Read an Excerpt
My Life With God
By Tessie N. del Rosario
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Tessie N. del Rosario
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-1598-4
Chapter One
"But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8
LORD, HOW CAN YOU LOVE ME?
Just the thought of being controlled by the Spirit made me feel privileged. I said, "Lord, who am I that you chose me to know you? How can you love a person like me? I am a nobody and you selected me among my brothers and sisters, and from among many other people. Despite my thoughts of my being unworthy, the Lord gave His life for me and I was filled with so much emotion that I began crying from deep inside me. It was then I noticed that I began writing a poem titled:
"LORD, HOW CAN YOU LOVE ME?"
Lord, how can you love me?
I'm no one and not worthy,
I'm a sinner and your enemy,
yet, you found and saved me.
I am lost and so far away,
Nowhere to go and have gone astray,
But your grace showed me the way,
You lit my path that was dark and gray.
Your love is unending and unconditional,
Your patience to wait for me is never final,
You even sent your Son for me,
He was obedient 'til death in Calvary.
Oh! My God, your love is awesome,
My limited mind cannot fathom,
Your arms wide open to embrace me,
willing to bestow your undying mercy.
How can you love a wretched one like me?
My life is filled with iniquity,
I tried to be good, but I cannot do it,
Lord, how can you love a person like me?
I continued writing: "Lord, I want to thank you so much for revealing to me your mystery. Thank you for calling me and opening my eyes from blindness. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to meet you. I have many thanks for the Lord. My heart is filled with thanks because I know my inadequacy and I am so undeserving."
DID THE LORD SEE ME?
My thoughts then brought me back to when I was a little girl. I was about seven-years-old. I remembered my family had a big but old, green-colored house with three big bedrooms, one for our parents, one for the boys and one for us girls. Our living room was huge, as was our dining table that was always filled with my six brothers and us three sisters at dinner time. The part of the house I liked best was the porch, long and open, it was like a big balcony/ family room combined with a staircase descended down to our yard. Our huge front and back yards were surrounded by different fruit trees. I remembered how I had so many good times there where I could play with my brothers and sisters in either yard. I remembered snacking on fruits in the mid-afternoon, because my brothers and sisters had no problem climbing the fruit trees to pick tamarinds, mangoes, camachiles, coconuts, atis, bananas, and guavas. Unfortunately, I was the only one in my family who lacked the talent of knowing how to climb a tree.
We were the only ones with a house next door to our Roman Catholic Church. I remembered at the side of our home, a little path that was almost covered with high wild weeds, especially during rainy season. During the dry season, the weeds and grass turned brown and dried up revealing more of the path. I recalled in my mind's eye using this path to go to the side entrance of the Catholic church.
Every Sunday morning, I would wake up to attend the mass at that church after crossing that path. My father scolded everyone in our household about church attendance. I remembered hearing my father exclaiming one morning that "Our house is one-step away from the church and yet no one but Tessie goes to church."
I did not go to church because I wanted to show off, or because of my father's scolding my siblings, or for him to think of me as religious. I went to church because I felt a desire to be in church. Despite my young age, I thought that was the right thing to do on Sunday mornings and this was my earliest learning about God.
Many of the women in my neighborhood went to this church. In contrast, the men seldom went to Church. I guess it was for them a way to be macho by not going. Once the people were inside the church, we paid attention to whatever the priest wanted us to do: we knelt, stood up, sat down, knelt again, listened to his sermon, and took the Eucharist.
The Holy Communion or Eucharist was allowed for someone only if he or she had confessed his or her sins to the priest that Friday of the week. People approached the altar and knelt down together in a long pew. Then, the priest would come over to each one and with two altar boys assisting by putting a plate under the chin, he would place a host (wafer) on top of our tongues that symbolized the body of Christ. It was said if the host sticks to the palate of your mouth it meant you were sinful. Mine always stuck to my palate, even though I was a little girl.
Chapter Two
"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength." Mark 12:30
YOU SHALL NOT MAKE FOR YOURSELF AN IDOL......
Our church had many statues ... in fact, too many. One was the little Jesus called the "Santo Nino," a statue of a lady dressed in white with a blue cord belt tied around the waist, the so-called "Virgin Mary," and "St. Roque," the patron saint of our barrio. There were other statues that I think were maybe Joseph and John and even the other disciples. The statues varied in size and were also dressed in fine clothes and wearing jewelry. I wondered as a child how they were classified to. Were the large statues and those decorated more likely more important than the smaller ones?
Almost all of us in religiously attended church back then had our own individual favorite patron saint. I started to remember when I was in college and went to St. Jude Church every Thursday while other people usually went to Our Lady of Perpetual Help in Baclaran, Manila. This church was always filled to capacity, even overflowing out the doors every Wednesday because everyone believed that Our Lady of Perpetual Help was capable of miracles. Others went to different churches to attend the novenas of their patron saints. We did the rosaries requiring us to kneel or bow down and to show our endearment to our patron saint, we would touch the statue with handkerchief.
But the statue was still a statue.
YOU SHALL HAVE NO OTHER GODS BEFORE ME
The Patron Saint of our church in Alabang is St. Roque. My mother once told me a story that when St. Roque became a man, he went out many nights with his friends. One night, he came home very late and his parents were sleeping on mats on the floor because in those days, poor people had no beds. As he entered the house, he accidentally stepped on his mother's foot. That made him feel disrespectful of his mother so to repent he went to a nearby mountain and cut his own knee as punishment for what he had done. His faithful dog brought him bread and licked his wounds until they healed.
People from our church believed that St. Roque was capable of miracles. So every time sickness spread in the community, there was a nightly procession where the men carried a statue of St. Roque as the women followed with candles in their hands, and others from the community carried torches to light their ways. Everyone chanted and sang the name of St. Roque, petitioning him to heal the sick and drive all sickness away. Children especially joined this procession because it was considered fun to be part of it and stay up late at night.
Later, I went to the capital, Manila, for my high school studies which meant commuting everyday. Alabang was an hour away from Manila by bus. I had to walk about two miles from the bus depot to my school, I recalled. There was a big church of Quiapo, located in the center of Manila that I went to everyday because it was on my way to school. I would pray my rosary while kneeling near the altar like a good Catholic girl. This church was open all day, so people were constantly going in and out after lighting candles. I lit candles also, especially when I had a petition for something I wanted to happen. It was believed that the more candles one lit, the sooner God would answer one's prayers. There was a charge for these candles, and you were expected to be honest and drop some money in a slot to pay for your candles. I did this because I knew God was watching me ...
At the back of the altar was a big human-sized statue that stood nearly six feet tall. Placed in a prone position, the statue was called the "The Black Nazarene." It, too, was clothed in a dark maroon, long gown with a golden cord-like belt as a Spanish friar might wear. It was another statue that people rubbed their handkerchiefs on the body while others rubbed the face or even the arms, hands and fingers. As a young woman, I must admit that I was afraid of this particular statue because it had sharp features with deep-set eyes and raised pointy nose. I wouldn't dare come close to it.
This particular church was filled with so many of these life-sized statues that they could be found in every corner, in every nook and cranny. In front of every statue there a little pew where one could kneel and pray. There were also candles (with the appropriate payment) a worshipper could light as part of the devotion.
RELIGION NOT PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP
In the Philippines we have many various festivities and religion plays a very important part in these celebrations. Every town celebrates its town fiesta in honor of its own patron saint. Everyone is welcome and can eat in everyone else's home without invitation.
Holy Week in the Philippines is the most colorful of religious event in the country. Our family church was always so busiest during that time. Some of our community who attended read the Passion Book of Jesus the entire day and night without stopping. I must admit I loved to read this Book and the elders relied on me to be available whenever they needed me. Many people were coming to church just to eat and bring home food. They didn't serve meat then, only fish and vegetables as part of the required fasting and abstinence. Many people were praying their rosaries and while others were doing the station, that is praying to the images of Jesus representing the time He was caught in the Garden of Gethsemane, when He was kissed by Judas Iscariot and then later nailed to the cross.
Wednesday was the day when the priest would put ashes on our foreheads (that's why it is called "Ash Wednesday"). I really didn't understand the meaning of this ceremony, but it certainly was a means to tell who did not go to church that day because they did not have ashes on their forehead!
The highlight of Holy Week was Good Friday. There was always a procession with someone playing the role of Jesus when He was bearing the cross on His back. The Roman soldiers were played by other people from the community and they would beat up Jesus. A woman playing Mary Magdalene would wipe the face of the man portraying Jesus while His mother, Mary, portrayed by another actress would cry off to the side with other ladies who were extras. Everyone who participated in such pageants was always well dressed. Jesus wore a dark maroon gown, the various women wore long white gowns and the Roman soldiers were attired like centurions. Whoever played Jesus was really pummeled during the procession. The worse the beating, the more it made those who participated feel they were being cleansed from their sins.
On Easter Sunday, everyone even those who seldom were seen in church, made it a point to come to services. Our church was packed with the faces of all our neighbors. I could easily recognize them as I watched many of them go to the confession booth so they could unburden themselves to the priest and take of Holy Communion. I felt these people genuinely wanted to be good. They wanted to change their old ways of life, but after Holy Week, they would almost certainly change back to their old ways again. Many of the old women I saw and knew were actually very religious, always praying in church their rosaries, but did they really understand the meaning of what they were doing in any depth?
MY PEOPLE ARE DESTROYED DUE TO A LACK OF KNOWLEDGE
In my little community, or Barrio, there were actually two churches. The Roman Catholic church was much bigger than the Aglipay church. To my family, who were Roman Catholics, we were following the right and superior religion, simply because there were more Roman Catholics than the Aglipayans or Protestants. Our church had more activities. As a child, as I looked at people from these other denominations they looked peculiar, as if they lived in another world. Nevertheless, they were quiet and looked more peaceful, something I could even see despite my youth. What struck me most of all was I did not see them carrying prayer books, only the Bible. Their minister was a quiet man with a ready smile for everyone he met on the road. His wife was always dressed very nice, his children well-behaved. Despite this, as Catholics we looked down on these Aglipayans or Protestants because their priest was married with children and not celibate like our priest.
Now, I realize that in the Bible there is nothing that says a priest needs to practice celibacy. While growing up, I always questioned in my mind why we didn't carry Bibles when going to church, but instead had prayer books, rosaries, and our ladies always had beautifully placed veils covering their heads and foreheads that were nevertheless almost like wearing uniforms. Our priest's sermon was always different from the preaching done by the pastors. Although, their sermons were taken from the verses in the Bible, and the priest would explain them in such a way that they applied in practice to our own way of life. Unlike the preaching of a Christian minister, the whole preaching was based on the Bible. Such preaching is the truth as told in the Bible, and is backed up by other verses that are harmonious with the same subject and theme.
It seemed to me that in our church the people were more happy-go-lucky than the Protestants. Their way of life was not as pious I thought, maybe not as dedicated to the Lord, since I saw our church members drinking or gambling with games such as bingo, mahjong, and cards. Many of the men were unfaithful to their wives. They also cursed easily, using bad words as if they were a standard part of every sentence. Most women in our church were more religious than the men, and very restrained. As such, they were submissive to their husbands and tried harder to keep their families together. But some of them were as bad as the men, so engrossed in gambling activities and bingo that they neglected the need to be at home with their families.
Chapter Three
"Jesus answered, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a man be born again he cannot enter the kingdom of God." John 3:3
I WAS LOST BUT NOW I WAS FOUND
I came to the United States in 1970 and I knew nothing about being "born again." I never heard of the term "a personal relationship with God" before. The Bible, to me then, was just another book. Even though, I considered myself well-read, I was never really all that interested in reading the Bible.
That was, until in 1982 when I had my salvation.
My husband, Rafael, at that time and I were having marital problems so were seeking help. The Catholic Priest at the church we both were attending gave us such a cold reception that it turned off my husband. He was the one who actually started looking for another church as we both became fed up with our old church.
A co-worker of his invited us to attend the Hillside Baptist Church. When this church Pastor asked those of us in need of prayers to raise our hands during a service, my husband and I did so. Then we were asked to step out from our pew and to approach the altar. We did this not having any idea what we were doing back then, and to this day I remember how the entire parish could see the bewildered looks on our faces.
Later, another friend invited my husband and me to attend his church, the "Pentecostal Holiness." There I noticed all the women wore their hair long and drawn up into a bun, with no lipstick or make-up, and they always wore long dresses. I felt out of place as I looked so different from them. I wore my hair short and used lipstick and make up. Everyone was very nice, but since we were feeling so out of place, we decided not to go back.
One night, my husband came home with a Bible. A friend of his had invited him to come to a prayer meeting. I had already gone to bed when he laid down beside me and opened the Bible up to Matthew. I then joined him in his silent reading of the Bible. As time passed, I noticed I was reading the Bible by myself because he had fallen asleep. An interest was sparked within me so strong about this book that I remembered reading many more pages before I finally put it down and went to sleep that night.
Another evening, my husband came home from his Bible Study very excited. He was telling me about some Filipino Pastors he met. He told me that these Pastors had asked to meet me and they wanted me to come to a study session. Due to my husband's persistence, I finally went with him.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from My Life With God by Tessie N. del Rosario Copyright © 2011 by Tessie N. del Rosario. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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