The lady at the cash register knows I am angry. She can’t look at me, and chooses to talk to the wall. She pretends to be reading from a notebook that keeps a record of e-load sales, gives a casual glance at the SIM card number I have given her. “Sir, there is actually no record of a customer with this SIM number.”
I shot back at her, in a voice low but firm. “I was that customer. I remember your face, I remember you getting my money. But I have not received that load I had paid for. And it’s been two days.”
She keeps silent. Her male office mate comes over and makes me explain why this lady has gotten my goat. He nods his head, and glances at her. Never a word.
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It is an honor to have friends. In fact I am honored to have bosom buddies who have told me they’re going to die for me. I have suspicions that they might be joking, since we have been partners in everything. But I am always on the lookout—they might make good their promise.
On the other hand, it is not necessarily a dishonor to have enemies. I have not seen or heard of anyone who has not made any enemy. Jesus had. Paul and Peter had. While social decorums may find enemy-making a downside, it is next to impossible to be able to live as old as 62 with your life story having no villains. It simply does not make you normal. My wife has become insomniac because of the enemies I had; on the other hand, I have become amnesiac as to the number of people who have desired to do me harm. No, it is not a compliment for one to be without enemies at all. “Woe unto you,” says Jesus, “when all men shall speak well of you” (Luke 6:26).
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Within a week of each other, two disasters had hit two places on a grand scale, in Burma where over a hundred thousand died or are missing in the wake of cyclone Nargis, in China where tens of thousands perished in Monday’s earthquake.
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An executive of a multinational company thought that was enough. No more mowing lawns. He gave his janitor, his house helper, and his driver their last pay and bade them goodbye.
His house, tall and handsome, which used to be the envy of the community now became everybody’s non-delight. Friends were asking what happened to the vibrant fellow whose party-giving was always the talk of the town. To put a stop to questionings, he put up a sign, in letters big nobody could mistake it for anything: “We pass this life only but once. There are more important things, more important than just mowing tall grass.”
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On many occasions, two preacher brothers have been discussing ways to do big things in the kingdom. Big things? To preacher brother A, that means to dream big– feeding programs for street children, medical missions, church-supported vocational school for drop-outs, radio programs, transportation ministry, etc. The list is endless. Preacher brother B feels dizzy counting…
If preaching is a business, B is a SMALL retailer. B is an UNKNOWN SMALL retailer. Big retailers, like SM, Rustan, Ayala Malls, Robinsons, can afford to modernize, hire technology experts to help them conduct their businesses in a way that meets general customer needs and global expectations. Small retailers like him don’t have that luxury. Big preachers have vacations; all B can afford is a 30-minute nap in the silence of his upper room.
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Driving into a storm in the mountains in the middle of the night is a dangerous experience, and seasoned motorcyclists don’t usually recommend that. Mountain roads are muddy and slippery; dark clouds above you hover like a threat: to pour in more rains, as if to wash away the sad experiences of human downfalls. There are breaks on the road, gulleys deep and shallow, that have been created by downpours that have prolonged. One single mistake, one miscalculation, and you will fall—into the ditch, into the gulley, or into the high cliff on either side of the road. Motorbikes such as yours may have been equipped with modern halogen lamps, but on a stormy night like this, their glow could hardly penetrate the thick curtains of fogs and mists before you. You are driving blind, and your temptation is to trust your instincts, or, as pilots would say,” fly by the seat of your pants.” But doing so would be courting trouble. You have no compass to guide you in the midst of the fogs.
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We all have a lot to say about indifference, about people who are indifferent. Blind they are to what they see. Deaf they are to what they hear. They care much about their personal safety and their own reputation they don’t want to get involved.There’s this little girl who was a victim of child abuse. What was her fault? She, out of hunger and need, dipped her hands into her teacher’s wallet. Or so I was told. Her uncle knew of it. And he taught her a great lesson.
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