God’s Tender Touch: Finding Resurrection in Our Undoing

This Easter, I found myself deeply moved not by an extraordinary miracle in the headlines, but by a friend’s quiet unraveling—one that became an unexpected grace.

He turned 30 this year. There was so much pride in his voice when he told me, “Father, I have a good career. I got into the Executive MBA program. My boss said I’m next in line for COO. His network is now my network.” He even started going to the gym, determined to make this his healthiest year yet.

Then everything stopped.

He didn’t say much at first; it was just that something shifted. But in time, the truth surfaced: he feared for his health. Something serious. And in the silence of that fear, he found himself praying—not for promotion or progress—but for mercy.

“In my prayers, I was reminded I cannot rely on my personal strengths,” he told me. “I was too proud, Father. Now I’m here… begging for mercy.” It was a confession, not of sin alone, but of surrender.

And then, light pierced the tomb.

He messaged me, voice brimming with relief and awe: “Father, all praise and glory to GOD! I have no cancer, Father! Pinakinggan tayo ng Mahal na Ina at ng Panginoon!”

In that moment, I saw the Resurrection—not just in the absence of cancer but in the transformation of the heart—from pride to humility, from self-reliance to surrender, from fear to thanksgiving.

Greg Boyle, S.J., in a recent Easter podcast episode of Preach, asked, “How do we notice the notice of God?” and then, “How do we become the notice of God in the world?” My friend’s journey gave me the answer: it is in our undoing, our deepest fears, our whispered prayers, that God’s tender touch is most deeply felt.

The Resurrection isn’t just about Jesus rising from the tomb 2,000 years ago. It is about today, when someone who had it all figured out finds himself on his knees, giving thanks not for achievement, but for life, for healing, for grace.

So yes, this Easter, let us celebrate the empty tomb. But let us also celebrate the quiet resurrections—the ones that begin with, “Nahihiya ako, Father,” and end with, “All glory to God! Pinakinggan tayo ng Mahal na Ina.”

Because that, too, is the Resurrection—breaking through not just stone-sealed tombs, but proud hearts humbled, fears surrendered, and souls whispering, “Thank You, Lord.”

About the writer: Fr. Donnie Duchin Duya, SDB serves as the Editor-in-Chief of Don Bosco Press, Inc. He preaches retreats and recollections and is a spiritual director to religious and lay people.

Editor’s Note:

Fr. Donnie Duchin Duya’s Easter reflection reminded us of something closer to home—our very own President, Jan Adrian Padiernos. You might’ve heard it: last year, he nearly died by a car accident. And in that terrifying moment, when time seems to freeze, and everything he thought he knew about success, ambition, and control… came crashing down.

He was forced to confront a question many of us try to avoid: “What legacy will I leave behind?” Not just for his children… but for everyone his life could touch. It was a turning point. A reckoning. And it shook him.

He could’ve stayed stuck. Many do. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned into something deeper: his faith, his family, and his purpose. With their support, he stepped forward not just to continue, but to lead, to serve, and to make his life count for something bigger than himself.

And that’s why he sees his presidency in JCI Manila not just as a role, but as a platform to live that legacy, to create impact, and to help others rise, too.

That’s what Easter is really about, isn’t it? It’s not always about grand miracles. Sometimes, it’s about the quiet, personal resurrections like Pres. AP’s. The kind that happen when someone chooses faith over fear. When a broken heart chooses to serve anyway. When a leader rises not just for himself, but for others.

So, this Easter, we celebrate not just an empty tomb, but every quiet resurrection happening around us.

May the (Risen) Lord guide us in all our undertakings.