Thursday, July 26, 2012

I Found Romans In Singapore



















I am currently reading Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. It is a fictional autobiogaphy by an elderly preacher, Reverend John Ames, in the small town of Gilead, Iowa. It is a very long love letter for his seven-year old son who will have a few memories of him. Reverend Ames knows he is dying. 

There are novels that can be read with speed reading techniques. But there are novels you don't want to end; you read the words so slowly savoring how they are placed next to each other, forgetting that they actually make sentences. They produce sound in your head just as soothing as they are felt. Gilead is one of those novels. And it makes you restless. It causes you to revisit your life and try to recount the events that lead to the present, and you dig so much more to find expression for the wandering thoughts, fears and hopes that confronted you so strongly towards what makes you up today.



I write this to do just that. It is self-serving at the outset, but it is my hope and intention that the glory that will spring out of this be bound nowhere else but heavenward. 

Romans 4:20-22
20 Abraham never wavered in believing God’s promise. In fact, his faith grew stronger, and in this he brought glory to God. 21 He was fully convinced that God is able to do whatever he promises. 22 And because of Abraham’s faith, God counted him as righteous.

I find myself in Singapore April 13, 2012. I remember I made a promise to myself and confessed to a dear friend that the first country I will visit outside of the Philippines is not going to be in Asia, with the exception of South Korea. I found myself in Singapore April 13, 2012.

Romans 5:3-5
3 Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.

I am here to look for a job. 

I send out hundreds upon hundreds of applications to companies using different job boards. The days crawl into weeks. I expect the weeks to crumble so they can not form into months. I hope the months to decompose as days form into another weeks that eventually form into another month. The calendar is so imposing a tool its numbers actually tick like an impending time bomb. 

Romans 8:24
24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have?

And so the months and the weeks and the days go on. They never take a break in reality. But they tend to slow down and accelerate depending on how you see them roll down the universe. You hope against hope that they have the moral obligation to support the rhythm that plays by your present circumstance. 

Romans 10:11
As the Scripture says, "Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame."

Two months of complete silence and a company calls. A good company calls. I take an online assesment. Success. I take a reasoning exam. Success. I do a gruelling first round of interview. Success. I prepare for a terrifying final interview. I come out of a final interview that is like a black-hole; I know scientifically that is not possible but the discovery of Higg's boson comes at this very same time I need to spell the connection just for levity to keep vivid remembrance. And to come out of a black-hole is unheard of so it is one geeky way of saying: Success! 

The day after the first Success another company calls. Another good company calls. I sit down in a less gruelling interview. Success!

Two Successes in two consecutive days and the months and the weeks and the days rejoice in their utmost as they are freed subject from the imposing pressure of a conscious soul unfairly guarding their every move.

I was here to look for a job. 

I tried to diffuse the experience in a less dramatic way, injecting ambitious humor and defiling grammar protocols. This is to take expression that while the journey was extremely trying and stretching, it was in passing just like a cherished memory: you relish the outcome more without deliberately disregarding the process. There is an inherent peace. Joy. C.S. Lewis put it down so succinctly: It is an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any satisfaction.

Romans 15:13
Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit referred to here is Christ's Spirit that has been promised to dwell within us. Christ humbly submitted himself to the Father's will in complete obedience to the point of dying on the cross only to rise again after three days. The same power in Christ's resurrection is made available to us all through faith in the finished work of Christ. 

Andrew Murray could never be more terse in writing that "the one great work of the Spirit, as the Spirit of Christ, is to make glorified Christ always present in us -- not in our thoughts or memory only, but within us, in our innermost being, in our life and experience."

My experience in Singapore thus far is not a unique experience. I have heard numerous, wonderful accounts of how they have fared, failed, succeeded and survived a common issue that besets faith or just plain ardor of ambition to many Filipinos and foreigners in this foreign land. Some ascribe to luck or unfounded, plain course of fate. 

For me, it is another story of God's faithfulness and of his mercy that is new every morning. Every morning I wake up to the sight of the most thoughtful of friends: Katrina, Jed, Diane. I read encouraging text messages from family and good, old and new friends here and back home. All these display God's grace in full splendor.

The book of Romans is Paul's letter addressed "to all in Rome who are loved by God..." written while he was in Corinth after recently coming from two to three years of hard labour in Ephesus.

I found Romans in Singapore.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Why I Love Coming Home To Kabacan




I'm not good at summoning memories of glorious experiences. And to address the threat of a failing faculty to upgrade remembrance into a confrontational encounter with packets of memories about to be discarded, I write this blog entry.

So I begin by saying that I am in Kabacan, my hometown. And I am going to write something about this town only to serve one purpose: to remember that at the exact moment I was typing this sentence, "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" of The Beatles was playing in the background, a fitting accompaniment to a realization only captured in this line - 

"Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da life goes on, brah!!!

Yes, emphasis on 'brah' that screams out a batallion of unexpressed battlecries. I don't care about the rest of the lyrics' contextual relevance.

I will not write that unknown to many, Kabacan is a first class municipality. It is home to an excellent state university. To walk along the University Avenue in the afternoon when the sun is about to set is to witness a commanding picture of a promising future - you would know from the heavy but happy strides of students retreating from a full day's battle. There will be smoke all over the Avenue; these are fanned smoke from barbecue stands and kitchens of cafe's and diners that have mushroomed over the years. Business is good in the avenue. And the faces of the people that walk along this path reflect simple joys and sharpened ambitions. When the sun rises the next day, the University is brewing with optimism and its colors green and gold reflect growth and harvest.

I did not want to mention that in this town, residents can spell fear in many forms. But they can sing victory songs even better. Every stone in this town acknowledges that it once trembled restlessly when the sound of canons vibrated through the walls of houses and shattered many windowsills. This town is home to people who stood still on shaky ground.

I will surely not mention that life in this town may be slow, but life's motion can never be measured by how you watch the clock tick in staccato. 

But there you go. I've said those things. I have not even made mention of family and friends. 

"Happy ever after in the market place...
Desmond lets the children lend a hand...
Molly stays at home and does her pretty face...
And in the evening she still sings it with the band...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on."

The monuments of our memories are built by our active selection of things that appeal to our subconscious. We construct stories in the past where we play the protagonist. Our ability to summon these stories back to the present can be facilitated by the monuments of our memories we once built in the past. 

And the process goes on. 

"And if you want some fun, 
Take Ob-La-Di-la-do"