“Is there anything you can do to make God love you less than He does now? Is there anything you can do to make God love you more than He does now?” the pastor asked me, as I looked at him with a blank look, so much like a little boy asked about the fifth syllogistic rule. It was one of the many questions asked in our long discussion “of things eternal.” At that time I was a man two years away from being ordained, and for me it was just one of those apologetic sessions we always have with people “outside of the faith.”
It was a little more than twenty years ago, that I heard those words and they still have the same effect it had on me when I first heard them. We were debating on various topics and doctrinal issues. It was for me purely intellectual callisthenics, or more like an argumentation and debate exercise. Until we came into the topic of God’s Grace. And I defended my position on good works like a man of God is supposed to do. “There’s nothing you can do that will make Him love you more,” the Pastor said those words without a room for a slightest doubt in his mind. It was an understatement considering we were in a room too cramped to fit two chairs and a small desk he called an office. And all of a sudden I have no rebuttal. I had to agree and concede defeat. What can I say? And the discussion went on as my confidence in “defending my faith” turned into a pure search for what is the truth. But those words help me understand the true meaning of God’s grace. And it ended up with the pastor asking me if I wanted to pray the sinner’s prayer.
It was when he stopped praying that I started crying. After all I was two years away from being ordained a Catholic priest, and there I was with my mind and heart opening up for Christ. It was then that I felt His love for me, and the reality of it brought shivers into my stricken soul. And I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I met Him!
As I held my head with my both hands, my elbows resting on my shaking knees, I recalled the eight years I spent inside the seminary. Those were good years spent studying Philosophy, Theology, Greek, Latin, Canon Law and all those things I need to prepare me for the priesthood. I did well in all my classes (or I thought I did) and was absorbing all those lessons like a sponge. I was in the top three of my class, and I was on my way to be the second priest in our clan and the third in our small town. In between semesters, I taught catechism in schools, if I was not in parishes delivering sermons during the mass. I was always invited to dinners in homes of families whose parents wanted their sons to be priests. They never missed telling their sons how good I looked in my immaculate white “sotana,” and the boys never missed asking about sports inside the seminary (sometimes they asked about girls). And I always encouraged those young boys to dedicate their lives in serving the Lord. Like my family and everybody else in my town, I looked forward to my ordination with eager anticipation. Life was exhilaratingly beautiful.
It was like heaven…until my father died and things just got a little more difficult for my mother to support all her four children in school. I started missing exams, my brother started drugs (without my dad watching over him in a shared rented room in the city). Being the eldest of the four siblings, I felt the responsibility of taking over the role as dad, and I had to be with them to do that. Not inside the seminary. So I decided to set aside my dreams of being a priest. And it was a rocky road, to say the least. The things I had to go through were far from being a walk in the park. I thought of the day when I was made a “persona non grata” in our town, after I announced to my clan that I decided to serve the Lord, but not as a priest. They told me not to come back to our hometown for at least two years, because I brought shame (or did they say a curse?) to my clan.
My journey started with some lessons on humility. I had to work as a waiter in a hotel restaurant, all the time praying that no friends or relatives would find me there balancing those trays with glasses and bottles on them as I served the patrons. I even sold discount cards to small establishments, like beauty salons, bakeries, movie houses, and practically to everybody who’s willing to listen for just two minutes. Outside the seminary, I was left on my own to survive, too unprepared for the dark reality of the real world. I felt like I was hatched from a world of theories to a world too practical for one who is used to intellectual exercises. My career was like a duck who can only wish to soar above the skies. I was not making progress like my friends who seem to find it easy making lots of money. And I thought I was better than them – a lot better. And that thing called success had forever eluded me. But I kept telling myself that everything will be fine.
“Everything will be fine, God loves you,” I heard the Pastor’s soft voice as he placed his comforting hand on my shoulder. For all those years, I always thought I need to do something to earn His love, just the song that goes, “What do I do to make you love me? What do I do to make you care?” And the Pastor helped me break through that wall by making me understand that it’s not what I could do, but what He did. It’s all about Him. At that moment, inside my thick skull, my mind started making connections with my heart. All of a sudden it made sense. “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith–and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God–“ Ephesians 2:8 (NIV).
I’ve never felt so lost in my life, and yet there was peace in my heart that I knew did not come from my own being. It was something I can only attribute to a being far too great to comprehend. I continued to meet the Pastor who patiently guided me in my struggle with the intricacies of apologetics and exegesis, always going through the biblical verses and never going out of its context. The pain of working in order to survive was always superseded by the joy of knowing more about Him. The struggle of life with all its difficulties was always made easier to go through with the knowledge of what He had to go through Himself – for me. I started to comprehend how inconsequential my deeds are compared to what He did for me. And I thought, how I could ever think that I could work my way to earn my salvation. “… while we were still sinners, Jesus died for us.” Romans 5:8 (NIV).
Then things took a different course in my life and my career. I rose in the corporate ladder and my abilities were honed like never before. I became an executive of a huge corporation. I travel all over Asia and in some parts of Europe for business trips. It was the peak of my career, and I was soaking in my elements like success has become my middle name. I felt invincible. There seemed to be no end to the opportunities ahead. Dreams grew even bigger than those previous once I thought I achieved. The cards were piling up higher than I could ever imagine. And it was too high that it was bound to collapse one way or another.
Until one Saturday morning I found my 4 year old daughter sitting on the stairs, sobbing ever so softly for fear of disturbing me in my work (as I was working at home even on weekends). I went to her ready to castigate her mercilessly. And before I could utter a word, she said with tears in her eyes, “Dad, why don’t you want to play with me anymore?” It was like a lightning that cracked in the sky on a dark night, very quickly revealing the surroundings. And I was hit! I scooped her and carried her in my arms, and we cried together. (She told me a few days later that when she woke up early that Saturday morning and saw me in my desk she wanted to sit on my lap, but I shoved her away.) That very moment, I promised not to ignore her again. I almost lost my family as I pursued relentlessly my dreams and my career. And I lost sight of the gift that God has given me. But God, in His grace, still delivered me from the evil one.
“Pizza delivery, Pizza delivery!!!” we were both shocked from the persistent shouts of the delivery guy – me from the painful reveries of the past, and the Pastor from a long but fruitful conversation which ended in a prayer. I will never forget that day when I met Him – Jesus Christ, my Lord and my Saviour.
Nota Bene: My meeting with my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ would not have happened had my wife not introduced me to the pastor who patiently guided me in finding the truth. I will forever be grateful to the Lord for giving me a life and a wife.
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2 Responses:
January 2nd, 2011 at 12:22 pm
i wish i could be spontaneous in my comments regarding this.but what i can say is that life indeed is complicated, especially the life that we actually lived.it’s hard to trace its intricacies, without being lost along the process. it takes a lot of humility ( from a self-confessed proud man ) to expose his bare essence in a computer literate readers. i salute you for that !