No secret anymore

 

Joining the El Shaddai movement, a Catholic charismatic community, in 1993 (I was 27) has taught me to be true to God, to people and to one's very own self.

I had kept a secret and keeping a secret is detrimental and a blockage to one's calling as a servant of God.

Being fine in my ways and soft-spoken, it was not really a secret.

My family and relatives at the back of their minds have known the real score about me, especially them that saw my childhood.

For me, it was embarrassing.

I grew up hiding it.

I was a secret gay!

By joining the El Shaddai movement, the Holy Spirit convicted me to reveal this thing I held as a secret.

Towards the later part of the 1990's, by the strength of the Holy Spirit, I revealed this secret to the local community of El Shaddai by making a live life testimony and through a written testimony via the group's international newsletter with my own picture published alongside the testimony and through the local weekly archdiocesan newspaper of the Davao Catholic Herald.

I said to myself, having done that, I won't reveal it anymore to anyone I would meet everytime.

That would be the first and last of my self-revelation.

Why on earth am I revealing it anew?

Simply because I fell to the vice of homosexuality again in 2013 after the series of Eucharistic experiences that I had had.

Clearly, it was an attempt to stop me from this calling and the Devil succeeded.

I was devastated.

I was hopeless.

I squandered the graces I had received from God.

And that would be the end of my calling until, one late afternoon, God made a sign through a sunset cloud formation wherein an enormous Hand (representative of God) was trying to snatch up a triangle (representative of myself) in which two lower ends of the triangle were stuck below it (the world).

The Hand was trying to lift or magnetize the triangle without touching it so that the upper end of the triangle and the lower line elongated and stretched upward but two lower corners of the triangle held on to the world (the sin of homosexuality).

While commuting on a PUJ, I saw the heavenly sign and took a picture of it while the vehicle was plying but lost the photo anyway.

I knew, through the sign, God was communicating to my spirit:

He would rescue me!

I only had to lose grip of my hold to the world.

To realize this end, I went to the confessional and revealed my sins amid fear.

These had been habitual sins and I just kept confessing to mostly #TLM confessors despite receiving rage from some of them (one priest even went out of the confessional banging the door open during my confession to see who was confessing, he was probably embarrassed to see the one who confessed was not a regular attender or a church worker) until I was delivered from the vice -- now I have been 12 years "sober" by availing of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

The miracle of Mass for my mother's conversion

 

God has used my sufferings to save sinners -- so I was told by a prophetic man of God.

Probably, one of the concrete beneficiaries of my sufferings was my mother who lived an adulterous relationship with my father, already a married man.

My father was petitioned to immigrate to California in 1979 together with his legal wife and the first family for "greener pasture."

He would go back to the country probably every two years to be with us.

While father was away, I would talk to my mother to try to end their sinful relationship. I would tell her, it's OK to be friends with him but "no strings attached" -- meaning, no bed activities whatsoever. She agreed.

One time, he never came back for five or so years.

After 10 years of no communication, father was suddenly back.

But the tone of Ma's story was already different.

She never kept what she agreed upon.

I rebelled, somehow. Ma told Pa, I kept telling her to sever ties with him as it was sinful.

They both knew their relationship was sinful because every time they went to Mass together, they would not take Holy Communion.

Father arranged an occasion to talk to me alone and told me it would be easy for him to leave my mother, had she been unfaithful to him for all those years he had been away.

So life went on.

Later in life, there was a time I was too sick to go to Mass on a particular Sunday. God would understand. I was exempted to attend Mass on that Sunday because I was very sick. But I bargained with the Lord that should I be able to attend Mass that Sunday, He would grant my prayer-request on Monday. In short, I had been given the strength to attend Mass despite my illness because I would be granted the prayer I would be asking Him in exchange for the Mass I would attend that Sunday.

The prayer-request I chose to ask from the Lord: for my mother to confess to a priest her adulterous relationship with my father!

To cut the story short, I was able to attend Mass that Sunday.

But I was not expectant God would answer that prayer. It was enough for me it made me able to go to Mass that Sunday.

Next day was a Monday.

Mother woke up at dawn to prepare to go to church! She had not been doing that.

I did not ask why and for what.

When she returned, her eyes were swollen and reddish as if fresh from shedding tears.

"What happened to you, Ma?" I asked.

"I just went to confession!" -- she said.

I gasped.

"What did you confess?" -- I asked again, excited for her reply.

She said, "My relationship with your father!"

After that, Ma was graced by God this way: Pa's legal wife called her up via overseas call and Ma was able to ask for forgiveness -- to her and to all her children. Mama was trembling talking through the phone. She was forgiven.

Fast forward, Ma had a heart attack and was able to recover. She was able to talk still and she used that opportunity to talk to my father over the phone, to end everything with both of them. Father was only listening to everything my mother said.

And then she had a fatal stroke so that she was already unable to talk. Out of desire, she "confessed" to a visiting priest who gave her extreme unction before she died days after.

The Caller, the called and the calling

The called is independent of any influence, control and dictates by anybody except the Caller. This blog cannot be influenced, controlled and dictated by any of the opposite sides of the Catholic Faith: the traditionalists and Novus Ordo. I listen to both in the pulpits -- yes -- but, in the end, write the way God wills of me to write. One traditionalist priest said in a sermon, however, that I am writing this blog "my way." I beg to disagree. Had I done it "my way," I would have listened and done it "his way" because of his brilliance in the rostrums but God has His Own Way of saying things -- like, putting ourselves in the shoes of another person (group, for that matter). I need not elaborate on this because clerics know better what this means. If this blog work, on the other hand, is the brainchild of "my" own concoctions, how brilliant a person would I be to be able to think of all of these. Try asking those who have known me since childhood. I am not brilliant. Just one person whose name happens to be associated with 'heroism' -- a good pseudonym for a writer, one of my professors said. Or am I under the influence of "spirits" other than the Holy Spirit? But I can boldly say to you: all of these experiences that the Lord has graced me with are, naturally, of God because I have no fear when I experience them -- but love, joy and hope. God is love. God is joy. God is hope. God is not a God of confusion, a feeling of mental discomfort, a headache that I felt when once I watched a TV show of David Blaine doing spirits-guided "magic." I would agree if someone tells you of me as "just gifted" because I cannot do it all by myself. I am under the influence of the Holy Spirit. Why am I still struggling with my sins? But, at least, I own them, I confess them, I struggle against all odds -- and there are too many of you on both sides, et cetera. One more thing, please fathers of both sides of the Faith, never look at this calling as a higher calling because which calling is higher than turning bread and wine into the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ? -- but God is patient with you. Rest assured that since God called me to do this work, He will finish His work in me in time He sees fit.

Confess more often, bishop urges priests

A dream, a diary and a cook

I had a dream a month before year 2009 began. I never realized but the dream started to happen right after.

This was my dream.

I saw a hill and I was standing on the foot of the hill. On top of the hill was a big tourist platform. The structure looked like eyes and face of a man drooping its head to look down on me and those below. I felt it was unsafe for any tourist to go there and take a look. It was architecturally incorrect to build a structure like it, and I sensed it was going to collapse any minute. And sure, it did -- bit by bit. As it started to fall, I vacated the place immediately -- but I realized I had a companion, an old woman, my grandma! I returned. I was trying to rescue her in such a way that my body was first out of the danger area. But I was wondering, "Why am I trying to rescue grandma when she's dead long ago?"

I remember my diary entry of January 17, 2009, it reads and I quote:

"There is someone in the market who is getting on my nerves. He is a cook at an eatery next to where I buy snack food on credit. When he looks at me taking food there, his eyes are insulting, looking down on me. One time, he even banged the door in my presence! They know I have my food for credit. I thought, he owns the eatery because of his arrogance. He is not! He works as a cook. He has a companion who treats me the same way. When I was able to pay recently, they were like kittens, looking at me so meekly. But they know I am on credit again. They are back to 'normal.' Last night, I was tempted to display some arrogance. I tried to show off in a subtle way the envelope I had that reads CHECK ENCLOSED. The envelope was from prophet Don; and it was a "faith check" for Php100,000. I prayed and included him and the woman companion in the Mass I attended this morning. When I saw him, however, in the market, I was enraged again and intended to side-sweep him. I touched him lightly in so doing though. I must shoot him with many prayers and masses. Jesus, forgive and help me. I must stop going there to prevent myself from sinning."

I admit, however, I did go back there after some time -- exclusively, to get food on credit. The cook was there. He was on my path. He never gave way. I side-pushed him and I did it intentionally. There was also a force coming from him. It was like a head-on collision. I know both of us were hurt in the process. But none complained. He went his way. I went my way. I decided never to go there again. I confessed the sin a month ago to a priest.

Last night, I had a monthly confession during a Holy Mass. I feel so heavenly after each confession. I went back to my seat so recollected and silently happy. During peace, I did a reverent peace to a familiar face, to someone standing in front of me left side. The cook!!! Yes, the cook!!! It was unexpected. I never knew he was there. He never knew I was there as well. That sealed it all. We had peace together. My name is J-O-Y! :-)