Kindness Is Not Consent

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” – Romans 8:28

The road to Pansagan felt longer than it was. I sat beside my partner, my heart pulled two ways: excitement on one side, fear on the other. Will they accept us? Will we survive here? I had no answers. Only a quiet whisper from God: “I am going before you.”

When we arrived, the first thing that captured my heart was the coconut trees. They stood everywhere, tall and swaying in the wind, as if welcoming every visitor. At first, I thought they were just part of the scenery. I was wrong.

In Pansagan, the coconut tree is not just a tree. It is life.

It is the food on the table. Its wood becomes walls and roofs, and its leaves become mats and baskets. Its fruit becomes copra, then oil, then income that sends children to school and puts rice in the pot. From root to leaf, nothing is wasted. Standing beneath those trees, I began to understand that this was God’s provision, quietly caring for these families long before we came.

The people were just as generous. Even with little, they shared a cup of coffee, a plate of rice, a fresh coconut opened just for us. Their homes were simple, but their hearts were wide open.

But kindness, I would learn, is not the same as consent.

Soon we learned that nine in ten were devout Roman Catholics. Only 6.81 percent shared our faith. We were a small light in a community whose beliefs ran through generations, their identity, their culture, their family history. The rejection came softly, and that made it harder. “Maybe next time.” 

Some whispered that we had come to divide their community. That one hurt most, because all we wanted was to share love. Then the loneliness came. At night, homesickness sat heavy on my chest. I missed my family until it ached. With few materials and no transportation, I knelt and wept, begging God for strength to take one more step. We had scattered seeds, and the soil lay silent.

Then, in the hush after one evening’s prayer, a thought came, clear as a bell in an empty room: You were not sent to win an argument. You were sent to win hearts. Everything changed. We stopped debating and started listening.

Each morning we spoke their names to heaven. Each evening we gave thanks for small mercies: a child who memorized a verse, a mother who came to a meeting, a father who let us pray in his home. Each one felt like a miracle.

Slowly, hearts began to soften.

I held on to His promise: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9) The people of Pansagan are like their coconut trees. They give freely and hold nothing back. And in the end, they taught me to do the same.

Name: Jhon Ace A. Cuenca | 67th Batch | 1000MM

Mission Field: Pansagan, Baybay City, Leyte

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