Cuddle

The warmth of human embrace cannot be eclipsed by any material endowment. Beneath our skin resides a vast reservoir of care. Through the fall, we have somehow suffered a shared amnesia that pulled us out from our true flourishing.

Thus, I see people passing by with not a slight regard for the sheer magic of an introductory hello. We have imbibed the dictum that we are strangers in a paradise lost. 

And then comes a little puppy that somehow pinches our nerves to a moment of wander. 

Manel with a baby Australian Shepherd  

Irony

Our assumptions betray our personal orientations. We prefer to believe a particular maxim based on some voice subscribed with somehere in time.  

The irony of much of our thoughts is relayed through the burdensome behavior manifested.

Our hidden actions reveal the cracks.  

Every human thought equates to a conundrum not unless it escapes through the wonderful grace of God's pure wisdom. 

When we yield to that which is never abridged by shifting foundations, suddenly, we rouse, we take up our mats, and walk in pure delight. 

Apropos

When God made woman out from the rib of man, the theology of other-centeredness took on flesh. 

I had often pondered why God would say that it is not good for man to be alone.  After all, there have been seasons of life when isolation seemed most comforting.

And then I turn the leaf of honesty, and admit that through my imposed solitude I drift towards a safe but lifeless existence. 

Ahh, it seems undeniably true that deep down in my pretentious psyche is a longing for unremitting companionship.

I ache for koinonia.  

The fellowship of the Trinity provides the perfect paradigm for my inquiry. In infinite measure, God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit have been demonstrating the gravitas of this wonder.

In absolute fluidity of affection one for each other, the devotion of the Godhead speaks forth the strongest argument why we all need each other.

As we commit to this ordination, we behold a kiss that holds us dear and close to the very heart of our Creator. 

Birthday

I got married in the late 80's to a young and beautiful lady whose primary trait was her remarkable elegance. 

For three decades now, I have been witnessing this resplendent poise not only staying its course but growing wonderfully deep.  

The mark of Christ's on-going work in her character has been my season ticket for a front row spectacle on how virtue marinades under the tutelage of her Redeemer.  

Joyfully Blessed Birthday, my bride and truest friend!

Maria Danielle Diwa, née Soberano

Anchor

There is no stronger anchor in life other than the love of God found in the person of Christ Jesus.  

Yesterday was Memorial Day. It was a time to remember the courage of heroes. At a nearby pool park, I found myself in a serious conversation about the troublesome meaning of a holy sacrifice.

As I was led to unpack the meta narrative of God's intervention, the person whom I was seeking to clarify with expressed her desire not only to subscribe to the memory of that one quintessential heroism of Christ but to enter into its covenant. 

The story of Christ grips the human heart with an astounding hold that finds no rest until a vacuum is filled with its joyful weight. 

Grit

Candles stay on through their wick. The solid wax turns liquid in a well-timed release. The beam is never aggressive but ingressive. The lumens light our paths with measured depth.  

Life is akin to such movement. Our lifespan has been determined. Our daily existence finds expression in minute stewardship. Our witness is fashioned not to scheme but glean. We serve as guides to the next batch with gracious experience. 

I stop to think of my present journey as a privileged grant. Every single day is a divine favor.

Life is sacred.  

God crafted my resplendence and by Christ's grace ... I experience daily lit wonders! 

Go

The task of proclaiming the truth calls for measured speed.  

The Lord of the Harvest intimated the ripeness of the field and of the obvious lack of reapers who are ready to jump in the wagon to go. 

The necessity of prayer to move our calling to a posture of action is paramount. 

Indeed, how will they know the good news unless we tell them. 

Just do it. 

Hardcourt

The place of meditation requires a goal to accomplish life's purpose. 

I have run wild without direction.  

I know what it means to pursue nothing but the wind. 

This is why, I step on the hardcourt to contend for every shot.

In life, the difference between mediocrity and success derives from passivity or intentionality.

I turn to my Coach who constantly reminds me to keep my vision focused on a determined hoop.  

Daily Shot

Tri

When my wife won first place on her first indoor triathlon, I knew its occurrence weeks before it was achieved. 

She is wired with serious tenacity that turns every effort towards scaling heights. 

She inspires me. 

I am spurred to overcome my propensity to entertain fear on its assault to halt my personal aim. The race that is set calls for a wild resolve tamed by holiness.  

To win, one must enter the cross-training of suffering. 

Via Dolorosa is the path that leads to our Golgotha but akin to the spectacle of Christ's quintessential victory over death, we are invited to live a life of true gain. 

The medal comes from a heart laid steady on Christ's magnanimous strength. 

First Place / Women's Indoor Triathlon LTF Texas

PowerPoint

 No sermon speaks louder than action. 

The young are led to us with the inherent responsibility to demonstrate tenacious values. 

I marvel at the frequent opportunities that come my way to influence the young.  

It is either we teach them well or we run in default to crush them. 

When we stand on the sidelines with complacent indifference to the affairs of our youth, we are ushering an ominous dark era. 

I am called to do something by being someone to the little ones.  

Only Christ can cause this shift. 

With nephew Jared, Pepperdine University Scholar

Parenthesis

The days gone by seem fleeting and vexing.

We turn back at previous episodes and wonder how we grew up so fast.

Indeed the hours seem like curious drippings of sand in what feels like a spiraled funnel.

We were merely five and just in a wink, we stood fifty.  

Where have all the memories gone? 

If I pause long and hard, I should notice that life is expended not for its temporal span but for where it is headed.

The trajectory is heavenward. 

Aha! It is not merely the material but the spatial trek that matters. 

I am loved deeply by God. 

This is all that really matters and it is the only truth that causes my flourishing.  

Now and Then. {5 and 50} 

Nine

Last night I had the joy of laying hands in prayer for my good friend Khai. 

He sets out today to represent the US in the 10th Annual European Golf Championship in East Lothian, Scotland.  

Khai's parents, Ronnie and Marivic are accompanying the young phenom. It was only nine years ago, when we were at dinner seeking for the Lord's clear blessing upon their gift.  

Although I have no competence in the greens, I was led to offer the wise joy behind a missed putt: 

Whenever I miss a shot (and I always do), I coerce my sights towards Christ's redeeming save. Jesus came to rectify all my foibles.  

Khai promised to praise the Lord, in or out.  

9 years old and soaring

Harvest

The need for available workers in God's vineyard looms with urgency.

The harvest has been prepared and teeming.

The call to serve in God's kingdom is often misunderstood to mean solely in terms of full time pastoral ministry work. This is quite myopic.

We cannot all be missionaries and parsons in its literal sense but we are all invited to take up the towel of service wherever we are for such constitutes the field of yield.

God awaits our unbridled commitment to follow Him in His delight to redeem the lost. 

We do this by taking the first step by praying to be sent without any further delay. 

B Scene / Bianca Diwa out in the harvest field.  

Above

The Lord God claims the purview of ushering a man upward or downward. 

I first met Japheth during my constant visits with his dad. Peter was then a prized rookie for the popular Barangay Ginebra club. The fiery faith of Aguilar approximates his eagle-like tenacity in raising his boy. 

My wife had the simple joy of mentoring the lanky lad how to swim. My younger brother had the privilege of introducing him to stateside NCAA. As he suited up for Western Kentucky, the ascent of his sporting career took off. 

During some of our chats, I find the conversation about God providing the central narrative of where he is headed. 

Like any young man, his trek has been most challenging.  

Not too long ago, he introduced me to the nuance of the Euro-step. It is a footwork maneuver that seeks to throw off the guard with a sharp slant towards the basket.

This is always my prayer for Japheth and all whom God has graciously introduced me to.

May the wind behind their back cause them to sharply slant to soar above the ordinary and unto Christ's glorious lift. 

Japheth over Kevin Durant / Team Philippines Smart Gilas vs. Kobe+NBA stars.  

Why

A few years back, an involved conversation took place while I was driving my eldest daughter to school. 

Nika: Dad, I need to tell you something that I feel strongly needs to be done urgently. 

Me: Go ahead, I'm listening. 

Nika: I really don't know how to say this without surprising you perhaps, but I really have to say it, Dad. 

Me: Nika, you can tell me anything ...  

Nika: Ok. (Pause) I need to move to New York and study there.

Me: Why, New York?  

Nika: I am being led to pursue Fashion and I have to study where it's best taught.  

Me: There are good schools here in Texas that offer courses in Fashion right?  

Nika: It has to be New York, Dad. I'm called to the place to train well.

Me : How sure are you?

Nika: Just as sure as you were when you left for Theological training because God called you towards a clear path. 

Me: How sure are you that it's from God? 

Nika: He spoke deep and wide through the book of Esther. Just like her, I have been granted a precious assignment for such a time as this.  

She went on to pursue her craft sustaining a fierce summa cum laude mode, and consequently joining the fashion merchandising tour de force with passion.  She currently writes and speaks both here and abroad about the Theology of Fashion.

Beats

There is quite a scarcity of words to describe the enduring affection amongst siblings. Loving and caring, albeit apropos, seem not to reach far enough.  

I am a staunch observer of this miracle through my daughters' relational rendezvous. They have been going through roads less traveled and have come out ever more so twined. 

The Psalmist speaks of this gift as oil and dew.  

It is an enduring experience where the other is granted unbridled respect while accompanied with scrumptious anticipation. 

Alas, wonderland friendship! 

My daughters in His sync

Thirst

Our insatiable craving for significance draws the attention of various wells. We drink from sources that are somehow inept in quenching our deep longings.  

There is truly a singular fount that offers the filling of our souls: the Living Water found in the person of Jesus Christ. 

Those who turn to His grace, find an eternal satisfaction that refreshes all weariness. 

Toys

I fondly remember my yesteryears of play. It was a time of imaginative recreation.

A royal castle arose from structured newspaper.

A scooter was engineered from scraps of wood and surplus bearings.

A raft was crafted from rubber slippers.

A baseball borne out from compressed socks.

The ingenuity went on ad infinitum.  

Those were days of simple fun. Friendship bonded through creative means that were quite devoid of business machinations. The primary intent of the toy was not hidden.

It was to run with the wind. To dance in the storm. To strike a monster. To touch the tail of heaven.

Back in the days, play and life were integrated with pure wonder. 

I pray for the present generation to have a taste of such glee. 

Toy Mail

Silence

Paul Simon was on to something deep in the 60's. 

And in the naked light I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools" said I
"You do not know, silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence.

Alas, our own machinations have ushered the Age of Mute.  

We must pray for a divine egress.

A way out of from Desert Lull and unto the springs of River Conversation.  

We begin by allowing the Speech of God to pry us out from our delusional chatter.  

Simon & Garfunkel / Sound of Silence 

Sway

The sweet experience of intimate knowledge comes from tenacious seeking.  

God did not commit a tithe on His resolve to redeem us. He gave Himself in demonstrating His pursuit.

Ravished by such grace, I am swept inside the currents of an everlasting dance. With uplifted hearts, I sway to the melody of the Redeemer's sonata. 

I am Yours.  

You are Mine.