October 25, 2024 at 9:46 am
I stand before you with a heavy heart as we honor and remember my father, a dedicated pastor whose life was a testament to faith, love, and sacrifice. It brings me to tears knowing that he is no longer with us, and as I see him lying here, I am reminded of the countless times he stood where someone else... Read more
I stand before you with a heavy heart as we honor and remember my father, a dedicated pastor whose life was a testament to faith, love, and sacrifice. It brings me to tears knowing that he is no longer with us, and as I see him lying here, I am reminded of the countless times he stood where someone else now does, delivering sermons that touched our souls.
One of my earliest memories of him was when he was 35 years old, weeping over something unknown to me at the time. This image is etched in my mind, a reminder that even in his strength, my father carried his own burdens.
He was my hero. I remember a day at the beach when I almost drowned. Without hesitation, my father saved me, risking his own life. That was who he was—a man who put others before himself, even at great personal cost.
Despite not having much, my father gave generously. He found ways to provide us with joys, like a Nintendo SNES and a PlayStation, even when money was scarce. He had no vices—no smoking, no drinking, no extravagant hobbies. Instead, his joy came from his family and his ministry.
One of his most memorable sermons was during Love Day at Lapanday. It was his best, and I couldn’t have been prouder. Listening to him that day, I thought he could have been anything, even a politician, but he chose the path of service and faith.
Even when his health began to fail—when his kidneys were weakening, and his body was frail—he never wavered in his duties. He attended church services, charged conferences, and even Zoom meetings, determined to serve and bless others until the very end.
In all my years, I cannot recall a time when he raised his voice in anger at my mother or us. He was a man of peace and patience. Though he had no wealth—no land, no car, no material possessions—his true treasure was the people he touched, the lives he mentored, and the hearts he changed.
He did not desire power or material things like land or a car. I remember him learning to ride a motorcycle, a Yamaha L2, and during braking, he would always fall. There was even a time when he and my mom were caught by the traffic police, but somehow they always managed to get away with it. My dad wasn’t materialistic, and he often joked about selling his land just so he could give something to his grandsons and granddaughters. We would laugh, knowing how selfless and generous he was, even in the smallest things.
One of my deepest regrets is not spending more time with him. Yet, I know that his love and the lessons he taught me will stay with me forever.
As I sing Lord, I Offer My Life to You, I am reminded of his unwavering devotion to God. His life, in every way, was an offering. The lyrics echo his life and the legacy he leaves behind:
Lord, I offer my life to You,
Everything I’ve been through,
Use it for Your glory.
Lord, I offer my days to You,
Lifting my praise to You,
As a pleasing sacrifice.
Lord, I offer You my life.
Dad, your life was a sacrifice, and now we offer you back to God, grateful for the gift you were to us. May your legacy live on in the lives of those you’ve touched, and may your spirit find rest in His eternal embrace.... Collapse
One of my earliest memories of him was when he was 35 years old, weeping over something unknown to me at the time. This image is etched in my mind, a reminder that even in his strength, my father carried his own burdens.
He was my hero. I remember a day at the beach when I almost drowned. Without hesitation, my father saved me, risking his own life. That was who he was—a man who put others before himself, even at great personal cost.
Despite not having much, my father gave generously. He found ways to provide us with joys, like a Nintendo SNES and a PlayStation, even when money was scarce. He had no vices—no smoking, no drinking, no extravagant hobbies. Instead, his joy came from his family and his ministry.
One of his most memorable sermons was during Love Day at Lapanday. It was his best, and I couldn’t have been prouder. Listening to him that day, I thought he could have been anything, even a politician, but he chose the path of service and faith.
Even when his health began to fail—when his kidneys were weakening, and his body was frail—he never wavered in his duties. He attended church services, charged conferences, and even Zoom meetings, determined to serve and bless others until the very end.
In all my years, I cannot recall a time when he raised his voice in anger at my mother or us. He was a man of peace and patience. Though he had no wealth—no land, no car, no material possessions—his true treasure was the people he touched, the lives he mentored, and the hearts he changed.
He did not desire power or material things like land or a car. I remember him learning to ride a motorcycle, a Yamaha L2, and during braking, he would always fall. There was even a time when he and my mom were caught by the traffic police, but somehow they always managed to get away with it. My dad wasn’t materialistic, and he often joked about selling his land just so he could give something to his grandsons and granddaughters. We would laugh, knowing how selfless and generous he was, even in the smallest things.
One of my deepest regrets is not spending more time with him. Yet, I know that his love and the lessons he taught me will stay with me forever.
As I sing Lord, I Offer My Life to You, I am reminded of his unwavering devotion to God. His life, in every way, was an offering. The lyrics echo his life and the legacy he leaves behind:
Lord, I offer my life to You,
Everything I’ve been through,
Use it for Your glory.
Lord, I offer my days to You,
Lifting my praise to You,
As a pleasing sacrifice.
Lord, I offer You my life.
Dad, your life was a sacrifice, and now we offer you back to God, grateful for the gift you were to us. May your legacy live on in the lives of those you’ve touched, and may your spirit find rest in His eternal embrace.... Collapse