Oil and Dew
Thoughts & Musings
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.
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
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
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.
She is Mimi to my daughters: a vigorous mother cloaked with wisdom encased in kindness.
When I married her, I had initial clues about her remarkable aptitude towards children. As time went by and with the validating certitude of her care towards Nika & Bianca, I am truly devoid of words in gratitude for this beautiful mercy I have beheld from Christ's endowment.
Thank you my forever bride for the unrelenting devotion you keep towards our little ones.
The experience of truly knowing God goes beyond mere cognition. The sensory aspect of tasting His actual presence constitutes the reality of a deep personal relationship.
Like aged wine, the succulence of grape must go beyond merely reading its label, a good sip determines its wonder.
The first signed miracle of Christ took place at a wedding in Khirbet Qana. The lavish purveying of good wine presented a parable of the coming promised feast: the Bridegroom shall meet the Bride in truthful bliss.
Joy is a foundational ethic in God's kingdom. It runs smoothly and with deep grace, its hilarity resounds for God's sole acclaim.
We are strapped to a world that has no mercy but punitive oppression. It is from humanity's fall that such malignant existence drew forth. Thus, we strive and find our recurring failure: we miss all marks.
There is not one who has been spared from this nuclear blast of sin.
We take off in our self-driven machines hoping to find some restful destination only to be met in haste by compounding echoes of failure.
This is where the meta narrative of God's plan stands alone. He alone calls out our shared cancer for what it is while declaring the only cure for its resection.
The Great Physician has come to offer the only health option that erases the guilt and consequence of all our perdition.
Holy impunity is here.
Covered by the Gospel of Christ.
The gift of place calls for the proper response of good stewardship.
The house of prayer where I worship has a delightful street: Lookout Drive.
It has been quite a journey leading from looking at one spot to another. For a season, our congregation waited for God's leading where we ought to stay.
The story of God's provision may be summed up in one word: humbling.
Through the years, I park and silently take in the spectacle of wonderful grace. God owns the land. He grants access for His Kingdom to shine.
Last night's NBA playoffs between San Antonio Spurs versus Houston Rockets featured a most riveting analogy.
In the dying seconds of their overtime game, the cunning veteran Manu Ginobili slipped undetected from the rear swatting the ball off pure shooter James Harden.
I catch myself falling prey at times to such weakness. I aim at my goal, confident of my perceived stroke, only to be hindered by a swipe that missed my calculus.
This is where humanity constantly crashes and thus the desperate need for wise lumens.
The world is eclipsed by a present and pressing darkness. There is however a prevailing brightness that has come to subdue all existing chaos.
The resplendence resides and exudes from one person. He coaches with stunning precision. He knows life because He is life.
He never loses, especially during overtime.
His name is Jesus. Rabbi and Redeemer.
Game 5 NBA Playoffs
Coconut water is magical. What is enchanting is its packaging. Sturdy as rock, it keeps the wonderful freshness of succulent gelatinous meat and juice on optimum.
When God gave me my bride, I found a fount of nourishing spring. Her unabridged demeanor is akin to a shell that covers the most delicate kindness.
I have faced a thousand and one arrows but none has pierced my soul due to her fount that drips freely towards my every lack.
My Bride + Buko from Kabankalan, Negros Occidental
It's almost Mother's Day and expediency prompts me to be days early in speaking thanks to my precious Mama for exemplifying pristine character in her vocation to cause our flourishing.
Beauty has always been my mother's middle name. She was muse to her University, and a princess to all those whom she met. Her devotion to Papa may be described as epic. To this day, the fragrance of her family devotion rises beyond any cloud and unto azure heights.
When I turn to her countenance, I see the face of the sweet Redeemer.
Thank you for your life and love, dearest mother.
My dearest Mama, age 84. Feels like 18.
The Latin etymological origin refers to a staging place where drama takes place. Nowadays, the pulpitum indicates the platform where preachers rise to hurl homilies.
During my early years as a PhD student in Biblical Studies, I had the rare chance to pick the moorings of John Walvoord on the matter of preaching assignment.
He had a forceful advise in this regard. He warned of any human propensity to strategize the preaching calendar lest it resemble a machinated flow. He advised against the depravity of spiritual plagiarism as one simply echoes a book or a trend that currently fancies the preacher.
He left only one option.
Listen well to the movement of the Holy Spirit and be sure to follow His lead to speak afresh the truths to God's hungry flock.
Our competence hangs on nothing more and nothing less but on God's enabling.
The recycling of the story of Babel creeps deep into our broken paradigms and thus we enter into commitments with altered intents.
We cast our nets and we catch nothing.
Then grace appears.
Divine mercy sets out to rescue our mortal ineptness and we are blessed with a new lease.
Ahh, to be restored by His unfathomable grace!
Sketch / David Talaguit/ Hook, Line, & Sinker
The concept of justification is most slippery without its proper context.
The inverse of such is damnation.
Human sensitivities turn towards a propensity to deny the reality of sin. The claim of wages due to perdition seems most condescending. Thus, we strut our way into thinking that all is well with our compromise.
Until we hit rock bottom.
When the imminence of death knocks, oh so suddenly, the veil of our own deceit lifts and we grow in panic.
The sting of mortality bites hard.
This is where the work of Christ finds its locus.
No one finds vindication in any human striving. Adherence to whichever law shall run short.
The solution to our delusion is revelation.
God has disclosed His offer of peace through the finished substitutionary work of Jesus, the Son of God.
For some, this seems like some funny myth.
For those, who have received the incredible grant, it has become akin to freedom daily purveyed in the garden.
B Scene / Kara Bianca Diwa / 📸Chester Canasa
Cultural bridges show up every now and then. A fad here, a trend there. Beguiling Pied Pipers have come to usher our exit from our known ways. Thus, we follow the guide through the long and winding streets only to recoil in discovering the blind lead.
The claim of God's Revelation seems archaic and passé through modern lenses but nothing could be more relevant and dynamic than the veracity of God's Word.
Every jot and tittle is a rare gift out from His default from supreme privacy. He deliberately chose to lead us into His truth.
This divine favor surpasses the ministerial competence of any religious structure.
The Bible imbibes a magisterial poise.
As it is the infallible disclosure of God's intelligence, we are beckoned to consider our mortal ignorance and gladly receive His thoughts with utmost humility.
The primary purpose of any given day is to showcase God's work of sanctification.
We are called to attend a daily renewal of our being.
More often than not, we drift mindlessly towards toil that is devoid of substance. We are lulled by the social climate to merely follow with muted thoughts. Thus we grow old wondering about our wanderings.
The practice of submission begins with the humble posture of obedience.
The Christian life is leveraged from the absolute claim that God knows all things. As such, open minds, hearts, souls, and hands are necessary.
We think, to do that which matters for God's Glory alone. This is where true and abiding joy gets renewed.
Soli Deo Gloria.
The game of basketball is played within proper bounds. Just like most team sports, the playing field is well defined and visibly marked. To set one's foot in the hardcourt equates to an intent of vigor. To do otherwise, means to opt out and be sidelined.
Life presents an invitation to live. To be born into existence does not necessarily lead to an experience of fullness.
A second birth is necessary to enter into the realm of the living. It is this re-entering that presents the staggering claim of Christ that apart from Him, there is just no life.
His claim is most unique in that it advances the meta-narrative that life is to be found in His person. He claims to be life, personified.
Christ's definition finds its context within the vortex of His claim as Creator, Provider, and Redeemer. His invitation is totalitarian. You either submit to Him completely or you shun Him. There is no middle ground.
It's either you're in or you're out.
The amazing truth is the discovery that once you have surrendered to His embrace, you will recognize that even your faith is a gift to play.
Blood relationship had been altered at the cross of the Savior.
We used to proceed in our relations with transactional intent.
I will give you what you need if your purchase is registered. Thus, human interactions are merely business deals pretending kindred depth.
Christ's mission introduced a new kind of affinity. Instead of a landlord, we were granted access to our Father. Instead of a tyrant, we were twined to our Redeemer.
Instead of an enterprise, we were grafted into His family.
We are left in awe with the resplendent reality that we are now related by the Blood of the Lamb.
My brother Tom + My son Emeka / UCHI Houston
The weight of mentorship relies upon the integrity of what is being taught.
We are surrounded by a great cloud of teachers but it is in the teaching that most are found vulnerable.
Truth is a gift from God.
When such is misunderstood and consequently misrepresented, deceit is camouflaged while victims are led to a path of doom.
Thus, to teach the young entails a high calling. Morbidly, but appropriate, we have been warned that it's better for a millstone to be tied around our necks and be thrown down the sea than for us to surf in style while instructing the naive with empty natural gas.
We must crave for supernatural thinking.
The Holy Bible solely claims this purview.
The psychological term for symmetrical flow derives from phrase. It involves the adaptation of proper posture while conducting any motor movement.
Be it a dance, a swim, or a stance in front of a pit bull, phrasing determines the nuanced outcome.
The Dog Whisperer, Cesar Milan, assumes outstanding poise in taming challenging beasts. He does it by carefully studying the indescribable beauty of non-verbal talk that subversively chatters inside living creatures.
I seek to know this kind of conversation.
This is possible only if I make good my commitment to hush the external cacophony of noise and submit to the small still voice that sings endearing lullabies to my tired soul.
Daddy-Daughter Dance / Nika's 2016 Wedding
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