Shivering, disheveled and starving, a young man’s frail and pale body is coiled on an abandoned hotel’s floor. His hands are soiled with his own fecal matter which he would shove into his mouth whenever he is high on illegal substances that wasted away his youth.
One night, a young preacher happened by. His heart was broken upon seeing the helpless guy, either abandoned by family and friends, or a stowaway. The preacher had no idea who the young man was. All he saw was his need to be rescued from an unconscionable condition and inevitable death.
Together with his fellow workers in the ministry, the young preacher nourished the young man back to life for weeks and months until his body regained strength and his mind was back to normal.
It was the early ‘80s. The young drug dependent happened to be from one of Davao City’s prominent families. In gratitude to the young preacher he came to know as Pastor Apollo Quiboloy, the young man gifted his new friend with a shirt (with letter “J” on it) before they parted ways.
Even in his early years of struggle, and in times when he and his co-workers barely had food to eat, Pastor Apollo’s heart of compassion has always been the same. He was giving even when he almost had nothing. It is the Almighty Father’s love embedded in him. It is that Divine Love that prevailed when he went through the anvil in two mountains when he was but alone, and his love had to be tested through the furnace of affliction.
It’s the same unflinching love, zeal and compassion when his name was unheard of, to this day when he has everything he could ever wish for.
Aren’t we all at some point the same young man covered with dirt and muck, until He found us in the dark, cleansed us, and gave us a new life without knowing who we are or where we are from?
If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.