Waking Up in Manila
I woke up to the familiar hum of the city. Even before I opened my eyes, I could already hear the construction noises beside us—metal clanging, hammers pounding, and workers shouting instructions to one another. The honking of jeeps and cars outside filled the air, joined occasionally by the sharp wail of an ambulance or the deep alarm of a firetruck cutting through the morning rush. The air was heavy, carrying the faint smell of exhaust and dust. A thin veil of smog hovered over the skyline.
This is Manila—alive, restless, noisy, and in constant motion.
Yet, even here, as I drew the curtains open, the same sun that rises over Cherimoya Farm broke through the gray haze. The same light, the same warmth, the same faithful reminder: God’s goodness does not change with place or circumstance.
Remembering Cherimoya Farm
In contrast, waking up in the province feels like stepping into another world. At Cherimoya Farm, mornings are slow and sacred. I can hear the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, and sometimes, the soft lowing of cows in the distance. The air is cool and sweet, scented with the earth and dew. The day begins with stillness, not sirens. There, my soul finds space to breathe—to listen and to linger in the quiet.
But whether it’s the soft rustle of trees or the blaring horns of the city, one truth remains constant: the presence of God abides in both.
In the province, He speaks through stillness.
In the city, He speaks through perseverance.
In both, He whispers the same assurance—I am here, I am faithful.
A Visit That Turned into Grace
Yesterday was a long day. My friend and I had just come from a five-hour deliverance session. It was intense and powerful—watching God free someone from the shackles that had bound them for years. We saw tears, trembling, repentance, and finally, peace. There’s nothing quite like witnessing the Spirit move so personally and tenderly. It was draining, yes, but also deeply fulfilling.
Afterward, my partner and I planned to eat out, to unwind and refuel. But when we arrived at the restaurant, it was closed. We laughed at the small inconvenience and decided instead to buy food from downstairs and bring it up to my condo. What was supposed to be a simple, tired meal became one of those divinely orchestrated moments—unexpected, yet perfectly timed.
As we settled down to eat, she looked at me and asked, almost casually, “How’s your heart?”
It was such an innocent question, but it opened the floodgates. I hesitated for a moment, then heard two words echo in my spirit—words that I had been struggling with, words that touched something deep. To my surprise, she mentioned those exact same words, as if God had whispered them to her too. My eyes welled with tears.
As I began to share what those words meant, tears flowed freely. I didn’t realize how much my soul needed that space—to be seen, to be heard, to be understood. It was as if the Holy Spirit Himself was sitting with us, gently peeling back layers of my heart that I had long ignored.
We talked for hours, not just about ministry or deliverance, but about life, identity, and healing. We laughed, we cried, and we listened. Afterwards, we had a little “fashion time,” trying on some clothes my sister had recently given me—lighthearted moments that somehow felt sacred too. It reminded me that God’s care extends even to the smallest details—He restores not just the soul, but the joy of simple things.
She prayed for me online when she got home. What had started as a casual dinner became an evening of divine exchange—a heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul encounter orchestrated by the Lord Himself.
A New Morning, A Grateful Heart
So this morning, as I sit here in the middle of the city’s chaos, I can’t help but smile. I recall everything that happened yesterday—the deliverance, the shared meal, the unexpected ministry of friendship—and my heart overflows with gratitude.
Yes, the sounds outside are noisy. The air is not as fresh as the province. Life here feels crowded, hurried, and often overwhelming. But deep within, there is now a quietness—a settled peace. My surroundings may not be still, but my heart is learning to be.
I am reminded that God’s faithfulness is not bound by geography. Whether I’m in the quiet fields of Cherimoya Farm or the buzzing streets of Manila, His character remains unchanged. He is faithful and true. His mercies are new every morning, and His love never runs out.
The city reminds me of life’s busyness—the demands, the noise, the constant movement. Yet right in the middle of it, God teaches me to pause, to remember, to give thanks.
As I make an inventory of yesterday’s moments, I realize how much of His goodness was woven through it all—the way He moved in deliverance, the way He brought comfort through a friend, the way He surprised me with a reminder that I am seen and loved.
Looking Ahead
Today will be another busy day. More meetings, messages to answer, plans to finalize. But as I face what lies ahead, I carry with me a renewed trust: God is already in my tomorrow.
I can trust Him to take care of me.
I can trust Him to lead me through the noise.
I can trust Him to speak—whether through silence or through the city’s symphony.
And when I feel tired or uncertain, I will remember this morning—the sun breaking through smog, the friend who asked the right question, the tears that brought healing, and the faithful God who was in it all.
So here I am, awake in Manila.
The city is busy. The world is loud.
But my heart is quiet, my spirit is full, and my soul whispers one thing:
“Great is Your faithfulness, O God.”
BELOVED 
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