By Apollos Cutamora

                I would try if I could to pick a rose from that garden and give it to you that you may smell its fragrance. But that rose is not without thorns, for his life was both characterized with beauty and failures. Its beauty touched my life and its failures caused me to learn.

                There were nights when his laboring hands would touch my little shoulders, waking me up with his voice barely a whisper, telling me to go with him under the old tree that stood at the elementary school grounds and there partner with him in prayer. He used to wake me up when I was deep in my dreams. It was worrisome at times but he assured me that it would someday mean a lot to me. Those nights when my five-to-six-year-old figure walked back and forth stepping in his shadow, my very young mind could not figure out such things. But now it is fair day clear to me when I think of the ministry.

                Apart from such prayer nights, my head grew with his hands touching it when I was fast asleep as he uttered prayers such as, “Lord save this child. Lord, I have no greater plea but that you will use Apollos greatly in the ministry and do great things in his life.”

                I learned to love the Lord and His word more than I love him because he introduced me to Bible truths at a very young age. All his seven children learned figures, numbers, letters and reading in his tutorial. The first book he made us read is the “scriptures.” He was a pastor and during those moments when he spoke with God to prepare sermons, he would call me that I may partake of the manna he ate at the Lord’s table. I received a passion for studying the Bible and preaching and only later did I realize he named me “Apollos” after a Bible character who was known to be an eloquent man, mighty in scripture, instructed in the way of the Lord, fervent in spirit, spoke and taught diligently the things of the Lord. (Acts 18: 24-25)

                As I sat on the first pew of our church where we children are told to sit every worship service, I am consumed with the fire he preaches with unction at the pulpit.

                He was a man of principle and discipline. His iron fists taught me to be strong in standing for what is right. His were arms that protected me from evil influences and arms that gave confidence when I was weak. It is said that “instruction plus love plus insistence equals effective training.” Yes, it is! He instructed me with practical things in life as well as Biblical truths. He loved me and taught me to love others and love what God loves. And most of all, he did not waver nor compromise his standards. He exacted obedience from among those whom he taught.

                Our home was under his dictatorship of discipline, but also a dictatorship of love. Though he failed God at the latter part of his life when he engaged in politics and forsook ministerial duties, there will never be a man stronger, gentler, better than he in my heart.

                January 14, 2005 ended all his sufferings from liver cirrhosis and his friend named Death shook his hand and welcomed him to the bright portals of blessed eternity. What was left in his sickness-torn face that day was a single drop of tear. That tear, followed by thousands of drops from mine became a reminder of how he brought me up with the cold dews of the night and with tears he shed when we prayed together in the tranquility of the night. That tear irrigated my heart to be more fruitful for God.

                You ask me how much he influenced my life? Let eternity open up its mouth for the declaration. His course lies silent in the grave but his life is extended through mine.

                That was how Raul A. Cutamora, my father, my pastor, my friend, my mentor, my teacher did teach and touch my life.