Yes I am a Christian . . . not that one, the other one!

What does it mean to be a Christian?

Were you born a Christian or a ‘Born Again’ Christian?

Have you realized that Christianity is like a virus? It is spreading very quickly, and there are many strains.

These ‘strains’ in Christianity separate it from other types of beliefs or religions. When I was young, I remember what my teacher said about religion.

She said that religion is a ‘way of life’.

What are the strains that I am talking about, then? 

Like viruses, if you have the original virus, it will have different virus strains with different names but totally different from the original virus, a ‘fusion’ of some kind.

Now, in Christianity, we have the ‘original Christians’. The ones who followed Jesus Christ until he died, rose again, and ascended to heaven.

I will not go into details about the strains of Christianity because it involves learning the whole Christian history, and I am not an expert on that.

In my experience, though, I was born and raised a Christian. My father was a Christian pastor.  I grew up attending our church, although at first I didn’t understand why I had to go to another church as well. You see, my mother was also a Christian; she was a Catholic but married to a Protestant pastor. So, now you understand why I had to go to another church when I was younger—around 5 or 6, I guess.

Being ‘another’ Christian in the school was also a difficult one. In the class of 50 students, I was the only one who belonged to ‘another’ Christian, in other words, a minority. My classmates called me ‘PUTIS’ (protestant), which may sound a little bit racist nowadays. But I never had a problem with that.

I wanted to show them what ‘putis’ are. Why are we different from others?

But then I had questions about being ‘Putis’. I have learned that in our community, there were at least 3 or 4 protestant denominations that were different from us and had different names.

I was so confused!

As a young boy, I had in mind a question about the Christian denominations, what is the best, and why we have so many 'STRAINS'.

Today, when somebody asks you if you are a Christian, it may sound uncomfortable, especially when you are inside the church. You will know immediately what that somebody is trying to ask—another strain'. You may think, We are inside the church; we worshiped, and then somebody will ask us if we are Christians. It may mean that while we are born Christians and baptized Christians, without accepting Jesus as a savior, we are not at all Christians.  We need that ‘particular’ event in our lives (accepting Jesus), and then we can be called Christians, adding another strain to our Christian life.

I’ve met a lady deacon of our church sometime around 1980, when my father was assigned to a church in Quezon City. I remember being a young Methodist Youth Fellowship guy. Then we had this personal biblical sharing. I forgot her name, but I remember what she said. She was from Mindanao, south of the Philippines. She shared that in her town, when somebody asks you if you are a Christian, you have only two answers, yes or no.

Mindanao, being a Muslim island, has people who are Muslims, if not Christians (minorities). So when people ask you, you only have two answers, being a Muslim or a Christian. You are a Christian simply because you are not a Muslim, as simple as that.

Yes, I am a Christian, but... and the one without... and...

What about the ‘new’ Christians?

I know a pastor who is against ‘religion’. He created his own ‘fellowship’ because he feels that Christians should only have Jesus Christ as the center. He eventually called it a church and created some ‘branch’ churches in other Asian countries, but their main church office is in the US. I attended the church and it is growing alright, but it is just the same as other church denominations; why create a new one?

He once said in one of his sermons that he pray to have a church in Bangkok, Philippines, etc. But why? As if Bangkok doesn’t have Christian churches, or the Philippines either. Or if they are ‘not really Christians’?

I don’t want to think that this pastor made his own church because he was fired from other existing churches or because he just wants to have his own church. But why? He found out that being a Baptist is not a good choice, or that being a Methodist is not good for him either. Or does he consider the existing churches religious? And what about his? Not a religion? Only a ‘fellowship’? I don’t understand. I’m lost. When people ask me now who I am, I say that I am a Christian.

I haven’t gone to any Methodist church for many years now, and this is not a matter of choice. It just happened that the countries in which I’m based do not have Methodist churches. But I am a Christian. I go to a Catholic church without the sign of the cross. How many of you protestants feel uncomfortable going inside a Catholic church? We are Christians, and surely we can adapt easily to each other.

I've been living in Vietnam for many years now. I am enjoying it very much.

Before coming here, though, I read some articles on how they are strict with religions. I heard from pastors from Bangkok that there are a lot of religious persecutions here.

Now, I understand.

If you travel to the countryside here, every 5 minutes you will see beautiful Catholic churches and big buildings on the left and right of the road. Actually, Vietnam is the second largest Christian nation in Asia, with the Philippines being the first. Not only Catholic churches. There are a lot of mainstream local Protestant churches, many of them. I attended a church by Korean protestants, and they are big, huge buildings.

So, where is the religious persecution?

I also attended the church of the pastor that I told you about a while ago. It is not called a church, but a ‘fellowship’. They do not possess any right to own a church; they cannot get the license, I was told. They are moving from one hotel to another because the police are after them. Why are they not allowed? Why is it so difficult for them to get a license?

When I heard complaints from the fellowship goers that they were persecuted, I wondered why those big churches that I have seen and attended were able to worship freely. That is, if you don’t consider Catholics and those local Protestant churches Christians.

When somebody asks me whether I am a Christian, my answer is yes, I am. The 'strains' separate us from being one, together in faith. Muslims are Muslims. Buddhists are Buddhists. No other strains'. Please correct me if I am wrong.

I believe and am a follower of Jesus Christ, our Savior, who died for us sinners, rose again, and ascended to heaven.

Yes, I am a Christian.

NANAY

 

NANAY

On December 16, 2023, our loving mother, Ofelia Castillo Nicolas, went home to meet our Lord. She was 85 years old.

Nanay was the best mother in the world. I don’t remember how old I was, but she would always sing to me until I fell asleep. The song she always sang was “Si ale ko nena, magandang maganda, nahulog sa balon, naging gumamela . . . . .” Then there was the song “Those were the days,” and she would sing, “Lay, lay, lay, lay, lay, lay, ang labi ni Noel, lay lay, lay lay, ang labi ni Noel” . . . . touching my lips while singing it.  

Of course, when we were young, we experienced her cleaning and washing us. She always did that to me, and instead of doing it inside the bathroom, she would do it on the sink in the kitchen. 

Every night, no excuses; she always leads us to prayers and devotion.

She was a very happy woman. Did we see her cry? Of course, we did.

One day, she was taking care of me and feeding me. Her brother, Tito Oscar, came. I didn’t hear what they were talking about; I just saw her cry very loudly. I didn’t understand then, and I don’t understand now, but if I have to guess, I think it was the death of somebody. I think it’s our uncle’s death, her brother-in-law. I remember us going to Cabanatuan.

We saw her dedication as a pastor’s wife. As a young child, I saw some people maltreat our parents. People thought they owned the church and everything in it, even the pastor’s family. I saw how Nanay treated them like important people, even though it upsets her sometimes. But in the end, it means supporting Tatay’s ministry.

I remember she almost drowned just to get us food to eat. That was the scariest time of my life.  The flood in Calizon was so deep, and the current was strong. In spite of that, she went to the market to buy our lunch. On her way back, everyone was waiting and watching by the window, and in front of our eyes, she almost drowned. Thanks to ‘Kuya Berting’ for saving her.

Christmases and New Years

As kids, our world was smaller, and I mean that in a positive way.  We lived in a small village in Calizon, where everyone knows everybody.  To us children, Christmas was about gifts. New clothes, new shoes, toys, fruits, and candies. For the whole year, we only eat apples, oranges, grapes, and big candies on Christmas through the New Year season. They became symbols of Christmas for us because we didn’t eat them on ordinary days because they were expensive. Being expensive was not the reason we knew, but because those were the symbols to remind us that it’s Christmas. Just like Santa, Christmas trees, and Christmas lights. Even in ‘Noche Buena’, no matter how simple our meals were, there should be ham and cheese. Those were the Christmases we experienced growing up. 

Tatay and Nanay prepared that for all of us.

Now, when your world has become bigger and you realize that you can have new clothes and shoes whenever you want,. You can buy apples, oranges, and grapes if you go to the supermarket. You can buy food, especially ham and cheese, even without Christmas. If that is the case, then I miss being in a ‘small world’.

I enjoyed being with her. 

She would always bring me with her to the market in Meycauayan. I miss those days. Also in the school. I remember one day while we were riding a passenger Jeep going home. A drunk man got inside the Jeep and asked me to get off or stand because he wanted to sit down. I saw Nanay’s troubled face, but she kept it cool.

She was also my teacher. It happened during my third year of high school.  As Nanay was an English teacher, our  section had to move around the campus for different subjects. Before that, she told me, too, that I could be their English teacher.  It was kind of tough too because she was always focused on me, and when she asked some questions, she would call me,  no matter how hard I hid in the class. 

I haven't seen her since they moved to the USA in 1985, but I saw her again probably in 1990 or 1991. I just got back from China, and when I went home, she was there, and I was very happy to see her. After her going back to the United States, I haven’t seen her physically. We just kept sending letters wherever I was.  

After I had some personal family problems, even by letters, I didn’t feel any coldness from the way she wrote those letters.  She just kept on reminding me about how important my children's lives were.

As the years passed by, I communicated with Tatay via email, while Nanay was still sending her letters to me via post office. She always sent me updated photos of my brothers and sisters, their husbands, wives, girlfriends, and boyfriends. And most of all, she would send me updates and  photos of my children. 

Our communication developed into messaging. Both of them, Tatay and Nanay, sent me messages almost every day. They were both excited about me reconnecting with my daughters, and I gave them updates on my daughters’ weddings, children, and families. 

There was something about Nanay that made me always answer her messages immediately. One day, she messaged me goodnight.  But it was daytime, in my time, and I was in the middle of a management meeting.  When I stepped out of the meeting room, I saw her two messages.  One was the goodnight message, and the other was the message that read, “Hi anak, I am very worried about you not answering my message. Please don’t let me worry.”

When Tatay passed away last year, I called Nanay and told her how sorry I was for not contacting Tatay often.  I promised her that it would not happen to her. From then on, I tried my very best to call her every day, even during  my work time.   Sometimes, we talked for  a few minutes. Sometimes, it was longer minutes.  Every day  I talk to her, she ends it  with,  “Mag iingat ka lagi anak, malayo ka sa amin.  Wala ako dyan sa tabi mo pag nagkasakit  ka” (Be careful, my son; you are far from us. I'm not there by your side when you get sick.). Then she will end it by saying, “We love you; Tatay and I love you very much.”

Ironically, I was not by her side when she passed away.

Nanay's faith was so strong. Not a single negative thought.  One day we were talking about the past, and I only mentioned that I thought Tatay died because of the side effects from the COVID-19 vaccine.  I was expecting her to say something like, ‘well, probably’.  But instead, she said to me, “Don’t think about it like that. We are in a pandemic now, and those vaccines need to be tested and studied for the benefit of mankind. It is God’s will.”

When I was denied a US visa twice, that was really bothering me.  Why do those people not have any consideration?  I mentioned this to Nanay also, and she just told me. “Noel, believe that God allowed that not to happen; He must have a reason to do so. Those people are just doing their jobs, and it just happened that one of their jobs is to not give you a visa.” 

She always had a positive attitude.  Her faith in God was so strong that it sustained her all the way.

She was both excited and nervous about her surgery. She told me that  she wanted to walk again, even with a walker around Hannah’s (my sister) home.  But she told me, too, that she was  also nervous because she was already old.  I kept reminding her that God would be with her during the operation, and she would stop worrying.

Her operation was successful.  It was done on October 5, 2023.  I  received a message from her telling me that the operation was successful and she was excited to go home.

On October 7, I received a message, plain and simple. “I love you, Anak.".

Then, probably after that time or the next day, I received a message from my sister that our Nanay had suffered a stroke.

I didn’t see my mother for a very long time.  No hugs and kisses.  But the last 16 months of talking to each other everyday, even by phone, were the best months of my life. Nothing can bring her back again, but her memories live on.

I love you, Nanay.