Posts Tagged ‘walk’

[This is an edited version of a letter I’ve written to someone in the future. I realize I have been neglecting this blog for some time now. It’s not really because I have nothing new in life. Quite the contrary, life has had me drowning from all the salty waves and stormy winds it throws at me—and I could hardly keep my head above the surface. This letter somewhat summarizes the things I have been dealing with. There are way more than the things I’ve mentioned, of course, but at least I get to share in this platform the lessons God has been teaching me recently.]

 

JULY 29, 2018 | 7:05AM

Dear Future Person,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Life had recently kept my hands—and heart and mind—so, so full these past months. I got my life turned upside down—in the work, home, church; emotionally, physically, socially… It’s like I’ve recently gone through some major overhauling. I can tell you more of what specifically happened for the first half of 2018, if you don’t know about it yet. But in this letter I want to be raw and vulnerable. I want to tell you how I’ve really been after all the sifting and shaking and breaking. I haven’t also really paused and sat down to think about my emotions and thought processes about all this. So bear with me, as I try to share to you the lessons, realizations, and revelations I have been gleaning in this season of trial and rebuke.

For the first half of 2018, I felt confused with all the occurrences around me. I started asking whether I’m really supposed to stay where I was, or if maybe God was signaling me to go elsewhere. My desire to serve God “more” has led me to thinking that maybe God was leading me somewhere else—where I can do greater acts for Him. Where God could “benefit more” from me. Where even the world would recognize me as a great servant of Christ. Because of that line of thinking, I’ve made some very foolish and rash decisions. I got involved in a group that was proven to be unhealthy and unbiblical later on. That mistake still haunts me even now.

The accumulated stress and exhaustion of my college years and my first year of teaching took a toll on my health. 2017 has been an excessively tiring year for me, especially emotionally (and that’s another story for another time). It took a toll on my health, and I had to stop working for a while. Because of the many surrounding issues of my life, I’ve intended to also not work for at least a semester, or even the entire year. But by the last week of June I found myself getting interviewed for a teaching position in the University of Makati. I started class two days after.

Where has this all left me? My current situation leaves me grasping for breath—every. Single. Day. It leaves me begging God to please give me strength to endure the day. Because, I must say—all these shaking and overhauling have drained all my human strength. I kept asking God for a period of rest. For a time to recover and meditate and regain my footing. But He out of His divine wisdom did not give me that. Instead He has foreordained that I would face more people—around 400 from my estimation—than I did last year to teach. Frankly, I am not ready for this. I am not prepared to face a lot of people again. Not yet. I need, I feel, to recharge first. To gather up courage before I could give life and its attacks a fighting stance. Because what’s happening to me right now is that I’m terrified most of the time. I’m afraid of the burden placed upon me by having to encounter hundreds of souls on a daily basis. I’m afraid of my own heart and how it might deceive me again any time. I’m afraid I’ll make mistakes again—worse this time. I have so many fears. And these fears, they paralyze me. They make me dread the mornings whenever I wake up.

But somehow, I get by, day by day. Somehow, I manage to deliver my lessons to the kids. And it is in this time of crisis—and still managing to get through each day despite the crisis—that God’s sustaining grace is actually made magnified to me. I’ve never yet in my life had as much dread on my daily life as I have today. But I’ve also never felt the need for His grace more than I do now. And yet again God’s fresh mercies every day have never yet been so strongly, overwhelmingly shown to me as they are being shown now. What I could see that God is teaching me is that I am TOTALLY RELIANT upon His grace. Literally. That I really can’t survive a day—even a moment—without His loving arms upholding me. That I am like a puddle of water in His hands—I am without form and void outside of Him. I am a broken vessel upheld only by the grace of my loving Father. And that I have to truly trust Him on a daily basis. He’s really driving me to my knees. Showing me I need Him every passing moment.

And this entire process is humbling me. Breaking me and shaking me, yes, but also humbling me and comforting me through God’s reassuring grace. And so that’s one lesson. God is making me learn to humbly trust in Him.

Another lesson I’m learning is that God has foreordained for me to be where I am right now because this is where I can serve, love, and follow Him best that results to His glory. Do you remember the parable of the talents? It said there that the master gave to one servant five talents, to another two, and yet to another one, each according to his ability. Now, I searched up on the Greek origin of the word “ability”. And the word, [du/namis], literally means “miraculous power”; the abundance of one’s innate ability/power/strength. He is showing me that whatever lot He has given me—right now I am a city college, an ordinary church member, a non-remarkable daughter, a mundane friend—is in accordance to my intricately woven design the He Himself had made. I am given my share of talents. Why do I try to bury my share and take the talents, the portion, of others? God is teaching me to fully recognize His wisdom and to trust completely His sovereignty. And you know what? In showing Himself to be in total control, God is guiding my heart to the rediscovery of the vast beauty of the lines He has assigned and drawn to be my portion. It’s like God is waking me up from my deep slumber in envy (long story. Ask me—show me this letter. I would remember.) and showing to me once more the wonders of my own God-given inheritance. And this is another overwhelming lesson and revelation. Often, this realization drives me to tears—of sorrow, guilt, and repentance because I have so lightly regarded the work of the Lord in my life. This realization often drives me to tears—tears of gratefulness and humility, because who would not be humbled before this Almighty, All-knowing, All-loving God? These realizations are painful, but all these tears are worth it.

God is yet teaching me another important lesson in my most recent mistakes. And this is, my love for the brethren was not as strong as I thought. I’ve always thought I’ve perceived the right rightly already. With love and reverence and patience. God is showing me that I haven’t loved enough the people around me yet. That, after all, I haven’t cared for the Body of Christ enough. I haven’t loved the church as Christ would have me love His people. I’ve taken lightly the Bride of Christ. I’ve thought of her members in a quite unloving manner when I felt misunderstood by them. And God is proving to me that I’m wrong in so many aspects. This one included. I foolishly thought I’ve tried hard enough in building a relationship with these people. I was wrong. And right now God is teaching me to love more. Bear more. Understand more.

This letter got longer than how I intended it to be, but the bottom line is that, I am learning so many things right now. And one of them is the fact that despite being showered by God’s mercy, grace, and love, sometimes my heart still lacks the proper, warm, deep-seated love for the brethren. And that is what He is teaching me. Love more, Bekah. But I feel like I might forget or lose sight of this lesson often. And so, if I ever forget this lesson again, I ask that you always remind me of the great love I have been given. Because my heart can sometimes forget. And it tends to love people less.

I am writing this so that you may understand what I’ve been through, because I believe some scars I have here, I’m meant to keep. I am determined to keep going, to keep walking on the Narrow Path, every step closer to Celestial City. But sometimes, I may falter and get tired. If I do, please point me back to my only Source of strength—my Savior, Jesus Christ.

 

I am keeping you in my prayers.

 

Reby

 

| 10:58PM

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If there would just be one word I could use to describe my 2017, there’s nothing else more fitting to use but the term, “transition.” It was the year that for me was the best and the worst at the same time because of the many things that happened to me. I started 2017 as a student struggling with graduation requirements, and I ended it as a Licensed Professional Teacher who makes Senior High School students struggle. It was the hardest year for me just yet, full of difficult lessons and heavy realizations. But never had I been so blessed and overwhelmed with the truths revealed to me as I had been this year. And so looking back, I can say that all the tearful nights, the exhaustion, and the disappointments of this year have revealed to me in a deeper personal level who God is, and have ultimately drawn me all the more nearer to my Savior.

2017 taught me that God, and God alone, is in control. My entire life, to the last detail, is in His hands. Not in mine. Not in anyone else’s. He holds my heart like water in His hands, and turns it to whatever direction He pleases. He has the complete hold on the reins of everyone’s lives. We all try to hold on tightly to our plans and intentions, but at the end of the day, it is always the perfect plan of God that stands. And thankfully so.

Because this year, I learned that God is a purposeful planner. I learned that my stay in this temporary world is simply my pathway to the state of glory. And everything I have to go through has a significant contribution to my sanctification. Not a detail in my story happens randomly. Nothing is meaningless. Every turn in the path, every twist of the road, every rock that blocks up my path, every pebble I have to stumble upon—each has a truth to reveal to me. And the Lord makes sure that I get everything I need to be more Christ-like every day.

This year also taught me that God is a loving God. He has a perfect plan for me, and He executes that plan very lovingly. He sees all my tears and puts them all in a bottle. He knows my every pain, and He does not make me suffer in vain. Instead, He is a God who leads me through the valley of the shadow of death while keeping me under the shadow of His wings. He is a God who will let me go through storms and wild tempest because I need to learn how to trust Him. But at the same time, while I suffer in the storm, He is a God who would cause His loving promises and means of grace to surround me, giving me the strength to endure, and overcome, the stormy nights. He is a loving God, and if discovering this on a personal level meant having to go through everything I went through this year, I would not skip out on even one of them—even the most painful and difficult ones.

And most importantly, I learned this year that God is working on countless stories all at once to weave the one that matters most: the story of His glory. What’s happening around me is not about what I feel. It has even very little to do about me at all. But everything that happens is about God and how He is best glorified through the lives of all His people. It’s about how He is continuing the story that has started from eternity past—the story of how He will sanctify His people, the story of His glorification.

2017 has been a year of transition. It was a phase I needed to go through to find myself in far greater places, in far better situations. My dark night of transition is over, and as I enter 2018, I see the glimpse of a bright morning of trusting God more, of a faster running of the race, of a more victorious fight of the faith. As the old hymn goes, I can say the year 2017 was “a well-spent journey, though seven deaths lay between.” And as I begin another year of faith lessons, I pray for my heart to have only one cry: “I am the Lord’s servant. Let Him do to me as He pleases.”