A Week After Our Last

For almost two months, I have been attending the 1:30 or 3:30 pm service in our church. (Cornerstone Christian Church-Robinsons has 5 Sunday services). Last week, I attended the 3:30 pm service with my friends Conrado (who passed away last Monday, Feb.16) and Joan. I had no hint that that would be my my last Sunday service with Conrad.

I sat to the place where we were last Sunday, but the usher asked me to transfer seat. I complied. Though, I was sleep-deprived yesterday, I tried to listen attentively to Pastor Richard Nillo's preaching of God's Word.

Oh God, why was his introduction full of thoughts about how life is so short? That life here on earth is temporary. Had somebody told him about what I'm going through?

"Pasok sa banga!"

I believe God was speaking to me while I was listening to the preaching. I eagerly jot down the preaching titled: MAKE YOUR EVERYDAY COUNT. The text was Isaiah 40:6-8
6 A voice says, "Cry out."
And I said, "What shall I cry?"
"All men are like grass,
and all their glory is like the flowers of the field.
7 The grass withers and the flowers fall,
because the breath of the LORD blows on them.
Surely the people are grass.
8 The grass withers and the flowers fall,
but the word of our God stands forever."

Three key points were shared.

1. Living life with a definite aim.
Why do we do the things that we do? Do those things glorify God?

2. Living life with ordered priorities.
What is most important must take most of your time.
Best order of priorities: God, Family, Career/Ministry.

3. Living life with enthusiasm.
Man's chief and highest end is to glorify God, and fully to enjoy him forever.- Westminster Cathecism


Then the pastor also cited this line from Luke 23:46-
Into your hands I commend my Spirit.

and suddenly, the face of Conrado appeared on my mind. Then the song HOW TO SAVE A LIFE played on my head. Then scenes from the book Bridge to Terabithia came rushing down.

The preaching ended with the statement-- It's not how long you spend your life, but how meaningful it has been.

Before I left, I shook the preacher's hand and thanked him for the message.

I hurriedly went home to attend Conrad's burial. Rivers of tears flowed. That was the first time I felt so emotional in a burial. The sight of grieving parents and loved ones tore my heart. The sight of a friend's box slowly being put inside a hollow rectangular prism and being covered with concrete was too disheartening.

I wanna meet him again someday. But I'm not in a hurry.