FAIR SUNSHINE

Muzon, that thriving and populous marketplace within the very heart of Bulacan, Philippines. Let us consider the souls who throng this place: the populace, as in most of this fallen world, is made up largely of the devoted Roman Catholics, the steadfast followers of Islam, and a sorrowful mixture of everything in between! But behold the state of the public square! The only voices that dare to speak up in the throng are those of the pernicious cults and the numerous misled Christian groups, who shame the good name of the Lord by mixing their corrupt preaching with the base begging for money! And where, pray tell, are the true Christians? Where are those who hold the pure, uncompromised message of the Cross? Alas, they are nowhere to be found! They are tragically hiding their light under a bushel, choosing to live a soft life of peaceful silence and spiritual cowardice while the immortal souls around them die every day and slip unheeded into a Christ-less eternity! The sin of the fal...

Beginnings : The Call To Preach I confess that on that morning, my spirit was restless. I found myself mightily stirred, for the Lord did press upon me the necessity of a public testimony. My soul was wholly convicted to stand precisely at this very park. A fierce contention then rose within me. I sought to wrestle against the divine command, spending precious hours in anxious debate: Did I truly hear the Master’s voice, or was this but a fleeting fancy of my own spirit? Yet, with a sudden and shaming clarity, I was compelled to confess the bitter truth. My argument was nothing but a cowardly excuse, a base attempt to flee from the post of duty! In the end I surrendered, I announced the task to my dear family. With haste we made preparation and drove forth. This appointed place lay more than thirty-five miles distant from our own abode. The journey itself proved a trial, for the worldly traffic was nothing short of horrendous—a painful reminder of the choked ways of this fleeting ...

My dearest friends, and all who have crossed my path in this fleeting sojourn, a great gulf of silence hath separated us since the ink was last spilled upon the digital page. It was in the distant year of our Lord, Two Thousand and Eleven, that my final humble missive departed from that erstwhile, if fleetingly 'celebrated,' collection of musings known as "Onewayride." This chronicle, as some of you shall recall, documented my "notorious" career upon the iron steed—a career, I confess, sometimes marked more by youthful zeal than by sober piety. Verily, since that time, a great and profound transformation hath swept over my personal life. The year Two Thousand and Fourteen stands as a clear and crucial marker upon the chart of my pilgrimage, for it was then that the hand of Providence seemed to direct the very course of my soul. I shall endeavor, as the Spirit permits, to lay bare those moments of reflection and experience, drawn from the private record of my...