On the Same Side

It's not an easy time for anyone. The pandemic has thrown our economy, our plans, our schedules, and our expectations into total disarray. Things that used to be easy have become nigh impossible. Things that used to happen rarely have become part of the daily routines of our quarantined life.

And amidst the changing concerns we all face - particularly in the areas of health, finances, and logistics - one of the most spotlighted immediate issues is education.

Should our children go back to school? How can they stay safe if they do? How can they stay educated if they don't? How do we ensure continuous learning while keeping them safe from unnecessary exposure?

Is homeschooling the answer? Are online classes the answer? Does our government and our school even care what happens to our children?

Dozens and dozens of questions flood the minds of parents who are concerned and worried.

And I long to tell you, as someone who has worked in Christian education my entire adult life, whose dearest friends and family members are involved in the frontlines of the academe, that your teachers and administrators are concerned and worried too.

We have to keep a stiff upper lip. We have to be in control. We have to make calls that take into consideration all the different needs of all the different families we encounter.

There are families with financial challenges, as well as families with logistical limitations. There are parents with strong desires to teach but little experience in actual application. There are children stuck in homes that cannot provide the security or resources they need to continue growing academically.

There are teachers to pay. There are parents to inform. There are views to balance.

There are so many considerations to ponder every time an announcement is made, a memo is released, or a policy is established.


And we ask for your prayers.

We are on your side.

We love your children and want the best for your children, and we are stretching ourselves to our personal limits to serve you as effectively as we can.

We didn't get into this line of work for money or fame. God knows there's more infamy and financial insecurity than there is worldly success to be had in education, particularly in the Philippines.

And while I know, and I am sad to know, that there are indeed people who treat the education sector as a money-making opportunity, I can personally vouch for the many Christian administrators I know that many of us are here because we want to help.

They can't confide in you, but I hope they will forgive me for letting you know that each and every one of us needs your prayers now more than ever.

Please pray for us to have wisdom, to have perception, to have patience and endurance. Please pray for extraordinary grace and extraordinary strength. Please pray that we would be able to continue our life mission of educating the next generation through these uncharted waters.

Dearest parents, we're on the same side, and we are all hanging on to our omniscient, omnipotent God to get us safe to shore.

Unqualified

I had no qualifications....but one.

The high ceiling towered over me as I walked into the grand auditorium. Four to five hundred faces turned to look at our mission team. I sported a smile as I glanced down at the program sheet in my subtly shaking hand. My lecture was first. After the vice-president of Tarlac Christian College ended her session next hour, my turn would be up.

I forced myself down the aisle, constantly nudging myself inside. As my teammates settled down on the front row, I clutched at the back of a chair as I felt my feet give way under my khaki skirt. I looked at the crowd again. No way, no way...there was absolutely no way I could do this. I had been sure before we left the States that I was ready for this lecture. I had my PowerPoint presentation, my outline, and my confidence. I was the graduating English education major from Asia. I had this under control...or so I thought.

There was no way I could do this. This was a teacher's conference in a prestigious college. These teachers, experienced teachers, each with his own classroom....why should they be listening to an inexperienced college senior from their own country? Whether by degree, experience, or age, I disqualified as a speaker.

I started to frantically mumble to all the teammates around me, "I'm scared. I'm scared. I can't do this." One by one, they prayed with me and for me. Reassuring hugs and touches kept me standing. But I was still scared.

I had only one qualification: God had asked me to do this. God has put me on this mission team to give this lecture on teaching English as a second language. That was the only qualification I had.

But as my teammate Jeremy told me later on, that was the only one I needed.

I don't know how that lecture went. I just know I spoke whatever God put in my heart to speak. I prayed for grace, and He gave plenty. All those hugs, knuckle-punches, and congratulations were extra tokens of His grace. The strength to do His will was enough of a reward.

For whatever task God gives to His servants...He qualifies them. His love overwhelms me. His grace still amazes me.

Hidden Identity

I am a girl who has grown up within the world of ministry, and as a natural result, my identity is found in my relation to those who are in the ministry--my great big pastoral clan.

As I have previously mentioned, I've always been known as the grandchild of Rev. Ang, the daughter of Rev. Reyes, the niece of the junior Rev. Ang, and so on. My position in relation to these ministers molded me to be everything I am today, and it is also this position that defines my identity.

As I grow up, therefore, there is oftentimes an impulse to desire more personal recognition. I tell my parents and friends that I want to be Wenslyn, not merely the daughter or niece of this pastor and that pastor, not just a living homeschool testament, not just a ministerial starlet of the United Evangelical Church of Malabon. I am discontented that "I" should be recognized only in relation to others.

Yet God convicted me with an unexpected reminder this past week. As I was reading Elizabeth Elliot's book Let Me Be a Woman, I came across a chapter wherein the author reprimanded young wives who would be unwilling to be known only in relation to their husband. These young women argue that they want to be known as someone in themselves, not merely as "Mick's wife" or "Dave's wife." They want personal attention.

While I might not be able to directly apply that lesson in my life right now, the principle hit close to home. Like these young women, I am dissatisfied to have my identity hidden in that of others. Out of my pride, I am too selfish to be happily known by the position God has given me.

If I cannot be contentedly associated with the reputation of my family, how could I ever rejoice in being hidden in the glory of my King? If I am so concerned that people should recognize "me," how would I point them to Christ?

It is a lesson to learn indeed.

"He must increase, I must decrease," my life verse reads. May God continue to teach me this lesson. Let me be hidden, Lord, in Your glory.

Family Business

My mom likes to joke with her Young Professional fellowship that she works in the family business. Given the fact that her parents, siblings, husband, and self are all in the ministry, I guess that joke is valid.

Reflecting this background, my own immediate family is growing basically within the ministry. From joining children's choir at two years of age up to choosing to handle a leadership camp, I've always lived life within the boundaries of church ministries, as have my two brothers after me.

When the family was talking the other day, we realized that this morning would be a "typical Sunday." In other words, everyone has a job. My dad would be preaching, my mom would be worship-leading the children, I would be playing the piano for adult service, and my brother Dan playing for junior. It's a family business.

I am thankful to God for giving His grace to our entire family, allowing us all to serve Him together. However, there is always the tendency to take things for granted. I was born into this, raised into this, grown into this. Serving the Lord sometimes becomes no more significant than inheriting an earthly possession or trade from older relatives. Very often, I forget that I am an individual blessed individually by the Lord with an opportunity to serve Him.

As I was preparing my heart for worship this morning, God seemed to whisper to me, "Wen, who are you playing for?" That question, and the answer it required, called me to re-focus on the Lord.

Who am I playing for? At times, I play to impress. At times, I play for my family's legacy, and at other times, I play merely because I enjoy it. Serving the Lord is about more than expectations, family or otherwise. I must remember the honor and sacredness of serving Him...after all, I am a blessed individual serving one God alone.

Where's My Seat?

This past Sunday, I visited a church as an import translator for their Chinese service. Thanks to an extremely early driver who arrived at our parsonage two hours before the worship service, I arrived at the church far ahead of schedule, thus indirectly obliged to attend their English service.

Now, I was invited over for the second service, where lots of people recognized me, knew me, and adored me. To them, I was the gifted one and only daughter of the beloved Rev. Danny. For them, I was like a young guest of honor, someone a specialized driver picked up for the translator's position on the pew and in the pulpit. That's what I had expected.

What I didn't expect, was to be greeted as a late-comer by an English service usherette who reacted to my formal business attire. Since I was just waiting for the next service, I opted for a back seat. There I sat, anonymous and quiet, no high-profile, no people reacting with smiles to my presence. It felt weird.

My comfort was restored with the turnover to the Chinese service. Sitting up front, standing on stage, having everyone know me, I felt everything to be back to familiarity...but I had realized one truth already.

Over all these years of nearly living on stage every Sunday, I've been allowing my ministry rather than my Christianity to define me. I'm used to having a seat every week, on the first row as translator, at the front pews as worship team member, or perhaps with the choir. I'm too used to doing something, too used to letting ministerial posts identify me. Whether in my church or another church, when I'm all alone without any "service" to do, I don't even know where to sit.

That experience was quite a wake-up call from God. I know my duty is to worship Him, and that includes the times when I am alone with no church duties at hand. When I'm beset with numerous duties in "worship" service, I sometimes lose the ability to be a pure and simple worshipper, one who worships in spirit and in truth, regardless of the job, regardless of the seat.

This is no dramatic experience, nor is it any beautifully-written incident of an encounter with God. This is just a post about another reminder from the Lord, a reminder that I think I need more often. I am a Christian, who serves on stage...not vice versa.

Praise Night Fiasco

It has been two weeks since our junior camp, and only now have I found sufficient composure and patience to write about this...and to ask the question out loud, "What happened to praise night?"

I was the music coordinator for our camp and was told to handle the last night's praise event. I was excited from the moment I received the task. I've always loved leading special events, and I wanted to do so many innovative things with this one.

There would be four groups of children doing choreography, there would be a god-glorifying atmosphere the whole evening, there would be impeccable coordination for our dual-songleader experiment, and there would be perfect musical chemistry with my mom as our pianist. I was extremely excited. I was praying everyday for the event. I knew it would last long in my memories.

It will last long in my memory, but not in a positive way.

That night, the camp children were all rowdy, disobedient, inattentive, and stubborn. The choreographies became self-glorifying, worldly special numbers. The technical support struggled. My co-songleader and I had horrible coordination and almost zero command. My mom did not have enough time to practice with us.

It was a living nightmare.

After the event, the kids were shouting at the top of their lungs and comparing their programs. Some camp leaders told me I did a good job, but I knew I didn't.

I wanted so much to cry after praise night, and I would have blubbered if I could have found a place to be alone with God. My dream of a wonderful god-centered evening had turned into the campers' popularity contest. I don't know what went wrong...I really, really didn't know...

During the rest of the camp and for many days afterwards, I cried out loud to God. What went wrong? I had prepared, prayed, and searched for a pure heart...but still, something went wrong. What? Why?

It would be easy to blame it on the kids' lack of discipline. I could say it was the fault of immature leaders. I could also blame the inexperience of our music team together. Yet I knew I couldn't do that, I knew God was telling me something else.

Then it came to me as tears were brimming in my eyes.

Even though I had always thought about the event as a god-glorifying event, even though I had started out with god-centered motives...that dream had become my own. Something like what Phil Vischer said about Veggietales, I had taken a godly dream and made it all about my own vision. I was excited about glorifying God that praise night, but I was more concerned with successfully making MY OWN event glorify God.

And as could be expected, it didn't.

I am sad over this, very sad. Just the thought of the entire ordeal brings me pain. It is a lesson hard-learnt. I am sad in particular that I actually deceived myself into thinking I had a pure heart, when I had a selfish one.

Still, I thank the Lord for His graciousness in pointing this out to me. It is a lesson that I might have to apply again as I continue to serve Him. I pray that He help me remember this lesson, and let my example serve as a warning to my fellow servants.

It must be all about Him, and really all about Him. Teach us, Lord, to remember this.

The Passing of the Touch

I love the piano. It is wonderful to produce rich harmony while letting my fingers dance along the ivory keys. I love practicing to achieve "the touch," as my musician mother puts it. I love the instrument, and I love to serve God with it.

Over the years, I've had opportunities to be a pianist for camps, fellowships, and worship services. There would be challenges, but I enjoyed living up to them. I practiced everyday, I did my best. I was determined to shine in this skill as much as I could.

Then all of a sudden, somewhere along the line these last two years, I realized that I was near the top...in other words, I was the leading pianist for our fellowship, an assistant pianist for our choir, and a seasoned pianist for our praise team. Wow, I was so impressed with myself.

I was now something of an authority in the field. People would come to ask "Achi WenWen" what to play. Friends would tell me that they are very confident whenever they have me as their accompanist. I now had the responsibility to be teacher to younger pianists. Oh, I loved it.

So I trained younger pianists. Some of them were great, some of them were lazy. I felt so proud to be the musical mentor of the great ones. I loved it when they thanked me for tuning up their skills.

We were all growing for the glory of God, and that was all that mattered...well, until I realized I wasn't thinking about that most of all.

One particular trainee of mine, the most patient and determined and talented of them all, became better and better as the weeks progressed. I loved it; I was proud of him...then, he started to outshine me.

I could hear it clearly with my own ears. Those techniques, those patterns, and that strong undercurrent of pure talent were nothing I could ever have for myself. He was too good, so good that I could hardly imagine him to once be my student. That talent and affinity for a pianist's "touch" were what I could never attain through grueling practice or sheer determination. My potential as a musician is less than half of his.

I was upset, though I did not show it. True, I was still proud of him, but this realization that the student could be higher than the teacher bothered me. I selfishly felt that I was not receiving the proper recognition as his tutor whenever people praise the young man for his skills. I thought it was all unfair. Why should he, who owes so much to me, be better than I am?

Ouch! God hit me once more. I messed up many sessions of playing the piano. My heart was no longer right.

I still practiced the piano like crazy for church ministries, but mostly out of a desire to prove myself better. But, better than what?

God does not require me to be better than all pianists. He does not want me to outshine everyone. He only asks for my best from me...that's it, my best. It was I who was not satisfied, not Him. If I was lacking in my music ministry, then it was only because I lost a pure heart.

I thank God for helping me realize these lessons. I do not need to fret that my efforts seemed to go to waste. No, they are not wasted. I should live up to the talents God has given me, the same way my student should live up to his.

Instead of pouting that I am not as good as others, I should celebrate that God has used underserving me to train better servants for His kingdom. I should be thankful, not discontent. I should rejoice with those who rejoice, not wallow in self-pity.

My piano skills may be just enough to serve a certain purpose in practicality, but God also used them to teach me a lesson on purity of heart. Thanks be to Him.

Am I Royal?

I recently went to a camp in which some full-timers (people who have dedicated themselves to full-time ministry) joked that I have Filipino-Chinese ministry's "royal blood." It was an interesting comment, though I did not know exactly what to feel when it was said.

All my life, I have been identified as the grandchild of Rev. Ang, the daughter of Rev. Reyes, the niece of the junior Rev. Ang, the grand-niece of Rev. Huang, the grand-niece of Rev. Go, and so on and so on. This identity has always born with it its share of concern, of pressures, of love, and of expectations.

I have no complaints about my position, as I trust it to be a divine appointment of God. However, it is oftentimes a temptation to wonder, "What would life be like otherwise?"

Am I royal? Are the expectations and pressures I have to face any more demanding that those laid upon other teenagers? In other words, do I have the right to complain?

Yesterday was my grandfather's 70th birthday, and we conducted a thanksgiving service to commemorate God's grace in his life and in his 42 years of ministry. As the representatives from different churches took the stage to describe his ministerial work in their respective churches over the years, a realization came over me.

This is the heritage I have--42 years of ministry for my grandfather, 23 years of ministry for my father, almost 20 relatives in the ministry. I never asked God for these, but He gave it all to me. Those four hundred people sitting their with their smiles and support, the numerous church workers who helped with the thanksgiving service...these are God's gifts to me.

God's grace is sufficient. No, wait, His grace is more than enough.

Even if I face expectations that appear to be higher than usual, I also have the heritage, the support, and the guidance to live up to them. I do not need to wallow in self-pity, claiming that I have a life more pressured than I can bear. Instead, I ought to build my life upon what the Lord has given to me, to reach what He has ordained for me.

"Royal blood" may bring pressures that are beyond the usual. Yet at the same time, it offers a heritage beyond compare.

I do not intend to boast. It is all about God. I am nothing but a little girl overwhelmed by the wonder of what He has done in my life. And the only response I can have is to strive to be all He wants me to be, trusting daily that His love is everlasting, His grace sufficient, and His strength ever perfect.

Retreat Woes

In our recent church family retreat, I had to sing back-up for the five major worship time slots, in addition to translating twice for another church’s camp, in addition to counselling a young child or two, in addition to socializing more with the people of our church. It was a full, full schedule. Take note of the fact that I was among the retreat’s youngest official officers (people with their names in the handbook), and the list seems more impressive.

People have always taken me for a ministerial prodigy who is multi-talented and extremely capable. Over the years, I have enjoyed that image, and I went to our retreat this year with a desire to prove myself to truly be a young ministry “supergirl.” After all, I had my schedule and age as evidence.

Yet once more, I was wrong.

In reference to my previous post, I did serve the Lord with thanksgiving. And I also felt humbled to be used by Him time and again. However, I was thankful and humble with the wrong goal in mind. Instead of delighting in the fact that God could use me for His glory, I was excited to use God’s work in this retreat to add another building block to my reputation. Instead of desiring my efforts to prove how wonderful He is, I awaited the product of my “service” to prove my ability.

God’s rod struck me again. This time, it did not strike in an area as obvious to the eye as physical frailty…it struck me on my weakest, most girlish, most childish place—my heart.

I do not wish to go into details. Suffice it to say that many unpretty, painful emotions that I thought I had long overcome came flooding over me again during those hours of the retreat. It was horrible, facing a tight schedule and a throbbing heart simultaneously. I had enough strength to fulfill my duties, but with so much pain that I had to constantly cry out to the Lord for help. Well, I guess that’s what He wanted to have happen.

It is one thing to rely on the Lord’s power for His glory, entirely another to abuse it for one’s own acclaim. God had to give me some spanking before I remembered that.

They were painful to undergo, but those emotional struggles successfully reminded me that I was merely a “child of weakness” in God’s eyes who would fail in any attempt to glorify herself. Thus now, looking back, I thank God for those pains, piercing as they were during their peak. The Chinese say that “Good medicine is bitter to the mouth.” I thank God for that bitter medicine, knowing that it was a good and timely medication for me.

Sick for His Service

Exactly one week before Palm Sunday, just when the busiest month of 2007 was in sight, I became sick. Just when I had translating, songleading, choir renditions, Bible studies, and praise and worships all lining up in my itinerary, my body refused to get along with me and obstinately broke down.

Then, even in my frailty, I was self-glorifying. Surely I was working too hard for the Lord. Surely God would be pleased to see how His young servant was pouring out her health and life for Him. I felt so sacrificial.

Upon realizing the faultiness of such thinking, I changed my mind path. This time around, I turned to "faith." Since I was so important to the work of God's kingdom in the coming two weeks, He would surely heal me....right? On second thought, maybe not.

I must not be focused upon myself; I must have my heart with God. Switching to my third line of thought in my two-and-a-half days of illness, I willed myself to recover. I refused to allow myself to wallow in my physical misery. I was determined to regain my health in order to serve God. Wow, now I was so right...right?

I went to sleep on Monday night, certain that I would be totally well by Tuesday. After all, God must be moved by my heart to serve Him immediately upon recovery. I woke up on Tuesday sicker than ever. I guess I was wrong.

After many more hours of alternating pain and medication, I realized one thing. Perhaps this illness was not a trial, as I had all the while considered it to be. Perhaps this time of weakness was, more than anything else, a reminder from the Lord.

True, I am I capable and skilled worker. Yes, I am an experienced church volunteer with a will to serve. However, I am nothing by my own strength, and I am in no way indispensable. If God wants me sick, then I could never will myself to health. If God does not empower me, I am helpless. If God does not choose to use me, then He will use others, whether I like it or not.

By God's grace, I am nearly fully well now, quite in time for all the camps, meetings, and rehearsals. In spite of my foolishness, God seems to still be willing to use me. Praise the Lord. As I try to serve Him by His power in the coming days, may He bless me with not only the strength to complete my tasks, but with a heart of humility, reliance, and thanksgiving.