There’s a peculiar kind of wisdom in juggling loans alongside bills. For some, it’s an unnecessary burden, a debt trap waiting to swallow the careless whole. But I believe otherwise: when handled wisely, loans can light a fire under one’s feet, pushing them harder and faster toward dreams and goals they might otherwise dawdle about. It’s pressure, sure—but sometimes, pressure is what keeps us alive and kicking.

I’ve seen it in myself. The first time I signed my name on a loan agreement, my palms were sweaty, my heartbeat pounding like an amateur drumline. The thought of owing someone money terrified me. But the moment the funds hit my account, I didn’t feel like someone sinking into debt; I felt like someone had given me wings—and maybe a bit of firepower to boot. Every bill and every repayment date circled on my calendar became a reason to get out of bed earlier and stay up later. The fear of failure, of defaulting, of shame, was the whip I needed when my usual motivators—like self-improvement or even the love of family—weren’t quite enough.

There’s something about the concrete finality of debt that makes you take life seriously. When you know the collector will come knocking if you slack off, laziness feels like a luxury you can’t afford. I remember a friend of mine, a tricycle driver, who took out a loan to buy a second-hand multicab. Before that, he was content to take five, even six breaks in a day, chatting with his barkada by the corner sari-sari store. After the loan? He was out at sunrise, chasing passengers like a man on a mission. He paid off that multicab in record time, and his daily grind turned into a habit even after the debt was cleared.

Now, I get it: some will argue it’s risky, and they’re right. Borrowing is not for the faint-hearted or the faint-minded. If you’re careless, that fire under your feet can burn you to a crisp. I’ve seen people lose sleep, relationships, and even their sanity because they took on too much debt without a plan. But the same is true of a machete—it can clear a path or it can cut you. The key, I’ve found, is respect: respecting the weight of the loan and your ability to carry it. It’s not for everyone, but for those who can keep their balance, it’s a tool, not a trap.

Oddly enough, loans teach discipline. They force you to think long-term, to make sacrifices, to say no to fleeting pleasures in exchange for something bigger down the road. I used to love dining out, buying things on a whim, and indulging in small luxuries I “deserved.” But when you owe money, you start counting every peso. The latter becomes a sachet of instant coffee; the weekend getaway turns into a walk at the plaza. Something is humbling, even cleansing, about that kind of self-control. It’s like forced minimalism, a reminder that most of the things we think we need are just distractions.

Of course, loans also give you something to look forward to—an endgame. That motorcycle you’re paying off, the tuition for your child, the business you’re building—all of it becomes a tangible reason to push through the hard days. One of my neighbors borrowed money to start a small eatery after years of just selling meriendas from a cart. I’d see her working late into the night, the glow of her stove lighting up the small corner of her borrowed lot. Her loan wasn’t just a debt; it was a stake in her dream. Today, her eatery feeds half the barangay and employs people who once dismissed her idea as a gamble.

Still, it’s not just the dream that drives you—it’s the fear of falling. There’s no safety net with loans. If you don’t pay, there’s no sweet-talking the collector. And that fear, as harsh as it sounds, has its uses. Fear makes you creative. It makes you resourceful. When the usual income sources dry up, you learn to improvise, to hustle harder. A deadline hanging over your head sharpens your mind like nothing else.

But here’s the thing: while I believe loans can motivate and even transform lives, they shouldn’t be taken lightly. Borrowing should be a calculated risk, not a blind leap. We need better financial literacy—more awareness about interest rates, payment schemes, and contingency plans. Because in the end, loans are like fire: a source of light and warmth when handled with care, but a consuming blaze if left unchecked. If we approach them with respect and strategy, they can be a tool for growth, not a burden to bear.

“HE touched their eyes, saying, ‘According to your faith, be it done unto you.’ And their eyes were opened.” (Mt 9,29-30) That’s what Christ told the blind men who begged him to cure them of their blindness.

We need to realize that it is faith, more than anything else, that would cure our real blindness which is not simply a physical thing but more of the spiritual and supernatural kind. Let’s remember that the reality that governs us is not simply the material and the natural, where we may have a perfect vision, but also and mainly the spiritual and the supernatural.

In this regard, we have to imitate the example of the two blind men who begged Christ for a cure of their blindness. Obviously, we have to first of all acknowledge our own blindness with respect to the spiritual and supernatural realities that govern our life. We cannot deny that with our proneness to fall into all forms of carnality and worldliness, we become blind to the spiritual and supernatural realities.

Our main problem is that we often fail to acknowledge this fact of life, especially when we happen to be gifted with high intelligence and other talents. With such condition, we fail to realize that our intelligence and will, our talents and the other gifts God has endowed us, are actually meant to enable us to enter into the spiritual and supernatural world, and ultimately to God. We are actually poised for that purpose.

When we use our faculties to engage only with the natural things, which we often do, we would actually be misusing them. That’s when we become very vulnerable to all kinds of anomalies and irregularities. We would have no ample defenses against the usual weaknesses and temptations we have in this world.

In fact, we can say that we are more blind the more gifted we are, because this latter status usually sheds some light that blinds us from the spiritual and supernatural realities rather than clarifies things for us. It tends to take us away from God rather than lead us to him.

We have to be most careful when perhaps because of our education, our experience, our position, among other things, we feel that we would already have enough reason to make ourselves our own standard of what is true, good and beautiful.

It’s always good to acknowledge our blindness so we can see things clearly through God’s grace. That’s simply because it’s when we acknowledge our blindness, deficiency and inadequacy to tackle our temporal affairs that we attract God’s grace, his light, his wisdom, his strength.

That is why we should always feel the need to pray, to do many other spiritual exercises, like having spiritual direction and confession, availing of the sacraments, undertaking continuing spiritual formation and ascetical struggle, to keep our natural faculties properly animated by faith and God’s grace, enabling them to enter into the spiritual and supernatural world.

If our worldly knowledge does not make our faith in God grow stronger, it would be a dangerous kind of knowledge. We have to correct and purify it immediately, giving it the right motive and purpose which is none other than to give glory to God. Otherwise, it would be a knowledge that would simply be at the service of our self-indulgence.

And when that knowledge cannot cope anymore with the challenges of our life, that’s when we would enter into all kinds of anomalies and irregularities leading us to issues of mental health, depression, and all kinds of justifications to rationalize acts and positions that usually are considered by our common sense as perversions.