Priests and pastors have extraordinary faith, and have studied its tenets extensively. And yet, they, too, are all too human and are brought to the test.
But perhaps, it is in their humanity that they are able to give witness to the strength and saving power of their faith.
Camilo “Milo” Salazar Rivera is an associate pastor of the Word International Ministries (WIN) church, a non-denominational fellowship with branches in the Philippines and abroad. Milo and his wife Lalaine, a member of the church’s financial committee, attend services at the new Ayala Malls Circuit Makati.
Both Milo and Lalaine are COVID-19 survivors and their ordeal — yes, it was both a physical and spiritual ordeal — shook the foundations of Milo’s faith.
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After experiencing persistent symptoms, the couple had their checkup together, but Milo’s case was more serious. They were both admitted for confinement at the Makati Medical Center on March 16.
“When the doctors saw my X-ray, they put me on oxygen. Then further X-rays and blood tests, painful extractions, showed my lungs were deteriorating fast and they had to urgently intubate me. Not knowing what it was and with the gravity of their look, I agreed. Little did I realize it would be a very, very painful experience,” recalls Milo, who was only discharged from the hospital on April 9.
“It was my first time to get hospitalized with nobody around to help and watch over me,” Lalaine, for her part, recalls. She and Milo were on different floors. “I had to do everything alone — eating using one hand, going to the toilet, pulling my dextrose stand while catching my breath, measuring my fluid intake and outtake.”
But Lalaine worried more about Milo. “My greatest worry was my husband who was also confined on another floor. He has a pre-existing illness and his case was more severe than mine. I became more scared when he was intubated one week later.”
“In my helplessness and desperation, I would cry out to God, pleading for strength, healing, mercy and peace,” adds Lalaine.
Unbeknownst to her, Milo was suffering from a weakening of faith, not just of the body.
Milo admits, “As a pastor, Jesus gave me strength. But oh, the mental debates and pleadings. WHY LORD? Why do I have to go through the very worst scenario? Sometimes they had a TV on and I watched COVID-infected people dancing and doing things in their rooms just waiting for Day 14. Why not like this, Lord?”
Then his morale would further be eroded by messages from friends saying some of their relatives and loved ones had died of the virus. “Would I die?” Milo asked himself. A strong gust of fresh oxygen was seemingly infused into him when he heard a few days later that Lalaine was allowed to go home. “That gave me much encouragement. ‘At least, God,’ I told myself, ‘One finished, one left to go’.”
“Every day I pleaded with the doctors and asked when it would be over and they would say ‘not yet, your lungs are still not healed.’ Every day was a pain waking up and me literally on the edge of despair,” admits Milo.
“And, yes, I felt it even as a pastor.”
He also found himself an angry man. There were the bills. He also became sensitive to comments on social media of people “dying of boredom” during the Luzon-wide lockdown when here he was, hearing the painful coughing fits of COVID patients next door.
“What the h—l does that even mean? You don’t have enough channels and social media variety?” he would say in incredulity for there were people who were literally dying around him due to COVID-19.
Then his anger subsided and was replaced by a sobering thought. “I could either be one of the slowly recovering few, or among the growing fatalities. It came to a point I stopped begging. I don’t know when it happened, but I just said, ‘Lord Jesus, every day you wake me up, it is a gift. If not, then I am with you in a far better and safer place.”
Milo says that it was at this point of surrender to the will of God that “even the nurses at the Makati Medical Center saw a change in my demeanor, no more crying and begging.”
Instead, the Milo they saw was smiling more often, “Even as I endured those blood extractions, giving them a thumbs-up for taking care of me every moment.”
Gratitude can be the best medicine. Lalaine and Milo were overwhelmed by the outpouring of support they received. “You never know how your goodness will be repaid. True friends will always share in your trials and victories,” says Lalaine.
Finally, the day Milo had once been begging the Lord for finally dawned.
“And then the day came that I was strong enough to be extubated. That was miracle No.1, I would live, I would not be part of the grim statistics. As I prepared to go home, I watched on TV that on that same day, thousands died worldwide of this unseen evil plague. I am humbled, honored, blessed and know something greater is now expected of me — to make the lives of those who perished matter.”
Then, miracle No. 2. “Friends, officemates, former classmates, people we had not heard of in a very long time, even people who lived abroad, collectively poured out their generosity and gave us enough money to pay for our bills in the meantime (before the amount is reimbursed by PhilHealth). At least I could finally check out.” (The Makati Medical Center has drawn praise for its number of recovered COVID patients.)
Once together in sickness and back together again in health, Milo and Lalaine are each other’s walking miracles.
“Through the pain, I realized that the time that I did not feel God’s hand still holding me… was the time I had already let go of it myself. My greatest revelation? Jesus made it very clear: ‘Even when you already gave up, I never gave up on you’.”