We were once Skeptics: The Whence of faith?

by E.L. Savellano

“The skeptic does not mean him who doubts, but him who investigates or researches, as opposed to him who asserts and thinks that he has found.” – Carneades

I must be too dumb not to acknowledge such inadequacy and frantic bewilderment on myself when it comes to the knowledge of God. Even more so to be dormant yet believing that something I held on so securely is without reproof neither even dared to be bothered if what I profess to be true had it’s bearing on my conviction at first hand. Nor did I ever scrutinize if such belief that has been handed down to me were to be true. For only through the Holy Writ, that such grace which has been freely given, does my conviction bears such truth.

I hear Preachers herald the Word on Sundays. But I barely find people who venture to test the credence of such divine admonishing. As the Berean Jews, in the book of Acts, did search the Scripture with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said were true. That even more so to spur one’s curiosities towards the beauty and depth of knowing what he believes – be it sound or heretical. For that young lad who has been enamored with what a material, egotistic, consumer-driven, society has to offer, obfuscates his quest in understanding the reality of his existence. Tis amiss for that man to value life in wrong places. For life in this realm, which has been granted in all its brevity, is but a mist in the air. I dare realized that we are days older than we were; as it is acknowledged, to approach death at any moment. The anxiety of finitude echoes to what it has been taught in the Book of Hebrews, that ‘We only die once, and after that to face judgment’. O how miserable and lost is such a man if he, so scrupulously, blinded his affairs on a humdrum existence, viz. building his house on a sand, instead of a rock. So why, then, that with such a high exceedingly regard on spiritual things, that most of the time, I don’t take God seriously?

Confessions from the Front Pew: One heck of a Goof

 

Caveat: Mutual sentiments shared with PKs; otherwise, it may subtly appear offensive to others who might see it as desecrating.

Don’t take it seriously but one of the perks about being a Pastor’s Kid is that you have a special access & privileges that others don’t usually have (well, sort of). Think about the President’s Kids in the white house or perhaps like when Prince Harry peed the Queen’s guard without reproof in the Buckingham Palace. I mean, if you literally see anything in the church place that is enticing to poke & play around with, just sneak-in to your dad’s office and snag the keys — don’t try that at home (Just don’t get caught). In my experience, I don’t usually do that. It’s not my thing.

In the forbidden sanctuary, also, you can now have an access to the Holy of Holies. (lame as I put it). And almost every instrument you want to play around is all within your grasp! You don’t need to rent a studio for you to play those kinds of instruments. All is free of charge in church. Well, at least perchance unnoticed. However, it’s fascinating that you also have these all sorts of Hymn Books and Bibles with different versions (all at your own preference) situated in the church pews, right? And just grab one, wrap it on a piece of paper, then label it “Eric’s Favorite Bible”, Booyah! I also remember those days gluttonizing those leftover emblems. Man, that’s a free snack right there! And those blank offering envelops littered around those vacated pews after the service, well I just gave them to my dad (wish I had my share though) In an hindsight, when an elder of the church happens to pass by unnoticed and finds out you are doing some crazy shit in church without permission, next thing you know, I’m doomed!

Being a PK is fun in a weird unconventional way – at least alluding from my experience. I may say, it is quite a journey that is radically distinctive from other kids’ experiences. Of course, I could flatter myself with my pen. Needless to say, there were those times of doubt that have had led me to ever question the role of the church community as ‘the body of Christ.’ But, I would rather not speak in a sneering manner of contempt towards it of which I’m aware of the prejudices of my judgment based on the context I got involved in. Nevertheless, the nuances are in existence. I do assent there are good tidings as well as those that aren’t easy to acquiesce – perhaps it depends upon the milieu you have been brought up to. Undeniably, to some degree, there were those seemingly unrealistic expectations which bears weight upon us; as well as unprecedented realizations and challenges a PK has to encounter. But gladly, the good things overshadow the bad things; or rather the unique blessings of being a PK supersede all sorts of insecurities and failures. Of course, the perks are high. Appreciatively, however, have I ever came to a point of really actualizing things on a positive note? That it is solely by God’s grace. I mean, I know a lot of Pastor’s Kids who thrived in any arena God has brought them into. Of course, generally, it depends upon how you look at things the way they are.

Salmon Fishing in the Yemen

by Eric Savellano

       Fly-fishing in the desert? Oddly enough in the Middle East if you ask me! And it is not something one deemed it to be necessary – not even as a profession. But not like this movie I came across that I was riveted instead.

Have you seen the movie Salmon Fishing in the Yemen? Besides that fact that Emily Blunt’s role is perfect and well-suited, it is simply as classy movie as one, who is anglophile, can relate to. And of course, it is a British romantic comedy and a drama film which later did I realize, it is based on a classic novel by Paul Torday.

Nevertheless, below is a short plot I made based on the scene I came across.

All efforts were cluttered. Everything turned out to be the contrary of what was planned – it was all sheer mess and subverted! All is set for Hariet’s parting. Indeed, it is final to bid farewell to the sport of salmon-fishing; kissing goodbye to a companion and colleague, Dr. Alfred Jones, of whose presence, in one occasion, was definitely cherished for such a brief moment. Hariet with her long-lost boyfriend, Capt.Mayers, are all aboard to make things work for their once shunted relationship. It is, then, right after seeing a yemen fish hurdled over the parched out lake did Dr. Jones realize he can still do something with the project. He then blurted, “I will start all over again”