When God wants me to disappear.

This afternoon, I helped in the House Committee of Choral Ensemble's Rizal: Man, Hero, Visionary. The task was not very difficult; all we had to do was to usher the audience towards their respective seats. Of course, the reward was a free pass to the 3pm show. So my companions and I stood at the lobby of DL Umali for a couple of minutes, observing, showing directions and smiling at everyone. The show was really good; the minutes we spent standing and ushering people was worth it, of course.

Since I watched them this afternoon, I've been pondering on what will happen on Feb. 9. As you know, my community has been preparing for this evangelical concert Alay Musika XXVI: Maging Akin Muli for like six or seven months now. Talk about exhaustive deliberation! The preparation really had to run for this long because we had to deliberate on a lot of things. And of course we had to raise funds, too. A production like this has always been not a menial task.

When I was in high school, I performed in the theater twice: first was a dramatic one-act play to raise funds for Brigada Eskwela, and second was a performance in our parish. I do not have to tell you if I was good or not; but all I could say was it came to a point when I thought that "the stage is calling me." Or more profoundly, "the stage is my calling." Or maybe "I am meant for the stage." It was because I felt that when I act that the stage becomes my home.

College comes and of course, priorities change. For years, this yearning and the "calling of the stage" remained lenient within me. I still wanted to perform though; everytime I watch production plays at DL Umali, that little performer in me wants to come alive again. Everytime I come across audition invites, I get "tempted" (lame term, my apologies) to come and try. But then, being an amateur juggler of my own schedule, I do not have all the time in the world. As a member of Lisieux, most of my nights are fully booked and to tell you honestly, I already found contentment in this family; when something from outside catches my attention, I usually find it easy to forget about it.

Here goes Alay Musika. Wow, good to know that Lisieux stages evangelical concerts, too. It seems like the theater is inviting me back to her bosom again.Concert singer for three Alay Musika's in a row! As long as I'm still staying here in UPLB, I will be performing as a concert singer.

What struck me the most in the three AM's that I've joined is a bizarre realization about what must happen in an evangelical performance (or at least in Alay Musika). In all my performances, I longed to have the share of the spotlight. I longed to tell the world that hey, I can perform. This is my artistic side. The world ought to take a look.

But for this concert, God is requiring me to disappear. In all my song numbers, God asks me to sink down. With sinking I do not mean having inferiority complex or staging a mediocre performance. But He wants me to sink down so that Someone more important and more deserving would be noticed instead of me.

He wants me to get rid of me. He wants me not to think of MY song, MY stands, how I look, and what people will think of ME. My practices have been all about ME, ME, ME! How do I look? How good do I sing? How do I move around in that little stage I call MY home? Indeed, those silly details I am concerned about has always been about ME. It is as if this entire production revolves around me.

But this time, at the day of the concert, the Good Lord tells me that Someone who deserves to be salient should be made salient. He must be The Salient One in this concert. It is because He really is! He is the one who gave my voice and yours. He is the one who gives you the blessing of concert practices. He is the one who sends funds for the concert. He is the Invisible Hand that moves even the minutest details of this concert. He is the one who provided everything, and all I had to do was to wait (sometimes impatiently) for His blessings as I could not get them on my own. No, never.

I, the proud concert singer who in reality has nothing to be proud of, am the very least to be credited for in this concert. In fact, what credit do I even deserve? Everything in this concert became possible by the Invisible Hand who inspires everyone. What am I to be proud of? Even if I labor for evangelical concerts my entire life, it will still be Him who shall provide everything. I could never stand alone.

God is the king of Generosity. Even what we give to Him comes from Him. Our offerings to Him are, technically speaking, His. In man's point of view, this might be odd. What's the point of lending something to someone and asking him or her to offer it back?

But in God's point of view, our offerings are the most priceless possession that He has. It becomes even more unimaginable to think that He does not need any of these, yet He accepts it anyway, to the greatest delight of His heart. How comforting it is to offer something to God; aside from not needing the offering but accepting it anyway, He also gives the offering back, but adds, no, multiplies it a hundredfold. But even if nothing comes back, will it be put to waste? No, no offering is put to waste, maybe unless you offer it halfheartedly.

May Feb. 9 be a day of glory - a glory not for ourselves but only for the Lord, who continues to reign in heaven and on earth. May our voices and all our efforts lead to a greater good, and that is, to manifest Your goodness in all the ends of the earth. May this concert be about You and You alone, Lord! Gloria in excelsis Deo!

A song, a guitar, and a walk down memory lane.

"Feels like I took my last step, and my last breath in my life...


... My sun doesn't shine, without you."


Browsing YouTube for a song to play lead me to this song. This song that made me walk down that hurtful, or rather insightful, memory lane. We were acquaintances and we talked casually. I don't know what happened.  You had that certain charm that make girls go gaga. One day I just found myself falling for you. Falling damn hard that I looked forward to seeing you everyday.

This song is memorable to me because I heard you sing it. I showed you my guitar and you asked if it was mine. Then you played that song right on that bench, your voice not a popstarish one but sweet enough to melt my soul. I thought, oh how I wish that song is for me.

"Have you ever seen a flower that never bloomed? Seen a starless night without the moon?
Well that's me without you, so come back and turn my nights into day."

But just like everyone else in my life, you had to go. I had a little idea that you had to. Other than my friends' stories to me, I found no courage to ask your plans. I secretly prayed that you did not have to shift. It was hard knowing that you really wanted to go somewhere else, despite the fact that you were already happy here. Follow your dreams. Follow. Chase it. Don't give up. I wanted to tell you but I couldn't. I had my biases. You know I never wanted you to go.

So you left, and I cried. It was painful that I never had the guts to tell you how I feel. Days, weeks, months passed. The pain lingered for so long. Then just like a natural scar, it healed slowly. On and on to my healing stage until the memory doesn't hurt.

Sometimes I wonder what my reaction will be if I pass you by on the street. Sometimes I still wish that I could talk to you face to face. But of course, those are just wishes. And parts of my wildest dreams.

Tugsh. My short note for today

"I never knew a man
Who'd give his life for sinners like me,
But yet because he loves us so,
He's promised us eternity

And we could have this promise and be His
If we have faith and just believe."

~Take Me Out of the Dark


TUGSH.

In the name of faith.

'Di mahulugang karayom' (no needle could fall to the ground). credits to lakbaylente.com

As I write this, I watch TV Patrol featuring a report on the Feast of the Black Nazarene. In this time of the year, thousands of devotees from all over the country (and maybe from abroad, we never know) come together to join the procession and "pahalik" of the Nazareno along the roads of Quiapo. For many, it has been a panata (vow) to join this procession. For others, they have a certain prayer that they lift up to the Poong Nazareno. All of these risks in the name of faith.

I could not imagine myself walking along the avalanche of people. For one, my asthma might kill me. I am also too short, so maybe all I could do is climb up a tree like Zacchaeus.

But trust in God is ultimately what drives these people to continue their panata every year. Even the 80-year old lolas and sick people join. Even celebrities! I am amazed at everyone. Before going to the procession, they are completely aware of their uncertain fate. Stepping in the streets of Quiapo comes all the risk of stampede and health dangers one might encounter.

All in the name of faith. This is how people in the Philippines show their devotion and worship to God. I am proud and thankful to be in a culture where people just express their faith freely. Even in the verge of danger,  their trust in God as the Ultimate Healer shine forth. I pray for a safe and fruitful paggunita of the Feast.

Laudate Dominum!

Hurts all the more.

It hurts all the more
When I have to give up.
It hurts all the more
When I am crying inside
And nobody knows.
It hurts all the more
When I have to suppress  the feelings.
It hurts all the more
When I need to get hurt
In order that someone would be happy.
It hurts all the more
When my heart wants to shout
But could only whisper to the wind.