Tag Archives: jesus

Patience Is a Virtue …

… I never had. I’ve been running for almost a year now, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned (or rather, still learning the hard way), it’s PATIENCE. Because to be honest patience is a virtue I never had.

When I first started, my pace was a painful 14–15 minutes per kilometer. I remember feeling breathless after just a 30second jog, wondering why on earth people would find this enjoyable. Fast forward to today, I ran 15 kilometers along the Han River in Seoul, and my pace? STILL SLOW … a whooping 10 minutes per kilometer. Others who’ve started later than I did are now flying past me like gazelles, and here I am still trudging like a tortoise.

But as I caught my breath near Yeouido Han River, after what was supposed to be a 15-minute walk from my hotel that turned into a one-hour detour, I couldn’t help but laugh. I had literally gone the long way around. What was meant to be a straight route became a scenic but confusing journey. And it hit me … it’s the perfect metaphor for life.

Earlier during my run, I was listening to a podcast on Genesis, about how the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years. They weren’t lost because God had abandoned them. They were there because God was preparing them. The episode mentioned how “Anah” a word that can means “to afflict” or “to humble” and how sometimes God leads us to our “wilderness” seasons, not to punish us, but to humble us, to prepare us.

As I reflected, these contrasts stood out and spoke deeply to my own journey, both in running and in life.

Oppression or Opportunity
When we face delays or detours, it’s easy to feel oppressed by the weight of unmet expectations, whether it’s in our goals, our careers, or even our personal growth. But maybe what feels like delay is actually divine preparation.

In running, every slow kilometer is a chance for endurance to build quietly beneath the surface. In life, every pause, setback, or unanswered prayer can be God stretching our spiritual lungs, conditioning our faith for longer runs ahead. The Israelites thought they were stuck, but they were being trained to depend on manna, not on their own might. Our “oppressions” may just be disguised opportunities to grow stronger where it matters most … in TRUST.

Trap or Test
When things don’t go our way, it’s tempting to see it as a trap. “Why am I here again? Why is this happening?” But maybe it’s not a trap, rather, it’s a test. Like my long, lost detour to the Han River, what seems like going in circles might actually be God rerouting us to discover who we are becoming in the process. A test isn’t meant to destroy us; it’s meant to reveal us.

In those moments when we feel trapped, by our own pace, our circumstances, or our limits, God might be testing the posture of our hearts. Are we still willing to trust His pace even when it feels painfully slow?

Punishment or Preparation
There’s a fine line between feeling punished and being prepared. Sometimes, slowness feels like punishment in a world obsessed with speed and progress. But in the wilderness of waiting, God is at work. He slows us down to strengthen what can’t be seen. the inner muscles of character, humility, and endurance. Just like every run trains not just my legs but also my will, every “slow season” in life builds unseen strength for future speed. Slowness is the soil where strength quietly grows.

Running has become my wilderness classroom. My pace may be slow, but my heart is learning endurance. God leads us through routes we don’t know, so that He can show what’s in our hearts and so that we can know His plans.

Maybe the point isn’t to get faster, but to get formed.
Maybe the goal isn’t the finish line, but who I become along the way.

So yes!, Patience is a virtue… I never had.
But maybe, through these slow steps and long detours, I’m finally learning it one 10-minute kilometer at a time.

“Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the wilderness these forty years, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart.” Deuteronomy 8:2 (NIV)

Running The Race. Finishing Strong.

The last time I saw Koyang Zaro (my uncle) alive was in January. We went for a slow jog at the University of the Philippines campus, a place filled with trees, laughter, and movement. Looking back, it feels almost poetic that the last memory I hold of him alive is of us running side by side. He wasn’t just running on that track. He was running the race of life – STEADILY, JOYFULLY and FAITHFULLY.

This week, when we laid him to rest, our family is also gathered earlier at U.P. for a run. The timing felt bittersweet, as if God Himself had set this stage: one race ending, another race beginning. It reminded me that life is indeed like running. Sometimes we run fast and strong, sometimes we slow down, sometimes we stumble and fall. But what matters most is that we get back up, keep moving, and never give up until we reach the finish line.

A Life Well-Lived
Koyang Zaro lived a life that could only be described as full. He stood as a second father to us when our own parents were gone. He filled the gap with laughter, energy, and a steady support at times we needed a wall to lean on. But more than that, he was passionate in his faith. He wasn’t just a man of words; he walked the talk. His faith was active, not passive. He lived it out in the way he served, cared, and loved.

He taught us that living well doesn’t mean being free from struggles, but being anchored in something greater than yourself. His anchor was Christ.

Lessons From the Race
Our first family run became more than just an athletic event, it became a metaphor. Just like in the race, we each move at different paces. Some finish early, some cross the line later, but what matters is that everyone who keeps on going reaches the finish line eventually. Life is no different.

When I think of my uncle, I think of someone who ran his race with perseverance, laughter, and unwavering faith. His finish line came sooner than we hoped, but he finished strong.

The Reflection for Us Who Remain
His passing reminds me of a truth that is both sobering and freeing: our days are numbered. We do not know how long we have, but we do know that each day is a gift. It is not the length of our race that matters, but the way we run it.

For those of us left behind, it is natural to grieve. But alongside the sadness is gratitude. Gratitude for the memories, the love, the lessons, and the life well-lived. My uncle may no longer run beside us physically, but his legacy continues to run in us.

Seize The Day!

The Bible puts it beautifully:

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” – Psalm 90:12

Life is short, but it is also full. And like my uncle, may we choose to live with joy, passion, and faith. May we run our race well, no matter the pace, until the day we too cross the finish line.

A Night of Thanks-Living

Last night, after celebrating Mosaic’s 19th anniversary, we gathered again for a special thanksgiving night. It wasn’t a night of programs, but a time of full tummies, open hearts, stories shared, and gratitude rising from every corner of our community.

What LIKHAYAG Means

Our theme this year, LIKHAYAG, is a word we coined and it carries the heart of who we are becoming.

  • LIKHA – to create, the handiwork of God. As Ephesians 2:10 reminds us, “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works…” We are His masterpiece, shaped with purpose.
  • KAHAYAG – a Visayan word for light or sinag, the radiance that breaks into darkness.
  • HAYAG in Tagalog – to proclaim, to make known, to reveal.

Put together, LIKHAYAG is a declaration: We are created to shine, to live as God’s handiwork, and to proclaim His light and love in the world. And this was exactly what Thanksgiving night reflected, stories of God’s light made visible through His people.

Stories of Gratitude

A few of us shared their own Likhayag stories. One of us shared how she went from helping brainstorm the theme to being entrusted with the design and souvenir booths. At first, she felt overwhelmed and don’t know if she can really do it. But she was grateful,  because in her weakness, she found strength in community. Others stepped in, and she realized she didn’t have to carry the work alone.

A dear brother who had been quiet for some time, suddenly found himself behind the camera for our anniversary. Not only did he capture moments that will be remembered, but he also rediscovered the joy of serving. In fact, he even found the camera lens he had long been searching for, suddenly available just in time. To him, it felt like God opening a door for him to return to service.

Two others were new in the ministry. One, totally new, served in the food ministry. Another had been longing for an opportunity to serve again after some time away. She finally found her place helping in candle-making. Both stories reminded us that no act of service is too small and that God always makes room for willing hearts.

There were more stories like these, each one unique, but together they painted the same truth: God moves even through our ordinary hands.

Thanks-Living

Our pastor’s short exhortation pierced deeply: a truly transformed life is marked by gratitude. And more than just words, gratitude is best shown through “Thanks-Living”,  living daily in a way that reflects how thankful we really are. He reminded us not to wait until people are gone before we appreciate them. Gratitude is meant to be spoken now, lived now, shared now.

The Song That Became a Prayer

The highlight of the night was when Coach NT sang “I Won’t Last a Day Without You.” A familiar love song, yes but in that moment, it became something more. It became a hymn of dependence on God, and a love letter to the people around us.

One line echoed in my heart:
“I can take all the madness the world has to give but I won’t last a day without you.”
And I realized, that’s Mosaic to me. That’s what ministry is for me. Without God and without this family He has placed me in, I wouldn’t last.

I found myself in tears because God reminded me: this is my to live for and to die for. This is LIKHAYAG, not a perfect work, but a radiant one, carried out by imperfect people who lean on a perfect God.

Serving isn’t easy. There are struggles, disappointments, even moments when I want to give up. But at the end of the day, I always return to this calling. And I know deep in my heart, I would not exchange this life for anything else. Because this is what it means to be LIKHAYAG: created to shine, created to proclaim, created to live in gratitude

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” – 1 Thessalonians 5:18

LIKHAYAG – Lumikha. Magliwanag. I-HAYAG!

A Life That Sings

“Worship is not just a sound we make; it’s a life we echo.”

I had the privilege of walking closely with a dear brother in church – Kuya Joel – during the last five months of his earthly life. It was a journey marked by pain, yes, but overwhelmingly filled with worship, love, and unwavering faith.

I saw with my own eyes how his physical body was fading, how cancer slowly took its toll. But even as his strength dwindled, his spirit did not. With every ounce of energy left in him, he still chose to sing. I can still recall how he raised his trembling hands during worship, his voice cracking, yet fully surrendered. He worshipped with everything he had until the end.

While preparing for his wake service, my nephew Ken stumbled upon a video that made me pause and weep with deep admiration. In it, Kuya Joel was teaching his two children, SJ and Skye, to sing and play the song Heart of Worship. That clip wasn’t just a beautiful memory, it was a testament. Worship wasn’t something he started doing when he got sick; it was how he lived all along. He was intentional about it, modeling it daily for his kids, not just in music but in how he lived.

Now, SJ and Skye serve on the worship team, carrying the torch their father handed to them. And at the wake, the two stood boldly and sang Heart of Worship, the same song their dad had taught them just before giving their eulogies. It was more than a tribute. It was a powerful picture of a legacy passed on.

Here’s the video that says more than words ever could:

What I’ve Learned

Kuya Joel taught me without saying it that worship isn’t just a song. It’s a life poured out.

It’s seen in how he served the church quietly but wholeheartedly.
It’s seen in his excellence at work and his humility in every role.
It’s seen in the way he loved his wife and raised his children.
It’s felt in the joy that radiated from his face even in great pain.

And so I pray, after witnessing his life, Lord, may I also live a life of worship till the end.
Not just with music and melody … but in how I serve, how I love, and how I give my all even when I have little left.

“As long as I live, I will sing and praise you, the Lord God. I will be true to you.” – Psalm 146:2 (CEV)