How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on... when in your heart... you begin to understand... there is no going back?

I think it's time to just move on. 

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On my desk, underneath all the clutter, is a copy of the 2004 FIBA Official Basketball Rules.  It specifies the dimensions of the court, the equipment, playing regulations, fouls, violations, classifications, officials' hand signals, scoresheets and everything in between.  It is the authority on basketball, and not even James Naismith can argue with it.  This book defines the game, creating the circumstances we face when we step on a flat surface outlined by white 5-cm lines measuring 15 X 28 meters.  Whatever is written on it is basketball, and if it's not there, it isn't part of the game. 

What amazes me is this:  that even in it's magnificently detailed accuracy, the rulebook forgot to answer one vital question... HOW DO YOU PLAY IT?  It tells us what we can and cannot do on the court, and also gives us an idea of how to win (shoot the ball, making sure it enters the basket from above and remains within or passes through basket), but it doesn't say anything about using fingerpads to dribble, or that defense is 90% footwork.. If a person with good reading comprehension skills, but has never seen a basketball, was asked to read the rulebook and start playing the game, do you think he would do well?  I don't know... he might start playing another game,  popular among filipino girls -- agawang buko.  It would not look good.  

Besides, I doubt that Wilt Chamberlain read the rulebook before he came up with three-digit performances.  And I know that even in a country where there are makeshift courts at every corner, not even a quarter of those who consider themselves players have read the rules.  Perhaps some of them can't even read.  So how do we know how to play? 

For me, it was the PBA players on television.  And when I was finally on the court with the ball in my hands, it was my dad, my brother, gela, cathy, egg-egg, ada, bunny, heather, katherine, andrea, denise, rosella, bianca n., klar, bianca a., cheska, and coach edwin.  They taught me how to play basketball.  I never needed the rulebook, I already knew what was in it even without opening it.  To learn basketball, all you need is someone to show you. 

It's the same with Christianity.  People think it's a rulebook.  We think that all it does is tell us what to do, and what not to do.  We think it's just a bunch of specifications that God ordered.  But this rulebook religion won't get us anywhere.  It is a way of life we are being called to, much like the pick-up games in playgrounds.  Rulebooks may tell us WHAT, but they don't say HOW, and they can never answer WHY.  Rules will tell you what's allowed, but can hardly express what's required to win.

If mere religion wont teach us how to live the Christian life, what will?  Who will show us how?  I found the answer more than a year ago when I met a bunch of people who were sang with their eyes closed and hands lifted, who literally prayed on their knees, who weren't satisfied with staying on the right side of good vs. bad, but wanted to go the extreme.  I found the answer in my friends, the GenRevers, the Elim Youth.  They showed me HOW.  Soon I learned from the One to whom their hands were lifted.  He taught me WHY.

Last weekend in Dauin, I uncovered more of the things they don't put in the rulebooks.  Living this life is more than a game.  It's not enough to be able to play.  I'm out to WIN. 

 

 

I'm officially on summer break.  On the first day of summer after third year high school, I came home to my mom and drank ice cold melon juice with her.  I told myself that summer should always be started with a glass of melon juice.  After submitting my last requirement, my sister treated me to a slightly chilled buko juice. 

Close enough.