Rizal Park, Luneta, Manila.

Beginnings : The Call To Preach
That morning, my mind wouldn't rest. I felt a strong, persistent urge to share my testimony publicly, right here in this park. I spent hours arguing with myself, trying to figure out if this was a genuine call to action or just my own imagination. Eventually, I had to be honest with myself: my 'questioning' was just an excuse. I wasn't actually confused; I was just afraid to do what I knew I was supposed to do.

I finally gave in and told my family what I had to do. We got ready quickly and headed out, even though the park was over thirty-five miles away. The drive was a total grind—the traffic was horrendous and felt like a constant obstacle. But we made it safely just after 6:00 PM as the sun was starting to set. Honestly, the struggle to get there only made me more certain that being there mattered. The most important goals always seem to face the most resistance.

I knew I had to make my stand at Rizal Park, right in the heart of Manila. If you’ve been there, you know the crowd—it’s packed with people just looking for a good time. You have families everywhere, the light shows, and the live orchestra playing in the background. It’s a place of total distraction. But underneath all that activity, there’s a real history of spiritual and intellectual tension. The park is famous for being a gathering spot where philosophers and preachers of all kinds show up to debate. People have been arguing about God and truth on those grounds for a long time, which made the atmosphere feel even more heavy and significant.

As soon as I started, the pushback was immediate and intense. Make no mistake: sharing the Gospel feels like a spiritual confrontation. It felt as if everything was working against the truth I was speaking. But in a strange way, that opposition felt like a confirmation. The fact that people were rushing forward to argue and mock the message showed that it was hitting home. That kind of reaction only happens when the word is actually cutting through the noise.

In the end, a lot of the recording was lost to the chaos of the park. Between the loud music and the constant noise of the crowds, it was hard to hear. Even our technology failed us—the phone kept dying right in the middle of everything. But honestly? I’m just thankful. Despite all the distractions, I felt a real sense of strength to stand my ground and say what needed to be said. I was able to share the hard truths: the urgent need for people to change their hearts, the reality of how lost we are without God, and the incredible hope found in what Jesus Christ has already done for us. We might not have a perfect recording of the volume, but we have the substance. It felt like a classic spiritual battle—the world brings the noise, but the message still finds its way through.

Even if the video doesn't capture everything that happened that day, it’s important to remember that the footage isn't the whole story. Despite the distractions and the people who were just there to heckle or cause trouble, there were others—quiet, earnest people—who actually stayed and listened until the very end. Seeing them stand apart from the noise was a reminder that the effort wasn't wasted. Our goal wasn't to get sucked into some arrogant, back-and-forth debate with everyone who disagreed. The point was simply to deliver a serious message and be a faithful witness. We left Rizal Park that evening with a sense of peace, knowing that even on "hard ground," the seeds of truth had been planted.

At this point, all I can do is look upward. A sower can only plant the seed; they can’t make it grow. I’m giving this day’s work over to the Lord, praying that He’ll show His mercy to everyone who heard the message. Ultimately, the success of the Gospel doesn’t depend on how well I spoke or how quiet the crowd was. It rests entirely on the power of the Spirit to bring life to those who are listening.

I am speaking in my native tongue. The succeeding ones will have subtitles.

May the Lamb that was slain receive the reward for His suffering.