Chronicles of Charyl

You were reaching through the storm Walking on the water Even when I could not see In the middle of it all When I thought You were a thousand miles away Not for a moment did You forsake me Not for a moment did You forsake me After all You are constant After all You are only good After all You are sovereign Not for a moment will You forsake me Not for a moment will You forsake me You were singing in the dark Whispering Your promise Even when I could not hear I was held in Your arms Carried for a thousand miles to show Not for a moment did You forsake me After all You are constant After all You are only good After all You are sovereign Not for a moment will You forsake me Not for a moment will You forsake me And every step every breath you are there Every tear every cry every prayer In my heart at my worst When my world falls down Not for a moment will You forsake me After all You are constant After all You are onl...

So, why does a group of men and women in orange shirts and pants with the big, white letter P at their back and dancing Psy’s “Gangnam Style” move me? I’m not really an avid fan of Psy, and never even heard of him until a friend introduced his so-called “dance craze”.  I didn’t understand one word of that set of Korean lyrics, although the music video gives me an idea it has something to do with riding a horse.  But his song had a certain beat that make most, if not all, listeners tap their toes, or shake their heads a bit.  For some others, like the dancing inmates of Cebu , pour out their hearts in moving along those beats. Watching them dance the Gangnam style stirred something in me.  You would forget how much money they’ve stolen, how many shabu they’ve inhaled, or if they did murder that neighbour of theirs.  The uniformed movement of their bodies along with the beat displays a set of faces having the time of their lives, relishing the appreciat...

“For the praises of man I will never ever stand For the kingdoms of this world I'll never give my heart away or shout my praise My allegiance and devotion, My heart's desire and all emotion Go to serve the Man who died upon that tree. Only a God like You could be worthy of my praise….” I would like to have this Tommy Walker song as my LSS ( last song syndrome ) today.  It was the closing song at Capt. Jessup Bahinting’s wake last night, Aug. 24, 2012.  I went there with my housemates and saw the place filled with bouquets of different varieties of white flowers.  I didn’t know him personally until his aroma spread wide when the twin engine Seneca Piper he drove for DILG Secretary Jesse Robredo crashed.  When he died, all his accomplishments were highlighted, especially the part of him being a Christian Pastor and doing what he did out of compassion and love for Christ Jesus. As a fellow member of God’s family, I went to his wake to witness how peopl...

  What does it take to start a wildfire?   Just one tiny spark, says my Wikipedia research.   If I may just quote it exactly, “Usually forest fires are started by lightening striking barks of a trees or tree, OR bits of rubbish on the ground, like glass, catches the sun’s light and makes a spark , and the trees in the forest fuel the fire”, ( http://wiki.answers.com/ , emphasis mine).   Well, I admit this may not be an intensive research, but I’m sure you get the point, even as that familiar hymn hums along, “it only takes a spark to get a fire burning….” This image played in my mind again and again as I heard ate Rachel Grace Jentapa mentioned “burning passion” as one of her prayer concerns for InterVarsity Christian Fellowship (IVCF) in Central and Eastern Visayas Regional Unit (CEVRU) as the new Regional Director (RD) for this schoolyear.   Along with some other IV grads in Cebu, we officially welcomed her to the region on that solemn evening of Jul...

May kalipay pag-alagad kang Hesus Diha Kaniya dunay kasadya Pagsalig Kaniya ma-uy himaya Kaniya dunay kalipay KORO: Sa pag-alagad Niya way pagbasul Sa tanang lakang sa dalan Bisan kun ang dalan usahay magdag-um Sa dalan ikaw paglipayun Usahay magpa-ibabaw ang landung Ug ang kagul-anan maga-abut Apan ang manluluwas magabayad Kaniya dunay kalipay (KORO) Bisan unsay dangatan may kalipay Uban ang pagkamaminatud-un Sa pagpabilin Niya may kalu-uy Kaniya dunay kalipay (KORO)

Mark 12: 41-44, The Message I think of the “poor widow”’s offering, two measly cents, on the offering box in the synagogue, during the time of Jesus.  The Master commended her.  NO, He acknowledged her.  And her offering was greater “than all the others put together” - simply because she gave her all.  What does the two cents mean for her?  How much was its equivalent during the time of Jesus and to the present time?  Does it even have something to do with the economic value of the offering, in the first place?  It doesn’t seem to sound so based on Jesus’ words, she gave her all .  The two cents meant everything to her – her meal for that day, medication for an illness (for sure, growing old and poor must pose this kind of physical danger), repairs for her home (or maybe it’s rental instead?), school fees for the children, addition for her wardrobe, or makeup perhaps?  Of course, the latter items in this enumeration are my exaggera...

I just read in SunStar headline story about a new-born baby boy dumped in a garbage bin somewhere in Cebu City .   His puny state was flashed on the first page as he laid closed eyes on a hospital bed.   I believe that it’s the motherly instinct of being a woman that drew my compassion for him.   What did he do to deserve such a rejection even before he made his first cry? Reading his story made me imagine of his mom.  What type of woman is she?  What could have caused her to throw him away?  Or, was she even the one who did this in the first place?  More thoughts about the mom battled inside my head, but I chose not to point my finger at her.  I still believe that she has a story yet to tell, though uncertainty is certain as to whether she would have this chance. I also thought of the boy.  What a survivor!  At such a fresh state, he was able to stand the filth, violence and rejection of a garbage drum.  I can’t help bu...