My Gethsemane Moment

 

Jesus praying at the garden of Gethsemane

Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and said to the disciples, “Sit here while I go and pray over there.” 

And He took with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and He began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. Then He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch with Me.” 

He went a little farther and fell on His face, and prayed, saying, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.” 

Then He came to the disciples and found them sleeping, and said to Peter, “What! Could you not watch with Me one hour? Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” 

Again, a second time, He went away and prayed, saying, “O My Father, if this cup cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done.” 

And He came and found them asleep again, for their eyes were heavy. So He left them, went away again, and prayed the third time, saying the same words. 

- Matthew 26:36-44

Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

- Matthew 6:10

April 30, 2025

10:22 A.M.

For the longest time, the Garden of Gethsemane has been one of the places in the Bible that has sparked my interest. The Bible tells us that this is the place where Jesus went to pray before His arrest and crucifixion. It bears witness to Christ's humanity as He pours out to His heavenly Father the intense inner struggle that He was going through, hours before His impending death on the cross.

Gethsemane comes from the Aramaic word gat shemanim which means "oil press". This garden is located at the foot of the Mount of Olives, and as its name implies, there must have been a number of oil presses there for the pressing of the olives which were abundant in the place.

The symbolism of the place where Jesus chose to spend His last hours on earth is not lost on me. It was here in Gethsemane where Jesus experienced the weight of unbearable sorrow, just like olives are pressed under a great weight to release their valuable oil.

An olive press

December 15, 2025

4:08 A.M.

I began this post eight months ago. All this time it has remained a draft, waiting to be finished. 

What the past eight months has been like for me can never be put into words. And as we only know too well, life's like that, isn't it? We have it all planned out, but there's never any guarantee that those plans will be realized. 

Somewhere along my journey, I have made peace with that. 

I know that Someone infinitely wiser is holding the pen and writing the script.

I know that when things don't go as expected, God is preparing something better. 

But still, there's no denying the profound pain that intersected Chapter 2025 of my life story. 

Finally today, sitting here before dawn in front of my laptop, hoping to sort out my myriad thoughts, I make yet another attempt to complete this post.

Flashback:

Many years ago, during a very difficult season in my life, a dear lady walked into my office at the  Christian Academy where I was serving as the principal. I cannot recall who she was; all I remember was what she spoke. She had no idea what I was going through, which makes what she said even more significant. Her words: "Lidj, your heavenly Father wants you to live each day with an expectation of good things happening."

I was never really a pessimistic person. No, I didn't go through life with an Eeyore mentality that always expected the worst of everything. 

But that was a difficult season for me, and I had no idea just how soon, if ever, God was going to answer my prayers for a turn of events. So to hear those words spoken to me by someone who didn't even know my circumstances felt like a soothing gentle breeze in the arid valley I was in. 

Holding on to those words throughout the dry seasons of my life, they gave me a ray of  hope:

... when in the midst of uncertainty in 2004, I sensed God's cloud moving, and I was to follow that cloud, not knowing where it would lead 

... when my husband Ernie suffered a heart attack in 2006 (which he miraculously survived)

... when Ernie underwent an angioplasty in 2007 to have six stents inserted into his blocked arteries 

... when Ernie and I spent a memorable year (2007-2008) in Chiang Mai, Thailand, where he served as a consultant at the Mae Jo University

... when we returned to the Philippines in 2008 after his contract ended

... when Ernie suffered a second heart attack only six weeks after we arrived, and never recovered

... when I learned first-hand what being a widow was like

... when ten years later in 2018, First born son and his wife God-given lost their third child, a baby girl, only two weeks after she was born

... when my best friend Melanie, my friend of all friends, passed away also in 2018.

Then the pandemic in 2020. The lockdowns. The quarantines. The restricted travel. 

More deaths. All of them unexpected.

Don't get me wrong. Life wasn't always such a gloomy picture. 

There were also many happy moments. 

Second son gets married. 

Four more grandchildren are born. 

The intensity of grief lessens as time goes by. 

I learn to rebuild a life around the loss.

Events to celebrate. 

Ministry breakthroughs. 

Meaningful God-moments.

Friends who care. 

Family who loves. 

Sons and daughters who honor me. 

I look back at the past and realize much of it is mostly a blur by now. 

Yet one distinct thread stands out: hope from those words spoken to me by that lady, "Your heavenly Father wants you to live each day with an expectation of good things happening."

Hope.

It is indeed an expectation of good things happening.

------0-----

 
For the past twelve years or so, our women's group in church has met up for two days in December to reflect on the significance of the year that is to come. We study the meaning of the year, based on the corresponding letters in the Hebrew alphabet which they call the alef-bet.

During one such year-end retreat in December 2024, we looked at the meaning of the year 5785 in the Hebrew calendar. The new year that began on the Jewish feast of Rosh Hashanah corresponds to the year 2025 in our Gregorian calendar. 

The year 5785 is called Pey Hei (80 and 5), focusing on the number 5, which is the fifth character hei in the alef-bet. 

Hei is the picture of an open window. "5" is also the number of grace. Grace can be described as a wide open space of glorious possibilities, release from confinement and limitation, and a crossing over from bondage to freedom.

This Scripture passage stirred our hearts as we applied its meaning to the circumstances we were in: 

He brought me out into a spacious place; 

He rescued me because He delighted in me. 

2 Samuel 22:20

In the year Pey Hei in God's prophetic calendar, the Lord was bringing us into a season of promotion and expansion. The phrase spacious place was highlighted, speaking of so much hope and promise.

I welcomed 2025 as a year of grace, a year of breakthrough, and a year of stepping into my spacious place.

Many specific passages in the Bible refer to this spacious place:

The Lord said, I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt... So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey. (Exodus 3:7-8)

You have not handed me over to the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place. (Psalm 31:8)

You enlarged my path under me, So my feet did not slip. (Psalm 18:36)

But the passage that encouraged me the most was from Genesis 26:22 - 

And he [Isaac] moved from there and dug another well, and they did not quarrel over it. So he called its name Rehoboth, because he said, “For now the Lord has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land.”

Rehoboth was the Well of More Than Enough. The men had been in contention and strife over the wells that Isaac dug. After digging the well Rehoboth, the fighting finally came to an end. 

I left that two-day retreat embracing the message of a spacious place.

The previous year 2023, my seventieth birthyear, God had set me free from many troubled years of uncertainty.  I entered the year 2024 still basking in that new-found freedom. 

As the year was about to end, I had so much to look forward to. The new year 2025 held the promise of a spacious place, a Rehoboth year of more than enough. 

Those beautiful words from the past found their way to the surface of my heart: Live each day with an expectation of good things happening.

I welcomed the year 2025 with expectation and hope. Daughter Obedient One had arrived the early morning of December 31, the last day of 2024, fresh from a three-week tour of Norway, Finland, Belgium, Estonia, and the Netherlands. She and I spent New Year's eve with second son Worshiper and his family who lived two hours away from Bacolod City.

On January 1, the message for me was clear:

You enlarged my path under me, So my feet did not slip. 

- Psalm 18:36

 

There it was again, that spacious place reminder. There were 365 days ahead of me, each day waiting to be lived out. 

No one really knows what's in store, I remind myself. But my heart was full. The promise was sure. 

I was standing before an open window. Pey Hei, a year of glorious possibilities, beckoned me to step out in faith and receive what was promised. Abba Father has enlarged my path under me, my feet will not slip.

Sometime in mid February, my sister who resides in the USA sent me a Viber message. She had just gotten a diagnosis from her doctor. The respiratory ailment that was earlier thought to be pneumonia turned out to be lung cancer after a CT Scan was done. 

I could not believe the words. 

Stage 4. 

Metastatic.

She was scheduled for an MRI. 

The results came out on March 8: the cancer had already spread to her liver, pancreas, hip bones, spine, and possibly, her brain.

It was terminal.

No curative treatment was offered. Only palliative care.

I was numb with disbelief. There had been no symptoms, only an annoying cough that began in late January.

Put your affairs in order, I advised my sister.

Yes, I have begun doing that, she said. But we will believe for a miracle.

And that was when I entered my Gethsemane.

Offering all the prayers I knew. All the healing Scriptures. All the appropriate worship songs. Daily Holy Communion. Declaring prayers. Commanding prayers. Pleading, believing, hoping, expecting.

I am in my spacious place, Lord. 

Round the clock Gethsemane prayers. Not my will, Lord, but Yours be done.

Regular phone chats with my sister. Praying together. Pleading together for a miracle. 

Believing.

Hoping.

April came. This time, my sister urged me to stop praying for healing. 

He's not going to heal me, Ate. Please pray for God to take me home. I am ready. I am looking forward to seeing Him face to face.

On May 9, 2025... in the year of the spacious place... my sister's wish was granted. She saw her Redeemer and Lord face to face. 

The path under her feet was enlarged.

Her feet did not slip.

One week after she passed, May 16, my daughter and I arrived at my sister's home in the US. Her cremation was scheduled for May 18 and we wanted to be there with her husband and only son.

Two weeks is all that remains of 2025. I still can't believe she's gone. 

This year was supposed to be the year of my spacious place. I realize the promise was mainly for her. Not really for me.

This year I entered Gethsemane, pleading with God to let this cup pass... let there be a miracle for my sister. 

In truth, the prayer was answered: Not my will, but Yours be done.

I am feeling a bit emotional as I write. It's been eight months since she left us. I thought 2025 was my year of the spacious place. Instead it became my year of irrecoverable loss.

My sister and I were best friends, having been born only one year and seven months apart. We grew up like twins. Our Mama loved to dress us alike. We had opposite attributes - she was vivacious and outgoing, I was mostly an introvert and preferred to keep to myself. But our love for each other and family kept our bond so tightly knit.

Her diagnosis was released on March 8. On May 9 she breathed her last. Just two months. Everything happened so fast. 

I can't say I was devastated for I know I will see her again. She loved Jesus and her faith in Him was strong. But still, the earthly loss is very real. Much too real. We lost our parents years ago, but at least we still had each other. Though she lived on the other side of the globe, we kept contact almost daily. She loved me with a selfless love.

And just like that, she's gone. 

She had requested for everything to be kept private, and we honored her wishes. Now it's time to come out in the open.

I miss her terribly. And as I look at the numerous gifts she has sent me through the years, a constant reminder of our sisterhood, I still can't believe she's gone.

My only comfort is in knowing the separation isn't forever. We will be together in eternity where she is right now, in the loving presence of the Lord and Savior whom she loved.

The process of relinquishing my demand to understand is what freed me. I read those lines somewhere.

So true. The process of grieving is made easier by relinquishing my demand to understand.

John Piper writes that grief brings with it bitter nutrients that will nourish our souls in the weeks, months, and years to come.

Coming to terms with so great a loss is my way of digesting grief's bitter nutrients. 

Once again, another year is about to end. Another year is coming.

In the midst of my seeming irrecoverable loss, I know, albeit only intellectually, I have walked the way of the spacious place promised. I just haven't felt it.

One thing I am sure of, God has met me in my Gethsemane moment.

When there's pain in the offering, and I travel the road marked with suffering, blessed be the name of the Lord. 

my sister and me 

October 2013 

Peaks of Otter Lodge, Virginia, USA

Grief: A Journey of Being and Becoming

Niederhorn in summer 

Bernese Oberland, Switzerland

image source

(An excerpt from my Grief Journal.)

Next month, on November 23, it will be sixteen years since Ernie went home to heaven.

It also marks my sixteenth year as a widow.

That's truly amazing, noting those numbers. On paper, they are mere numbers. In real life, sixteen years translates to about five thousand eight hundred forty days. 

That's how long I have lived life without my husband by my side.

Which only goes to show that there's life after widowhood. And yes, I have survived.

There are many thoughts going through my mind as I write these lines. Going back to the initial days of life without Ernie. Celebrating important family events minus the patriarch of our little clan. Included now in our celebrations would be the visits to his grave at the memorial park. It may sound bittersweet, but yes, we have also celebrated his birthday and the day he left earth as important parts of our annual family remembering. 

Life's like that. There are events to remember, events we never allow ourselves to forget. Not that we have to. We want to remember. Because in remembering, we show honor, respect, and appreciation for the legacy that he has left behind.

I know I have often said this, there's beauty in remembering. It reminds us that there are persons who have gone ahead on whose shoulders we stand. It keeps us humble to acknowledge that we owe other people the thanksgiving for what they have contributed to what we are today. And Ernie, for one, has certainly done much to mold me and shape me into what I am today.

He is one of God's best gifts to me. God let me enjoy him for thirty-two years (one year as his friend, 1976-1977, one year as his fiancée, 1977-1978, and thirty years as his wife, 1978-2008). I could have wished for more years with him, but those years are enough. I fully trust God's timing in everything.

The sixteen years of widowhood have been God's amazing tools for me "to be and to become."

In 1975, I graduated from university with a bachelor's degree in Journalism. Philosophy was my minor. I write this to explain that after reading a number of philosophical works during my university years, I ended up with one favorite, and that was Soren Kierkegaard. His treatise on being and becoming emphasized that becoming is the progression from non-being to being, where non-being is possibility and being is actuality.

He also taught that the real aim or purpose of life is to achieve true individuality, which he calls selfhood; however, it is also true that there are people who exist at a level below true selfhood.

Reading these ideas at a time when I was still a new believer in Christ just blew my mind away. And the idea of being and becoming has stayed with me all through the years that I discovered more and more of what it means to be a genuine Christ follower. 

As I reflect on the past sixteen years of my life as a widow, I realize that this season of my life was ordained by my heavenly Father to put me on the journey that Soren Kierkegaard spoke about.

Indeed, it has all been an amazing road to travel.

There are many things that can never be shared openly on this public media. However, I am free to talk about the emotions that went with them. During my past years, I have struggled with the realization that Ernie left me with certain burdens that have weighed me down... issues that only a few close friends know of. For the most part of the past years, I have lived with uncertainty and fear. On the surface I laughed and smiled, and many did not know about the private battle going on inside.

It was a journey of learning to trust God with the outcome of my faith. At this point, I fully understand what it means when I say, the burden of outcome is not mine to carry. But I did not know that then.

For years I cried out to God, I believe, Lord, help my unbelief.

Suddenly, in the 70th year of my life, God gave me the freedom I never knew was coming. In my fifteenth year as a widow, I experienced what triple grace felt like. Five is the number of grace, and three times five equals fifteen. Yes, triple grace operating in my life felt awesome.

So this post comes at a beautiful time. Fifteen is coming to an end, sixteen feels like a new beginning.

Now it is clear to me, widowhood was God's gift to me, but probably not in the same way that marriage to Ernie was a gift. Widowhood was a bittersweet journey, it was bitter and sweet in its various stages.

I write about this in a blog I wrote last year: A Door of Hope in the Wilderness

Before I end, let me take time to explain why I chose the photo above. It is a photo of the Niederhorn, a portion of the Alps in the Bernese Oberland in Switzerland. It was taken in the summer season. This photo strikes me as significant because I had visited this place in June of 1997, and it was late spring, not quite summer yet. It is a lovely place in the Alps, it reminded me so much of heaven.

And now, years later... here I am at the summer of my journey, which started in winter, progressed through spring, and now, it is summer. The perspective from which I view the past events allows me to understand that what happened needed to happen to bring me to where I am today. God alone knows best.

My journey to being and becoming continues. I do not want to live at a level below true selfhood, never reaching the purpose that God created me for. I want to become who He wants me to be. Widowhood is a gift I didn't ask for. But in many ways, being a widow has strengthened my faith, and revealed to me abilities that I wouldn't have known I had if I had not become a widow. The journey to true selfhood I believe includes contending for the destiny that God has prepared for me. The enemy throws hurdles and stumbling blocks to derail me, but I must press on.  If this is the way God has chosen for my best life to happen, then I know it is the best way. And for that I am grateful!

Many times, I find myself in deep worship, in awe at the marvelous purposes and plans of Abba Father for me. He holds the chisel that refines my rough edges. He presses the olives to extract the oil, the grapes to produce the wine... so many beautiful illustrations of what widowhood is meant to work out in me. 

A dear friend named Anna Marie said, just a few weeks after her husband Manolo died unexpectedly three years ago, 

How precious it must have been for the Father to have His sons come home.  Just as it was when William and Ernie received their crowns.   It is in this that I take my comfort for Manolo wasn’t mine to keep.  He was God’s.  I am learning to thank God for the years I had to enjoy him.  It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him immensely but God gave us 27 years together that were fruitful and full of adventure.  I will my heart to be satisfied.

 

Those words struck a deep chord in my heart. I have grieved for Ernie's death, but to hear my friend say these words just brings me to a higher place of wonder. Oh yes... it is possible in the midst of deep pain to will our hearts to be satisfied.  

Below I have posted a song by David Meece entitled, In My Brokenness. It is a worship song in the midst of pain. And I close this post with these beautiful words from the Song of Solomon 2: 11-13, The Passion Translation. They are beautiful and appropriate for the season I am in.

The season has changed, the bondage of your barren winter has ended, and the season of hiding is over and gone. The rains have soaked the earth and left it bright with blossoming flowers. The season for singing and pruning the vines has arrived. I hear the cooing of doves in our land, filling the air with songs to awaken you and guide you forth. Can you not discern this new day of destiny breaking forth around you? The early signs of my purposes and plans are bursting forth. The budding vines of new life are now blooming everywhere. The fragrance of their flowers whispers, “There is change in the air.” Arise, my love, my beautiful companion, and run with me to the higher place. For now is the time to arise and come away with me.

 

Till next posting, dear reader! Thank you for taking time to read my heart. May these words leave you inspired and encouraged.

A Door of Hope in the Wilderness

March 27, 2023

You have seen what I did to the Egyptians,

and how I bore you on eagles' wings

and brought you to Myself.

- Exodus 19:4 

I

For all my earlier pronouncements about turning over a new leaf, and going back to writing, nothing much has been accomplished, so far.

Maybe it doesn't really matter. After all, it doesn't seem that there is a whole lot of readers waiting for me to publish a new blog post. 

On the other hand, it does matter to me. And I believe that is what really matters in the long run.

Writing has been my way of connecting to what God is speaking. And as long as I am not writing, then the corollary is true: I am not listening.

On the sidebar of this blog I describe who I sense God has called me to be. Through my writing, I desire to be a channel of healing and of God's redemptive purposes in the lives of people. To be a mentor to this generation and the next, the arising Bridal Generation, helping to prepare the end-time army of Christ for His Second Coming.

At an earlier part of my sacred journey, I have sensed this calling clearly, a calling to be done mostly through my writing. Inevitably my blog entries will, for the most part, be stories about my life, but my goal is that through these stories God is writing, those who read them will be drawn closer to His heart.

It is therefore understandable that there is an enemy working behind the scenes, seeking to hinder me from walking in the destiny God has intended.

It is warfare. It always is.

II

What I am saying is that for anyone who has made the choice to follow Jesus wholeheartedly, the path ahead is certain. The enemy of our souls will do all he can to make sure we fail.

The good news, however, is what the Bible says: 

"Greater is He who is in us than he who is in the world." (1 John 4:4)

"For God works all things together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28)

In layman's terms, the passages say that God is more powerful than any enemy or spiritual hindrance we may encounter here on earth. And that whatever difficult situation we may find ourselves in, God has a way of delivering us.

However, it is one thing to read Scripture passages like these, and another to actually live them out as reality. I do not mean to belittle the power behind God's word. But I have lived long enough as a genuine Christ follower to know certain conditions are needed to experience the truth of God's word.

Obedience is one. Trust in Him is another. 

When I gave my life back to Jesus as my Lord and Savior in 1973, I was a twenty-year old university sophomore. That was fifty years ago. The story of those fifty years is one of how God has brought me through various seasons of testing. Never have I doubted His end goal:

But He knows the way that I take;

When He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold.

-Job 23:10

The "testing" spoken of in the passage quoted above is very much like the process of refining gold. In simple terms, unpurified gold is placed in a crucible. Intense heat is applied until the metal melts and the impurities rise to the surface. The goldsmith then removes the dross. After the cooling period, a precious gold bar is produced. 

The entire undertaking is intricate and labor-intensive. 

Applied to human lives, this could take a lifetime. That's how long it takes to refine a stiff-necked, stubborn, hard-hearted, and strong-willed person to bear the Christ-like character that pleases God.

No doubt about it, God is willing to go through this process with us.

The question is: Am I willing to go through the process with Him?

III

Therefore, behold, I will allure her,

Will bring her into the wilderness,

And speak comfort to her.

I will give her her vineyards from there,

And the Valley of Achor as a door of hope...

-Hosea 2:14-15

Tonight I am finally back here on blogspot, sitting at my desk, ready to pound on my laptop keyboard as I put words to my many thoughts.  The events surrounding the past months are just too precious not to be compiled in a chronicle worth sharing with others. 

Hopefully, I can come up with a coherent post. 

This blog has seen better days.

When I began writing entries here, in February 2008, my husband and I were living in Chiang Mai, Thailand. In August 2007, Ernie had accepted the position of an exchange professor under the Memorandum of Agreement between Maejo University and the West Negros University in Bacolod City. His assignment was to set up the curriculum for the International MBA program which was to be introduced the following academic year. This blog was my way of keeping in touch with friends and family back home who wanted to receive news from us regularly.

When Ernie's appointment ended in September 2008, we returned to our home city. Little did I know that less than two months later, my husband would pass away. This blog became the outlet for processing my grief. In those early years, I published several posts a month. There were also other topics to write about: family events like weddings, birth of grandchildren, and important things that marked my spiritual journey.

The past five years or so, my posts have become few and far between.

I am very much aware of the reason for this. I entered what I call my wilderness years.

When my husband said good-bye to his earthly life in November 2008, I found myself in a place of much uncertainty. For obvious reasons, the details cannot be made known on this medium. My inner journey, however, can be openly shared.

The schools we attend prepare us for tests by teaching us the lessons first. If we learn the lessons well enough, we pass the tests. 

God does it differently. He sends the test first, and then we learn our lesson.

I have long understood that everything in a life is a test. And what I have experienced the past fifteen years since I became a widow was no different. But it was definitely not kindergarten stuff.  It felt like I was being tested for graduate level spirituality.

One thing is sure, I never lost sight of God's sovereignty over my circumstances, and I never stopped trusting Him.

It was very much uncharted territory for me. Only a few close friends knew what I was going through. As I have often said, I was fighting a private battle, and most of the time, it was only between me and Abba Father.

When the pandemic hit the whole world, this inner battle was far from over. 

I became very much acquainted with fear. My emotions can be described as a roller coaster ride. One moment I was very sure that God would see me through. The next moment, my heart was gripped with questions like, What if? What's next? and that sinking feeling of dread that I had become so familiar with.

Yet life went on. We celebrated family events. Ministry opportunities never stopped coming. And by God's grace, I was still able to function like the normal, spirit-filled, passionate for Jesus Christian woman that many knew me to be.

There were people responsible for what happened. Promises made, but never kept. If I had access to the finances required to get myself out, the problem would have been solved.

Intellectually, I believed that God would see me through. Emotionally, I wasn't so sure.

Thus, this internal battle went on. Steven Furtick in his Sun Stand Still devotional describes this to the dot:

That's where audacious faith comes in. Audacity isn't the absence of uncertainty and ambiguity. Audacity is believing that God's promise is bigger than my perhaps. (source)

How I wanted to practice audacious faith! But more often than not, I was living in the world of my perhaps. God could be trusted, but what if His good didn't match my desired version of good?

And so this roller coaster ride went on for years; one side of me believing, and the other side saying, "Lord, help my unbelief."

The debilitating part was the fear factor.

I was lost in the wilderness with no sign of any door of hope opening up anytime soon.

IV

And God was mostly silent. 

So I also want to call this leg of my journey, The Silent Years.

Yet somehow, I knew God wasn't far. I couldn't hear Him but I was sure He was watching over me, and leading me through a path of deliverance, though at that time, I wasn't aware of it.

Fear became a fixture in my life, intending to imprison me, demanding to control me, and there were many times when it succeeded. But it was all under the surface. Externally, I wore fear like a precious pendant hanging around my neck. People had no idea what I was carrying. 

Yet, looking back I realize that what the enemy intended for evil, God turned around for good. In my Heavenly Father's hand, fear became a tool to chisel off the rough edges of my character. Fear humbled me and taught me to depend on God alone. 

I held on to God's promises in the Bible like a person adrift in turbulent seas would hold on to a plank of wood. He was my Waymaker, Defender of widows, the One who established my boundaries, my Divine Justice. I knew by heart all the verses, hoping that they would one day find fulfillment in my life. 

A huge part of the process that God led me through was to let go of whatever expectations I had of life, of people, and above all, of God Himself.

A few years ago, a dear friend sent me a page from the devotional book she was reading. I was amazed at how it hit the nail right on the head.

Let me type out the words from this devotional page:

Let God Defend You

God is a just God and He will repay the exact compensation owed you. He will settle and solve the cases of His people. (Hebrews 10:30)

Are you dealing with an "unsolved case" from your past that needs resolution? Are you waiting for your day of justice or repayment? God promises in His Word that He is your Vindicator. He is your Defender. He will settle your case and repay everything the enemy has stolen. But in order to allow Christ to settle your debts, you have to forgive others in the same way Jesus forgave you when you were guilty of sin. You have to release those who wronged you from what you think they owe you. That's true forgiveness--freeing others so that you can be free. (Source unknown)

If there was anything that helped me win this battle, it was this very thing that God taught me: to let go of my expectations from people and let God alone defend me... His way... in His time.

And this, I believe, was the saving grace that opened the door.

V

This March 2023, I turned 70.

And just like that, in my 70th year, the valley of trouble I was in turned into a door of hope. The very words of that passage from Hosea 2:14-15 found fulfillment in my life.

I have always believed in God's suddenlies, but never in my wildest imaginings did I expect to find myself right smack in the middle of them.

Everything happened so fast.

In April I was in a make or break situation. I don't understand how help suddenly came pouring in. One by one, friends (yes, even one blog friend whom I have never met face to face), former schoolmates, cousins, some family members, from out of nowhere, rallied to my rescue. There was such an outpouring of love, kindness, compassion, and generosity. 

Suddenly in May, two months after my birthday, I was out of the dark and uncertain wilderness. Suddenly, I was standing in the bright open green meadows of hope.

God revealed Himself to me once again as the Lord of the Breakthrough.

It has taken me this long to write about it because the truth is that I am still processing everything.

Having lived too long under the shadow of fear, part of me still finds it hard to believe that I am finally free.

But as I look back at those years, my dark-night-of-the-soul years, I now understand what my Creator God was doing.

He was building in me a character that would never have been built had I not spent all those years in uncertainty.

I am glad I never gave up trusting Him, even though on most days, my trust tank was draining and almost down to empty. 

A few weeks ago, a close friend had the discernment to pray for me, commanding the spirit of fear to leave. And in its place, she released the perfect love of the Father to overflow my heart.

It is all beginning to make sense, as the truth of God as my Jehovah El Gemuwal (Lord God of Recompense) sinks in.

As this year 2023 began, I thanked God in advance for the significance of the Hebrew year 5783, Pey Gimel. This Hebrew year is the year of Divine Retribution and Divine Provision. 

Honestly, I could only believe so much. Given the spiritual condition I was in, most of it was in my head. 

Nevertheless, God honored my meager faith, and did not take it against me. 

I know this is only the beginning of the restoration. There is more to come, but for now, I am taking it one day at a time.

Words are not enough to express my thanksgiving to Him for what He has done.

Now to Him who is able to do 

exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think,

according to the power that works in us,

to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus

to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

- Ephesians 3:20

I cannot sing this song without tears streaming down my face. 

All my life You have been faithful, all my life You have been so, so good. Every breath that I am able, oh I will sing of the goodness of God.

A Letter to My Thirty-year-old Self

Lady Writing a Letter

by Albert Edelfelt - Bodil Karlsson / Nationalmuseum, Public Domain,

 https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=52132732 

February 6, 2023

Dear Lidj (my 30-year-old self),

 

In just a month, I will celebrate my seventieth birthday.

 

The Bible says that seventy is the lifespan of a person. Anything beyond that is bonus. That means, in theory, I am entering what could very well be the last year of my earthly life.

 

How then do I sum up what I have learned through all these years?

 

Precious life lessons cannot be quantified. That’s the long and the short of it. An entire life cannot be put into words.

 

At thirty I was idealistic, at seventy I am living a life I never expected to live.

 

I was twenty when I gave my heart back to Jesus and asked Him to be my Lord and Savior. That is, of course, the best decision I have ever made. That saved me from utter ruin.

 

How my faith in God grew and deepened through all the seasons is the real story of my life.

 

But truth be said, it is easy to have an intellectual relationship with God.

Easy to say you trust Him.

 

When my husband died he was 62, and I was 55. By then we had raised three children, brought them safely to the other side, so to speak.

 

Together Ernie and I faced life, with its share of joy and sorrow, laughter and tears. We fought our battles the best way we could. You win some, you lose some. And I can say that the battle scars I carry attest to the way God had seen me through.

 

Widowhood, however, is an entirely different matter. I wake up to the reality that from this point onward, life is all up to me. Humanly speaking, I am on my own.

 

Even at the ripe old age of 55, I was not quite prepared for what was ahead.

 

Some widows have it all together. Their husbands leave them with enough resources, and all they have to deal with is their grief.

 

Through no fault of his own, Ernie left me to face legal battles, and, "No, Sir, I was not prepared for that."

 

I never lose sight of the fact that he was a good and loving husband and father, but because of my present circumstances, my memories of him are tainted with splashes of bittersweet.

 

While mourning the loss of my so called “better half,” I was at the same time dealing with a kind of Damocles sword hanging above my head.

 

I look around my house and I am overwhelmed with a lifetime of accumulated stuff – clothes, books, letters, pictures, kitchen things… Things that surely had meaning in an earlier season, but which have outgrown their use and significance in the current season I am in.

 

The sorting out of material things can be tackled. One day at a time.

 

The more difficult part is trusting God in the midst of my circumstances, not with my intellect but with my heart. 

When you feel helpless and are face-to-face with uncertainty, you really have no choice but to believe that God knows how to bring you to the destination He intends for you. But more often than not, I must admit, it is mostly intellectual faith.

 

I am often gripped with the fear of what lies ahead, not knowing how everything will be resolved. Or if things will work out in my favor.

 

In his Ancient Paths teaching, Craig Hill says the presence of fear indicates that I have not received a revelation the Father's love.

 

But how do I deal with that? Honestly, I do not really know how to keep on living my life with a revelation of God’s love.

 

This then is my ongoing prayer : "May I truly experience the warm embrace of my heavenly Father, and know experientially that I am safe in His beautiful purposes for me."

 

The battle is real, and I am certain more scars are being added to the ones I already have.

 

I never want the enemy to have the victory. I believe that the uncertainty I am facing is God’s way of breaking my faith in my own capabilities and putting my trust in Him alone.

 

My battle cry in this season: 

But He knows the way that I take; 

when He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold. 

-Job 23:10

 

So in a nutshell, what have I learned so far? To sum it all up:

 

1.       Live your life the way you would want your children to live. They will see and imbibe your example. It’s the best teacher.

 

2.       Keep God at the topmost of your priorities. Keep holding on to Him. Let Him take you where He wants to take you. He is the author of your story and while there is a sense in which the story has already been written, you also have an interactive part in it. In that sense, your story is also still being written, with your cooperation.

 

3.       Keep your life very simple. Do not give in to the temptation to accumulate. Calculate how many bedsheets and blankets and pillowcases you really need, and that includes plates, cups, mugs, and silverware. That also goes for clothes, shoes, bags, and accessories. Be content with very little.

 

In saying this, I hasten to add, never forget your royal status. You are a daughter of the king. Be royal in your thoughts, attitudes, spoken words, and actions. Practice simple elegance. You can choose nice things, but you would be wise not to overdo it. One practical tip: Receive gifts graciously, but be quick to give them away if you cannot use them. I have learned that unused gifts can easily accumulate and pile up.

 

4.       Remember to always live not within, but below your means. Not with a poverty mindset, but with an abundance mindset. This means you could afford more but you choose to be content with what is good enough. That is the best way to live. And certainly the best way to save money.

 

5.       And from the overflow, have a fund that you can readily use to be of help to others. Be generous.

 

6.       Be quick to forgive, and quick to overlook an offense. Offense can also pile up and accumulate, and before you know it, you are dealing with the physical manifestations of unforgiveness. Harboring grudges will eventually show on your face and your shoulders. It doesn’t mean you have to be a doormat or an underdog. That is victim mentality. Having a victor mentality means you will not allow yourself to be hostaged by the wrong or unjust things people do or say to you. Remember, you are of royal status. Stand tall. Walk through life with a queenly bearing.

 

Choose your battles. Fight only the ones that are worth fighting.

 

Do not sweat the small stuff.

 

Live a simple, uncluttered life – materially, emotionally, and relationally.

 

7.       Be humble. More humble than you intended. Let your words be few. You do not always have to express your opinion. Some things are better left unsaid.

 

Having said all that, two final words:

-In anything, let prayer and thanksgiving be your first recourse.

- Let your life unfold the way God wants it.

 

There is more I could say but this letter has already become longer than I intended.

 

This more or less sums up what wisdom I have gained in my seventy years of existence.

 

Here is how I end this letter, with my favorite quote:

Measure thy life by loss and not by gain

Not by the wine drunk but by the wine poured out,

For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice,

And he that suffereth most, hath most to give.

- Ugo Bassi

 

 

For God’s glory alone,

Lidj (my seventy-year-old self)

Thanksgiving and A Room Called Remember

 

My Stargazer lily about to bloom

(taken on November 23, 2009, Ernie's first year in heaven)

Bless the Lord, O my soul,

And forget not all His benefits:

Who forgives all your iniquities,

Who heals all your diseases,

Who redeems your life from destruction,

Who crowns you with lovingkindness and tender mercies,

Who satisfies your mouth with good things,

So that you youth is renewed like the eagle's.

- Psalm 103:2-5

I borrow the title of this post from Frederick Buechner's book by the same title. In that book, he wrote:

... there is a deeper need yet, I think, and that is the need--not all the time, surely, but from time to time--to enter that still room within us all where the past lives on as part of the present, where the dead are alive again, where we are most alive ourselves to turning and to where our journeys have brought us. The name of the room is Remember--the room where with patience, with charity, with quietness of heart, we remember consciously to remember the lives we have lived. Frederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember: Uncollected Pieces

How beautifully written! And yes, how true!

But I do not exactly wish to go back and live in the past seasons of my life. Not only is it impossible, the past for me represents a season of accomplishment, of learning, and of growth. 

It is because of the past seasons that I am what I am today.

But from time to time, as Buechner writes, it is good to remember what the past was like.

November for me, since my husband passed away fourteen years ago, is inevitably a month of remembering. It is Ernie's birth month, and it is also the month that God called him home.

There are times when I do enter that room called Remember, and my heart is filled with nostalgia.

I remember my childhood years, with me and my sister and our parents sitting around the Christmas tree on Christmas morning, opening gifts, and a breakfast table laden with hot chocolate, bread, butter, ham, fruit cocktail salad, homemade meat loaf, and many other goodies.

I remember my years as a young mother of three children, also on Christmas morning, also sitting on the floor beside the Christmas tree, me, Ernie and our three children, opening gifts, and then a late breakfast of hot chocolate, bread, butter, fruit salad, ham... 

Other beautiful memories come floating in. Christmas eve dinner together with Ernie's family. Easter sunrise service at a nearby stadium. Family vacations in Baguio City. A well-tended garden. Young couples' weekly Bible studies with dear friends from church. Among the precious memories that I cherish are the 18 years I spent as principal of the Christian Academy of Bacolod.

In a previous post, I called those years my "snag-free, carefree," years. 

For sure there were troubles, but when I look back to those years, trouble is not in the picture, only smiles.

Fast forward to today. I leave the room called Remember and enter the front room called Present Reality.

My husband is no longer around. My two sons are married and have lives of their own. My only daughter lives in a city far from me.

A number of dear friends have also gone home to heaven.

Beneath the surface are my ongoing internal battles which only a few close friends know about.

Indeed, life today is so different from what it used to be.

There are splashes of joy in between. Family lunch and dinner together with my children and grandchildren. Sleeping over at my son's home and having a Lord of the Rings movie night or playing Tetris with my grandchildren. 

But sitting in my front room also means coming to terms with these more recent painful events.

Three years ago, death revisited our family and claimed another life, that of my fifth grandchild two weeks after she was born.

Then early this year, the pandemic knocked at our door. My second son Worshiper and his whole family got hit. Eventually all of them recovered, or so we thought. Just when it looked like he was on the mend, he woke up one morning and he was not his usual self. He had to be rushed to the hospital where he stayed for a week for a battery of tests, including a spinal tap. It turns out that he had developed a viral complication that affected his central nervous system. It was a long journey to recovery.

In the middle of it all, God called him to move his family out of this city to another city down south of our province. They now live about a hundred kilometers away, two hours by car. That meant we could no longer have impromptu family times as easily as before.

While second son was recovering, my daughter in law Chosen One was the strong one. She manned the fort, so to speak. For sure it wasn't a walk in the park, but she never wavered. God gave her the strength she needed.

Then just last month, the biopsy result confirmed our worst fears. Chosen One was diagnosed with cancer.  She has begun with the treatment, and we are all encouraged by what the doctor said, "It's treatable."

We are all in this together; nevertheless each one of us in the family is also fighting his own battle.

It is another long journey, and only God knows how it will end.

This world is not our home, therefore, this earthly life offers no guarantees that we can hold on to.

Through all the ups and downs of my life, there has only been one constant in the equation: God.

God has proven Himself to be the only guarantee that we can hold on to.

I can never overlook the fact 

- that God is good, and His mercies never end,

- that in all things He works together for the good of those who love Him,

- that the plans He has for us are meant to give us a future and a hope,

- that nothing can separate us from His love.

We all have our places of comfort, where everything is working just the way we want it. But such spots are few and far between.

Sooner or later, sometimes in just a split second, we are called out of our comfort zones, and we find ourselves in the wilderness.

The natural reaction is fear, or doubt, or blaming God.

When I turned the ownership of my life back to Jesus 49 years ago, I gradually understood that I no longer called the shots, God did. Thus began the process of living a life that was being transformed from glory to glory.

I remember the earlier years when life was "good," but I never lose sight of the fact that God reserves the best wine for the last. In Revelation 21:5 we read, He who sat on the throne said, "Behold, I make all things new."  This only means that the life we live is in a state of flux, it is constantly changing. As a Christ follower, I am constantly being made new. 

And, needless to say, this includes my whole life. 

In the wilderness, the Israelites lived in tents and they always watched for the cloud of God. When the cloud began to move, they had to fold up their tents and follow where the cloud was going.

They could not drive their stakes too deep, because life in the wilderness was one big transition process. 

Where were they headed? They were going to the Promised Land.

And that is the very picture I never want to forget.

I am in the wilderness, and I must never drive my tent pegs too deep. Because when the cloud moves, I have to be ready. 

Live life with open hands, ready to let go, ready to move on. That is the precious lesson I have learned through all these years.

The Israelites probably did not understand the process, because the Bible says they were a stiff-necked generation, and were always complaining, grumbling, and murmuring.

What a sad picture! I certainly do not want to be like that. 

Abba Father time and again teaches us the best response, for our own good. 

Thanksgiving.

Just today, a friend wrote this on his timeline: 

Jesus gave thanks before the miracle. Thanksgiving is an expression of joy. Our joy comes not from what we have but from who He is, and giving thanks opens our eyes to see more of Him. The prophet Habakkuk also struggled to see God's provision in his life. Finally he surrendered and chose to rejoice. He chose to give thanks when there was nothing, trusting God for the something. 

When all is said and done, we will always find ourselves in a not enough situation. No matter how good life may be, there will always be a morning when we wake up and suddenly realize that life is not good. We find ourselves in a seeming dead-end, or rock-bottom. 

This is Reality.

It is the stuff that this earthly life is made of.

Because in all the uncertainties of life, the purpose of God is to draw us to Himself and get to know Him the way He wants to be known. He alone is the Solid Rock, the unshakable foundation, the Unchanging One.

For many years, I have not experienced true joy because I was connecting joy with my life running smoothly. 

I am learning to thank God for the questions that have not yet been answered, the not enough situations in my life. As one author so beautifully puts it, 

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer. - Rainer Maria Rilke

Thanking God, so it has been said, is proactive, not reactive.

To be proactive is to own your decisions and actions, regardless of the situation you may be in. You are determined and committed to follow a course of action you have chosen. To be reactive is precisely that: you are simply reacting to someone else's ideas and decisions.

So, at the end of the day, I let this verse be my guiding light:

For I know whom I have believed

and am persuaded that He is able to keep

what I have committed to Him until that Day.

2 Timothy 1:12

While we are on this earth, life is full of uncertainties. But I have no doubt that what the Bible has promised is true:

Whoever believes on Him will not be put to shame.

- Romans 10:11

Indeed, none who wait for You shall be put to shame.

- Psalm 25:3

God is ready to send the latter rains , the rains just before harvest, to ensure that there will be an abundant crop. Indeed, the best years of my life are not behind me, they are ahead of me!

I close with these words written by my favorite author: