Diving Into Invisible Springs in Barren Places: Guided by ‘My Angel’ Through Meandering Paths in Tondo, Manila

If I could sit across from the person I was ten years ago—the one in a crisp suit anxiously tracking corporate targets—and tell him his future “office” would be a scarred plastic chair or the cold floor of a house church in a seemingly forgotten community, he might politely laugh and check his watch.

This is not a story about my courage. It is about the quiet ways God works through ordinary people and unnoticed moments.

My footsteps in Tondo are only one among many stories of humble service quietly unfolding every day. Absolutely!

Sometimes, the greatest journeys begin in places we never planned to go. We step into the unknown, unsure whether our choices will lead to success or struggle.

One afternoon, during the height of the strict COVID lockdown—when movement was limited as fear of infection lingered in every interaction—I was walking through a narrow street, carrying a small bag of oranges I had just bought from the Pavia wet market. The streets were quieter than usual, yet the tension in the air was unmistakable.

Then I saw Yoncé, a young girl from our church, approaching me. There was urgency in her eyes.

“Pastor,” she said, her voice low but steady, “my whole family has COVID. My mother asked if you could pray for us.”

For a moment, I felt the weight of both her request and my own humanity. The risk was real. The uncertainty was real. In that brief pause, fear whispered its questions—about safety, about distance, about what wisdom required in such a time.

But standing before me was not a problem to analyze. It was a child, now holding back tears, asking for prayer.

“Where are they?” I asked gently.

She pointed toward their humble, wooden dwelling just a few steps away.

I handed her some of the oranges I was carrying. “Take these to your family,” I said. “They will help give you strength.”

Then, right there in the covered corner of the street, we paused.

“Lord,” I prayed quietly, “please watch over Yoncé and her family. Be their healing, their strength, and their peace… In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

When I opened my eyes, she nodded—simple, quiet trust, unburdened by the complexities that had momentarily filled my mind.

“Thank you, Pastor,” she said with a broken voice, before turning back toward their home

In moments like these, you begin to see that ministry is not found in grand stages, but in quiet, surrendered encounters—where fear is real, yet faith chooses to respond.

It is often in these barren places—where uncertainty, limitation, and human weakness converge—that invisible springs begin to reveal themselves.

Yet, Proverbs 16:9 reminds us that even when our hearts are full of plans, it is the Lord who truly guides our steps:

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”

Somewhere along this unexpected path, I began to sense the quiet companionship of what I simply call “my angel.”

I do not necessarily mean the kind often depicted in paintings with shining wings. Rather, I am describing the gentle yet persistent way God nudges, redirects, and at times unsettles those who are sincerely trying to follow Him.

Many believers, if they pause and reflect, may recognize this same unseen guidance at work in their own lives. Perhaps, you do, too—don't you?

I call it “my angel” because it often feels as though someone is patiently leading me—step by step—into places I would never have chosen: into narrow streets, unfamiliar conversations, and moments where faith must move ahead of certainty. Yet this raises a deeper question: do I truly believe that angels exist, and are we meant to recognize their presence?

In a future reflection, I hope to delve into what Scripture reveals about those mysterious ways God sometimes sends "angelic" help—moments we may not immediately recognize, yet which quietly guide, sustain, and bless us in ways beyond our understanding.

In those rat-race corporate years, meandering was something we were trained to avoid at all costs.

We were straight-line people—efficient, focused, always optimizing the next move upward. Every decision had to produce measurable results.

But God, in His infinite wisdom, often leads His children along the unexpected curves and steep zigzags of life—paths that stretch our faith, sharpen our perseverance, hoping that the hidden wonders of His providence will one day be revealed.

Faith does not always move in straight lines.

💡 Trivia: The word "meander" comes from an ancient river in Turkey—the Meander River—which refuses to flow in a straight line. It twists and turns freely across the land. Like this river, God’s paths are not always straight, yet they carry life and purpose when we trust Him.

When I responded to the call to pastoral ministry, like the very few people I know who have done so, it felt like stepping into hidden springs in barren places—what some might call waterless pools.

Leaving a steady corporate salary for the uncertain path of church planting demanded true surrender.

Many days truly felt as the prophet described:

🥖 “the bread of adversity and the water of affliction.”

(Isaiah 30:20)

Yet strangely, it is often in the driest places that God accomplishes His deepest work.

This column is called “Meandering” because it reflects, partly, the reality of following Christ among the poor here in Tondo, Manila, Philippines—and perhaps your own unique journey of faith as well, wherever you are in this part of the world.

Ministry here rarely moves in straight lines.

Instead, we walk slowly through narrow streets—learning names, sharing meals, listening to stories—waiting for God to reveal the next step despite the meager resources:

• the next person to feed 🍽️

• the next family to pray with 🙏

• the next livelihood to nurture 💼

Sadly, walking the streets of Tondo also means witnessing realities that many rarely see.

Children drift through narrow alleys, sniffing solvent from plastic or tiny pieces of cloth, chasing a fleeting escape from hunger—like trying to breathe underwater, not knowing it slowly steals the very breath they need to live.

Neighbors argue over rumors and daily frustrations, their voices rising as heat rises from concrete under the noonday sun—especially as the prices of basic goods continue to climb and steady work slips further out of reach.

And along certain corners, even before evening shadows fall, young and older women stand waiting—resembling candles burning at both ends—selling what dignity they have left to make it through another day.

These scenes are not meant to condemn a community, but to awaken in us a deeper compassion. They are akin to cracks in dry ground, revealing how desperately the world longs for healing, mercy, and redeeming grace (John 3:17; Matthew 9:36; Luke 4:18).

Yet even here, grace quietly persists like the first casts of light at dawn.

A child still laughs while chasing a worn ball down an alley.

A mother shares her meal with a neighbor who has less.

Someone pauses to pray with a struggling family.

In these moments, you begin to realize that God has never abandoned these streets. His presence lingers like a gentle breeze in the heat of the day—unseen, yet unmistakably real. It moves through simple acts of kindness, quiet prayers whispered between cracked walls, and hands that still choose to give even when they have little left.

Like seeds pushing through dry and hardened soil, hope rises where it seems least likely—quiet, persistent, and alive. It reminds us that heaven’s touch is not reserved for the perfect, but is revealed most powerfully in places that appear forgotten or disadvantaged.

His light still reaches even the narrowest corners.

Psalm 139:12 aptly puts it: “Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You, but the night shines as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to You.”

Here, efficiency gives way to compassion—and compassion often is the most powerful strategy for transforming lives.

The ancient wisdom of Scripture guides us more than any modern framework:

📖 “He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”

(Micah 6:8)

Sometimes, the most powerful ministry is simply walking humbly with God.

Day after day, I am reminded that ministry among the forgotten and the indigent depends not on human brilliance, but on divine grace (2 Corinthians 12:9).

By that grace alone, I continue this work alongside our Church brethren—physically present despite challenges such as the COVID-19 pandemic, the prohibitive cost of renting a permanent worship space, and the scarcity of essential resources: Bibles and children’s storybooks for teaching, urgent food and clean water, and used clothing for victims of fires, floods, or forced demolitions

Spiritually, I am growing in ways I could never have imagined in the Company’s boardroom, learning to trust God’s wisdom above my own (Proverbs 3:5-6).

The truth I am discovering is simple, yet profound:

An invisible spring in barren places is not so frightening when you realize that the One who walked on the waves stands beside you in the dry places.

Sometimes, those dry, barren places become the very ground where living water begins to flow—just as Jesus promised in John 7:37–38:

“...If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”

In moments like these, I remember that I am not the author of this story, but merely a participant in God’s greater work—where His grace turns barren places into springs of hope. Sometimes, that truth is seen most clearly in the simplest moments: a quiet prayer, a narrow street, and a child like Yoncé walking home with hope in her hands.

✨ Reflection

Even amid sacrifice and uncertainty, the smiles of children, the resilience of families, and the quiet victories of emerging lives reveal a priceless beauty.

They remind us that every life, every place, and every moment is worth pausing to behold.

Sometimes the smallest moments carry the greatest grace.

So, I invite you to join me each month (hopefully) as we wander together through these winding paths of faith and service.

We may not always have a map.

But we do have a Shepherd.

And He knows every turn.

His name is Jesus—the Messiah, Yeshua HaMashiach.

And He is enough! Hallelujah! 🙌

💡 Closing Reflection

💦 “Do not fear the invisible springs in the barren places of life. Often, the places that seem empty are precisely where God reveals Himself as the living water our souls thirst for. We are never alone—He leads us to our destiny! Cheer up!”

“Meandering” is authored by Pastor Peter C. Fetiza of Walk in Love Church of Jesus (WiLCoJ) in Tondo, Manila, Philippines. In its church planting stage, WiLCoJ is committed to evangelizing and discipling individuals from all walks of life, warmly welcoming the underprivileged, persons with disabilities, and all whom society may tend to overlook.

📘 Facebook Page: Walk In Love Church of Jesus (WiLCoJ), Philippines

WILCoJ Ministry serves the impoverished in Tondo, Manila, Philippines

Tondo, Manila, is recognized as one of the most densely populated and economically disadvantaged areas in the Philippines, historically marked by significant informal settlements such as the former Smoky Mountain landfill. While the district has faced challenges related to poverty, crime, and high-density housing, its residents demonstrate notable resilience, adaptability, and a strong sense of community.

Tondo at Night — By 9 PM, Tondo continues to breathe. Hustlers, vendors, and children thread streets alive with hope, though shadows of the global energy crisis—driven by conflict in the Middle East—linger on every face and in every voice.

The Vanishing Couple — A roadside once cradled a homeless couple. Today, they are gone—but one thing is clear: Life presses on, no matter how tough the road may be.

Midnight Grounds — Before midnight falls, more wanderers seek scraps of earth to call “bed,” navigating the night with quiet resilience.

The Child Witness — “Don’t hurt your friend”—the thought strikes as a street child falls, bullied by peers outside a convenience store. Does this happen when only one receives alms from an exiting customer and not the others?

Beneath the Fountain — For a homeless mother sleeping beneath the stars near a garden park’s bright, colorful fountain, nothing feels kinder than a broken pipeline offering the only clean water she can find to care for herself and her family.

Save these Young Souls — It is not their favorite hand-trick game that is harmful (pick-pocketing), but the small, solvent-dampened white cloth the boy sniffs from time to time.

Bringing the Hope of the Gospel

Doors Opened — A fast-food restaurant opens its doors to our Walk in Love Church of Jesus, Philippines. Among Tondo’s poorest—where many of our disciples struggle to get by—faith finds a home, and hope grows one worship service at a time. Praise the Lord!

A House Church

Demolished, Not Defeated — Walls may crumble, homes may vanish—but the spirit of our house church families endures. Kind hands bring food, while the Word nourishes hearts amid loss.

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