 ‘The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.’ (The Bible) You may have heard it said a picture can paint a thousand words. This image (above), captured by Jasmin’s daughter, Mary, this week, spoke more to me about the authentic meaning of Christmas than any I’ve seen on glitzy, tacky TV ads. Jasmin, Mary, Paul and a small group of inspired students in the Philippines spent their Christmas bringing good news to the poor. Their first venture involved taking gifts and running a fun-filled party for 127 poverty-stricken children and their families who live in a cemetery. It brought hope to people on the margins of society who so often live without hope. The joy on the children’s faces was incredible. That brought joy to Jasmin and her helpers too. True light brings light, and it reflects back too. Today, Christmas day, Jasmin, Mary and Paul ventured out again, this time to take gifts and the message of Divine love to 173 poverty-stricken children and families who live on the streets. The look of surprise and joy on their faces was life-giving too. They could never have imagined being seen, valued and loved like this. The people walking in darkness have seen a great Light.
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 ‘Missing from the line-up are the leaders of four of the world’s five most-polluting economies – China, the United States, India and Russia.’ (Volcovici & Paraguassu) I received a message from a close friend in the Philippines this morning, on the same day the UN Climate Change Conference (COP30) is due to open in Belém, Brazil. It was stark news in the aftermath of Typhoon Tino this week: ‘Just below my home, an entire family including their makeshift house were carried away by the raging floods. Their bodies haven’t been found.’ The head in the oil-drenched sand, climate-denying US Drill Baby, Drill Administration has chosen to send no-one to the talks. Words fail me.  ‘Sometimes it takes a natural disaster to reveal a social disaster.’ (Jim Wallis) I didn’t sleep well last night. This time, it wasn’t fake news. Typhoon Tino hit hard and battered central Philippines, leaving at least 188 people dead and thousands of others’ fragile homes and livelihoods shattered. It came on the back of a 6.9 earthquake in the same region just weeks ago that left at least 74 people dead and countless others injured or without homes. Jasmin called me from within the Signal 4 storm itself last night, just before the power cut off. Wind and rain were lashing at her windows, along with windswept objects crashing against the glass. Trees outside were uprooted violently and thrown to the ground. She looked anxious and I felt terrified. The deep flood waters that followed have left much of the area underwater. Thank God, she managed to message me this morning with snapshots of the devastation outside, yet her family safe on the inside. We had prayed hard last night – Jasmin with faith and me in near desperation – and I had a mysterious dream of Jesus alongside her there, reflecting a supernatural biblical account of Presence and survival in impossible circumstances.  ‘Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.’ (Ambrose Redmoon) I don’t know if I’d be brave enough. Heading out into the mountains to reach the poorest and most vulnerable is a noble task, not least to demonstrate to those who feel vulnerable and abandoned that they’re not alone, not forgotten, and that someone sees them. One little girl galvanised Jasmin’s determination. She had messaged her Dad, pleading for him to find a way to get to her. She felt scared. He was some distance away in a city, working in a school in a low-paid job, trying to earn enough money to send her and her family emergency supplies. Yet she wanted him there beside her, to feel safer. The recent earthquakes in the Philippines, along with on-going aftershocks some 3 weeks later, have left their family home in ruins. Now living under a tarpaulin in the pouring rain, this girl has, thankfully, salvaged a solar charger which has given her enough power to charge up her cell phone. Her Mum is doing what she can to share their dwindling supplies of rice with others trapped in similar circumstances in their remote vicinity. Mudslides and sink holes make reaching them treacherous. Mountain tracks swept away or blocked by fallen trees and debris make a difficult journey almost impossible. Jasmin can’t read a map and a wise friend cautions her about the risks. I ask her, ‘How will you find your way through the jungle, across such impassable terrain, to reach them?’ I know that, in Jasmin’s mind, I’m asking the wrong question. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to go with someone who knows those mountains?’ I sense my questions are falling on deaf ears. I’m talking about logistics, safety and other rational considerations. Jasmin ‘s first priorities are love, faith and a yearning to be-with. She wants to make real the presence of Jesus, to be alongside them in situ, to see and hear first hand what they need.  ‘Bad things do happen in the world like war, natural disasters and disease. But out of those situations always arise stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things.’ (Daryn Kagan) A recent qualitative research study in Peru in the aftermath of El Niño (2025) could have equally applied to life and communities in places like the Philippines. In terms of psychosocial impacts of ‘natural’ disasters and their intersecting contributory causes, the pattern is all too painfully familiar. People and communities in various parts of the Philippines this week are living with the physical, psychological and emotional aftershocks of shattering earthquakes, compounded by the damaging effects of devastating typhoons. I hesitate to use the word natural. Although we wouldn’t attribute the underlying causes of earthquakes to human activity, we couldn’t say the same of violent tropical storms where human-impacted climate change is an increasingly significant factor. A disaster occurs when hazard meets vulnerability. The poor are often the most vulnerable to the causes and impacts of hazards, including the ability to avoid, mitigate or recover from them – and poverty, albeit a complex phenomenon itself, is far from a ‘natural’ state. The research report I alluded to above identifies a number of interrelated issues that impact on psychosocial health: personal memories and lived experience of previous disasters; chronic and acute effects of the disaster (‘It’s not a now problem; it’s an always problem’); attributing blame and responsibilities; coping and resilience (including faith and relational dimensions); psychosocial distress (including personal and vicarious trauma); perceived (un)fairness in aid distribution; systemic corruption and distrust. Against this complex and, in some ways, overwhelming backdrop, I’m still inspired and find hope in the faith and actions of those people who transcend self-interest to stand alongside those in need. Jasmin lacks the material and political resources to address the macro issues, yet persistently steps out of her comfort zone directly into disaster zones equipped only with a spiritual presence (a ‘sacred encounter’) – Divine love – that, in its own unique way, offers deep psychosocial healing and hope – and the strength to go on.  ‘My scars remind me that I did indeed survive my deepest wounds.’ (Steve Goodier)
The earthquakes that shook the Philippines recently shook me too, albeit on the other side of the world. On hearing that her parents’ simple home made from timber and corrugated iron had collapsed, one young woman trekked there from a city with emergency supplies of water and food. I try to imagine what that must feel like. News reports had shown that one family’s home nearby had been buried by a landslide triggered by the earthquake. Only their baby survived. This young woman didn’t know what to expect. Mud tracks were blocked by fallen trees and communications were down. Still, she persevered. On approaching what had been a village, desperate people pleaded with her with open hands for some drinking water. What a terrible ethical and emotional dilemma to face. To save her own family or to save these strangers? (I feel sure I’d prioritise my own loved ones, then try to learn to live with the guilt as well as I could). Thank God, she found her parents alive, living alongside others under makeshift tarpaulins. Pouring rain at the wet tail end of a typhoon hadn’t helped. People were forced to lift their few salvaged possessions as high as they could off the ground to keep them dry, then to sit on the muddy ground, clasping their knees, until it passed. This determined young woman, she herself poor, will head back again this week armed with faith, hope and love – and all the supplies she can muster.  ‘Let nothing frighten you.’ (Teresa of Ávila) A powerful earthquake struck the Philippines this evening, breaking roads and causing chaos. Traffic stopped abruptly to avoid falling down deep cracks and buildings creaked under the stress and strain. People raced from their homes in case of collapse and ran into the streets. Jasmin was falling to sleep at the time, was shaken awake when she felt the house move, and quickly grabbed her daughter from the shower to get outside. It was when the earth stood still again that she noticed she was wearing only a nightdress and her daughter only a towel. Venturing cautiously back inside, they peered carefully to see if there was any damage to the walls or to the ceiling. It means sleeping downstairs tonight in case of shuddering aftershocks. I was struck again by Jasmin’s calmness, her trust in God in the face of danger. She inspires me.  ‘What then is freedom? The power to live as one wishes.’ (Marcus Tullius Cicero) He’s a very poor student in the Philippines who diligently attends all his university lectures. At the end of each day, he works hard at night in his aunt’s shop, in exchange for a bowl of rice for breakfast and a simple evening meal. One his classmates noticed that he never eats anything for lunch. Not wanting to embarrass him, she mentioned this to the Student Affairs Director and, aware of his difficult financial position, kindly offered to bring in extra food for him. The Director agreed to think of a way of raising this with him sensitively. One day, she passed this young man in the corridor and asked him to do her a favour – to buy a large bottle of drinking water for her office where she supports some of the poorer students, if she gave him the money to do it. He readily agreed. When he brought it to her room, she invited him to sit down for a chat. She mentioned his classmate’s concern and offer to sound out his response. This student explained he appreciated the gesture of support, yet would prefer not to accept it. Firstly, he didn’t want to depend on others, especially on a young woman as he would find it more culturally-appropriate to provide for her instead. Secondly, he has developed a personal discipline of not-eating during the day, and his body has adjusted to it. If he were regularly to eat lunch, it would disrupt his strict routine and make it harder to return to it if he needed to. The Director respected his stance and asked if, instead, he would like to join her and some others in her office at lunchtimes, perhaps to help out with some practical tasks that would be useful to her and to other poor students. Again, he readily agreed. Each day now that he comes to her office, she offers him some of her own food and, on occasion, he accepts it. I admire his remarkable spirit of independence, and her wise discretion in avoiding imposing “help”.  ‘If you judge people, you have no time to love them. Peace begins with a smile.’ (Mother Teresa) Jasmin sets off today for a 1-month visit to the UK. It feels important. After all, it’s not that often that a ‘wild jungle girl’ (as she calls herself) gets to fly across the world to such a different place. I’m always intrigued by the unique world she brings with her too – her presence, her stance, her culture; the profound experiences that have shaped her life and, through her, mine too. It feels like hosting a totally unique person who, although she regards herself (at 5 feet tall) as very small, lives like Mother Teresa and has an incredible impact in the lives of the poor. I’m aware of feeling a deep sense of anticipation as I write this – something like a strange mix of excitement and dread. Although we speak online ever day, I haven’t seen her in person for almost 3 years. Will I be aware and sensitive enough to her needs? Will I find myself being over-protective when she encounters things here that could surprise or hurt her? I’m painfully aware, for instance, of our relative wealth, the ease with which we spend and indulge while she lives among those who have hardly enough to survive. It feels shameful and embarrassing. Yet I notice she doesn’t judge or, if she does, that she hides it well. She’s too focused on God (whom she calls her own Father) to become distracted by the things that so often and so easily preoccupy us in this world. She believes the poor – and the rich – are precious to God and that that’s what matters most. She views every interaction with a person (even the hostile Filipino immigration officer who confronted her harshly at the airport today) as a ‘sacred encounter’, an opportunity to follow Jesus by sharing his compassion and love. I want to be more like her.  ‘Every child you encounter is a divine appointment.’ (Wess Stafford) Words can’t capture it. Photos can’t express it. I can’t find a way to do it justice. The sheer, vibrant joy and excitement of 127 children this Christmas on receiving what they had asked for – a bag each with bright-coloured notepads, pens and a handful of sweets. Rewind for a moment. These kids live in a city cemetery in the Philippines. Yes, a cemetery, among the gravestones and broken down mausolea. Desperately poor, their families cling to the edges of society, surviving invisibly at meagre subsistence level. Imagine it. A Filipina saw them. She remembered vividly and painfully how, as a child living in dire poverty too, she never received a Christmas gift. Other children did and that felt sad and confusing. In her child's mind, she concluded that she must have done something wrong. It was only later in life that she learned that wealthier parents had paid Santa to distribute gifts to their own children. This experience burned deep in her soul. She’d always returned home heavy-hearted and empty-handed. She determined that these kids wouldn't. Back to now. The children knew something special was about to happen. She’d asked them in advance what they’d love – if God enabled a way to make it possible. ‘School bags!’ they replied. It was a humble and humbling request. As she arrived, the tension was tangible, the kids straining in eager anticipation to see what she’d brought. The Filipina had packed every gift individually, beautifully and prayerfully so that each child would know they are seen, valued and loved. The children skipped, sang and danced. A sacred encounter. What a gift. Remember the poor. We can be hope.  |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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