They’re Here: The Saturn Road Mission Team

Three brothers and two sisters in Christ, the mission team from the Saturn Road church, came on September 24, got their first taste of what it means to lose one American day and gain a Philippine day, messing up their body clocks in the process, and got themselves involved in the teaching at the facilities of Philippine Institute of Biblical Studies in Pit-os, at the church facilities in Talamban, at Jollibee-Banilad, at Helen Uytengsu’s place in Banilad and at Krua Thai restaurant, Banilad Town Centre. Let me introduce them to you.

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Not Everyone Can Be Us

The preacher eagerly doing the job of preaching has certain challenges, opportunities and responsibilities. These I describe as peculiar; others call these extraordinary.  They are a part and parcel of a preacher’s private life that makes him tick— his study life.

The preacher must be a well that doesn’t run dry. It is an axiom that dry wells cannot give forth water. Brethren will long to come to free-flowing springs to have a drink. The fruit of much study comes out of preacher’s mouth; but the seed of scholarly efforts must first be planted in his brain. We cannot teach what we have not imbibed. In other words, a preacher must needs to have mental industry, or he would amount to any of the following

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Obituary Of An Old Man Age 93

An old man, age 93, passed away this week.  Fifty years ago he was the owner of a hundred hectares of mountain land planted to corn–literally fields of green beside a flowing mountain brook. He also owned the largest house in this community of small people living in small houses. His things were the envy of the village underachievers and the talk of the village gossips. No one above the age of fifty today could not say he or she had not worked in this old man’s farm, had not experienced his tongue-lashing when he complained of backjobs, had not felt being exploited because of being poor.  The old man used to ride sky-high on the glory of being lord of a small manor. Now he’s dead.

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Great Reasons To Be Thankful

I type this post today and I still cannot believe what had happened to me last night as I was on my way home from preaching in the mountains.  I type this post slowly because I still could feel the pain in my left arm and the pain in my left leg.

However, those pains in my extremities are nothing compared to the pain that I had felt in my heart– the pain of fear. Because for one more time in my life—last night— I had felt so afraid. I thought it would be my last day in the land of the living.

Last night, on the highway going home, I fell from my motorcycle. Flat on the pavement.

The road was wet and slippery and that portion on the entry point at Nasipit going to Talamban was flooding, which was probably one reason the vehicles on this stretch of the road did not seem to be moving, and I too was wet because I had been traveling three hours under the rain. It had been raining hard the whole morning yesterday.

I fell from my motorcycle not because of my carelessness, for I have always been careful.

I fell because an AUV, colored white, whose driver was in a hurry to go home–like me who was also in a hurry to go home, like every driver of every one of those vehicles on that stretch of the highway who was in a hurry to go home– forgot good manners and road courtesy, and bumped me on my right side, and I fell.

I fell flat on the hard concrete—and imagined death under those rushing wheels.

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