Friday, April 22, 2005

I am 18, going on 19...

When people ask me how old I am, I would usually encounter two major reactions: one of shock and disbelief, the other of mockery. I do not, and will not, judge people for their opinions--when I do, I would be committing a sin (a violation of what Jesus said about not judging people or you will be judged), or I would be showing an utter disrespect as to how their reasoning works. Whichever way, I always give an honest-to-goodness answer (forgive the cliche, please), for I see no point in telling lies, especially about trivial things such as this.

I have just turned 18 today.

I don't mean to say that you have to shout, "What? Are you fooling me? You look like a 12-year old! You can't be 18, Lance! You look more like a grade schooler." Well, I've heard too many of these reactions that I'm no longer surprised. For instance, I was about to enter the moviehouse (the movie was Kill Bill 2--rated 13) when the guard asked me, "Ilang taon ka na, totoy?"

To which I replied, "17 po."

"Talaga?" He thought I was lying.

"Opo. 'Eto po 'yung ID ko."

I was about to show him my UP ID when he immediately said, "O, sige, pasok na."

People who are close to me very well know that I have not yet mastered the art of tying my shoelaces, that I still think of myself as the stongest Streetfighter, that I would say, "Power!" in front of people so as to dramatize what the cartoon characters do on TV. But I don't do these often. There are just certain times.

I hope you get the picture.

Yesterday I wondered how an 18-year-old person would feel, think, and live: there ought to be a greater sense of freedom, a more striking definition of one's individuality, a more defined set of values, and a stronger built of character. Though my math problems cluttered in the greater part of my brain last night (radicals, rationalizing fractions, etc), I was not able to prevent myself from wondering about the metamorphosis: will there be an internal transformation that would change me into a more mature person?

On second thought, I realized that people are not butterflies. We don't metamorphose.

I had breaks during my study time last night; and so, after simplifying a lengthy algebraic expression, I decided to look back at the past. Have I changed? To what extent?

I was overwhelmed. But that is putting it lightly, and such statement does not demonstrate the exact feelings I experienced. This part is metaphorical, but will the reader excuse me for resorting to figures of speech since it is extremely difficult to illustrate my point using plain language?

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I looked back
And saw bones around the dreary place.
The unfathomable pits of darkness
Were poised to swallow every life that existed.

I looked back
And smelled the putrid, disgusting stench of the dead.
Stray dogs, venomous snakes and blood-thirsty hyenas
Chewed every bit of the raw, gory flesh.

I looked back
And wondered why my flesh
Was mutilated, destroyed, and rotting...
The scene looked absolutely hopeless--I was dead.

Then I saw
Someone take me away
He clothed me
And healed my wounds
He fed me and gave me drink

I held His hand
The tears poured out from my eyes
For, at last, I knew one thing:
He had died for me.

Who I am now I attribute solely to the sovereign work of the Lord Jesus Christ in my life. To Him be honor, glory and praise.



Blogger Unknown said...

fret not, my friend. the outer man is decaying, but the inner person will be renewed day by day. be concerned solely about the kind of change in us that matters most! :D

Wed Apr 27, 10:26:00 AM GMT+8  
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