The Call to Endure

On May 17-26 I was in the mountains of Marilog yet again. I was with teams and individuals from Bukidnon, Pakibato, Davao City, Manila, and the United States. In all of my trips up to the mountains in the past, God always spoke a special word in my heart. During this trip He spoke to me about endurance.

Endurance is the ability or strength to continue or last, especially despite fatigue, stress, or other adverse conditions. Walking for almost four hours can really cause fatigue. Not knowing when you will get to your destination can definitely cause stress. Riding a motorcycle on descending terrain under a heavy downpour can be considered "adverse conditions".

But why do we push on despite all these? Because we love and we believe. We love what we do and we believe in the message that we carry.

It was such a blessing to go back to a place that has become familiar and yet still held so many treasures to be discovered. I felt at home as people whose stories have become interwoven with mine welcomed me with warm hugs. I felt joy as I watched individuals from different backgrounds become united because they had the same heart. But most of all it was a blessing to hear the back stories of the past and present staff members and volunteers of Tribal Mission Foundation.

I got to spend time with people who build water up in the mountains a years ago. I got to know those who were part of building the Gumitan bridge--people who had to haul materials up to the mountains either by foot or with the help of horses. I got to meet people who helped build church structures even with the language barrier. I got to share stories with those who patiently taught adult literacy classes and those who taught the kids. I was in the company of men and women who would walk for hours under the searing heat of the sun just to bring a team of doctors and nurses to far-flung tribal villages.

And this is how I learned why we must endure. Despite the fatigue, stress, and other adverse conditions. It is for stories that speak of God's power and love, for stories that speak of the power of God's love and the power of one's love for God. We push on because we have heard the call and we believe in the dream that God has placed in our hearts.

I am blessed to have been in the company of people who endured and so have the privilege to tell their stories of endurance and victory. And though I have been tired of waiting for answers to prayers I have uttered months ago, I am encouraged to endure as well that I may live to tell my own story of victory. This is for answered prayers!

Finding My Heartbeat and That Which Makes My Heart Beat

Beginnings: Flashback, four months ago

I wave goodbye with tears freely flowing from my eyes as I enter the departure area of the Davao international airport.  It felt like I was leaving a very large part of me behind and not knowing when I would be able to go back was heart wrenching.


Chapter Endings: Fast forward, September 11

I cry buckets of tears as Carla, a very dear friend, the younger sister I never had, gives her testimony during the church's prayer gathering.  She shares what going to Davao did to her and she bids farewell to us who have been her family in the seven years that she was away from home.


Somewhere in Between

I think majority, if not all, of us have been tempted to skip to the end of a book we are reading.  There is that anticipation and desire to know how things end that make skipping to the final pages very tempting.

But reading just the beginnings and the endings never make sense and it somehow robs one of the joy of experiencing the opportunity to completely involve and engage one's self in a story.  This testimony is what is "in-between" my beginnings and chapter endings of my Davao saga.

In the time between April 14 and August 18, I got to convince three of my closest church friends to go back to Davao and walk the mountains that showed me what my heart was made of.

It was very easy to convince one.  Cookie, being the very supportive friend that she is, readily ran with my heart.  I had to use the "travel the Philippines" card on Bobbie.  And on Carla, I had to get down on my knees to pray that she would decide to go as she was going through difficult times in her life and was prone to "change plans" out of the blue.

Why was I so bent on having my sisters in church go back to Davao with me?  I wanted them to see what I saw last summer as I walked the majestic mountains of Davao.  I wanted them to feel what I felt last summer as I lived with the Matigsalugs.  I wanted them to see the God of tribes and nations who was so real in the life and worship of this people.

Why was I so bent on going back to Davao?  Because it was in Davao that I found my heart.  And in any story of a journey to self discovery one always wants to go back to the mirror that showed a person his reflection.  I wanted to look closely into the mirror to see what else was in me.

God did not disappoint; He showed me His heart and I heard my heartbeat.

We were participants in the trial run of the Osmosis Project.  There couldn't have been a better opportunity for me to look closely at my reflection than this.  The Osmosis Project's goal is "to draw out from the participants their own desires and vision for holistic transformation of indigenous communities and to engage the participants' imagination so they might see what is possible for themselves as individuals, for the team as a whole, as well as for the community and social contexts from which they come and to which they will return."

We were to do what the Matigsalugs did, listen to their stories and dreams, and share ours as well.  Listening to and sharing of stories or what we call "pakikipagkwentuhan" might sound unproductive to many.  Admittedly, there is no tangible output after an hour of "pakikipagkwentuhan" but it is in the "pakikipagkwentuhan" that people's hearts get to connect.

It is in "pakikipagkwentuhan" that a mutuality of relationships is established, hence the prefix "pakiki".  It is in "pakikipagkwentuhan" that another person's dreams also become your own, another person's struggles yours, and another person's heartbeat the rhythm of your heartbeat as well.

God showed me His heart through "pakikipagkwentuhan".  I heard of stories that made my teacher heart bleed.
These are stories of children having only two school days because the teachers are not able to spend the whole week up in the mountains.  I heard of stories of mass promotion and no clear measurement of a student's readiness to be promoted to the next grade level.  I heard of stories of school children trekking under the heat of the sun everyday just so they can go to school.  I saw classrooms badly in need of repairs.  I saw torn textbooks and textbooks left to rot at the jeepney drop off point at the foot of the mountain.

After hearing these stories and seeing these things, I heard my heartbeat.  God birthed dreams in my teacher heart.  Tribal Mission Foundation is starting to develop a curriculum for pre-school indigenous children.  They call it Foundational Learning for Indigenous Children or FLIC.  I saw the opportunity to help and be part of something as grand as shaping the minds of young indigenous children, to help them be proud of their identity, and to spur them to claim their own destiny.  FLIC is something I would really like to work on and be a part of.  This is one of the reasons why I wanted to become a teacher and why Cookie and I want to put up our own school in the future.  This is shaping the mind of a whole generation for national transformation.


Chapter Endings and New Beginnings: Love and My Heartbeat

It is funny how going to Davao always amazes me.  It is easy to go on missions trips and say you are helping and giving because you happen to have the financial capacity to do so.  But in the two occasions that I walked these mountains, it was always I who went back to Manila with so much more.

The first time I went up, the Matigslugs taught me to open my heart and risk it in order to build relationships.  That was why I was crying four months ago.  I opened my heart and it fed on the love that easily flowed in the Matigsalug community.  I did not know if I would ever be able to experience such openness and love in the busyness of Manila.  Today, it is something that I experience with old and new friends, with students and co-teachers, with current and future family members.

This second trip showed me that the heart doesn't just have to be open but that it must beat in synchrony with other hearts.  To reach that point wherein you no longer keep count as to who is giving and who is receiving but the focus is on whether or not you have the same heartbeat.  And that is why I was crying last Friday.  The idea of missing the cadence of Carla's heartbeat was painful.

But that is the way of the heart, I guess.  You risk, you love, and you feel pain when there is loss.  Because pain shows you that what was lost was of value.  But it doesn't mean that you will lose that rhythm, for "the heart in its purity knows no other thing but to connect and beat in synchrony with other hearts" (graffiti in a train seat as cited by de Guia, 2005).

Until I walk the mountains of Davao again and be reunited with the Matigsalugs, I shall be content with listening to the cadence of my heartbeat.  Right now, I like the way it sounds.  It has the rhythm of dreams that have just been birthed and visions that are waiting to come to pass.

I would like to take this time to say "thank you" in behalf of the whole team that went to Davao last August 19-26.  I thank you, Church of the Risen Lord for supporting me, Cookie, Carla, and Bobbie in this missions trip.  Thank you, Pastor VJ for sending us with your blessings and your covering.  Thank you to the missions board for your willingness to support and send us out into the missions field.  May God bless our church as we partner with Him in fulfilling the Great Commission.  And may we have even more opportunities to sow seeds and harvest souls in the vast mission field.  Amen.

Of Walks, Journeys, and Roads that Lead to the Heart

When I was still in college, studying to get my undergradtuate degree, I had a class called Psychology of Language. It was in this course that I learned about the different meanings a word could take in a particular culture and context. It was interesting for me that a word can take on many different meanings and connotations depending on how it is used or who uses it.

I think the words “walking” and “journeying” would be very good illustrations for this. One might say that the two words have similar meanings but if we look closely, the two are very different from each other.

“Walking” conjures up a picture of feet in motion. “Journeying” on the other hand conjures up a vision of a destination. A goal. A Promised Land. It is possible that one walks for years yet there is no clear direction or that one is merely walking around the wilderness. On the other hand, it is quite unfathomable for a person to journey without reaching a destination.

A destination doesn’t always have to be a physical place. One could journey to the deepest recesses of one’s heart. It is possible to journey to one’s soul. One’s desires. One’s hopes. Interstingly, we cannot say that we will “walk” to our hearts. It just seems inappropriate to “walk” matters that pertain to the heart.

In a journey it is quite expected that one would come across demons that have to be faced or even slain. This is probably why, as we journey to the deepest recess of our heart, we get the opportunity to face our personal demons and slay them. It is also in a journey of self discovery that one experiences miracles. We either embrace who we are or end up hating ourselves and wishing we were somebody else.

Walking the mountains of Davao gave me the opportunity to journey the hidden paths of my heart. I believe that it has also created new trails. Who would have thought that, as I walked under the heat of the sun, I would journey into my heart’s passions. It was in walking these mountains that I got to know myself, face a few monsters, and experience the miracle of love.

These mountains became a way for me to know myself and what I valued and held dear to my heart. These mountains do not have the comforts I am used to having in the city – toilets, water, electricity, beds, varied food… It would be very easy to say that the people in these mountains are deprived. But for me, it was the other way around. It was I who felt impoverished.

One can see a certain security in the midst of the people’s “poverty”. It is as if they knew a secret to living. It could be the knowledge that they were in the land that nurtured their hearts, held their past, and contains their futures. I, on the other hand, had to take a two-hour plane ride and walk for four hours to awaken my soul’s desires, to have a sense of history, and to birth dreams and visions in my heart.

It was in the wilderness that I found my heart. In the past, it had been easier to choose to protect my heart but in this journey it would’ve been foolish not to risk the heart. It was all about the heart. It was in this journey that I felt such a deep desire to give my life for a people. I wanted to be part of something so much bigger than myself.

Call it idealism. Is it wrong to want what is best? Is it wrong to desire what is noble? Is it wrong to pursue what and how things should be? I have always been jealous of those individuals who have found a specific cause they could give their hearts and lives to. Why not this people for me? I could give off myself without calculating, serve without hesitation, and love without fear of rejection.

In a few weeks I shall be walking these mountains again. The trails might be familiar by then. Or I might have an easier time adjusting to the living conditions. I might even be closer to the members of the community. The possibilities are endless but one thing is certain: this time, I won’t be visting. I shall be returning to where I left my heart.