being a leader means carrying a heavy, heavy cross—one that requires the power of the Almighty.
it is being disrespected, for merely doing the right thing.
paving the way, but having that way questioned because of the struggles along the path.
it is standing up, when everyone else have remained numb.
when everyone deems trying as a habit instead of a leap of faith that things could still change, yet still holding onto that hope.
it is always showing mercy because that is what Christ would have done, yet having that same mercy taken for granted.
it is rewiring the meaning of sacrifices, where "sleepless nights" become an understatement because no one else knows how long you've been sleep-deprived or how your body would ache from constantly running and chasing for that golden hour.
and it is keeping all of these hidden because no safe space becomes itself when its contingents see a crack, even a small one, and you cannot risk to wreak panic when you are credited for the trust they laid upon you.
and yet, who am i to assume perfection? free from flaws and constantly keeping my hair up as to not let a strand of it fall for defeat?
when the weight becomes heavier, it isn't me alone who must carry it but Christ who has already died and proved His love for me.
there then is a question of carrying a heavier cross than this—one that would surely break my limbs and snap my neural nerves.
yet, is it my cross to carry?
God, is this cross meant for me? should i carry it for Your Glory? or do you have others lined up for me? is this in accordance with Your perfect plan?
i plead, oh Lord, that Your will be done.
if it's my cross to carry, then so be it.
if i shall bleed and break, then so be it.
if You have destined me for another cross, then so be it.
Father, in this time of great uncertainty, i trust that You will put me into my rightful place—to a cross that You have perfectly prepared for me that i shall be then prepared for.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 6:17 AM UTC
being a leader means carrying a heavy, heavy cross—one that requires the power of the Almighty.
it is being disrespected, for merely doing the right thing.
paving the way, but having that way questioned because of the struggles along the path.
it is standing up, when everyone else have remained numb.
when everyone deems trying as a habit instead of a leap of faith that things could still change, yet still holding onto that hope.
it is always showing mercy because that is what Christ would have done, yet having that same mercy taken for granted.
it is rewiring the meaning of sacrifices, where "sleepless nights" become an understatement because no one else knows how long you've been sleep-deprived or how your body would ache from constantly running and chasing for that golden hour.
and it is keeping all of these hidden because no safe space becomes itself when its contingents see a crack, even a small one, and you cannot risk to wreak panic when you are credited for the trust they laid upon you.
and yet, who am i to assume perfection? free from flaws and constantly keeping my hair up as to not let a strand of it fall for defeat?
when the weight becomes heavier, it isn't me alone who must carry it but Christ who has already died and proved His love for me.
there then is a question of carrying a heavier cross than this—one that would surely break my limbs and snap my neural nerves.
yet, is it my cross to carry?
God, is this cross meant for me? should i carry it for Your Glory? or do you have others lined up for me? is this in accordance with Your perfect plan?
i plead, oh Lord, that Your will be done.
if it's my cross to carry, then so be it.
if i shall bleed and break, then so be it.
if You have destined me for another cross, then so be it.
Father, in this time of great uncertainty, i trust that You will put me into my rightful place—to a cross that You have perfectly prepared for me that i shall be then prepared for.
Request permission to use this poem