 5: The Stench of Death

Our church organized a group of volunteers who were to go out and help clean houses in the stricken areas. We were sent to Vista Verde to clean the house of an injured church member. Getting there wasn’t easy due to the traffic, but when we got there we saw just how bad it was.

It was a fairly large house, and mud was everywhere. The mud wasn’t the kind you would let your kids play in—it was the consistency of melted ice cream. When we were cleaning out the homeowner’s kitchen, we opened the cupboard to discover that all of the pots and pans within were caked in the thick clay silt that the mud was made of. It was sticky and carried the stench of dead things. Holding in my stomach was more than a little difficult, but we managed by God’s grace.

The most rewarding part of the cleanup operation (apart from the workout it gave me) was listening to the stories of the lady and how she had learned so many lessons from this disaster. I don’t want to preempt her testimony by talking about it here, but suffice to say it made me think about my own tendency to withdraw from other people instead of reaching out.

On the way home, we were greeted with an ominous sight of just how high the water was during flooding. A bus passed us by along the road; it had been stained in the mud of the flood. Chillingly, the mud marks along its sides rose  up to halfway up its door—almost as high as the van we were riding. I later realized that the mud stains on the walls along the roads were of similar height and stretched from Cainta all the way to Marikina. The flood was that extensive and that deep.

As we passed by SM Marikina, we saw how bad the flood’s wake was—the mud left strewn across the mall’s sub-road parking was black and tarry (later I learned that Noah’s Paper Mills’ oil reservoir had spilled into the flood) and covered with garbage. Further down the road, there was a commotion: cars were parked along the side of the bridge overlooking the river.

We were wondering what it was at first until a man passed by our car window making a throat-slitting gesture.

There were corpses floating in the river.

I decided to rest the next day and put together some groceries in preparation for the storm we heard was coming.

Day 5: A Scare

I decided to stay at home to rest and also to look for a good pair of headphones.

Frightening news had come—a new storm was coming, and by all accounts it was predicted to be an incredibly devastating storm: a Category 5 Super Typhoon named Parma. CNN’s weather center had described its rainfall as “tremendous”—not something we’d want after what Ketsana had drowned us in. All weather sources described its area as so large it wouldn’t matter where it would hit—rain would come down all over Luzon again.

To make matters worse, the storm would hit the northern province of Isabela at a bad time—during rice harvest season. My rice grower friend said that if the storm were to hit now, it would destroy the harvest and leave the farmers without income for the rest of the year.

Just I was about to go out at noon, however, a massive downpour began, and it felt a lot like Ketsana’s rampage last Saturday. I cancelled my plans to go out and brought the car into the garage. I even unplugged my Playstation 2 and put it up on a high shelf.

Thankfully the downpour ended after a while, but I learned later that it was enough to cause flooding once more, since the ground had been saturated and could not absorb water anymore.

Day 6: A Storm Is Coming

Parma had been maintaining its strength and forecasts were grim. Prayers were frantic and hoax news (The power company shutting down distribution, the storm being as strong as Katrina, and a “Hyper Typhoon”) spread like wildfire across the Internet and the text messaging networks. While I continued to help out at church I also decided to go home early in order to brace for impact.

At around noon I was happy to see that the weather tracking website I was using had predicted  Parma to weaken and to only graze the northern part of Luzon.

When we got home that evening, Parma was headed straight across the northern Philippines again. I said a few desperate prayers and went to sleep.

Day 7: One Week Later

I woke up early to check the weather trackers. The storm was back on a grazing course, and this time it would only hit the very tip of Cagayan in the northernmost Philippines. It would not hit Isabela and endanger the crops, but would instead just bring rain and wind upon most of Luzon. Most of its rain was falling offshore. The rain that did hit Manila was nothing like what Ketsana had brought.

I went out to buy myself dad’s birthday gift at Eastwood and drove back through the route I took during the Ketsana traffic jam. I realized just how far the total distance of the trip was and indeed how long it took normally.

But things have not gotten back to normal.

Many people remain in evacuation centers and might just become victims of novelty—people thought it would be cool to help out in relief centers, so they did, but when the novelty wears off and regular life calls, the volunteers vanish. Will it be this way? Will the evacuees and survivors be left hanging?

Lessons

I will withhold my opinions on the storm. All I have to share are the lessons.

First of all, I learned to be thankful. I’ve been increasingly bitter about my life lately, but the storm took away all that.

Second, I’ve learned how to give and give cheerfully. While I’ve been okay with giving out of my pocket, what always bothered me before was giving of my time. Now I’ve learned how to be generous with that as well.

Finally, I’ve learned how to cooperate with others. I’ve never been a team player and I’ve often gone my own way, but now I know that the survival of others can depend on how well I cooperate.

Whether you consider this storm the effect of divine judgment or human negligence, I think we all have lessons to learn from it. I pray we won’t have to learn them again.

I haven’t been posting a lot lately. Mostly because I don’t know what to write here anymore.

There’s a lot to rant about, but I don’t feel like ranting much anymore. I feel that writing about the misery of life here is pointless; I just drag people into my personal troubles and, to some extent, throw it into the fan.

It’s easy to write about geekiness, video games, anime, and the random curiosities of life. There’s little emotional commitment; I just put together my opinion and throw it on here. The “Drizzt in Magic” entry is testament to this—I just spent an entire afternoon thinking about translating game mechanics from Dungeons & Dragons to Magic: The Gathering, and already I get a lot of readers.

On the other hand, it seems that no matter how much I argue my points about card design and game mechanics, people just don’t seem to care. They all have their preconceived notions of how awesome (or how underwhelming) Drizzt Do’Urden is. It’s amazing to see just how strongly people feel about a guy who doesn’t even exist. The sad part is that this entry draws the most Google hits. Should I be thankful for this? Do people bother to click on my archives and read my other entries? Doesn’t look like it.

Ultimately, I don’t really know why I write such things. I can’t even remember why I wasted a whole afternoon thinking about card design for a game I don’t play anymore.

Writing about my angst is another easy thing to do. It almost feels like a Sith Lord exercise of some kind. I just ruminate on the events of the day and summon up just how badly I feel about the things that happened, and kind of throw it up here, like a kind of autoinduced existential diarrhea. Easy to start—just swallow one nasty event—but hard to stop. I could just rant on and on and on about how oppressed I feel or how unjust humanity is or how ignorant people can get.

What’s the point, though? Do I want empathy? Do I want support? Or do I just want to get a load off my chest?

Doing so seems to do nothing more but project a negative aura and scare people away. I don’t know exactly how many people I know read my blog, but maybe it’s helped cast a bad light on my own character or mental state, or simply make people feel bad.

It seems that I need to rethink what I want to post here, exactly. My posting has gone down dramatically over the past year or so. I don’t think it’s because there was nothing to write about; this year brought an unhealthy amount of rant-worthy scandals. I wasn’t that busy, all things considered.

I don’t want to abandon this blog; I’m just not the kind of person who leaves things hanging. I want to continue posting.

I have a month more to think.

I wish I could go more into detail, but let’s just say the general feeling I have towards the world right now echo the words of the prophet Habakkuk. I wish this guy got more attention–a lot of his complaints in his book are things I’m sure most of us can identify with in this crazy world.

How long, O LORD, must I call for help, but you do not listen?

Or cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not save?

Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.

Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails. The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted.

–Habakkuk 1:2-4

I’m going to write more about Habakkuk in the days to come.

It’s a shame that I haven’t posted much this school year despite its…colorful events. In any case, here’s the closing message I gave to my students for this year. The actual speech may differ from the following text, which was just my guide. Begin speech.

I know by now you’re finishing up on your projects. I don’t know how you arrived at your answers yet, but I think it’s only fair that if you have to explore the common threads in all of Asian literature, I should give my own explanation too. I don’t want you leaving third year with a sense of “I learned nothing from Sir Joey.” I don’t now if I was inspiring—probably not. I’ve no illusions of being like Sir Martin or whoever your favorite teacher is. Still, I’d like you to at least remember something. Forget all I’ve taught you. Please just don’t forget what I’m about to say.

Indian lit was very strong on one thing. It was not strong about morality; there was justice, yes, but remember the story of the Mahabharata? The good guys and the bad guys all end up in the same place anyway, because this life is an illusion. No matter what story you look at, however, there is always one thing that is clear: Dharma–sense of having a place in the Universe. You are meant for something, you are meant to do something, you were meant to be by a higher power. There is a destiny for you, a great story of your life waiting to be taken.

But what if you don’t want to believe this? What if you don’t believe the universe was meant to be and that it’s all random? What if you believe that there is no divine authority?

There was this article I read in our own library once. I forget which magazine it is exactly, but I came across an interesting article about the nature of humanity in light of biology.

What do you have a lot on inside your intestines? What helps you digest your food? Bacteria. Microbes, lots of them. The average human body has ten trillion cells, and guess what. Your guts contain more microbes than that Your body is more microbes than it is human. They start multiplying there when you are born. You carry them around you wherever you go. When you die, they consume your body from the inside out. The article I read proposed that maybe, just maybe, humanity evolved only because it was the ideal carrier for bacteria. Talk about being higher life forms. You’re simply a complex, intelligent, self-preserving life-support system for your own excrement.

If you truly have no place in the universe, if there is no divinely-appointed destiny, all you are is a vehicle for the propagation of bacteria. You are a cradle and a vehicle in life, and in death, you’re a snack. Everything you did in life was meaningless, because no matter what you did, you carried bacteria. Your suffering is meaningless, and so is your joy. Your suffering does not hamper your intestinal microbes (sometimes may be caused by them), and your joy simply dulls your senses and takes your mind off your purpose–kind of like in the Matrix, where humans are just batteries for robots and their life experiences are merely fed into their brains so that they don’t perceive reality.

If there is neither destiny nor divinity–whether you’re suffering in Africa or enjoying a hedonistic lifestyle in Hollywood or burying yourself in science or philosophy or religion or video games—all you are is a life support system for your own feces. If you can actually live with that, then well and good. I wonder if people can live with you treating them like the bacteria vessels that they are.

We move on to the second quarter. In China there is a tension between Confucianism and Taoism. One proposed rigid rules, while the other proposed creative non-action. No matter how you slice it, they propose ways of looking at the universe, ways of making sense of life, ways how we should treat each other. Whether you’re strict in upholding Goodness or you’re going with the flow, there is right a way of doing things, there is a sense of morality.

Morality is a sense of right and wrong. But what if we get rid of it? “Sir, I want to do whatever I want. I am free to do whatever I want. Sir, everything is just shades of gray. Everything is right in some way. Being an jerk is fun and makes my day.”

If you throw morality out, it ends up in one of two ways. I take you back two years to your first year readings. What were your second and third quarter novels? The Giver and Lord of the Flies.

In The Giver you have a sense of law and order forced on people, but is there morality guiding that law and order? Emotions are outlawed, procedures are taken to ensure conformity, choice does not exist and freedom is but a bygone thing. There is no compassion in the law; it is but a cold and clear cut system that has predetermined responses to behavior. But why did Jonas escape with a baby? Why did the Giver practically sacrifice himself to allow Jonas to escape? Because even beyond the law, there was a sense of right and wrong that had to be upheld. There was a greater code than the law of society.

Then you go to the opposite extreme. In the beginning, Ralph and Piggy put their rules into place. But then the desire for savagery comes out and it comes to the point where Jack and his hunters—who were ironically choirboys, the ideals of pious innocence—go out and hunt not for survival but for the sake of bloodlust. “KILL THE PIG CUT ITS THROAT SPILL ITS BLOOD” was their battlecry, nay, their law. They started doing things just because. Again there were rules, but this time they were thrown away and their own passions enslaved them. Innocence was lost.

Without morality, whether you go the way of dystopia or savagery, you end up sacrificing your humanity. This goes back to the first point, however. If there is no God, there is no final arbiter of morality, and whatever we can come up with is pointless because it is subjective, based on emotion or feeling or taste. “Oh, kicking puppies is not to my taste, but hacking babies to death is.” That is the kind of morality you will have.

Third quarter. Need I say what Japan’s point was? The material world has an end. It is beautiful and to be enjoyed, but it just vanishes too quickly for us to truly enjoy. It was very clear that the sense of Impermanence is prevalent. We discussed it to death and people even said in their essays that they’re sick of it. But what does Impermanence imply?

Why do the samurai still seek honor even if they know they will die? Why is it that when Emperor Antoku, when he was about to be thrown into the waves by his own grandmother, was comforted with thoughts of the Pure Land? Because there is a yearning for something greater than this life. There is a desire to go beyond what is merely flesh and material, a realization that there IS something beyond it.There is a realization that the world is not enough.

Very quickly now, I’m going to read to you a quote from Malcolm Muggeridge. Although he was from the UK, the editor of Punch magazine, he recognizes that the Western idea of building on the material and the here and now fails utterly.

We look back upon history, and what do we see? Empires rising and falling. Revolutions and Counterrevolutions. Wealth accumulated and wealth disbursed. Shakespeare has written of the rise and fall of great ones, that ebb and flow with the moon. I look back upon my own fellow countrymen, once upon a time dominating a quarter of the world, most of them convinced, in the words of what is still a popular song, that the God who made them mighty, shall make them mightier yet.  I’ve heard a crazed, cracked Austrian announce to the world the establishment of a Reich that would last a thousand years. I have seen an Italian clown say he was going to stop and restart the calendar with his own ascension to power. I’ve heard a murderous Georgian brigand in the Kremlin, acclaimed by the intellectual elite of the world as wiser than Solomon, more humane than Marcus Aurelius, more enlightened than Ashoka. I have seen America, wealthier and in terms of military weaponry, more powerful than the rest of the world put together, so that had the American people so desired, they could have outdone a Caesar, or an Alexander in the range and scale of their conquests.

All in one lifetime, all in one lifetime, all gone. Gone with the wind.

I daresay that while all the empires of the West, built on their foundations of science and materialism have become mighty and have shaken the world repeatedly, they all collapsed on their lack of a sense of what is ultimate, a sense of what is beyond material. While if you look back in history two thousand years at an obscure carpenter from a backwater Roman colony—we still know who He is, and his life’s work—three short years—still works in our midst. Why? Because the foundations of Jesus’ work were in Eternity. Politicized Christianity may have been given all the ridiculous and abusive trappings of Western materialism, but if you look back at what it’s all about—you end up with a simple message of the existence of a loving and just God, who in His desire to reach out to us and make our lives worth living He sent His Son to die in our place and take our punishment so that we would be able to have hope in this dark world. That isn’t a Western thought at all. Palestine is, after all, in the last part of the world we discussed.

By the way, I am not knocking on the West in general. We wear their style of clothes, speak their language, use their technology and their scientific methods. What I am saying is that anything based on what is merely physical–whether it be Western or Eastern–will collapse eventually. It just so happens that most examples of the recent collapses are Western.

This brings us to SW Asia. Whether it be Rustem battling the Deev-e-Sepid or Muhammad Zayn frustrating the Devil, there is a clear thread in all of this: There is a cosmic struggle between good and evil, and we are in the middle of it. We may not be superheroes of epic legends. We may not be men or women of awesome power. But there is a point where we can make a stand to do what is good. There is a point where we can decide that we will uphold a cause or defend the truth.

Again this assumes the sense of divinity. If there is no God, and no spiritual reality, then “Good” and “Evil” are but convenient labels given to comfortable and uncomfortable things. But why is Muhammad Zayn suffering for doing what is right, yet doing it anyway? Why do heroes have to slay dragons and demons? Morality isn’t about comfort and discomfort. In fact, being good is often VERY uncomfortable. What did Dumbledore tell Harry? It’s a choice between what is right and what is easy. Good isn’t easy, but people do it anyway. Heroes fight dragons anyway. Why? Because we are in that struggle whether we like it or not.

All in all, where does this bring us? All four of these traditions presuppose the existence of something greater than ourselves, of a divine being who actually cares. Because of there is no divinity, or there is a God but He doesn’t care, then every single one of these is pointless. Your life and mine have no meaning; we are but accidents that happen to be elaborately-designed and intelligent life support systems for the bacteria in our guts. There is no ultimate morality, no right or wrong; everything is to your taste, because we’re all just carriers for bacteria anyway. There is no hope of anything greater than what is material, and what is material is impermanent and transient. There is no destiny in life; we are not part of anything greater than ourselves, all our struggling is in vain.

Studying is in vain. Working is in vain. Science is pointless because truth has no value, and no matter what discoveries we produce, we are still just bacteria breeding pods that happen to be intelligent.

Literature is in vain, because what point is there in understanding abstract truths when we are worthless vessels for microbes. Loving is in vain, because it is only meant to propagate our bacteria vessels, or maybe protect those bacteria vessels that happen to have some minor sentimental value to us. Your intelligence is useless, because it doesn’t make a difference to the bacteria. Whether you live or you die, whether you’re smart or you’re an idiot, whether you’re a slug or a sponge, a tyrannosaurus or a tiger, or a bunny or a monkey or a man, you’re still just a vector for viruses and food for fungus.

Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless, a chasing after the wind. THAT is what you are left with.

In closing, I don’t totally buy every single philosophy or idea we’ve learn from Asian lit, and neither do you, I’m sure. It’s pretty clear to you what I believe in, I hope, and I wish to share that with you. Whatever the case, I still think the sense of the divine is what Asian literature brings us, and if we do embrace that—not as mindless puritans but as honest, personal believers—we are set free from the prison of being meaningless mobile microbe farms.

God bless you, and goodbye.

End speech.

As a bonus, here’s a couple of interesting satirical poems I heard on one of Dr. Ravi Zacharias’s podcasts. These poems were by the English writer Steve Turner.

We believe in Marxfreudanddarwin
We believe everything is OK
as long as you don’t hurt anyone,
to the best of your definition of hurt,
and to the best of your knowledge.

We believe in sex before, during, and after marriage.
We believe in the therapy of sin.
We believe that adultery is fun.
We believe that sodomy is OK.
We believe that taboos are taboo.

We believe that everything is getting better
despite evidence to the contrary.
The evidence must be investigated
And you can prove anything with evidence.

We believe there’s something in
horoscopes, UFO’s and bent spoons;
Jesus was a good man
just like Buddha, Mohammed, and ourselves.
He was a good moral teacher
although we think His good morals were bad.

We believe that all religions are basically the same–
at least the one that we read was.
They all believe in love and goodness.
They only differ on matters of
creation, sin, heaven, hell, God, and salvation.

We believe that after death comes the Nothing
Because when you ask the dead what happens they say nothing.
If death is not the end, if the dead have lied,
then it’s compulsory heaven for all
excepting perhaps Hitler, Stalin, and Genghis Khan.

We believe in Masters and Johnson.
What’s selected is average.
What’s average is normal.
What’s normal is good.

We believe in total disarmament.
We believe there are direct links between warfare and bloodshed.
Americans should beat their guns into tractors
and the Russians would be sure to follow.

We believe that man is essentially good.
It’s only his behavior that lets him down.
This is the fault of society.
Society is the fault of conditions.
Conditions are the fault of society.

We believe that each man must find the truth that is right for him.
Reality will adapt accordingly.
The universe will readjust.
History will alter.
We believe that there is no absolute truth
excepting the truth that there is no absolute truth.

We believe in the rejection of creeds,
and the flowering of individual thought.

“Chance” a post-script

If chance be the Father of all flesh,
disaster is his rainbow in the sky,
and when you hear

State of Emergency!
Sniper Kills Ten!
Troops on Rampage!
Whites go Looting!
Bomb Blasts School!

It is but the sound of man worshiping his maker.

I promised an entry every day, but despite my loose schedule and my lack of anything to do at work, I totally failed to write. YMSAT week is done, and work begins again in earnest next week.

Last week I was immersed in the toxicity of grade computation and the red tape-bound correction of errors. When this week rolled around, I had to struggle with the prospect of being paid to do absolutely nothing. Being the human being that I am, I complained about both.

This is common to us, isn’t it? When we’re crushed under an avalanche of work, we long for the deliverance of vacation; when vacation comes, we whine in agony about our lack of mental stimulation and seek salvation from ennui.

When the weather is cold, we complain of lonely, freezing nights. When it’s hot, we want to stay away from crowds to avoid the stifling crush. We’re never satisfied with our circumstances. I guess that means something, doesn’t it? Perhaps it means we were really never meant to be satisfied with our circumstances, and so we should seek satisfaction in something outside this world.

The Postmodern Rebel

Listening to one of Dr. Ravi Zacharias’s podcasts, I heard him mention a very interesting quote from G.K. Chesterton’s work:

The new rebel is a skeptic and will not entirely trust anything. He has no loyalty, therefore he can never be a true revolutionist. And the fact that he doubts everything gets in his way when he wants to denounce anything. For all denunciation implies a moral doctrine of some kind, and the moral revolutionist doubts not only the institution he denounces, but the doctrine by which he denounces it.

Thus he writes one book complaining that imperial oppression insults the purity of women, then he writes another book or novel in which he insults it himself.

He curses the sultan because Christian girls lose their virginity, then curses Mrs. Grundy because they keep it.

As a politician he cries out that war is a waste of life, then as a philosopher that all life is a waste of time.

A Russian pessimist will denounce a policeman for killing a peasant, then prove by the highest philosophical principles that the peasant ought to have killed himself.

A man denounces marriage as a lie, then denounces aristocratic profligates for treating it as a lie.

He calls the flag a bauble, then he blames the oppressors of Poland or Ireland because they take away that bauble.

The man of this school goes first to a political meeting where he complains that savages are treated as if they were beasts, then he takes his hat and umbrella, goes on to a scientific meeting where he proves that they practically are beasts.

In short, the modern revolutionist, being an infinite skeptic, is always engaged in undermining his own mines.

In his book on politics, he attacks men for trampling on morality; in his book on ethics, he attacks morality for trampling on men.

Therefore the modern man in revolt has become practically useless for all purposes of revolt; by rebelling against everything, he has lost his right to rebel against anything.

It’s funny, because what Chesterton said almost a century ago is still true now. I don’t want to go into specifics, but I see so many people wandering about the barren urban landscape of this age, claiming moral superiority in one way or another, but not having any basis for their morality. They denounce imaginary hegemonies and moral standards for imposing those standards on society, and in doing so impose their own standards on society. They claim to have authority by which they speak, but their authority is only anchored in the temporal and physical world—and when we ask them what meaning is there in the temporal world, they say “Nothing.”

Any scientist will tell you that for something to rotate, it needs an axis to rotate around. If the axis is removed, how can something rotate? The spinning top stops moving, and when a top stops spinning, what does it do?

It falls.

I always think Stephen Colbert (please bear with me) said it excellently in that little Christmas carol video I posted a few entries back:

Then you got your nothing

Some folks believe in nothing

But when you believe in nothing

What’s to keep the nothing

From coming for you?

It’s been said that if you don’t stand for anything, you’ll fall for anything. I can’t even begin to list down all of the examples of this that I’ve seen in the world.

I know I’m no good at logic. Thanks to Dr. Zacharias, though, things seem to make a bit more sense to me, and reason and faith no longer seem to be at odds.

Nothing much to say here. It’s tragic to see someone leave this world so soon.

LOST IN SPACE

by AVANTASIA

Another star

Has fallen without a sound

Another spark

Has burned out in the cold

Another door

To a barren standing

And who is there

To tell me not to give and not to go

How could I know?, how could I know?

That I’ll get lost in space to roam forever

How could I know?, how could I see?

Feeling like lost in space to roam forever

I’m crawling down I’m crawling down

The doorway to the badlands

And kicking down

Are you heard: it’s to the black

And all the damage

Fading in the rear view mirror

When the demons

Are calling me, they’re dragging me away

How could I know?, how could I know?

That I’ll get lost in space to roam forever

How could I know?, how could I see?

Feeling like lost in space to roam forever

Lost in space

Lost in time

Lost in space

Lost in time

Lost in space

How could I know, how could I?

How could I know?, how could I know?

That I’ll get lost in space to roam forever

How could I know?, how could I see?

Feeling like lost in space to roam forever

Forever….

IN MEMORIAM

Therene D. Timbang

February 11, 1993 – December 1, 2008

The Lord speed thee to thy rest.

I’m totally elated to see Obama win. The historical value of this election, the incredible change that it promises, and the hope that it brings–all of these are deeply inspiring, especially to people like me who live in a country where there is no hope and no change.

I agree with many of his values, and although there may be a few that I disagree with, I feel that he can truly bring unity to America. I pray that he might receive the Lord’s guidance in this, that he may be firm in his convictions and decisions, and that he might be used by the Lord to bless many.

I couldn’t help but be moved by the sight of Jesse Jackson shedding tears as he stood in the celebratory crowd. I can’t begin to guess the cocktail of emotions that was brewing in him at that time, but perhaps it was a mix of pride, fulfillment, and relief that the civil rights movement has finally culminated in a black man finally being elected president.

I don’t know if you’ll see this, Mr. Obama, but congratulations. I found your speech truly inspiring despite its realistic and pragmatic tone. May the Lord bless you on your long journey to change.

PS: I also have to give credit to John McCain for his honorable exit. Mr. McCain, I was also moved to see you declare your support for Mr. Obama. My nation is plagued by sore losers who never fail to whine when they lose. It’s said that nobody ever loses in this country; people only get cheated. Whether that’s true or not, I was happy to see how you handled your concession. God bless you as you continue to work for your country.

Finally, a breather. With grades done and a rather relaxed week ahead of me, it’s time for a serious blog entry. Before that, however, let me introduce you to Shinkirou.

Shinkirou is an 8 GB iPod touch that my dad gave me for by birthday late last month. I was rather surprised by the offer  although I gladly accepted.  In any case, Shinkirou has now become a regular companion. More than just an mp3 player, I’m able to do a lot more with the iPod touch’s applications. Definitely a cool toy.  Daily podcasts from CNN and Ravi Zacharias, a Christian apologist who I listen to.

By the way, you can find that wallpaper here.

Now on to the main event.

The Angel at the Threshing Floor

This Sunday’s sermon was much more than just a simple message. I think it served to me as a massive wakeup call.The main text was a story about King David that not that many people know of, at least outside of regular Bible readers.

Most of the time, when we hear of King David, we hear about his vanquishing of the giant Goliath, or his adulterous and murderous affair with Bathsheba. However, towards the end of his life, David experienced another extremely significant event in his life.

Satan rose up against Israel and incited David to take a census of Israel. So David said to Joab and the commanders of the troops, “Go and count the Israelitest from Beersheba to Dan. Then report back to meso that I many know how many there are.”

But Joab replied, “May the LORD multiply his troops a hundred times over. My lord the king, are they not all my lord’s subjects? Why does my lord want to do this? Why should he bring guilt on Israel?” 1 Chronicles 21: 1-5

Okay, so what’s wrong about having a census of soldiers? Well, let’s backtrack a bit.

To begin with, Israel as a nation had not been led by a king since they came out of Egypt. Moses, Joshua, and their successors were not really monarchs. Eventually, the people clamored for a king, and so Samuel, the last judge, asked God about it—and God told him what to say. In effect, they were discouraging them from relying on a political leader. Nevertheless, since there was a provision for a king in the Law (Deuteronomy 19). The gist of this was that the king should be an exemplar of righteousness and should avoid relying on his political and military power and not on God. By counting his fighting men, David is relying more on how powerful his army is and not on God’s ability to give him victory.

What happens is that David orders Joab, his commander-in-chief, to do it anyway. Take note that Joab is not a very nice guy, as seen elsewhere in 2 Samuel and 1 Chronicles, but even he was appalled by the command. He counts the men short just to spite David, but notes that there are over a million men at David’s command. After the census, the judgment comes. God’s messenger is Gad, a prophet.

This is what the LORD says: ‘Take your choice: three years of famine, three months of being swept away before your enemies, with their swords overtaking you, or three days of the sword of the LORD–days of plague in the land, with the angel of the LORD ravaging every part of Israel.’ Now then, decide how I should answer the one who sent me.  1 Chronicles 21:11-12

David responded well:

“I am in deep distress. Let me fall into the hands of the LORD, for his mercy is very great; but do not let me fall into the hands of men.”

The judgment comes, and the LORD himself does it with a heavy heart. The plague kills 70,000 men before it’s over, and the angel finally turns to Jerusalem to destroy it.

But as the angel was doing so, the LORD saw it and was grieved because of the calamity and said to the angel who was destroying the people, “Enough! Withdraw your hand.” The angel of the LORD was standing at the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite.

David looked up and saw the angel of the LORD standing between heaven and earth, with a sword in his hand extended over Jerusalem. Then David and the elders, clothed in sackcloth, fell facedown. 1 Chronicles 21:15-16

This must have been a horrifying sight for David—angels have always been shown to be terrifying creatures in Scripture, and to see this angel standing on top of what was to become the Temple Mount with his sword drawn in the execution of judgment must have been doubly unsettling especially since David knew this was all because of him. However, this was a wakeup call for David–he was not in power because he was a strong king. He started out as a shepherd, an unlikely hero whom everybody thought was nothing more than an annoying kid—then became one of Israel’s greatest figures. He was persecuted by his own king for a long time, and was not able to enjoy a the comfort of a palace until well into his adulthood. And he had become king only by the grace of God.

And so here was the turning point in his life–facing a being of enormous supernatural power, David could do nothing but bow down and worship the Lord. He purchased the threshing floor of Araunah and built an altar, insisting on buying it and the sacrificial implements because offering something he got for free to the LORD was unthinkable.

But King David replied to Araunah, “No, I insist on paying the full price. I will not take fo rthe LORD what is yours, or sacrifice a burnt offering that costs me nothing.” v. 24

After this, the LORD himself answers David with fire on the altar, and the angel at the threshing floor ceases and desists from the slaughter. Seeing the reply of the LORD, David declares, “The house of the LORD God is to be here, and also the altar of burnt offering for Israel.” (1 Chronicles 22:1) He had found the last mission of his life: the founding of the temple.

David never really gets a chance to build the temple–he’s approaching his 70s by this point, and the prophet Gad tells him that since he’d been a man of blood, the LORD decided not to give David the honor of building the temple, and that the honor belonged to Solomon, David’s son, who would be a man of peace. (22:7-9) David then prepares vast quantities of resources for the building of the temple, and after David’s death, Solomon picks up the work and carries on the construction all the way to the temple’s dedication.

So what does this ancient story have to do with me?

Three things: a wakeup call, a turning point, and a mission.

You might have noticed that my blog entries have been very angry lately. I’ve felt confused, distressed, and annoyed at various things. Add this to my lack of direction and you’ve got a very uncomfortable young man. However, this message just stirred my heart so much and renewed my courage.

I’ve been unhappy with my job. I do get enough money to continue my current lifestyle, but I was not happy that it was a very cold, dead end for me if I stayed here—I’d never earn enough to fund my own further studies, and thus I’d never get promoted or get opportunities for teaching in higher institutions. I’m thankful to the Lord that I have a job at all, but I’d been living the past four years as if this was all there was.

I have a history of being like that—living for the moment. While it sounds good on paper or in a movie, living for the moment, quite frankly, leads nowhere. I don’t like meandering around a mall; I definitely don’t want to meander around my life. I have to move on and move forward.

Now my problem is that I saw the Angel at the Threshing Floor of my life—my application to Singapore’s Ministry of Education. It has always been so intimidating to me, especially since I’m a teacher with only four years of experience and not a single unit of education underneath my belt. I’ve been afraid to take the risk, afraid to make a move, and as such I’ve been putting it off.

Now that the year is ticking by rapidly, I haven’t finished it yet. But like David, who made the bold risk of bowing to the Lord’s will and building an altar where the angel stood, I have decided it’s time to trust in the Lord and go with his plan. By all indications, that mission does not involve me staying here in the Philippines. It’s time to move on. The Angel at the Threshing Floor, though terrifying, is merely the messenger who is to bring me my life mission.

Classes have finally resumed, but things at work are far from normal.

The Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) was supposed to perform load/stress tests on the Sciences and Humanities Building during our semestral break, but they said they were “unable to accommodate” us and as such have postponed the inspection, hopefully before the end of the world.

As such, the school was forced to move classes to a wide variety of venues scattered all over the campus: dorm hallways, the canteen, the gym, and the stygian corridor beneath the gym where Satanic rituals must have been performed sometime in the past.

It’s one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen and definitely makes the school feel more like a public institution than ever.

I used to complain that we didn’t have air-conditioned rooms (we do, but they aren’t regular classrooms), and the rooms were old, hot, and dusty.

Now I’m going to have one class in the boys’ dorm with underwear hanging outside the window, and one class in the underground corridor of doom. These two are probably the most bizarre class venues I’ve ever had.

While having classes under trees (which does happen in the provinces) seems unpalatable, I still think being around nature would be much better than lecturing about Ryunosuke Akutagawa in a corridor that ought to be examined by an archaeologist.

I really don’t want to look like I’m betraying the institution that gave me this job while I was fresh out of the university, but seriously—why is this happening? As the best institution for young science-oriented minds, why are we rotting?

Of course, it sure seems the government above us doesn’t care. It’s the fault of a lot of people, but the bulk of the blame rests on shoulders that are much higher up.

Not that they care.

I was with Lolo the last two days he spent on Earth. He wasn’t with me, though, and the last two weeks haven’t been easy.

It started on the morning of August 19th. It was a long weekend and I was on my way to Dawn Watch with my family when I received a text from my dad that Lolo had been brought to the hospital. I really did my best to pray for him then. Afterward, I was working out when I felt the overwhelming sense that something was wrong. I rushed to my locker to find that I’d missed a call from dad, and that he called to let me know that Lolo had suffered two heart attacks.

I immediately cut my workout short and rushed to the hospital, where I learned that Lolo was undergoing an angioplasty to repair his blocked coronaries. The operation was successful, and Lolo was brought to the Coronary Care Unit.

Unfortunately that was not the only thing wrong with him. Several of his systems had shut down, and he had to undergo dialysis to clean the toxins from his blood.

The next day, Lolo fell asleep. It was not a coma in the strictest sense of the word, neither was it brain death. While he was asleep, he would still respond to pinches and his pupils would dilate when exposed to light. However, he really was in a deep sleep and would not really move much apart from chewing on the respiratory tube once in a while.

It was then that I thought that the face of death wasn’t a skull. It wasn’t a grinning face with empty eye-sockets. The face of death in this situation had closed eyes and tubes sticking out of it, its mouth hanging open helplessly.

Still, at that point, the doctors were still hopeful. The heart was actually quite strong for that of a recent heart attack victim. Dad came home to help the family, and he talked to my aunt and uncles about what they could do  when he recovered. They were planning to bring him to Cagayan de Oro where he’d have a lot of fresh air and would be able to relax.

The next day, however, when I visited the hospital and ate out with Dad, he revealed that the problem was far more complicated, and that the root of it all lay elsewhere.

I’m not in a position to discuss those things here. It’s a long, convoluted story that might be unfair to the parties involved, so I’ll pass on talking about that here. Let’s just say that forgiveness is a rarer commodity than it would seem.

Days passed without improvement. Days become a week, and I would come and visit Lolo as much as I could. I was praying that Lolo would wake up, that I could talk to him about the gospel one last time, that I could be sure of his faith. My sleep was fitful and my waking moments were not really at peace.

————

Last Sunday, our church held its 24th anniversary service at the Araneta Coliseum. The message seemed to be so telling that day: it was about the greatness of God.

Many people would balk at the notion of God’s greatness, let alone the legitimacy of His claims to goodness and mercy, in situations like this. The suffering of man is often taken to be an indicator of how much God cares about the world, and how He is either unwilling or unable to help. Perhaps. Maybe. Yet I couldn’t help but think that we simply don’t see the big picture well enough. In any case, the message ended with this:

My King- Do you know him?
by Dr. S.M. Lockridge

The Bible says my King is the King of the Jews. He’s the King of Israel. He’s the King of righteousness. He’s the King of the ages. He’s the King of Heaven. He’s the King of glory. He’s the King of kings, and He’s the Lord of lords. That’s my King. I wonder…Do you know Him?

My King is a sovereign King. No means of measure can define his limitless love. He’s enduringly strong. He’s entirely sincere. He’s eternally steadfast. He’s immortally graceful. He’s imperially powerful. He’s impartially merciful. Do you know Him?

He’s the greatest phenomenon that has ever crossed the horizon of this world. He’s God’s Son. He’s the sinner’s Savior. He’s the peak of civilization. He’s unparalleled. He’s unprecedented. He is the loftiest idea in literature. He’s the highest personality in philosophy. He’s the fundamental doctrine of true theology. He’s the only one qualified to be an all-sufficient Savior. I wonder if you know Him today.

He supplies strength for the weak. He’s available for the tempted and the tried. He sympathizes and He saves. He strengthens and sustains. He guards and He guides. He heals the sick. He cleanses the lepers. He forgives sinners. He discharges debtors. He delivers the captives. He defends the feeble. He blesses the young. He serves the unfortunate. He regards the aged. He rewards the diligent, and He beautifies the meager. I wonder if you know Him.

He’s the key to knowledge. He’s the wellspring of wisdom. He’s the doorway of deliverance. He’s the pathway of peace. He’s the roadway of righteousness. He’s the highway of holiness. He’s the gateway of glory. Do you know Him?

Well, His light is matchless. His goodness is limitless. His mercy is everlasting. His love never changes. His word is enough. His grace is sufficient. His reign is righteous, and His yoke is easy and His burden is light. I wish I could describe Him to you. Yes, He’s indescribable. He’s incomprehensible. He’s invincible. He’s irresistible. You can’t get Him out of your mind. You can’t get Him off of your head. You can’t outlive Him, and you can’t live without Him.

Well, the Pharisees couldn’t stand Him but they found out they couldn’t stop Him. Pilate couldn’t find any fault in Him. Herod couldn’t kill Him. Death couldn’t handle Him, and the grave couldn’t hold Him. I wonder if you know Him.

I found this greatly comforting in the darkness of the circumstances, and that I knew God was going to do something good. I even dreamt that Lolo had woken up and was out of the hospital.

But this seemed to shatter when I heard that lolo was in critical condition the next evening.

————-

He was bleeding, and all his vitals had dropped. The doctors immediately pulled some of his anticoagulant medicines so that the ulcers would heal. I went into a panic then.

I was blaming myself for not being there. I was blaming myself for being to lazy or cowardly to follow up my talk with him some time ago about the gospel. I was blaming myself for not bothering to get to know him more, for abandoning him, for practically being his murderer.

Then I realized he wasn’t the only person dying in the world. He was only one of the hundred thousand people who die every day, many of whom are in much less desirable circumstances.

Then the Lord reassured me:

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. “For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him. –John 3:16-17

The next day was the day I begged off from work to watch over Lolo. That was yesterday. Since it was Humanities Week at school, I knew I wouldn’t be doing much on the days that the English department wasn’t assigned to do activities, so I volunteered my time to watch over Lolo at the hospital.

The circumstances leading up to it were incredible.

The devotional given that morning at Dawn Watch was about miracles, especially of the medical kind. The gentleman who was sharing had a blocked coronary artery and was scheduled for an angioplasty that he really could not afford. Through prayer, however, he experienced a miracle: new coronary arteries grew around the blockage, restoring healthy blood flow to his heart.

I was hoping for a miracle like this. I was hoping that Lolo would wake up and live another 10 years and be around for my wedding.  So I prayed fervently, and it was the first time in a very long time that I’d not fallen asleep at Dawn Watch.

After a brief workout, I headed to the hospital. There was only one taxi in the queue, so I took it. I was amazed to hear him playing Christian music (Casting Crowns’ Love them Like Jesus). I began singing along, and it was not long before the driver asked me about my faith. He was a believer too, and when I told him about Lolo, he began encouraging me. What are the odds that out of the thousands of taxis in Manila, this one driver would come up to the taxi stand at the moment I got there?

I was in high spirits when I got to the hospital, and read to Lolo the following verse:

PSALM 118

1 Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good;
For His lovingkindness is everlasting.
2 Oh let Israel say,
“His lovingkindness is everlasting.”
3 Oh let the house of Aaron say,
“His lovingkindness is everlasting.”
4 Oh let those who fear the LORD say,
“His lovingkindness is everlasting.”
5 From my distress I called upon the LORD;
The LORD answered me and set me in a large place.
6 The LORD is for me; I will not fear;
What can man do to me?
7 The LORD is for me among those who help me;
Therefore I will look with satisfaction on those who hate me.
8 It is better to take refuge in the LORD
Than to trust in man.
9 It is better to take refuge in the LORD
Than to trust in princes.
10 All nations surrounded me;
In the name of the LORD I will surely cut them off.
11 They surrounded me, yes, they surrounded me;
In the name of the LORD I will surely cut them off.
12 They surrounded me like bees;
They were extinguished as a fire of thorns;
In the name of the LORD I will surely cut them off.
13 You pushed me violently so that I was falling,
But the LORD helped me.
14 The LORD is my strength and song,
And He has become my salvation.
15 The sound of joyful shouting and salvation is in the tents of the righteous;
The right hand of the LORD does valiantly.
16 The right hand of the LORD is exalted;
The right hand of the LORD does valiantly.
17 I will not die, but live,
And tell of the works of the LORD.
18 The LORD has disciplined me severely,
But He has not given me over to death.
19 Open to me the gates of righteousness;
I shall enter through them, I shall give thanks to the LORD.
20 This is the gate of the LORD;
The righteous will enter through it.
21 I shall give thanks to You, for You have answered me,
And You have become my salvation.
22 The stone which the builders rejected
Has become the chief corner stone.
23 This is the LORD’S doing;
It is marvelous in our eyes.
24 This is the day which the LORD has made;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
25 O LORD, do save, we beseech You;
O LORD, we beseech You, do send prosperity!
26 Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the LORD;
We have blessed you from the house of the LORD.
27 The LORD is God, and He has given us light;
Bind the festival sacrifice with cords to the horns of the altar.
28 You are my God, and I give thanks to You;
You are my God, I extol You.
29 Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good;
For His lovingkindness is everlasting.

As I picked up Mom from work later that night, I told her about everything, and we were both so elated at God’s work.

This morning, however, things were just not the same. When I entered the CCU to see Lolo, he was in the middle of dialysis, and although low blood pressure was a side effect of the dialysis process, I somehow felt that something was more wrong than usual. Even if the alarm going off was normal, it seemd that the amount of nurses and orderlies rushing to the room when it started ringing was larger than usual.

I asked the cardiologist present why it seemed that Lolo was getting weaker despite being “stable,” and she told me that it was likely that while they were doing everything they could, his body was simply reaching its limits, and that the stress of trying to recover was too much for him. What made matters worse was that the primary cardiologist came and asked me the painful question: In case he goes into cardiac arrest, do we resuscitate?

I declined to answer, saying that my aunt was in a better position  to answer that question. It was a jarring question nonetheless, and when I told my aunt over the phone that I’d been asked that question, she also conferred with Dad and my uncles.

Shortly after, Dad gave me a call and asked if I was okay. I said I was, but I couldn’t bear to tell him the guilt that I felt for not being there, for not getting to talk to Lolo more, for not encouraging him while he was still awake. Dad, sorry I lied. I didn’t know how to tell you at that time.

I still prayed. Still asked God to spare Lolo. To bring a happy end to all this.

I left that afternoon to go to the Ortigas area, hoping I could get a working internet connection before I picked Mom up from her classes at night. I didn’t get one, and the whole time I was in agony. I didn’t know how I’d react to Lolo’s death if ever he went.

Would I lash out? Would I keep it within? Would I implode? Would I stop believing in God? Would I stop trying to do His will? Would things never be the same?

I had an early dinner, and I made sure I ate something good even if it cost me. Hummus with whole wheat pita. A vegetarian panini with yoghurt. These dishes will forever be associated with the day my Lolo died, but I don’t consider that a bad thing. As unleavened bread and wine are eaten in remembrance of Christ, perhaps I would eat hummus in remembrance of my Lolo.

I moved to Mom’s office afterward, and although I tried to keep myself busy, I eventually fell asleep at the desk. There, in the darkness of slumber, I dreamed the unthinkable. Lolo was gone.

I woke up with a start, checked my phone, and saw nothing. When Mom said it was time for us to go home, I walked about as if in a stupor, and as we were going down into the parking lot, I told the Lord:

I can’t live with this burden of guilt forever. I have to move on. Lord, I leave Lolo in your hands. You take care of him.

And at that moment, right as I ended that little prayer, without exaggeration, my Dad called. I knew it could not be good news.

True enough, Lolo had gone into cardiac arrest. That was it. Ten minutes later, Dad texted again a simple message: “Lolo’s gone.” to which I replied “I’m really gonna miss him, Dad.”

So my Lolo’s death has not been as painful as it seemed. It did not cause me to sob and cry and retch. I experience now the same peace that I’d experienced when my other Lolo died. I knew that despite all of the suffering he went through and the silence of his last two weeks, God was in control of the littlest details.

Perhaps Lolo’s sleep was even a blessing–a private audience with the Lord, a short dialogue before eternity, just the two of them in the silence. Maybe Lolo heard my Bible readings, maybe he didn’t. But I’m certain God was right there, in that room, even while Death was beginning to take its victim. In fact, Death was not truly victorious; Lolo was not truly a victim.

Now I say this, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. 51 Behold, I tell you a mystery; we will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, 52 in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. 53 For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality. 54 But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, “DEATH IS SWALLOWED UP in victory. 55 “O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR VICTORY? O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR STING?” 56 The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; 57 but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

-1 Corinthians 15:50-57

And despite all this, despite the death, I thank God that there were so many other things to be thankful for:

-That Lolo did not die in wretched agony, in horrific seizures, or after a long and draining battle with cancer or Alzheimer’s.

-That the family could at least provide for the hospital bills and didn’t have to go into a miserable state of debt.

-That God was working actively, watching over the littlest details and the timing of my actions.

-That I at least knew Lolo and have been able to relate with him.

-That I have good memories of Lolo and how he was so kind and helpful to me and my Mom even through our trials in the past.

-That I had friends: Aumar, Carolyn, BJ, Mikki, RC, Pastor Ryan, and many others who stood by me, prayed for me, and encouraged me in the midst of the trials. God bless you abundantly for this, my brothers and sister.

-That my mom and brother were also very supportive of me and understood my pain. They also prayed for me and for Lolo.

-That none of the violent reactions I’d anticipated happened.

-That the Lord had prepared me spiritually and emotionally for what was going to happen tonight.

-That I had peace in the end.

God has been so faithful. Indeed, I knew He was going to glorify Himself in the end. It was not the ending I’d hoped for, but I know. I believe. I believe that I will see Lolo again sometime in the future.

Thank you, Lord, for Lolo.

Lolo, I’ll see you soon. Happy Grandparents’ Day.

In Memoriam

Melchor Rimando Flores

January 6, 1926 – September 4, 2008