As Faithful As He

As children of God, we're called to imitate Christ, His qualities, thoughts, and deeds. We're commanded to love as He does, to preach as He did, to pursue His standards of holiness, to serve as He serves. Yet we all know, it's easier said than done.

I've always been conscious of some character struggles. I battle with pride, discipline, and temperance. I need to strive for humility, wisdom, submission, and selflessness. I've always known these problems. I know I have to imitate Christ in these.

Yet recently, God gave me a greater understanding of His one quality that I never did, and probably never will, fully comprehend--yes, faithfulness.

It's easy to tolerate a church co-worker's one offensive statement; after all, everyone's human. It's part of Christian life to practice compassion and patience, knowing God does the work in people's hearts. It isn't hard to declare that one would support one's friends always, with unconditional Christlike love. That's easy to say.

Forgiveness, compassion, patience, love...they're easy to have, one at a time. Yet I seem to fail in them all, when comes the test of faithfulness, the test of time and heart.

What happens when a ministry leader offends and commits mistakes repeatedly, unapologetically? What do I do when I find frustration in ministry...not because of the ministries, but because of the people? God calls me to focus on Him. He calls me to keep on with a pure heart of service. He calls me to be faithful.

What happens when all the care and compassion I give go thankless or seemingly fruitless? What when my heartfelt, painstaking advice to people's questions goes unheeded and ignored? God calls me to continue working, continue praying. It's all in His hands. I must continue to reach out to everyone around me. He calls me to be faithful.

I've struggled with self-righteousness. I complain in my heart that I do not deserve such treatment. Why should I sacrifice time and heart to care for people who wouldn't appreciate it, to guide people who wouldn't heed, and to support people who wouldn't treasure my help? When a ministry goes wrong because of others' mistakes, I'm tempted to give it up. When multiple people come complaining over the results of their own folly, asking for my comfort and concern, I'm tempted to bark "I told you so" and give them up. After all...I have every right to do so, don't I? I've already done my best, haven't I?

Yet when I turn to God to complain, eight words silence me.

"How often do you do that to ME?"

I cannot answer Him. How often do I treat God with ungratefulness and impatience? How often do I come crying to Him, asking Him to fix what He had told me not to do? How often do I treat Him a thousand times worse than others had treated me? Every day, I'm afraid...almost every single day.

Faithfulness is unlike any other quality, for it is the consistency of all of them together. At times, when I want to give up on anything, I remember Him. He is faithful, and so should I be. I deserve nothing; I am privileged to know Him, to reflect who He is.

May we learn to be faithful, as our Father is.

Daddy's Little Girl

People always feel that it takes maturity for a girl to outgrow her father's protection, yet today I realized that it's the opposite. It takes maturity to accept and appreciate one's position as daddy's little girl.

When it was decided that my dad would accompany me to have a skin test taken this morning, I wasn't enthusiastic. I wondered if it would be boring, or whether my dad would inquisition me during the trip. Yet as I woke up sleep-deprived to prepare for breakfast, the skin test, and some errands at the mall, reality proved me wrong. It was a beautiful morning.

Some people might think I enjoyed our activities because it was about me, or because there was expensive breakfast food or a nice ride. Yet that wasn't it. What made a simple morning of errands leave a deep impression on me...was the warmth of knowing I was loved.

Why would my dad drive me personally when the church driver was available? Why did he pay the expensive valet parking fee to accompany me when he could've waited at the parking lot and leave me to myself? Why would he do the waiting at the hospital payment counter, to let me relax in the lounge section?

The initial observer might think him rude to flip the newspaper while we were eating. My less mature self would feel cross that he wouldn't trust me to handle the small test alone. I would've felt ashamed that my dad couldn't muster the word "pulmonary" clearly enough to make himself understood at the reception counter, or that he tried to answer all the questions for me.

The pulmonary medicine section was filled with children, and if I'd been more childish, I would've squirmed in discomfort. It wasn't exactly nice to answer "19" when the nurse asked for my age...especially when others were answering "7" or "8." It sounded stupid to be asking my dad what to do at every stop we made.

Yet inside of me, there was an understanding I never had before.

This was a father's way of loving, and the times he could actually take me around as a little girl are growing fewer and fewer in number. I had the ability to handle things on my own, but he just wanted to do those things for me, with me. No matter his answers were "yes" or "no" to my requests, I knew, with teary eyes behind his back, that he was grasping for the fleeting chances of having his only daughter be his little girl.

A father was there to guarantee I didn't lack anything. A father was there to order me, yet to help me. And during a time of my life when even unacquainted cashiers or young doctors would cast side glances and ask for my name...a father was there for my security, to be someone to whom I could say, "Help me guard myself, until the right and real one comes along."

I'm thankful to God, very thankful, that He gave me the chance to see the beauty of the situation before I have outgrown it. There's nothing to be ashamed of if people laugh at him. There's nothing to complain about if I appear helpless (as long as I'm not). I know that each little action of self-sacrifice was motivated by a father's love grasping at the moments left in my girlhood.

And when I find myself hurt or disillusioned at the end of stubborn pursuits and empty hopes...there's is nothing better than a father's protective, unconditional love to remind me of the Father from above.

I'm daddy's little girl, not because I need it...but because he loves me that way, and because I've been blessed with the maturity to see the wonder of it all. I've actually grown into daddy's little girl. Imagine that.

New Year Reflections

It's my first post for the new year, and I write it with mixed feelings. My family spent the new year abroad this year, and I was given many opportunities to reflect upon the past and coming years. Yet in spite of that, it's been confusing.

The year 2007 was the most dramatic year in my life so far. There were many first-time experiences, many new observations, many awakening realizations, and many things that would leave permanent markings in my life's history.

Ministerially, I was pushed to my limits both in skills and in partnership. I grew through expectations and through friction. In terms of my family, I grew to realize how many things take effort. And in my widening and deepening social circle, I found new friends in numbers that overtook all the years before. I was put to the test in every area, in mind, in soul, in deed, in heart, and in spirit.

I coped with a changing identity as our church grew. I faced thrilling moments as well as times of depression. I learned to reach out to many young people dealing with questions in salvation, in friendship, and in love. I faced rejection from the university of my choice; I experienced the shattering of most of the "normalcy" in my life.

It was a year of pain and growth. It was a year of memories. Yet most of all, it was a year that made God all the more real to me. Never before had trust become more real than in those moments of pain and confusion. Never before had His faithfulness and love been more precious than in those times of uncertainty.

As I look to the year ahead, I can see no clear direction. It will probably be a year as dramatic, if not more dramatic than the year before. I feel unsettled, but I don't fear. The past year was a revelation of God's reality in my life, and the coming year would be the best chance for me to apply that knowledge into words and actions.

As a child, I used to long for drama, and I even complained that I did not have enough of it in my life. Yet now that life is starting to have irregularities for me, I'm experiencing how all the "dramatic elements" do not exist for their own sake, but to sharpen me for His glory.

I don't know what to expect from the year ahead. But God is real in my life, and that's all that matters.

"It's a Book"

There is seldom the need to guess what the content of a Reyes family Christmas present is. It's a book, what else? Some people take that as fact, and some consider it to be a boring fact at that. Yet behind that fact is a simple story over the years.

My parents began to give books as Christmas presents once upon a time when they had access to good Christian books from the United States. It was an experiment, and somehow, it worked enough for them to try it again, and again, and again.

Since then, it has become a tradition. Every year, the family would visit OMF, go around different book stores, or order books on the internet. Then it would be time to list down everyone's names and their corresponding presents, wrap up the books, and label and give away to our heart's content. It is a very happy tradition for the bookworm me.

This tradition comes with its conveniences. We don't have to visit many places to do our Christmas shopping. My mother and I don't need to learn to wrap anything other than books. The price bracket of books is just right for the economic position of a pastor, not too much and not too little...and so on and so on. Yet behind all the conveniences, there is a mission that we hold close to our hearts.

Every year, choosing books becomes a responsibility for our family, a duty that we take on with passion and delight. Whether we are surfing an online catalogue or going through a bookstore, there is a certain excitement in trying to find the right book for every individual. Sometimes, we choose a book because someone would love it. Sometimes, we choose a book because it addresses the very need of someone (and silently wonder if it would offend). And sometimes, we choose a book because it entails the hopes that we have for the receiver.

There are people who seem suited out for so many books, and we have a hard time choosing. There are also people who wouldn't seem to read anything we gave, and we scratch our heads. It's all part of the package.

Over the years, we've had different responses to our presents. There are people who smile every year and say, "Yey, I'll have a book to read again." There are others who set it aside as soon as they get home, knowing that it's something they wouldn't use anyway. There are also people who tell us they count upon receiving our devotional books every year, and they even use those same materials to lead their employees in Bible Studies.

Some people think the system is wonderful and meaningful, some others consider it strangely impersonal. Yet regardless of the response, we shall continue with our tradition.

It's not because of convenience, nor because of affordability. It's not because of tradition's own sake. Why do we give books for Christmas? Because it is our mission, our passion, our particular way to show how we care.

A Time to Love

I've been neglecting my blogs for quite a while. Yet now as I finally squeeze some time out to write a post, I'm being forced to re-think Christmas.

Christmas is a time to love, people always say. Yet somehow, I've observed that a person's definition for the word love is always changing, either for the better or for the worse. Therefore, Christmas, the season of love, represents different things to a person every year. For me, I've never had more thoughts to challenge me before than I have this year.

Love is not a feeling, love is not conditional, love does not seek selfish gain, and love keeps no record of wrong. Love is kind, love is patient, love is not easily angered...the greatest of all things is love. I could quote endlessly about love, yet truly living love and manifesting it through words and actions proves to be a much more challenging matter.

Very often, I found Christmas to be a time to love and to feel loved. People give the pastor's family many, many presents. People treat us to both family and ministerial Christmas gatherings. Christmas is the time to see colorful lights and hear joyful music everywhere. Christmas is the time for people to smile and greet each other "Merry Christmas." That's what I used to feel.

Then these few years, Christmas started to add on different things. Christmas means exhaustion. Christmas means having to do programs and attend events that I might not enjoy. Christmas means receiving gifts that I might not like anyway. Christmas means having to keep a cluttered house as un-cluttered as possible. Christmas starts to show things that aren't as nice as tinsel and ribbons and universal happiness. I still like Christmas...but there seems to be an element of stress added to the occasion. Some people call that outgrowing Christmas, but could anyone really do that?

No one outgrows love, but we could outgrow some definitions of love. If Christmas is the time to love, then our definition of love has to grow along with our years for us to have the true spirit of the season every year.

Love means giving up personal pleasures to spend time on church activities. Love means stepping out of my comfort zone to celebrate the holidays with people who aren't my favorite crowds. Love means moving out of my room to accommodate Christmas visitors. Love means understanding how family and friends lessen contact not because they like each other any less. Love means giving gifts to people who might not or cannot give in return.

Love means forgiveness...compassion...and even a willingness to discipline. Love means bearing with others' weaknesses, even when it hurts. Love means making a fool of oneself, just to help others. Love means self-sacrifice.

It might sound boring, but at the end of the day...a better definition of love brings a better ability to love. And a greater ability to love leads to a greater reward for loving.

Oh the joy of seeing those smiles over unexpected presents! Oh the warmth of knowing that my presence could have made someone smile. A better knowledge of love brings a greater understanding of God's love...and that's the greatest reward this season could bring.

May God help me to always love Christmas: a time to love.