Apostolic Literati: All Because Of Jesus (WordPress-Friendly Version)

The celebration is over but the testimony still remains.

Graduating from school is a wonderful feeling that a multitude of us are blessed to get imbued in. I can also point out some literati-friends in the church that possess better entitlement in writing about scholastic success. But what makes my testimony peculiarly special is how our Lord Jesus made his dramatic entrance in my academic life and ended it more idyllically. For the very first and, perhaps, the last time I’ll ever pound on my computer keys about my testimony while in the bounds of the academe, I hope you’d be blessed and inspired as you read on.

I’ve always pushed myself to believe in my potentials. Though I don’t like Kobe Bryant at all, I’ve carried his poster motto “If you don’t believe in yourself, nobody else will” earlier in my life. And in the frail human point of view, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t—I can memorize the birds in the chart at two and, when I was in first grade, my books weren’t learning-how-to-read-well kind of books but Sidney Sheldon’s and Alex Haley’s (Sorry, we weren’t Apostolics at that time and hey—father—forgive me but this idea of yours is sheer crazy). This wondrous momentum continued on—granting me honors on all school years—and, even when we became Apostolics by fourth grade, I may thank Jesus but the “believe in yourself” thing is as stubborn as a decade-old cerumen.

One day at fifth grade, I began to see flashes of lights—aura of an impending seizure attack. Then the world seemed to turn fast forward before me and the only sidesplitting solution to it was to jerk my head towards the world’s direction. My brain then was unusually confounded that it sent mixed, frantic signals to my body. Jackpot: Brain Disorder. Don’t give me that kind of disposition on your face—just when you start thinking that it’s the peak of the true-to-life drama, think again. I was still normal by that time—and still superior on the honors list. I went to Makati from time to time to have myself checked and to undergo diagnostic tests. Then comes the second-to-the-worst part—treatment. I underwent such big time medical stuff for some time and finally, decided to stop it and let God heal me at an instant. My condition got worse. We can probably attribute it to my lack of ample faith but I’d like to think that it’s not His will at that time for what will happen next is altogether the worst part of my academia and best period of this testimony.

After getting worse, I went back to treatment. This time, my attending physician told me that because of the abrupt halt of treatment, I must return to the starting point. So I did. In the process, I had an adverse reaction that one wouldn’t find under my medicine’s section in drug handbooks yet would markedly change my outlook: I lost the tremendous memory and outstanding comprehension I was oh-so-proud of.

You can just imagine how frustrated I was. I am merely nothing (‘finally realized, huh?). There is no self-compensating means that could redeem for me what I’ve lost that time. And though I was eventually healed of the disorder, my memory was still powerless. But instead of sprawling beneath the nearby sink, I turned to the Lord Jesus with a broken heart yet with hopeful thoughts. And our ever-wondrous Lord didn’t let me down even just a bit. I didn’t drop out of the revered list. Well, it doesn’t mean I haven’t had awful days because I had a fair share of such but I didn’t quit then. I kept encouraging myself knowing that giving up would just dig me a deeper hole. I just counted on the wisdom the Lord is lending me, and the confidence that goes with it, to rise up again and again.

Come university days, bigger academic challenges presented themselves ruthlessly at my doorstep and I have to face them in a bigger stage. Graduating from the College of Nursing on our side of the world is hard because La Salle isn’t a blah-blah institution (‘hope none of the Ateneo crowd will be reading this). And excelling in that stance has been proven to be harder. Everytime I have exams or activities coming up, I praised Him in advance. And Jesus never—no, not once—embarrassed me in front of the congregation. I always had victory to thank and give Him praise for when the next Sunday sun rises.

I have read the book “Facets of Faith” and within it, the author writes a chapter entitled “Who Do You Think I Am?” Rodney Shaw, the author and assistant pastor (most probably to Rev. David K. Bernard) in Austin, narrates that his wife thinks that he is a plumber, a mechanic, an electrician, a carpenter, a craftsman, a chef, a painter, a gardener, an authority on women’s fashion who speaks his mind, and a mind reader. And his kids have a pretty good view of him, too. As far as they are concerned, he’s an excellent sportsman at all sports, a science genius, a supplier of all needs, a financier and a fixer of broken toys. He can fly a kite with no wind and can build a sand castle with dry sand. He’s Daddy—the man of the house. He further narrates that one day (“in a far away land…” stuff) he was trying to push colossal furniture into his van but it wouldn’t fit. The Sunday school storage cabinet was like a huge deformed appendage. Pedestrians walked by staring. Other drivers were impatiently eyeing his parking space, on the verge of road rage. Out of the blue, his little daughter blurted out, “You can do it, Daddy! You’re a hero!” He liked it. All of a sudden, he felt his biceps grew double in size, his chest expands, his waist shrank, his thighs bulged and all that superhero metamorphoses come to cognitive life, then with all his might, he pushed the furniture like a Myasthenia Gravis patient who just had a dose of Tensilon ™ and— big time! —It fitted right in! All that confidence made him feel pretty good but sometimes he finds it hard to perform up to their expectations. It leaves him to think sometimes: “Who do they think I am?” Jesus had asked that same question. He didn’t just think of it, he asked it. When Jesus came into the coasts of Caesarea Philippi, He asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am? (Matthew 16:13). When your boss asks you that open-ended question, you would be very happy to oblige him. And they said, Some say thou art John the Baptist; some, Elijah; and others, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets (Matthew 16:14). According to Mr. Shaw, Jesus—in a way that only God can—had subtly disarmed the disciples by asking them that question. After they expressed the popular opinion, after they ran out of proxy answers, He asked another question: “But whom say ye that I am?” (Matthew 16:15). That’s what Jesus is asking us: “Who Do You Think I Am?” It’s a personal question that every human being must address. A single question that will drive us to either acknowledge or discredit Him. In the school realm, I’m glad I didn’t fail myself in answering that question. He is My Achiever.

And Jesus worked it out for me as I expected. Even more—I should say. The now-controversial Nursing Licensure Exam came into perspective and rough weather accompanied it. But just as the best of habits would occur, I surrendered it to Him. In my prayer, I told him I don’t need help for help is merely for a person who can still manage an ounce-much show of strength. And I fess up that I can’t do it at all without Him—not even move a finger. So I needed not help but rather, I needed Him to do it for me. I also told Him that, ”I need to pass. That’s all I ask of You. And, about all these topping-the-exam frenzy people around me are saying, it solely depends on You. If it will make me a better person, then I’d humbly accept it. If You see that it will bring me destruction along the way, then I’d rather not have it. In all these, I leave it all to Your will for me. You know what’s best for me. Out of nothing, You brought me to existence and to where I am now. If You won’t make me pass, I’ll be back to where I’m originally from—nothing will change—You’re still so good and I’m still so blessed.” The examination day arrived and 30 minutes before anyone came into our room, I was already there. I immediately felt His loving assurance as I started to walk around, pray and praise Him for what He’s about to do. Tears were welling at the back of my lids but I held them back. I know then and there that victory sits at my doorstep.

Grab the July 18, 2006 issue of the Manila Bulletin. You should see Alivio, Paolo Vasquez in there. It’s not because of my well-sharpened pencils, the hotel I stayed in or my own knowledge base. IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF JESUS. It’s not about “believing in yourself” at all. Success is about “realizing that you couldn’t do it at all and believing that Jesus can do it for you”. I’m a guy who can’t memorize then but my résumé shows what God has done for me. I’m sure you can say it loud as I also can that all the praise, credit, honor and glory belongs to Jesus.

I won’t be a hypocrite: I’m not perfect and, moreover, someone not worthy to behold. A few of you can even enumerate my mistakes especially when I tested the waters. A lot of times I’ve been conquered with a preschooler’s favorite question: Why? And I seem to regress further into a toddler and try negativism for myself. Then I find myself in a potential disaster. Repentance will then ensue. I see the beauty of it though—not being faulty—but the revelation of what Jesus wants me to realize after the mini-dark ages vanish before my eyes. It doesn’t take one to be an extraordinaire. It only takes realization that it can happen and that it would be all because of Jesus.

A modified SMS message of mine reads: “Many people think I’m wise because of what I have achieved. They’re wrong ‘cause inside me is a weak system. But behind it… is a STRONG GOD.”