Oil and Dew
Thoughts & Musings
The influence of others in our lives resembles the intricacy of roots.
At the base of any tree resides an incredible network. Each vein connects towards an incredible intertwining.
To uproot any timber equates to a radical disturbance of accumulated balance.
Similarly, community is sacred.
We are granted links to people in order to receive and donate growth.
Even the most impetuous hook ushers sustenance.
I am called to rehearse the inventory of this unrecognized wealth.
I witnessed her first try.
Stumbling, she would clutch my thumb for anchor as she straddled for a few more steps. A wild grin would break as a tiny trek assumed a giant leap.
Bianca always fluttered with her feet. She ran instead of walking. Every hallway was a track. Every living room a field. So much joy compounded in her limbs.
I have always pondered what sort of a woman is she racing into.
The wise man Solomon spoke of a way of training of which every child ought to pursue. In deep searching, I pleaded for clarity on how I might usher my youngest to this chosen path.
I have since discovered the joy of knowing that the journey has long been set. Fearfully and wonderfully prepared by the One who brought her to us, in the first place.
All the steps were choreographed well even before she was born.
Faith beckons her simply to follow His lead.
Steppin' Bee / B Scene
The nuance of knowing God is reflected in the depth of one's connection with others.
To live alone equates to sudden death.
While we swim in our vast social world, it is of perplexity how many of these are shallow.
Be not afraid to unlock your doors to risk the intrusion of a true bond. Be done with superficial likes. Crave for marinated wonder.
Each person led to us is a favor that leads us to the presence of God.
With millennials Francis & Marie / TopDown Camaro SS
The place of worship in our lives determines the state of our existence.
We were crafted to pursue beauty.
However, the pristine attraction of God was compromised by sin. Consequently, we gravitate to idols.
We fall for the seductions of career, status, assets ... except God. Thus we languish at the top and wonder what went wrong.
The worth of God demands that we give Him His worth.
In order for this to happen, our hearts need unplugging from all our false preoccupations.
This takes place when we subscribe to the reality that life is best received than achieved.
Grace lives.
Words are living pointers to God's spectacle.
I mentor my children about the wonder of dance in writing essays. When truth is advanced, there is a wonderful option to set it on a gondola that flows through the streams.
There is the inverse of written prose where the vehicle of choice approximates a torrid bullet train. The matter does arrive but it hardly remains remembered.
The best example of the waltz of words is Holy Scriptures. It showcases the breath of God committing truth with lovely grace and swirling fortitude.
The Father's love is true epic.
With the graceful author of DiwaDoll
The movement from one job to another requires inner strength.
Vocation is fixed yet the locus of its appointment is determined through time. I have been through six diverse work places thus far. In each station, I have received editorials of who I am and what I ought to be. The persons at work were subversively God's agents instigating growth in my being.
When I pause and consider the multitude who have come to join me in these transitions, I am left with deep gratitude about the substance of why we are gifted with work.
It is always to encounter the sustained favor of God in all our good endeavors.
My youngest daughter's farewell hug from Chloe + Isabel to ToyMail
The young long for the involvement of the old.
I find it both rewarding yet challenging to engage the spirited gait of present-day millenials. The wonderful energy they exude seems boundless as it comes across like staccato notes in a premiered opera.
The strength of maturity harks from prolonged exposure to life's true propensities. As I observe the transitions, I notice the predictable recycling of themes and schemes.
What my grandfather fought were matters that my Dad wrestled with and are currently the unremitting darts that I seek to dodge.
I recently got in the mix of young hoopers and their brand of basketball was tuned-in to present metronomes. Of course, the tempo threw me off but as I switched to the inner hum of my 70's game, I found a place of quiet rest.
The guys needed me but I needed them more.
Alas, we have been granted a most wonderful package: young and old grapes squeezed in a bag to flourish and bleed together for some win and a few loss.
I am thankful for the community of age.
The war set against our children follows a subversive hum. Our little ones are lulled into lullabies of unsuspecting schemes.
Behind every substitute, preys a subliminal seduction seeking to entrap.
Although gadgets and other implements are tagged as culprits, there is clear revelation in unraveling plans adeptly laid out by a foe.
These principalities and powers do not sleep. Their corporate meetings log in hours of excessive machination set to destroy our offsprings.
The way to avert this invasion requires a committed battle flexing the muscularity of truth.
As a parent, I am called to suit up in God's armor while subscribing to the cadence of my Commanding Officer.
Captain Michael / BCC youth pastor & soldier 📸Roscelee Lubina
Layers of both conscious and unconscious weight lies beneath our external masks. Through years of unrelenting exposure to a plethora of sophisticated guesses, we reach a silent murmur revealing a world that has nothing to offer.
This ongoing chatter never receives our best attention until divine mercy rescues our downward distraction with His sweep of grace.
Redemption unshackles us from our morbid indifference and leads us to a far country where God is home and home is God.
Alas! Our journey finds sweet rest as we thrusts ourselves into Christ's massive embrace.
Diwa Doll / Shades of Grace
The push for competence finds its true roots in the discipline of practice.
The oceanic volume of biblical truths amounts to unused wealth if its application lies dormant.
Bible Study is oftentimes seen as some kind of a virtuous accumulation of knowledge that puffs up ones spiritual agenda. It is to be noted that Christ never exhibited such misplaced flamboyance.
In the rigors of any race, the trek gets conquered not by the swag of rhetoric but through the vascularity of the athlete's hidden training.
We are called to scale the depths of studying Theology in order to excel in the humble determination of a life lived well.
The recent exit of a prominent network celebrity due to sexual indiscretion certainly evolves from a spiritual denominator.
There is something deep in the human psyche that seeks to perpetuate the preying towards the weak while advancing misplaced acclaim.
The curse of this malady affects all of our sexuality as it has been stained by the malignancy of the Fall at Eden.
The gift of sex is sacred.
God defines it with a robust commitment to know the other with covenant holiness. In its boundary lies no clause for extra-appetites outside the realm of decency. God introduced sex into our lives for it has been the jargon of the Holy.
When sex is redefined as a by-product of misdirected human cravings, the factor of self-destruction is engaged.
The $25 million payout seems ludicrous but it absolutely does nothing to assuage the raging monster that eats the soul.
Only the mercy of Christ blots out the crimson scandals.
Front Page / New York Times
There lies a careful distinction between a life of grace and one that relies on sheer human effort.
Earthly toil emanates from the narrative of fallenness. It is from the soiled frustration of every person seeking to define life according to an independent script.
The point of grace begins from God and ends completed in Him. It solely relies upon the staggering largesse of Christ's work in and through every believer.
The person who shuns the truth about God's revelation is merely following the catastrophic cinematography that recoils towards death. The hardening of one's heart and the calcification of mind against the gospel is organic to the human condition.
The life of faith is a gracious interruption of this impending train wreck.
When the Work of God intervenes in a person's grasp of truth, it is purely divine intervention. It is referred to in Scriptures as God's glad choice to redeem those who will choose to believe the offer of Jesus Christ.
Joyful Bee
The rise of malicious deceit has reached a point of normalcy where not a single day passes without a trap set right up our alleys.
The world has suffered a shipwreck and it takes disciplined care to spot a flaw.
C..S. Lewis elucidates: “And then she understood the devilish cunning of the enemies’ plan. By mixing a little truth with it they had made their lie far stronger.”
The resolve to live by truth involves primarily not in the certainty of a gathered set of facts but in trusting an impeccable guide.
The audacity of Christ in claiming absolute authority over all things demands a response. The one who yields finds life. The others are taken in for a ride.
Lord have mercy.
iPhone Display during yesterday's attempted call
Dozens of Messiah wannabes showed up before and after the earthly visitation of Christ. Each one died and so did their short-lived movements.
After the death of Jesus, about 500 visibly attested his actual resurrection. His weak disciples sprang forth with strong fervor causing an outreach that turned the Roman Empire on its knees in just 300 years hence.
To this day, the impact of the Redeemer's death and resurrection eclipses any nuclear option to pulverize the human hope.
There is only one person who absolutely does what he says without fail.
There are only two options to this glaring gravitas: it's either you believe him and receive him as Lord or you deny him and shun him as lunatic.
Nonetheless, his words remain as is.
Biblical Community Church / Richardson Texas
My firstborn daughter has received a most unique vocation. I first had a glimpse of this endowment when she was a toddler.
Dress was air that she breathes.
On many wedding invites, she'd be a flower girl clad in some elaborate gown. It was always a challenge to have her slip back to normal wear. At times, she'd opt to have the garb on while feigning sleep just to extend its adornment.
It was quite problematic to observe her passion towards clothing. At first, I thought of it as some aesthetic anomaly.
Through the years, her unique acumen blossomed into serious grip. She pursued Fashion Merchandising at the prestigious Manhattan school receiving Summa Cum Laude distinction.
Ermenegildo Zegna, Barney's of New York, the RealReal, were primary recipients of her involved craft. Until one day ... she stepped out of corporate fashion to disclose a most dainty calling.
Recently, her world turned full orbit towards leveraging the voice of God towards the propriety of clothing. She has become an ambassador of Christ for the embassy of woven beauty.
She no longer retails glamour.
Wholesale, she follows her Redeemer in clothing the naked with wise accoutrements.
Nika / DiwaDoll / Clothed
The Gospels record women as the first eyewitnesses that early Sunday morning.
At a time when females were marginalized as incapable of reliable news, this account would have been the obvious clue to a story's falsehood.
But Mark and the other three journalists kept the narrative as is.
Just because it truly took place as such, unabridged.
As they prepared to service the dead body, they were astounded by the rolled stone.
The occurrence of an angel compounded their wonder. They were told that he had already risen.
To this day, the number of kindred witnesses escalate.
Jesus Christ rose from the dead, just as he said he would.
Charisse Hu / 📸Paul Lim Supelana
At the root of every human existence lies a quest.
Every journey involves a search for a proper way.
Through all my wandering strides, I find that I often miss the one that leads towards my inward soul.
I explore the outdoors at the expense of a stilled appreciation of who God crafted me to be.
And so, I turn to the image of a tree. I am invited by the wind to sway and perhaps to break in order to find life and thus give it away.
Such was the Kenosis of Christ.
He emptied Himself to fill me up with Love indescribable.
I am staggered by this.
Sketch / David Talaguit
My present darkness was subdued by a covenant that slices through the curse of death.
All of my trepidation concerning God lay decimated under the sheer force of love exacted upon my wormy condition..
I used to groan towards Gehenna.
Because of Christ's death, I now dash to His crib.
The flat line is no more.
The finish line was marked Τετέλεσται.
Jesus Christ: It is finished.
The human body moans for release every single day.
As I ponder my age and look back in time, I find the mirage of a delusive story: I am invincible; I will never die.
Such was the gossip in Eden.
God redirects my distraction through His story.
Five years ago, I was diagnosed with a condition that required surgical resection of my lower jaw. In twelve hours of involved procedure, I lost my jaw, my lower teeth, my fibula, and scraps of donor skin. I lost 25 pounds that week. I was told to expect major adjustments.
The road to recovery was brutal. I took liquid food for three years. Depression crept insidiously.
It was a perfect storm.
But, if it were not for God's sanctification narrative, I would have remained detached from reality.
I am weak.
I will die.
But Christ is strong.
I will be made strong.
I will live forever.
The biking platoon offers as much as 40% reduction of wind drag. The cyclist positioned in the midst of the moving pack receives the most benefit.
In my trek of faith, I am most weak when I do solo sprints and breakaways. Inversely, I find most resilience whenever I enter into the stream of help made available.
I bike, I hike.
I am compelled to do this amidst good company.
Such is the blessing of community.
My faithful cycling kicks
© 2016 Oil and Dew Ltd
