God Whisperer.

I am off to China in three weeks' time to get some business going. (So sudden.)  Admittedly my Mandarin's a tad rusty so I took a referral from my good friend Beng to get a tutor to get the business of (mis)communicating sorted.  I want to be able to speak the best version of the Mandarin I know.  So I meet her friend L. for brunch in Borough today.  It was good to be speaking to someone about my limitations of the language.

I love the relaxed vibe of this place.

An hour into brunch, we start discussing how I might be needing a language partner more than tutor.  She gives me her evaluation and tells me my diction is pretty good.  (My conversational Mandarin... not quite so.)  But I will find out a day after tomorrow if I am to find a language partner.  Fingers crossed.

After the entire thing was over, she invited me to church.  Church?! Yes, Church.  It was raining unusually hard.  I had gotten wet already and had to hassle myself to go to the open parking and get an umbrella.  I don't know what compelled me to go back and meet her when it would have been much much easier to text and bail.  Walking under the pouring rain and getting to the 5th floor of a tiangge-building.  I reach the third floor escalator and could hear nothing but SINGING.  (OH LORDY!!!)  I don't do singing so I immediately put on my best poker face, already regretting my acceptance to the invitation.  I've been to these fanatical holier-than-thou acts before and I'm really not big on this kind of worship.  Let me say that  I've been to something similar a few months ago and the entire thing just didn't sit well with me...so I opted not to head back.  I am very private about my thoughts and even more so about my prayers and conversations with my God.  My faith is not for public consumption.

What transpired after was surreal.  

A man, a pastor came to the podium to talk about God, my emotions and how being the master of it would make me not only a better individual, but also a better Christian.  He spoke with humor and from the heart.  His words were interesting and charismatic.  He spoke of how fear and faith could never coexist.  He spoke of not becoming a Sunday Christian because that was the worst thing to be.  He was a sensible man who spoke openly about our predisposition to sin.  I am imperfect and I have made sin a way of life when I had been much younger.  But this man made me feel hopeful.  With the way I've lived my life, I've often felt myself unworthy of love.  And it is second nature for me to reject a person who offered to love and accept me.  This has often happened in the past and I have often pushed away both the emotion and the men from whom the emotions emanate from.  Often enough that it is now an automatic reaction.  Why risk again?  People get hurt falling in love.  Why bother fall?  Why bother fail? Why bother again?

Did He really want words with me?!

But for some reason, this pastor's words made sense.  His words hit home and they hit hard.  Normally I'm of the nonchalant mindset but his choice of words and explanation of things made me realize that I may have a shot at forgiveness- the forgiveness which I have been seeking for so-so-sooooooooooo long.  Praise Him.

Nowadays, my friend Charlemagne always tells me I'm boring.  I hardly ever go out anymore, don't drink, don't go out dancing.  How are you going to meet men if you don't go out?  To which I counter, "I've been going out since college and to be honest, in all that time I have NEVER met any decent guy."  Besides, why would I want to get to know someone whom I've met during a nightout in a bar??

Often I've found that when no middle ground agrees with me, I would much rather soldier on solo.  I don't date to pass the time, I don't agree with casual sex, and I don't like to date idiots.  Beng always tells me to pray for my #GB, yet I often wonder if I deserve one after all the markers piled against me.  I may be on God's long list of demerits- ladies edition.

I always hope that God sees how I am aware of the error of my ways, and although I had been quite a spitfire of a b*tch during my 20s, I have made myself a work in progress. I hope He sees.  I know He sees.

I wonder if I should go again next week.  Let me ponder on the question momentarily.