Popong: Weekly Contemplation

May 14, 2025
2 Kings 19:14–20 — Hezekiah’s Prayer
Hezekiah received the letter from the messengers and read it. Then he went up to the temple of the Lord and spread it out before Him. And Hezekiah prayed:

“Lord, the God of Israel, enthroned between the cherubim, You alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth. Give ear, Lord, and hear; open Your eyes and see; listen to the words Sennacherib has sent to ridicule the living God.

It is true, Lord, that the Assyrian kings have laid waste to these nations. They have thrown their gods into the fire and destroyed them—for they were not gods, but only wood and stone, made by human hands. Now, Lord our God, deliver us from his hand, so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that You alone, Lord, are God.”

Then Isaiah sent word to Hezekiah: “This is what the Lord says: I have heard your prayer.”

Two events have weighed heavily on my mind these past few days: the passing of my oldest brother and the national election in the Philippines. Both are now behind us. I’ve written my own personal obituary for my brother, as honestly as I could, and I’m relieved that the election is over, with hints of a shift away from celebrity culture and towards more grounded leadership. Perhaps anti-dynasty measures will follow—one can hope.

I stopped posting on Facebook out of respect for my brother. In doing so, I revisited an idea that had often crossed my mind but I never acted on: social media is, more often than not, a stage to seek validation—from either familiar faces or total strangers.

In my case, it was mostly the former. I posted regularly, partly to experiment with new apps, but deep down, I still checked the number of views and likes, even if they came from the same people over and over. It felt like living in a small village, where you step out of your house daily to perform little tricks, waiting for neighbors to say, “That’s nice.” Eventually, I had to ask myself: is it worth it?

I realized that this craving for attention is rooted in loneliness—the kind that can come from living alone as an older man. But there’s nothing inherently wrong with solitude, especially if it serves a purpose. I’ve often told myself that solitude is the best environment for cultivating the gifts God has given me: writing, reading, and learning.

The trouble comes when I mistake social media for an outlet of those gifts. It isn’t. Writing needs practice. Reading nourishes writing. But social media? It interrupts both.

So I’ve gone back to basics. Since halting my Facebook activity, I’ve written more—especially meditations like this one. I still share them via my blog, anonymously, to avoid paranoia. I’m also slowly returning to deeper reading.

Of course, I still browse social media now and then, but I’m choosing to be a spectator rather than a performer. I’ve learned that the “flow” and “zone” I need to thrive creatively are fragile and easily disturbed.

My brother’s death served as a final wake-up call. I’m not far behind him in life’s timeline. I will soon face my own ending, and when that time comes, I will ask myself: Did I spend my time doing what I truly loved—what God gifted me to do—or did I chase validation and distraction?

I’ve prepared in the usual ways: financially, physically, practically. But the more important question lingers: Have I pursued the work that brings me closer to God’s purpose?

Storytelling. Blogging. Designing websites. Reading great books. These are all part of my calling. But I must resist the temptation to obsess over a perfect outcome. My mother worked tirelessly for a sense of perfection, and in the end, she still suffered. My father, after retirement, gave in to indulgences he had long suppressed. And my brother gave everything for a family that eventually couldn’t support him in his weakest days.

Each of them taught me something: don’t abuse your health; don’t suppress your true self; and don’t tie your worth to the unreliable affection of others.

So I’ll walk. I’ll eat well. I’ll write and read. I’ll tend my garden. I’ll guard my time and energy. I’ll share what I have with care, not desperation. And I’ll find joy in what is clean, simple, and quietly mine.

May 15, 2025
2 Corinthians 12:1–10 — Paul’s Vision and His Thorn
“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me... For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

I am in a better place now. Withdrawing from the constant pull of social media has shown me how it tried to shape my behavior, pushing me toward validation addiction. But the Holy Spirit, through life’s events and daily reflections, continues to pull me back to center.

I see now how some friends have fallen so deeply into the grip of online life that they post compulsively—about meals, routines, even personal struggles. The loneliness beneath it is obvious. I was on the verge of that once. But the Lord stopped me. I’m not completely detached yet, but I’m learning to resist that addiction.

Yesterday, temptation resurfaced. After a long walk, my old urges returned—roaming, seeking stimulation. But instead of chasing those impulses, I listened to my body. I rested. I napped. I read. I raked the backyard. It was a simple, productive day.

I also discovered how effective it is to listen to audiobooks while walking. It’s a double benefit: mental stimulation and physical movement. This is a rhythm I can embrace.

May 16, 2025
Mark 1:1–8 — John the Baptist Prepares the Way
“I baptize you with water, but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

Indeed, the Lord has baptized me with the Holy Spirit since the moment my mind could grasp understanding. It is the Spirit that has guided me and kept me on the Path despite my shortcomings.

Yesterday morning was smooth—walk, grocery, watering plants—but by midday, fatigue crept in. I listened to my body. I took a nap. I adjusted my meals and medications, which were all running late. I acknowledged that consistency still eludes me.

I also realized I’ve been overdoing my walking—3.5 to 4 miles daily—approaching pre-illness levels. That’s a good sign, but I must not overreach. Cardio is essential, but resistance work and balanced rest are just as important.

Later, I met with my nurse practitioner for a long health review. I skipped walking that day because something inside told me to rest. My body gave subtle warnings, and I listened.

In the past, I would’ve called such a day “lazy” or “unproductive.” Not anymore. This is stewardship of the body, not sloth. I watched a few documentaries, learned from them, and spent time contemplating the reality of my age and limitations.

I used to imagine exploring bustling places like the Manila Esplanade—but now I see how distant those environments have become for me. Too hot, too crowded, too strenuous. My interests, energy, and social needs are evolving. So must my expectations.

And so, I reflect not with bitterness but with humility. I have done what I could. But the time of constant exploration and endless motion has passed. I must live within the rhythm of my body—much like an old car that now requires gentler handling.

Final Reflection

This week has shown me that joy, fulfillment, and meaning don’t always come from activity. Sometimes they come from attention: to one’s health, to God’s voice, to the truth of aging.

I am learning to balance function and medication. To listen to my body. To reclaim my time from the digital world. To write not for attention, but to honor the gift.

There’s still so much to do—but also so much to rest in.
2025-05-20 16:04:05
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