Spiritual Sundays - Nothing Beautiful

For how long those posters were hanging on one side of the walls in our medical clinic, no one knew not unless they had worked in the jail for a long time.


There were 4 columns of men’s and women’s faces, horizontally and vertically. They were the “before and after drug use” kind of photos. And the pictures told it all, they were not pretty!


Two or three years of drug use made these faces looked so old! They were in their 20’s or 30’s and they looked like twice, even thrice their ages already. Teeth were decayed, some receded to their gum lines. Their hair falling off and brittle, compared to what was once thick and shiny hair with a nice style. Clear facial skin was replaced with overly dry condition, filled with rashes or acne all over. The once over-all well-kept appearance looked shabby and unkempt.


These people were trapped in the web of habitual substances abuse. Others made fun of them. They were ridiculed, outcast, perhaps, rejected. They would find their “quick-fix” by increasing the amount of drugs they used to achieve that “peace and elation” feelings they were hoping for. But unfortunately, their mental condition also began to deteriorate at the passing of times.


People are often quick to judge others just by seeing their faces or over-all appearances. They think that they know that person’s character just by merely looking at them from the outside. If they appear handsome or beautiful, they associate it with them being “good kind of people”. Or vice versa.


Long time ago, though He didn’t use drugs and “sinless”, there was a humble Servant who came here but he was judged, laughed at and ridiculed. He did not appear majestic so why would one believe that He was the “Son of God” even? He was only a carpenter, born in a manger, so how could He be the “King of all Kings?”


The prophet Isaiah described Jesus this way [Isaiah 53:1-6]:


1- “Who has believed our message? To whom will the Lord reveal his saving power?

2- “My servant grew up in the Lord’s presence like a tender, green shoot, sprouting from a root in dry and sterile ground. There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him.

3- “He was despised and rejected - a man of sorrows, acquainted with bitterest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way when he went by. He was despised, and we did not care.”

4- “Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down. And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God for his own sins!

5- “But he was wounded and crushed for our sins. He was beaten that we might have peace. He was whipped, and we were healed!

6- “All of us have strayed away like sheep. We have left God’s paths to follow our own. Yet the Lord laid on him the guilt and sins of all.


Be careful not to lose that opportunity of becoming “friends” with others just because your opinions have formed pertaining to their physical appearances.


It may be the “best friendship” you can ever find in your lifetime!

For more of encouraging posts, please visit Spiritual Sundays, hosted by sisters Charlotte and Ginger.

The Valley Of Decision

The smell of smoke seemed to have been seeping through the vent up on the ceiling, as I entered the “sick call requests” from inmates in the computer for that morning.


“Code Red!,” blared over the radio. [It means any movement was not allowed anywhere in the facility except for the deputies if they were needed to go to a particular place].


“All available deputies! Please 87 [meet] B blocks! Riot in B blocks!”


B block’s tv was perched up high in one corner of the unit. The news was being shown and one inmate wanted the deputy to change the channel to something that he wanted to watch. The request was denied.


That inmate became belligerent and with a razor blade from his shaver, managed to pull it out in an instant. He unloosened one socket and exposed some wiring. Rubbing it with some pieces of paper, smoke billowed until a small fire became visible. As other inmates saw what he did, feeling the excitement of adrenaline, of power, of control, other inmates joined in.


Not long after, most of the housed inmates started yelling profanities, trashing whatever their hands could lay on, destroying any property that belonged to the county’s jail: beds were torn, styrofoam cups were strewn all over, papers were thrown into the air and some were fed into the small fire that made it grew a little bit more. More smoke filled the block, until it found its way through the vent which was also connected to the jail’s medical clinic. Others started throwing feces and urine outside the bars, thinking that doing so would prevent any deputies from approaching their unit.


The order was given for them to stay on their designated beds or they would face an even tougher punishment, as some other deputies started showing up within a matter of seconds, some donned with anti-riot gears. Pepper sprays were released into the atmosphere of that block, temporarily halting the dangerous revelry and stopping the rioters from doing any further damage. The painful mists caused a bad sting to their eyes and a burning sensation to their inner throats, that breathing made it harder for some.


Soon after, everyone was under control and was put on a “lockdown”. They were kept in their individual cells as some hidden bars came down and separated each man from each other. The bars prevented the on-going riot and served as a protection for the custody staff.


Every participants knew they were in deeper trouble this time. They were being filmed by one deputy so that there was a solid evidence of “who did what”. The once strong display of unity in causing troubles was now replaced with fear of the known consequences of what they just did. The loud, proud mouths were sealed, as beads of sweats started appearing on their brows and foreheads. Some attempted to utter their apologetic remarks. But too late! Most of them were in it! Those that didn’t participate would be spared. But the ones who rioted would be punished “big time”.


Like the inmates in trouble awaiting their punishment, Joel also described the same situation where there was a lot of people waiting in the “valley of decision” or “judgment”…


“Thousands upon thousands are waiting in the valley of decision. It is there that the day of the Lord will soon arrive.” - Joel 3:14


All of us will face judgment. The dead, the living and even those that are yet to be born. Has someone warned you about the consequences of your sins? Would you rather continue living in your own rioting with your wanton manners or would you rather stay put and listen to the One Who told you to stop living that wanton kind of life and surrender to Him?


Yes, you may continue the rioting but if I were you, I wouldn’t wait until I get to that “valley of decision.” For Someone is recording our rioting and it would be too late to say “I’m sorry” by then.


And the punishment will be “big”….

Speak Up!!!

The inmate kept pouncing on his cellie’s [cell mate] head. The one being hit didn’t say anything. It was not that he was afraid of him, but he just wouldn’t speak up. Maybe he was trying to elude getting into more troubles if he told on his attacker. He sustained a few welts on his head. He didn’t lose consciousness but he tried to remain cool.


Stretching his achy body, the victim tried to go back to his bunk bed, only to be blocked by the other inmate again. For no apparent reason, his attacker bit him on the area where he wasn’t supposed to be bitten. This time, he suffered enough!


Curling his fists and making the knuckles tighter and harder, he hit the attacker back. One…Two…Three…Hard punches on the attacker’s face until he lost count.


The fight was noticed by the controller inside the bubble. He alerted the deputies, who immediately went into that cell and broke that fight.


The first inmate came to the Clinic. My co-worker volunteered to treat him.Few minutes after the first inmate left, the deputy wheeled an inmate with obvious injuries to his face. His right eyelids were shut close. Complaining of pain, he was attempting to open his eyelids to no avail. There was a superficial laceration on his mid-forehead and obvious, scattered contusions were visible on his upper mid-chest and bilateral sides of his forehead. His nasal area was blue but there was no deviation. Great air exchange could be heard through his nostrils. He was beaten up really bad!


His main complaint was him being unable to open his right eye. Making him helped me by holding a small basin against his right cheek, I patiently irrigated his right eye with a special wash. Few minutes later, he was able to open the right eye. The conjunctiva [white area of the eye] was mildly-red. He looked messed up and anyone’s initial reaction, perhaps, was to feel sorry for his visible injuries. They made him look like he was in pain. Unfortunately, he was the “aggressor“.


It was the wee hours of the morning. This inmate should have been sleeping. One was trying to scare the other for no reason. Maybe he was also trying to establish control and power in that particular tiny cell they both shared. The other inmate was provoked and he had no other choice but to save himself. So he did by fighting back!


That aggressor couldn’t open his eye. Like many people who are blind, they are not willing to believe in Jesus. They want to follow their own power. They think they have things under their own control.


Long ago, Jesus was also hated by this blind and aggressive world. The religious leaders accused him of blasphemy, tortured him by multiple whippings and sentenced him to die in the most embarrassing way - “crucifixion”. Where were Jesus’ friends/followers, you wonder?

They were afraid to speak up!!!


Jesus warned us, as we become His followers, we can expect that many people will hate us as well. But we must remain courageous and always ready to speak up for Christ! Speaking up doesn’t mean we will be involved in heated arguments. If our actions are above reproach, even hostile people will end up praising God.


“It is God’s will that your good lives should silence those who make foolish accusations against you.” - 1 Peter 2:15


“Don’t repay evil for evil. Don’t retaliate when people say unkind things about you. Instead, pay them back with a blessing. That is what God wants you to do, and he will bless you for it.” - 1 Peter 3:9


13 - Now, who will want to harm you if you are eager to do good?


14 - But even if you suffer for doing what is right, God will reward you for it. So don’t be afraid and don’t worry.


15 - Instead, you must worship Christ as Lord of your life. And if you are asked about your Christian hope, always be ready to explain it.


16 - But you must do this in a gentle and respectful way. Keep your conscience clear. Then if people speak evil against you, they will be ashamed when they see what a good life you live because you belong to Christ.


17 - Remember, it is better to suffer for doing good, if that is what God wants, than to suffer for doing wrong!” - [1 Peter 3:13-17]

Spiritual Sundays- "The Hole In My Heart"

My mother passed away on December 2000 from a sudden stroke. Going home was tough and for a while, after losing her, I thought I was entering through the portal of depression. I want to share a glimpse out of my journal I had written for her. Reading it just now, gave me the comfort of knowing how good our God truly is, for promising His gift of eternal life to those who believes in Him. This is the hope I cling to, knowing that someday, I will see my mother again. May you always treasure your mother and father and other loved ones and friends. We have a short life in this world…


Here, I was traveling to go home to see my father and be there for him to support and encourage him…After flying for 13 hours and riding in a car for 2 ½ something hours, my mind was just wandering….


“As the night slowly covered the tropical skies, I saw the silhouettes of the mountains, of swaying coconut trees, of carabaos in the rice fields, of people outside their homes mingling and chatting about how their day went, of kids playing outside, not minding the hardships in their lives. I thought it would have to always feel good to go back home. This time, it was the worst!


I was imagining my mother’s face, as I sat in the back of my cousin’s car and tried to recall more memories I spent with her. The tropical air brushing its warm breaths against my hair, I felt my mother’s warm kisses. I pictured her glowing smiles, the smiles that I knew I would eternally miss since the day she died. I just lost the maternal guidance I admired and which served as an inspiration in reaching my goals. I just lost a special person who was happy and grateful for even little things.


The illuminating and bright amber lights shone all over my mother’s casket, like a spotlight highlighting a statue. Eerily, despite the lights, I couldn’t see anything. I could cry a river as my legs started to ascend the stairs of my parents’ home. They felt heavy. I was like a prisoner dragging those metal balls, with chains wrapped around their feet. I didn’t commit a crime but I felt I just became a prisoner of the war that had beaten me and my mother - the war of life against death.


There were a lot of people sharing our grief: downstairs, in the terrace and inside the house. Their faces seemed blank to me as I could only see my mother’s face, through the glass that showed her beautiful face. The beauty like that of a princess from fairy tales that was just asleep. The picture of her smiles stuck in my mind while riding in the car was replaced with this real photo of my mother’s surrender to mortality. Beautiful flowers surrounded her and I knew she would have enjoyed them because she loved flowers.


This wasn’t the scene I wanted to see. I didn’t want those bright lights highlighting my mother’s death. I wanted my mother - the very own light in our home. I didn’t want those beautiful flowers, which smell lingered and seemed to announce my mother’s passing away. Instead, I wanted to smell the wondrous cooking, of foods specially prepared by her for many seasons. I longed for that big smile that would greet anyone, always painted on her face. Instead, I had this still pair of cold lips that made me cry. I was looking for those warm hugs and kisses that came from her. Instead, I got hugs and kisses from people, from all walks of life, sharing their grief with me.”


Before sulking into being depressed, it was the Lord Who comforted me. Even up to this time. I’m sharing this with you now, for you to remember that as you face any trial, no matter how impossible it seems, cling to His hand because He is the Greatest Comforter. We are all facing different degrees of trials. But God is always there for us. His hand is always reaching to us. All we need to do is give ours to Him so He can pull us out of what’s drowning us.


These were the words I spoke to the people who came with us when we buried our mother:


“I stand in front of you today to thank you all for sharing your love and respect for my mother. As I was sitting down and looking at my mother’s casket, I thought about a caterpillar that has to die in order for it to become a beautiful butterfly. We don’t really know much about death or the other side. But this world is like a big classroom where we all have to learn a lot of lessons. The greatest lesson we can learn is sharing what we have and giving our love to others, without asking for anything in return. We will all graduate someday, like how my mother just did.


I didn’t cry because my mother died. I cried now because my other brothers didn’t see all these wonderful people who shared their love and prayers for our mother and father and for us, her children. God bless all of you…”


I still have a big hole in my heart…that only my mother can fill….But God bandaged my broken heart with His love and sealed me with a promise that I would be going to His Home and see my mother again…for forever…Glory to God!

For more encouraging posts, please visit Spiritual Sundays, hosted by sister Charlotte and sister Ginger.