I was born on June 13, 1967, into a well-known political family in the Philippines. My grandfather served as mayor during World War II, and my father followed in his footsteps, becoming mayor from 1959 to 1971. Growing up, privilege surrounded me, but with privilege came expectations—and pressures. I was the youngest of eleven siblings, and though we had influence and resources, life had its own plans for me.
When I was just eight years old, my mother passed away from cancer. Losing her at such a tender age left a void that no amount of privilege could fill. But life wasn’t done testing me. At nineteen, I lost my father—assassinated during his campaign for vice governor. Suddenly, I was an orphan, navigating life on my own, feeling both the weight of independence and the sting of loneliness.
Despite these tragedies, the blood of politics ran deep in our family. My eldest brother became mayor in 1987, transforming our town into a city. It felt like destiny. I, too, entered public service, becoming a city councilor from 2001 to 2004, and eventually one of the youngest congressmen from 2004 to 2007.
But beneath the surface of political success, my life was unraveling. The money and influence led me down dark paths—womanizing, gambling, and drinking. I squandered my inheritance recklessly. I bought an airplane to chase a childhood dream of becoming a pilot and opened a disco club where I lived out my reckless lifestyle. It was there I met Joan, the woman who would later become my wife, though our journey together was far from smooth.
Before meeting Joan, I had two children out of wedlock—Antonette and Jason—from different relationships. With Joan, life was chaotic. We moved from one failed business to another, living in financial ruin. At one point, we were so broke we had to live in my brother’s dirty kitchen, a small, makeshift shelter detached from his house. It was in that humble setting, with no food on the table one night, that I felt the first nudge from God.
I told Joan, “Let’s visit Pastor Sam’s church this Sunday.” We went, and during worship, something stirred in my heart. When the altar call came, I couldn’t resist. I walked forward, tears streaming down my face, surrendering to Jesus. Joan followed, and together we began a new chapter of faith. We were baptized and became active in the church, but my journey of transformation was far from over.
As my political career took off, so did my spiritual drift. I was surrounded by power, wealth, and influence, becoming close friends with President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and her son, Mikey. I became the spokesperson for their political party, and in the intoxication of success, I fell back into old habits—alcohol, gambling, and womanizing. I had everything the world could offer, yet I was spiritually bankrupt.
In 2007, I ran for re-election, confident I would win. I had all the resources—money, influence, and connections. But God had other plans. I lost by a mere 1,651 votes. It was a shock, but it was also God’s way of pulling me back. Still, I didn’t listen. I fled to the U.S. for a soul-searching trip but
returned to the Philippines and sank deeper into sin. I was living with my mistress, while Joan and our kids were in the States, and I spiraled into financial ruin and emotional despair.
By 2012, I was at rock bottom. My businesses had failed, and I was drinking on the streets. Then, on a flight from Manila to my hometown, God intervened. I was seated next to a man named Pastor Tun Bun Cham, who showed me his Bible and said, “This book changed my life.” That simple statement pierced my heart. He invited me to a church anniversary that Sunday, and I went. During the service, I set aside my prepared speech and shared my messy life story instead. That moment became the turning point—my mess became my message.
Word spread quickly, and I was invited to share my testimony at churches across the region. I started a small fellowship in my garage, which eventually grew into “Hope4Life Christian Fellowship”. I was reluctant to become a pastor, feeling unworthy, but God’s call was clear. Despite my past, He had a purpose for me.
But there was still unfinished business—my family. In 2014, I took a sabbatical, biking through the mountains of Ifugao, seeking God’s guidance. On the third day, my brother called out of the blue, offering to fund a trip to the U.S. to visit my family. I knew this was God’s answer. I packed my bags, including my mountain bike, unsure if I’d return to the Philippines or reconcile with my family.
On June 12, 2014, I arrived in San Diego unannounced. My eldest son opened the door, shocked to see me. Joan invited me to Denny’s, where she asked, “What are you doing here?” I had no answers, only a hope that God’s will would unfold. I stayed on the couch, cooking breakfast and leading morning Bible studies for Joan before work. Over time, walls began to crumble. One night, we all gathered in a room, tears flowing as I asked my children for forgiveness. It was a powerful moment of healing.
On August 28, 2014—our wedding anniversary—Joan handed me back my wedding ring. We were reconciled. God had restored what I thought was lost forever.
In 2015, I became the pastor of “Agape Church” in Poway, California. From the heights of political power to the depths of personal failure, God never let go of me. My story is proof that no matter how far we stray, His grace is always greater.
Final Thought:
If God can redeem my life, He can redeem yours. No matter how messy your past, He can turn it into a powerful message of hope. Let your mess be your message.