Reflection by Sem. Jan Ernest Pàting
Marunong ka bang tumakbo?
I believe many of us here have run before. We ran because we were late—late for school, so we ran to catch a jeepney; late for Mass, so we ran through hallways and stairs to beat the bell; late for a meet-up with a friend, so we hurried to the door.
We spend much of our lives running. Running toward our goals. Running toward success. Running toward certainty. Running toward a future we imagine will finally make everything worthwhile. Nagmamadali tayo.
The servants see weeds growing among the wheat and immediately ask the master, “Do you want us to go and pull them up?” It seems like a reasonable question. After all, who would willingly allow weeds to remain in the field? Then the master refuses. He tells them to wait. And maybe that is the hardest command God gives us—not to work, not to sacrifice, not even to suffer, but to wait.
I remember last summer vacation when a friend asked me, “Pats, sure ka ba sa pagpapari na ‘yan? Katagal naman, ano?” I replied with my usual answer, “Kung pagpapalain.” Then he said, “Pagpalain naman sana. Ikaw na bahala sa’min ng girlfriend ko; ikaw ang magkasal sa amin, ah?”
Dalawang bagay ang pumasok sa isip ko. Una, kung maging pari man ako, matagal pa iyon; second year pa lang ako. Sure na ‘yan? At pangalawa, sabi ko sa sarili ko, baka naman next month lang ay wala na sila.
Looking back, it is true that formation is long. More often than not, we joke about it. “Mag-aasawa na lang ako, mas mabilis pa,” or “Kulang pala sa pari; ordinahan na dapat ako bukas.” When we really look at it, we begin to see things. We struggle with anything that takes time. We struggle with unfinished journeys. We struggle with becoming. Nagmamadali tayo.
But wheat does not grow faster because we grow impatient. The tragedy is that we often treat ourselves the way the servants treated the field. We see our weaknesses and want them gone immediately. We see our recurring sins and demand instant holiness. We see our shortcomings and become frustrated that we are not yet who we wish to be. Even our relationships suffer from this impatience. We want people to change quickly. We want misunderstandings resolved immediately.
We want growth without struggle, healing without pain, and harvest without seasons. Nagmamadali tayo. And we need stillness in the waiting.
Yet the Lord looks upon the field differently. The servants saw weeds; the Master saw wheat. The servants saw a problem; the Master saw a process. The servants wanted immediate solutions; the Master trusted time. Maybe that is why God allows the wheat and the weeds to grow together. Because the weeds are not the only things growing—the wheat is growing too. Nagmamadali tayo. And we need stillness in the waiting.
The temptation is to think that the weeds are the story—the failures, the temptations, the disappointments, the wounds, the uncertainties. We become so focused on them that we forget to notice the wheat quietly maturing beside them. But it is often in those very struggles that grace does its deepest work. It is in the acceptance of our sufferings that the meaning of life is revealed. And in that revelation, we find true happiness.
Not because suffering is good, not because the weeds are beautiful, but because God refuses to waste them. He transforms them into places where patience is learned, humility is born, and love becomes real.
As someone who always wants things done quickly, this is difficult for me. I love progress. I like results. I want to arrive quickly. But then I ponder another kind of running.
Remember when we were children? I suppose everyone here has played tag, hide-and-seek, or patintero before. Tumakbo naman tayo noon. Pero iba ang pagtakbo natin. Hindi tayo tumakbo dahil may hinahabol tayong gusto nating makamit. Tumakbo tayo dahil naglalaro tayo. Ang saya ng mga panahong iyon, ano? Na kahit madapa tayo, babangon pa rin tayo at magpapatuloy. Hindi dahil kailangan nating makarating kung saan, kundi dahil masaya lang tumakbo. Nagmamadali tayo. But we need to see freedom in the running.
Somewhere along the way, we stopped running like children. We began running like servants anxious about the harvest. We became afraid of wasting time, afraid of making mistakes, afraid of not becoming enough. And so, we forgot how to trust the field. The Master in the Gospel invites us to recover that forgotten trust.
To trust that God is already at work beneath the surface, to trust that growth is happening even when we cannot see it, to trust that the harvest belongs not to our impatience but to His providence. Nagmamadali tayo. But we need to see freedom in the running.
We spend much of our lives running toward the harvest, only to discover that when it finally arrives, the greatest miracle was not the season that grew the wheat, but the Hands that nurtured our hearts to patiently wait for it. Stillness in the waiting—a heart cannot be rushed into bloom. Freedom in the running—we are children chasing joy, not servants racing fear.
There is beauty in uncertainty. Kung papipiliin ka, tumakbo hanggang sa hindi mo mamalayang oras na o tumakbo nang may hinahabol na hangaring hindi makamit, ano ang sagot mo sa tanong:
Marunong ka bang tumakbo?
Amen.
By Jan Ernest Pàting
A second-year AB Philosophy student and aspirant of the Society of Saint Paul. He is currently discerning his vocation to the religious life inspired by the footsteps of the great apostle Paul.