On Thursday night, I had a dream in which I was engaged in arduous deliverance ministry, sonorously casting out demons from a girl, in the name of Jesus. Never before have I had a dream of such a volatile, spiritual nature. Perhaps my slumbering drama portended what would transpire later in the day.
I, that Friday afternoon, had argued passionately with Felix, who in the week prior had posited that my most important priority in my relationship with her was not developing the relationship itself that she and I shared, but facilitating her salvation, not the least step of which was bringing her to church; after all, he said, my relationship with her was temporal at best while her relationship with the Father would support her indefatigably through eternity; better to prosper her with forever than to set up but a lifetime. I told Felix, in defiance, that I would glorify God in what I do, despite her unbelief, and that God could redeem any situation, regardless of its contestants. In the end, our thoughtful, poignant discussions having recently taken precedence over our language exchange, I decided to end our meeting for a season; we will resume when I am ready. Little did I know, however, that my words would be tested that very evening and that his words, unpleasant though they might have been at the time, would be proven so true and so prophetic that even now I can only weep when I think about this fact.
You know I have worked both sedulously and meticulously to make this burgeoning relationship between us work. Never before have I sought the Lord's righteousness first in these types of relationships, but here I was this week, nipping another blossoming relationship in the bud because it was the right, honest and fair thing to do; and then I was a busy little bee putting together her care package last week and a subsequent care card, replete with a collage of hand-written encouragement, this evening; and of course, I had dressed for success, in black, her favorite color. Indeed, whether in prayer or in the tire track of a glue stick, I had put in the time to prepare well to be with her. I was not reckless, my temerity being tempered by prudence and truth; yet I risked a lot.
Before I met her, I was sitting alone in a cha-chaan-taang, diligently compiling her care card while slurping up my cart noodles. I clumsily spilled a little soup on my pants. A man later walked in, sat down, and completely baffled the wait staff since he couldn't speak Cantonese. The scene unfolding only a few feet away, I jumped into the fray as much to rescue this desperate stranger as to relieve the vexed band of waitresses who had thus far unsuccessfully interpreted the man's order -- actually, he ended up ordering exactly what I had ordered. The man and I began talking and soon did we establish common ground: he was a Korean PhD candidate at Seoul National University, who was stopping over in Hong Kong for an evening, on his way from Delhi to Seoul; and we discussed, I sometimes throwing in a few Korean sentences, his urban planning studies, my teaching English in Hong Kong, Christianity, and undoubtedly, 소녀시대! I had been verily blessed to meet him and consequently expressed this gratitude by paying for his supper. In this way, I am, I believe, paying forward that which the Korean people had generously bestowed upon me in all my visits to Korea; and without a doubt I shall continue to go out of my way to help Koreans in Hong Kong.
At length, she and I watched a delightful, melodious performance by the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra, and afterwards we walked along the promenade where, suddenly, the tectonic plates holding up my world starting shifting dramatically, sending me tumbling for a moment as though I were falling off a precipice. Surely, our conversation at first was innocent and open enough; but my beguilement soon wore off when I asked to hold her hand --
-- I cannot say precisely what she told me, out of respect for her privacy, but, boy, did she surprise me that night! It seems as if I never really knew this young woman, up until the moment I asked for a modicum of physical intimacy, at which point something as though scales had fallen from my eyes so I could finally gaze upon what lay beyond the line that she had, in fact, drawn. At once I was crestfallen, and relieved, because the matter was as clear as daylight, in full view. She seemed immediately contrite and repentant, more so, than I had expected. We spent a longer evening together, commiserating, encouraging and witnessing. We both cried, and prayed. In the future, maybe we will stand in the gap for one another again.
God revealed His love for us in the way that unexpected news breaks like water over a rock. My heart still seeks after the Lord's (and maybe hers will run that same race too, one day soon), praise Him. However, I don't know to what ends the Father compelled me to sacrifice so much and to humble myself greatly: why were three relationships broken off this week; and why did all my assiduity, this faithful sowing, come to naught -- where is the fruit? I am entering now into a season of prayer to glean His purposes for this traumatic episode in my life. I am glad, furthermore, that though I will reveal almost all to my church brethren, they would rather support me than laugh at me for succumbing to such a quixotic endeavor. For now, without a doubt, I will cry prolifically while pleading to my Father for an explanation. My bricks did not contain straw.