It was in the early evening when the 0628 flight of Ethiopian Airlines landed at Ninoy Aquino International Airport. A few minutes later, my excitement of arriving started to dissipate. Walking into the immigration office at the airport took me longer than I thought. By the time I walked out of that office, the airport was almost empty. As if that was not enough, while heading to claim my baggage, I saw my suitcase wrecked with half of my clothes out. From there I knew that things would be tough for me in the Philippines. Once outside with my recycled clothes, I heard my name. Looking across the street, I saw the KKFI’s van with a couple of people who had come to pick me up.
My world turned upside down in my first three months. I went through everything that a missionary could, and I didn’t expect it. From the visa process to culture shock to language barriers to work supervision hardships to anything that you can imagine. In my head, the verb “to resign” was reoccurring quite often, but thank God the verb was never conjugated. The turning point was my relocation to Pulilan. While still skeptical about what was waiting for me there. Turns out, Pulilan became my perfect spot while supervising KKFI’s programs. It’s the reason why I’m still in the game.
Pulilan has been a great place, with great young people with whom I am working. Satisfactory would my program’s rating. Dealing with 41 scholars from three different communities has been very hectic and challenging for me. Programs such as care group (once a week) and church service (Sundays) have help me connecting with these young people, which has made my work somehow easy. However, since it is a mandatory requirement for scholars to attend care groups, some started losing interest in it, thus making it hell for me. I really don’t blame them because they would never understand the pressure to be in my shoes as a foreigner trying to do my best. Tutoring was the most frustrating and complicated sessions for me. Let alone that I had to carry them in the communities sometimes alone, but even those held in Gilead tend to be challenging. For instance, some youth would willingly oppose my planned lessons, schedule, and everything. Then, I decided to save my time and energy, and let them plan whatever they want to learn at each session. Because, some won’t attend or will just walk away if I do plan. Thus discouraging the few that would be attending.
Truth be told, my status of missionary has never favored me. To many, I was just an outsider with no power. Don’t get me wrong here! I’m not saying they should “worship me,” but I always felt that I was irrelevant to their eyes compared to other staff. This has been my mission journey reality. Well! Every story has an end–even the movie “The Passion of The Christ” ended. So, praise be to God my ending is coming.
Assuming that all things were ready with my Honors Degree in Psychology and Theological academics, I packed my bags heading for Brazil full of hope, faith, expectations, enthusiasm, and zeal of participating in fulfilling the Great Commission. Through experiences of serving with communities through churches and different organizations in the past, my mind could only testify to my readiness for mission work beyond borders.
After serving God for more than a year in Brazil, I have realized that God wanted to mold me even more. Not only have I participated in the transformation of the world, but I also have experienced personal growth and internal transformation. My mission work experiences have taught me some lessons. Ask me about victimization, racism, depression, bitterness, desperation, hopelessness, and frustration, and I can deliver a thousand lectures. I never expected to experience such things, but for quite some time it has been my lunch and dinner. Maybe surprisingly I do not regret experiencing them but I am proud as I have become ten times stronger in different ways.
God taught me about patience, humbleness, contentment, perseverance, dedication, loyalty, and being positive. Life has a way of kicking us when we’re down. And just when we think we can’t fall any lower, we get kicked again. After all it is said, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed…” (2 Corinthians 4:8-12) and “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?” (Romans 8:35). In every situation we are molded by God for even bigger roles in His kingdom. God’s love for us is always in abundance. We endure and tarry in different situations for His sake as great promise awaits us. “And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or farms for My name’s sake, will receive many times as much, and will inherit eternal life” (Matthew 19:29).
I am humble that through the Global Mission Fellows program, God chastened and quickened me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. At last I managed to participate even more than I expected. I’m kindly encouraging each and everyone to continue with the good work no matter what we go through. Let’s encourage each other to continue and start the good work. “And he said to them, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest'” (Luke 10:2). May our good Lord continue to bless those supporting mission work through finances, material resources, and prayers.
Just a week ago in Mexico City, we experienced another series of earthquakes. There was little or no damage here where I am, but it was still scary given my memories of the September earthquakes. In honor of these recent earth-shakings, I’m finally getting around to publishing something I wrote about the ones a few months ago.
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On September 19, there was an earthquake of a 7.1 magnitude that struck Mexico, with the epicenter 75 miles/120 km away from where I live. This was the second large-scale earthquake in two weeks. Both caused great destruction, but 19-S’s destruction was closer to where I live, with dozens of buildings collapsed in Mexico City, thousands more condemned, and hundreds of deaths in the whole region.
I was fortunate in many ways: I was at home when it happened, and the minor damages that happened to my building were repaired within a few hours. Everyone I know was safe after the earthquake, although a colleague and his family did lose their home. Despite my luck, it was still a very significant experience for me and one I won’t soon forget.
There are many bad ways to respond to a disaster or any tragedy. Among them, is the idea “everything happens for a reason” or “this is God’s will” or even worse, “this is God’s punishment of you for your sins.”
I do not think everything happens for a reason. Most things just happen—whether as direct effects of the choices of human beings or because of biological and scientific processes—and we have to deal with those events and decide what the meaning will be. I do not think suffering is God’s will. I do not believe God wishes suffering upon us. I do not think that God punishes sin through destruction. Events like earthquakes and hurricanes are naturally-occurring phenomenon that are a part of how the Earth works.
While I do not think that tragedy is something that God wills, I do think that these sorts of events can be important moments for us. They shake us awake. They make us realize things we didn’t realize before. They show us things we may not have noticed otherwise. These are often moments of great pain, trauma, and loss. And sometimes, they can also be moments of learning.
I can’t prescribe what this event’s wake up calls were for other people; I can only mention what I myself have realized through this experience:
The Earth inspires awe, and we should be concerned about how we treat it. After the earthquake, while I sat alone in my house without cell phone battery or electricity waiting for someone to get there to inform me of what had happened, my thoughts immediately turned to the Earth. With all the hurricanes and earthquakes of the recent days, I was impacted by the destructive (creative) power of the Earth and I was humbled and ashamed how humans contributed to destroying our benevolent place of residence.
Sometimes I can’t be there. My body’s reaction to the earthquake was to get sick straightaway. The stress was too much for it, and it shut down via a cold. Once the power came back on at 9 pm and I actually learned about the magnitude of what had happened and what there was to be done, my body said, “No. You can’t go out there.” It was hard for me to stay inside while the rest of the city was coming together to rescue people trapped and to support those who had lost their homes, but I knew my sick body would just be in the way. Staying inside felt similar to the feeling I get when I see people in the U.S. taking to the streets (literally or figuratively) to protest the injustices happening: I want to join, but I’m not able to be there. Sometimes I can’t be there physically, and I have to find other ways of getting involved.
I am grateful for my life and for the lives of my friends and family. A few days after the earthquake, I started crying out of the blue. I cried because of the gravity of what I had lived through—the death and the destruction that was so close to me yet that I had somehow evaded. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for my own life and for the lives of my friends, and I felt led to tell them so. In some ways, it seems hard to have fun after such a tragedy, but it has also been important to celebrate the life and friendship that we’ve all been given.
Human beings are capable of so much when we work together for good. Without a doubt, people in Mexico really came together to help their communities (and beyond). Immediately, regular people went to work moving debris and helping get survivors out of collapsed buildings. With the power out, young people began directing traffic. Professionals from different fields (doctors, nurses, psychologists, engineers, architects, lawyers) offered their services for free. Churches, schools, and other organizations set up donation centers to collect food and hygiene items for those affected. Local hardware stores and pharmacies sold their products at cost for relief efforts. There were many reports of there being too many volunteers in some places. The power of the people is inspiring.
You can’t always be prepared. Being prepared is exhausting. The day of the earthquake, a lot of information came out about how we could prepare ourselves for future aftershocks or other earthquakes. Make an emergency backpack with a first aid kit, water, canned food, a blanket, and important documents. Leave a pan on the edge of a table so it will fall and wake you up during an aftershock. Keep a jacket and shoes handy. Always have your phone charged and have a back up battery charger. For a few days after the earthquake, I was obsessed with being prepared. I followed the above advice. I started to worry if I couldn’t find my shoes in any given moment. I was obsessive about keeping my phone charged (my phone had lost charge shortly after the earthquake, so I had learned my lesson). Even now, as I walk down the street or go to a new place, I think, “What would I do if an earthquake happened right now?” and I take note of any cables or tall buildings and look for the familiar earthquake gathering place symbols. In all my efforts to be prepared, I quickly realized that being constantly alert and prepared was exhausting. Life fights to get back to some sense of normalcy. My feet have to go barefoot at some point. My phone will lose its charge.
I can channel my gifts and my training. Back in March I went to a training by the United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR). I went because I work with ministries related to migrants, and I learned a bit about how we could partner on migration-related projects, but I also learned a ton more about disasters, disaster relief, and disaster prevention. At the time, I did not know that all that information about disasters and relief would prove as helpful as it has to me and my community after the earthquake. It has been nice to share my knowledge and written resources with the team from la Comunidad Teológica de México as we develop and implement a disaster response program. Being bilingual has also been very helpful in this work, since many disaster relief funding organizations speak primarily English and I have been able to translate important documents to send to those organizations.
This tragedy calls to mind the passage in Mark 13 in which Jesus warns listeners to “Beware, keep alert.” At the beginning of the chapter, Jesus says that the temple will be destroyed. When some disciples ask more about this destruction, he also warns of wars, famines, and even earthquakes (!). He says that his disciples will be put on trial and beaten and will have to bear witness to the gospel. Their family members will die, and they will be hated. During these and many more tribulations, they should always be “on guard” and wary of those who claim to know the truth. After these difficulties, “they will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory.” Jesus finishes saying,
“Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come… or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly.”
In this passage, Jesus warns us of the suffering that is a part of life. Wars, famine, earthquakes, people who are against us, family members that die… and much more. In the past several months, this hemisphere alone has seen great tragedy—hurricanes, earthquakes, mass shootings, and more. In the midst of the difficulties of life, we have to be “on guard.” We have to beware, be alert. Many people will try to claim they know the truth about God and the world, but we have to be cautious about who we trust and believe. Do we believe those who claim our suffering as punishment for the sins they impose on us? Or do we make our own meaning and draw our own realizations from our experiences?
Jesus cautions us to be awake and alert and even to leave space for hope (leave open the possibility of Jesus coming in on the clouds). As I discovered after the earthquake, it’s extremely difficult to always be prepared for the next thing coming our way. We can’t always be alert or awake or “woke.” The doorkeeper for the man’s house cannot stay awake all night every night until the man comes home.
It’s hard to maintain a state of constant awareness, especially during this time of social media and a 24-hour news cycle. Sometimes we need to take a break and re-center and de-stress. But I think being prepared isn’t that you always know where your shoes are, but rather that you’re always open to being shaken awake when you fall asleep.
We can’t always be alert, but we must always be willing to be awakened by our own experiences and by the world around us. We must always let our experiences move and shape us. But we must also take care of ourselves in the midst of our alertness.
What will you learn from tragedy? How will you take care of yourself in your times of tribulation? How will you see the hope that appears even during these difficult times?
It might seem too early to have this question but less than four months from now, I will go back to the Philippines, I will do two months of integration service, and then my GMF term will end. After our midterm event last November, there are days that I am already looking forward to the end of my international placement and being back in my home context, but most of the days, I am anxiously thinking, “What’s next?”
When I decided enter the program, I didn’t plan anything afterwards. Not having a long-term plan is totally out of my personality, but I courageously heed to a calling that has been long overdue and journey to the uncertainty. I want to be transformed — to strengthen my trust in God, to serve God, to align my priorities in life, and to adhere to the mandates of our Christian faith of living in peace, justice, and abundant life for all.
During my 18 months in the program, I was able to diversely expand my network, be exposed to different programs and ways to serve and ‘be with’ communities, have different lenses that allowed me to see the injustices that have long existed and do not get much attention (not only in Zambia but also in the Philippines and around the world), have a transformed perspective of social justice, and grow a deeper desire to break from the systems that dictate that we compete with one another rather than be together.
Along with this transforming experience come different ideas, visions, and challenges that mingle with opportunities (or options) both from my current and previous journeys. Not having a long-term plan have both good and not so good aspects. Some of the good aspects are that it made me being more present and focused on the experience, being amazed by the revelations and transforming experience without being spoiled by unmet expectations, and being open to various learnings that are not limited by a roadmap or timelines. One not so good aspect of not having a long-term plan is that it is harder to discern the options that I have.
Not knowing what to do despite having many things to do can be worrying-–it’s like listening to many songs playing at once and you don’t know which one to focus on or to sing along with. Identifying which options are of God or which are of myself can then be confusing.
It is in times like this that I am reminded to take a pause and look back. To stop all the songs and tune myself to the voice of God, the voice that has brought me to this journey. As I read back from the GMF purpose statement I submitted during my application, I found a cue of what’s next.
“After the program I hope to finally walk on the path of mission that God has planted in my heart since childhood. I hope to be exposed and build new connections in the mission environment and be able to continue working in other organizations or institutions focusing on sustainability of life and alleviation of injustices.”
On Sunday, February 18, we celebrated Migrant Sunday in the Methodist Church of Mexico. In preparation for the day, I wrote a liturgy and an essay that were sent to all Methodist pastors in Mexico. Below is a translated version of the essay I wrote:
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Every year when we as the Methodist Church of Mexico celebrate Migrant Sunday, we have the opportunity to reflect upon what has happened this year for the migrants among us.
Unfortunately, this year brought us a lot of bad news. The U.S. government continues to deport Mexicans (among others) in impressive numbers. In Mexico, these deportees receive little or no help from the government or civil society. In September, the United States announced that it will cancel the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which protected from deportation certain undocumented youth. Because of this decision, many Mexican young people are at risk of deportation from the U.S. In November and recently in January, the U.S. government declared that it would end Temporary Protective Status (TPS) for Nicaraguans, Salvadorans, and Haitians, in addition to the Sudanese. The members of these communities with TPS could be deported once their protection ends and eventually could try to transit through or live in Mexico. There are already communities of Haitians that have established themselves in Mexico—especially on the northern border—when they were not able to enter the U.S.
The demonstration “One Year with Trump” was organized by Deportados Unidos en la Lucha and took place outside the U.S. embassy in Mexico City. The group brought articles collected from deportees arriving to the Mexico City airport, including the white plastic sacks given to migrants to hold their belongings.
Mexico continues to be a difficult trajectory for migrants in transit. From the southern border to the northern border, migrants in transit face violence—including sexual violence—at the hands of Mexican society, drug cartels, the government, and sometimes other migrants. The Mexican government continues to deport more Central Americans than the U.S. Many people suffer human trafficking or are mistreated by the coyotes that guide them (for example, the cases of more than 100 people dying of thirst and abandoned in the back of semi-trucks).
Thousands of migrants every year walk along the train tracks of the train nicknamed “La Bestia.” On this journey, they face extreme conditions, including violence.
Throughout this year there were also many happy and hopeful stories: the visas, residencies, and citizenships that were approved; the graduations of im/migrants or their children; the migrants that have found home in their new place of residence; the groups of migrant activists that have come together to fight for their rights; the new opportunities for work and education; and the communities that have welcomed foreigners. It is important to recognize the injustices, but it also important to celebrate the victories and the beautiful moments.
The gospel reading this week is Mark 1:9-15. In this passage, Jesus is baptized by John and receives confirmation that he is the son of God. Afterwards he spends 40 days in the desert, where he is tested by Satan. Following the desert, Jesus goes to Galilee to proclaim that the Kingdom of God is drawing near.
If we read these passage with the lens of migration, the first thing that draws our attention is the desert. The desert is an image and experience extremely present for Mexican and Latin American migrants that have crossed the desert to reach the United States. In addition, it is an important symbol in the Judeo-Christian imagination: the time that Jesus spends in the desert reminds us of the experiences of Moses and Hagar in the desert and of the 40 years that the Israelites spend there. All of those biblical figures are also migrants. Hagar is an Egyptian woman that is thrown out of Abraham’s home twice (the first time pregnant and the second time with her son) and experiences thirst in the desert as a result. Moses is an Israelite but lives in Pharaoh’s house and flees to the desert, where he lives for years, gets married to someone outside his community, and builds a whole new life. In the end, he returns to liberate his community from slavery, and he guides the Israelites for 40 years in the desert but never enters the Promised Land.
With his experience wandering in the desert, Jesus shows us his identity as a migrant and an aspect of his incarnation: he experiences with us the difficulties of life and temptation. The theme of Jesus as a migrant can be found throughout the gospels. Other gospels tell us of migrant baby Jesus born in Bethlehem, of migrant child Jesus that flees to Egypt, and of Jesus the adult who does not have a place to lay his head (Mt 8:20).
Jesus’s time in the desert follows his baptism. Baptism in the Christian life announces the end of an era and the beginning of a new era. It is significant that the time in the desert goes together with his baptism because the desert is often a space of liminality and transition. For Jesus it is a part of his transition to enter his ministry. For the migrants on their way to the U.S., crossing the desert is a rite of passage; the space of the desert marks the change between their place of origin and their destination. For those that transit through Mexico, the path of the train “the Beast” is a part of their rite of passage and their transition.
It is following his time as a migrant in the desert that Jesus goes to announce the gospel—that the Kingdom of God draws near. His good news come out of his suffering, his tribulations, and his temptation. After such a difficult and heavy experience, perhaps you and I would have offered a more pessimistic or hateful message. After a year of such injustice for migrants of all kinds, we could draw negative conclusions—that the situation will never improve. However, Jesus comes out of the desert with a message of hope and justice. His hope and his fight for justice are based on a drawing near to the human reality, and that’s how we realize that his gospel is not something empty or shallow. Jesus knows our context, but he also knows that the Kingdom of God—a kingdom of justice, love, peace, and equality—will prevail.
In the same way, we can familiarize ourselves with the situation of the migrants among us, seeing all the injustice, division, violence, and sadness, without concluding that all is lost. We can follow the example of Jesus and of activists by recognizing the reality but at the same time seeking to change the world. The migrant journey through Mexico is difficult, but there are churches like the Methodist Church “La Santísima Trinidad” [1] in Apaxco, State of Mexico, that have organized themselves to offer hospitality to migrants. There are borders that divide us, but El Faro: the Border Church[2] meets on both sides of the wall between Tijuana and San Diego to celebrate a binational Eucharist. There is human trafficking, but Dreams[3] goes into various migrant detention centers in Mexico to accompany migrants and to detect victims of trafficking. Deportations interrupt lives and divide families, but groups such as Deportados Unidos en la Lucha[4] in Mexico City and Dreamer Moms[5] in Tijuana are fighting for their rights. I invite you to investigate and get to know the reality and the inspiring work of migrants in your region.
The challenges are great and the realities are complex (Jesus knows it well), but Jesus invites us to participate in bringing the Kingdom of God on earth. This Migrant Sunday, let us celebrate the victories and the beautiful moments, let us recognize the injustices and the suffering, and let us commit ourselves to seeking the Kingdom of God and fighting for a better Mexico and a better world.
To close, I offer a litany that I wrote:
For welcome upon arriving to a new community, we give you thanks. For the feeling of being at home, wherever that may be, we give you thanks. For work and educational opportunities, we give you thanks. For policies that open doors to us, we give you thanks.
For bridges, we give you thanks.
For generalized violence that causes us to flee, we ask you for justice. For governments that deport migrants and divide families, we ask you for justice. For human trafficking and coyotes that abuse us, we ask you for justice. For communities that don’t accept deportees and returnees, we ask you for justice.
The Book of Fellows 