The Camp Bato in Sibonga, Cebu is a favorite campsite. For many years it served as a venue for our annual Kawayan Camp for college students. Set about two thousand meters above sea level, it overlooks a beautiful and vast expanse of land and sea capped by a clear-blue sky.

The sky at Camp Bato is lovely both day and night. During the day, flocks of wooly clouds appear in ancient patterns and designs. Birds soar high in different directions, enjoying unhampered freedom. At night, the majestic moon drifts dreamily and lazily across the unbounded darkness. Countless stars spring to life, some sparkling in cold brilliance. According to science, they are in billions, although only a few thousands can be seen by the naked eye, and are trillion miles away from the earth.

When not attending sessions at night, the campers would lie on their back on either the concrete pavement or stone benches and spend about an hour looking at the stars, sometimes attempting to count them. Such “star bath” feels like a plunge into immensity, into bigness, into space. The feeling is overwhelming. It makes you feel very small and insignificant.

Such plunge into immensity, into space, into bigness, is good for the soul. For it does not only enlarge our vision and perspective of the world but also shifts our focus from the puny size of our existence to the immense reality of God. He is immeasurably bigger than the XXXL shirt we try to put on Him.

by Millicent Guarin

The workplace has a dwindling number of employees who would go beyond their call of duty and take an extra mile without thinking of repayment. Most workers demand pay for extra effort and time.

Sometimes we also think that the Christian life is like that, that God deserves only a portion of ourselves, of our time and money. But the apostle Paul is clear in his call for us to give our all to God. “Offer your bodies,” he says. Paul understands that we owe our whole being to God.

Paul distinguishes our offering from animals sacrificed lifeless on the altar. “Offer your bodies as living sacrifices,” he commands. Whether Paul already imagined the fastlane culture that leaves workers panting for breath – on the verge of collapse – we do not know. But he seems to have understood very well our propensity to inhabit this earth as “dead men walking”, thus his specific call for us to offer ourselves not in our pathetic and miserable state but in our vigor and strength.

It is necessary then that we take care of our wellbeing while we do acts of service. Indeed, we must serve well. But we must also live well. Only then can we truly serve God faithfully and excellently.

But Paul’s exhortation to offer ourselves as living sacrifices might as well refer to our transformed state, with “renewed minds” that know and understand God’s good, pleasing and perfect will. Alas, such new life emerges only after passing through the darkness of death, when old habits, old lifestyle, and old ways of thinking are cast away for good.

Our holy and pleasing sacrifice, then, is a life lived to the full in Christ.

We profess undying love to our beloved. Some of us even offer celestial elements as a kind of collateral. But when harsh times come we easily give up on the people we supposedly love. Instead of the moon and the stars we throw them our tantrums.

We also profess love for our neighbors. But when they throw tirades at us, gossip about us behind our backs, or ignore us, we drop them from our social registry and from our prayer list.

The Apostle Paul compares love with spiritual gifts the early Christians were tempted to brag or strut about. He says love is superior because it never fails. The spectacular gifts of tongue, prophecies, and knowledge, he says, are imperfect gifts for an imperfect world. They expire when perfection comes. But love remains. Why? Because it is perfect.

When all things fail, cease, and disappear, love never fails, says Paul. The Message adds a tinge of sweetness and renders it, “Love never dies”. This truth proves false our secret angst that “nothing so good lasts eternally.” Love certainly does. It is so good. And it is undying, unfailing, lasting forever. Why? Because it is who and what God is. God is love.

By Millicent Guarin

A wrestling match is what Jacob needs the least in his time of crisis, in his solitude at night, totally vulnerable. He is exhausted by the ordeals of the day, devising plans to survive an impending threat to his life, family and entire belongings. Alone in the night, unprotected, what Jacob needs is a warm clasp in the hand, a tight hug, a tap at the back. What he needs is a friend who will offer him practical help, a helping hand.

But God does not give him any of these. Instead of coming to him as an ally, he comes to him as an enemy. Instead of hugging him tight, he wrestles him to his utmost strength. With Jacob not giving in, they wrestle till daybreak. Their match only ends when God defeats Jacob by wrenching his hip.

Before we think of God as acting “bad”, we are taught that the match, the struggle, is a divine initiative meant for good not evil. It is meant to teach Jacob a lesson in order for him to change for the best. It is meant to disable him, to stop him from depending on human strength and cling to God prayerfully instead. The “hip wrenching” aimed at this.

The narrative of Jacob’s struggle with God puts our idea of God’s presence in ambiguity. Our Friend-God obviously does not always come to us the way we expect Him to. He can come to us as an enemy, not always as a friend. He can harm us. He can cause us a crippling pain.

Nonetheless, we can rest assured that even such tension with God is meant for good. It is meant to make us, not to destroy us. Like Jacob, we need a debilitation in order for us to learn to become praying creatures, to learn to depend on divine strength rather than on human strength.

Like Jacob, maybe what we need is also a limp in order to be truly victorious.

Written by Millicent Guarin

Our celebration then of our life journeys is not plain pleasure-seeking or merely sensual. It is reverential. It is sacred, almost like the Eucharist. We do not momentarily forget our connection with God. Rather, we eat and drink as an expression of our recognition, acceptance and thanksgiving to God for prospering and blessing our labor. This is our act of worship, our act of faith.

What we touch, hear, taste, see and feel is not all there is to life. There is a sovereign invisible hand that makes things possible. Frederick Buechner in his Beyond Words says, “What we know about reality through the five senses is roughly the equivalent of what an ant crawling across the front page of the New York Times knows about the state of the world.”

Written by Millicent Guarin

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-20

We live frenetic lives because of the many demands of work, ministry, family, and other relationships. We are adversely affected by the economic crunch, by soaring commodity prices, by fare hikes, and by other financial obligations and challenges. The credit companies drain us with their maximized credit interests, the banks threaten us with foreclosure, and the government slaps us with painful taxes. Life, indeed, is hard these days. It isn’t easy. We must double our effort, our working and waking hours, in order to double our pay and survive our existence.

Religion can be an added burden too when unnecessary expectations and requirements are imposed on us, restricting our movement, dictating our diets, looks, apparel, and conduct. The “Christian church” we go to can also sap our energy and resources by its constant plea for monetary offering, by its constant resource mobilization for mission and charity, and by its own internal tensions and conflicts.

Our mind, body, and spirit ache for some time off, for a halt from all our concerns. We long for peace, tranquility, and rest. We long to be pulled away from the swirl of things and be transported to a quiet spot where our faces are soothed by crisp and fresh air, our backs eased of tensed muscles, and our senses sated with aromatic scent.

We are not short of invitations for such restful and relaxing encounters. There is the spa, the exotic holiday, the smorgasbord, and the entertainment center. All promise comfort, ease, rest, pleasure, delight, and relaxation. We unwittingly grab their offer only to realize that their wares are momentary. Also, they drain our pockets and our bank accounts.
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Jesus’ invitation is not like this. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened,” he offers, “and I will give you rest.” He does not offer any technique, any commodity, any gadget to purchase. Instead He offers Himself. “Come to me,” He says. He offers His person as the ultimate Source of rest. “I will give you rest,” He adds to His invitation. He knows our predicament and He offers what we exactly need: rest for our souls.

When we are sorely exhausted in body, soul, and spirit, we long not only for a momentary rest but for a kind of rest that sustains us. We do not need a momentary fix, like a kind of anesthesia or morphine that blocks the pain and perks our spirits, but only for a while. We do not need a moment of elation, a “high feeling” that disappears the moment we wake up. We need a kind of rest that stays, sustains, and empowers us. We need a kind of rest that springs to life our deadness.

This is the kind of rest that Jesus offers. It is the rest that leads to eternal life, rather, that ushers us into eternity. It is the rest that keeps us grounded in the midst of difficulties. It is the rest that faces adversity squarely in the face, the rest that hopes, perseveres, trusts, and survives despite uncertainties and ambiguities.

Nonetheless, our “rest in Jesus” does not happen in a vacuum. New Age instructs us to empty ourselves – our minds – of all concerns to invite centeredness, peace and quietude. We combine such mind exercise with physical flexing to attain peace. Jesus’ offer goes beyond that. He asks us to exchange the load we carried with His load. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,” He says. Our rest in Jesus, then, involves a meeting of lives. We need to encounter Him. We need to learn from Him. Our rest in Him involves a contemplation of his personality, of his mission, in order to imitate him.

In such contemplation and imitation we discover that indeed, He is “gentle and humble in heart.” His “yoke is easy and his burden is light.” We discover rest not only for our physical bodies but for our souls. We find in Him exactly what we need. We find in Him perfect gentleness and humility absent from our other relationships. The burden that we used to carry drags us, presses us down, even endangers us. But Jesus’ burden soothes us, encourages us, inspires us, empowers us. This is because Jesus is Himself gentleness and humility.

Written by Millicent Guarin

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.” – Ecclesiastes 3:1

God put into place natural processes to sustain the created order. A slimy caterpillar metamorphoses into a colorful butterfly. A dead seed buried in the soil sprouts and grows into a tree. A painful wound, although it usually leaves a scar, heals over time. A baby stays at its mother’s womb for nine months before it pushes itself out.

The Teacher in Ecclesiastes mentions the different seasons of life. There is a time, he said, to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and time to laugh … a time for war and time for peace. All these seasons describe life as dynamic, fluid, and able to grow and develop.

God’s design for the world is good. It is for a good purpose that a seed dies. Like the seed, some of us need to be hurt deeply in order to realize how deep and wide and long God’s love is. Some need to experience living at the edge in order to learn that God is a Helper in times of need. Some need to experience being at the throes of death in order to conquer fear and realize that God is the Life. Some need to go in order to create room for growth for others. Some need to be martyred for the salvation of others.

In all our seasons we can actually sit back and relax. For behind each detail of our lives is a just and loving God. He is all-good. He does not mean evil. Jesus’ suffering on the cross tells us there is nothing in the present nor in the future that can separate us from the love of God. Amidst our joys and pains, hope and fears, laughter and tears, we can say with the Teacher that indeed, “He has made everything beautiful in its time.’

Written by Millicent Guarin

“Cast your bread upon the waters,
For many days you will find it again.
Give portions to seven, yes to eight,
For you do not know what disaster may come upon the land.”
- Ecc. 11:1-2

We do not always take risks and in the rare times we do, we make calculated risks. There are various reasons we don’t take risks. Some of us have yet to allow room for mistakes in our lives. The thought of failing simply terrifies us. We are afraid of appearing vulnerable, weak, helpless, and hapless.

Some of us refuse to venture into the unknown to avoid pain. The unfamiliar is simply inconvenient and uncomfortable. We’d rather be stuck and glued to our comfort zones.

Our growth towards maturity can be stifled or hindered by our well-calculated moves. We may miss life’s countless possibilities and never discover the extent of our creativity and imagination. By not trying out rappelling or the slide for life we may not experience the exhilaration of being suspended in the air. By not learning to love a woman or man we miss experiencing the splendor, ecstasy, and sweet passion of eros.

It is sadder when our refusal to take risks includes limiting our show of charity, when our giving becomes controlled and calculated. This means, our fear is stronger than our love, and we have not truly learned to be selfless.

Written by Millicent Guarin

The Israelites are back to Jerusalem from their exile in Babylon. Once more, they are a free people. The horrors of war and their harrowing experience as prisoners of war can now be forgotten as they start to rebuild their lives.

But there is a problem. No matter how hard they try, they fail. They do not succeed or progress. They constantly stumble. Even nature refuses to cooperate.

The LORD tells them what is wrong. They all are preoccupied with their own business and have forgotten the LORD. His temple, the symbol of His presence, remains in ruin. The people are less concerned about rebuilding it. In fact, they think it impossible to reconstruct it. The stakes and demands are too high for them.

He sends his prophet Haggai to rebuke them and amazingly, they all respond positively. Their fear of God prompts them to obey. They recognize His voice in Haggai and they obey.

The narrative tells us to shun the culture of constraints and to live with the sense of the possible. It is possible to do great things with God. We do not lose the capacity to dream amidst hardships.

It also tells us to strengthen our grip of our center and to participate in God’s work. For like the Israelites, we can be preoccupied with our individual business and neglect the work of God. We can be busy building our own empires, niches and careers and just “pay others” to do the Lord’s work by issuing them our donations and love gifts.

Finally, Haggai teaches us that a single voice can be a stirring voice from God. As before, we need such a voice to point us our shortcomings. Like the Israelites, we also need to respond with immediate obedience.

Written by Millicent Guarin

She is a woman ready for forgiveness. She is a woman ready for God. She comes to Jesus not empty-handed but full. She brings to him all she has. She displays her love for Jesus excessively. She realizes that more than the perfume she needs Jesus, that Jesus is worth all her riches. The woman teaches us that to long for God is to love God.

The picture of the woman emptying her jar of perfume at Jesus? feet is symbolic of her spiritual transformation. She empties herself in order to be filled. She throws away her treasure in order to be richer.

She brings us back to our conversion, when we realize that the greatest treasure we have is not our material riches, our possessions, our positions, our careers, our human relationships, but God, when we realize all these mean nothing compared to knowing God. The gospel narratives tell of a trader who sells all he has when he chances upon a rare pearl and a man who sells all he has to buy a field of gold.

I have been with InterVarsity for fourteen years, working with old and new faces. Although I also left my career in order to do missionary work, I remain amazed at how my colleagues gave up their ticket to a good life by embarking on the ministry of giving to people. I marvel at the pull and strength of God?s call. Even outside InterVarsity, I meet people whose love for God and His work is simply remarkable.

Jesus explains to Simon that the woman loves much because she is forgiven much. This is one unique feature of the Christian faith. One becomes a Christian when he realizes that he is not only a sinner but a great sinner. He realizes his inability to do anything good apart from God. We come to God not only misty-eyed but weeping a river.

The depth, height and width of God?s love can be understood more deeply in light of the depth, height and width of our sinfulness. The one who sees himself only partly needy also understands God?s love partly. As a result, the love he shows to others is also limited.

It is sad that some people think there are other ways to peace rather than God. They try sex, drugs, alcohol, and all kinds of pleasure.

The woman teaches us that the way home is not something abstract and difficult. It also means denying ourselves of fears and hesitation and garbing ourselves with courage and love for God.

Written by Millicent Guarin