Inside the noisy cities of our souls, there remains a silent, steady fountain replenishing our tired hearts from the daily toils of the everyday. The fountain is God, and silence is where we and God commune.
It is said that the door to the kingdom of God is the heart. How can we then find the kingdom if we do not know the way to the door?
The following reflections are then my personal road signs in my pilgrimage towards knowing the way to my heart—and ultimately, to the silent murmurs of the steady fountain inside my soul.
Road sign #1: Born to bless. Live to serve.
As the glove is made like the hands to contain the hands, so, too, are we made in the image of God to contain God.
The God we serve is not a God who sits content on his gilded throne listening to angel songs while His children on earth suffer—struggling in the daily toils of their humanity. The God we glorify is a Father who is Himself the wellspring of love; a Father who is genuinely compassionate and concerned towards His children. He is a God who searches out for the lost, a God who is intimately and personally immersed in our affairs and the completion of our joy. He is a God who has authored “love” to be a verb, an action word, a word that will only have meaning if put into action. He is a God who pursues, acts, and moves. He does not rest until the lost sheep is found, until the prodigal son is back, and until all His children are back in His arms.
If we are made in the image of this great, loving God, we, therefore, are made to be like Him—merciful, persistent, and active. And as gloves fulfill their purpose by containing the hands, we, too, can only fulfill the purpose of our lives if we contain God in our being; if we pursue to be more and more like Him. We are “alive” only if we, too, bless and serve.
Road sign #2: Service as Overflow of Prayer Life
In the Bible, there were many mentions of Jesus going to a deserted place to be alone and pray. He would leave the crowd to be by Himself and commune with the Father. And after these moments of solitude, He would again resume His good works—ministering to the sick, proclaiming God’s mercy, preaching and teaching… Where does He get all the energy? Hindi ba Siya nalo-low batt?
Perhaps, it was those precious moments of silence with the Father that replenished His strength. It was there, where He received guidance and affirmations. In silence, He was empowered and renewed.
In prayer then, we not only listen to God’s promptings. We are also rejuvenated. We, God’s sons and daughters/servants/soldiers, are after all mere channels of a passing power that is God’s, clay vessels of a greatness that is not ours. And without connection to the Power Source, we have nothing to give—like gadget chargers that are not plugged. In the silence of our interior life, God pours out His grace, and us being filled and brimming, overflows the grace to those around us. So blessed we cannot contain it, so much we have to give it away. Service, then, is merely an overflow of prayer life—an overflow of grace from God’s own graciousness, an overflow of love from God’s own heart.
In this premise, the parable of the Vine and branches comes to mind. Indeed, a branch separated from the vine would wither and die. Service without prayer life has no power. And as Tito Rob said, “Seven days without prayer makes one weak.”
An interior life is important in service and spiritual growth. It is in silence that we see ourselves and our humanity with honesty, for with God, everything will be put to light. In stillness with the Lord, we are compelled to confront our sinfulness and come face to face with our flaws. We see our brokenness and knowing of this, we acknowledge our great need for God for He alone can salve the wounds and put our pieces together. We are compelled to look at our integrity. Am I integrated body and spirit? Am I living according to the faith I profess? Am I doing things the way God wants them or the way I want them? Am I proud of what I do for God? Do I place myself as a better servant than others? Are my intentions pure?
Also, the silence of prayer and contemplation contains our fire. It balances our tendencies to be too “Martha.” Fires, of course, must be contained. Else, it will burn everything in its path. I think it is the same with the fire in one’s soul. Sometimes, zeal takes over and blurs the path of prudence and moderation in its smoke. Fire is good to fuel the mission—to advance the cause. However, it must be kept in check. One must not lose sight of the primacy of relationships. Bridges must not be burned to pave a road. Relationships must not be sacrificed for the sake of advancement. Sometimes, zeal overtakes the need to be in touch with one’s prayer life; forgetting that God is the point of it all. Sometimes, zeal overtakes the importance of being in touch with others and with one’s self.
May we have the fire to trail blaze development and forward endeavors; but may we, too, choose to be silent glowing embers that does not burn out after using up its entire blaze in one flare. Embers endure. Embers keep those who are near it in steady warmth. May our souls be then like flames; leaping and raging to fulfill our call; yet, may it also be like embers—peaceful and quiet, yet not less incendiary. May we not be alone in our blazing but cause fires to break-out as well in somebody else’s soul. May we not only live life with great passion, but also with intense and constant reflection. May we keep the scorching sun in our hearts and the calmness of deep waters in our spirit. Amen.
Road sign #3: Anointed to Sacrifice
Allow me to share an experience with you. God gave me a memorable encounter with Him during an Ignatian contemplation session in one the Icon workshops a few years ago. I remember it so well that everything is still vivid in my mind. I was just starting to know Him then. I was young and expecting Him to give me His plans that are beyond my imagination—happiness, joy, success, fulfillment of dreams.
The Gospel read was about the calling of the disciples to be fishers of men. While everybody who shared afterwards were either disciples or one of the crowds—I was a fish! I was a fish which must be one of those to be caught in the nets so the disciples might believe; just one of the props; the collateral damage.
I was angry. Why make them believe at my expense? And He said to me, the angry fish, “This must be done, so they may believe.” I said, “How about me? Who will sacrifice for me? Do You love me less than the others? Why are you only thinking of them? Don’t I deserve to have joy, too? Don’t you love me? Is this my punishment because I am not good enough for You?” And with pained eyes, He replied, “This must be so, so your joy may be complete.”
I did not understand. For many weeks, I harbored this sadness in my heart. Even the Lord who was supposed to be the last to turn His back on me sees me as the least important and is willing to sacrifice me for the sake of His favorites. But where can I go? He is the only God. And although I do not understand, I can only believe. In the path of service, little by little, inch by inch, He showed me that I was wrong. He loves me not because of who I am but because of who He is—a truly, loving Father. I took me years to learn that true joy can only be found not in gaining but in giving one’s self—in surrender and sacrifice.
According to Meister Eckhart, a theologian and mystic, St. Paul, being a learned man once questioned God on what he is supposed to do. His intelligence did not gave him answers. But when he surrendered his will to God, God revealed His plans to him. When the Angel Gabriel told Mary that she would be the mother of the Savior, she just said yes, and God made His will realized through her. With her “yes,” our BB (biggest Blessing) who is Jesus, our Lord, Redeemer, Savior came to be for us truly a God-with-us. It takes a “yes” to have God begin His work in us. When I was a fish, I did not understand. It took an “Okay, Lord. You are the Boss” before His answers were revealed. Indeed, God's plans for our lives are always greater than our grandest dream. But we have to learn to let go of our own nature of pettiness so there can be a space for what He has in mind. It takes surrender. It takes vulnerability. It takes trust. Just jump. Just believe.
I am of the belief that the virtue of Christianity is kenosis—the pouring out of one’s self; like Christ, ultimately, ‘broken and shared for the good of the many.’ It is worth noting that many stories from the Bible paints pictures of how kenosis is. Salt dissolves and disappears to preserve, cleanse and give flavor. Wheat is sown and scattered to, in time, feed many. Seeds die to become trees with branches that will be home for birds. A candle or lamp burns itself out but gives light to the whole house and makes people who dwell in it see clearly.
It is no longer I who lives, but Christ who lives in me. I have learned, I can only truly live when I begin to die to myself.