✷ Kirrka ✷

Or the other sermon note I heard last year—one that still lingers within me, because I remember crying as I listened. It reminded me that it wasn’t me who chose Him, but He who chose me. That He loved me first. Even when I didn’t. Even when I doubted Him. Even when I felt stuck at a crossroads—between choosing my worldly ego to satisfy my dad or those around me, or finally choosing Him.

Choosing to come back to Him. Even if it means walking a rocky road and sacrificing a lot in my life. And you read it right, I deliberately use the word "come back” because deep down, believing in Him has always felt like a calling. I remember memorizing the first line of the Doa Bapa Kami and telling it to my classmate (which was so strange, considering I went to an Islamic public school). I remember how I felt welcomed in the church where my grandmother worshipped. How Christmas holidays always brought more excitement than any other religious holiday. And how the memory of joining an Easter celebration and decorating my Easter egg still lives so vividly in me.

All those sentences and memories struck me.

Because back then, I was told that questioning God was a sin. That expressing doubt meant I was drifting away. That asking “why” was a sign of weak faith.

But now I’m learning that maybe real faith is not the absence of questions, but the courage to bring those questions in front of God, and still believe there’s love waiting.

And that kind of worship—the kind that makes me surrender fully, even in confusion and fear—feels far more sacred than anything I’ve ever performed before.

God rebuked me in the most subtle way through Pastor Kaleb’s sermon today. This month’s sermon theme is Worship. And what I mean by worship isn’t necessarily singing or expressive acts, but a kind of worship that makes me surrender—in every smallest thing I do in this mundane, ordinary life. Just like Pastor Kaleb said earlier: “If you're scared, don’t look down—look UP.” Worship shifts our focus from mere fear or problems, toward what our Creator can do.

Just like today. My manager just told me that tomorrow morning (yes, a Monday), I’ll be joining an FGD session with some unfamiliar people. For many, this kind of social interaction might not be a big deal. But for me, it is. It’s daunting. My brain kept spiraling into anxious thoughts: What might happen? What role will I have? What if I do something awkward or stupid? Will I even have anything valuable to say or contribute? Those possibilities kept popping up, especially knowing I’m not the best at public speaking.

But then I remembered: No matter how unfamiliar or intimidating the experience might be, I have faith in God—who strengthens me to face every situation He puts me in. Suddenly, I also recalled something from the book I was reading yesterday—“Menjadi” by Afutami. She wrote about active listening to grow, and practicing empathy. Those simple reminders were more than enough to get me through tomorrow.

I mean, I've felt that too. And not just once, but a bunch of great memories with my friends, lovers, colleagues, even acquaintances happened in very random moments. When I’m not even prepared for anything or expecting any of that to happen. Now that I’m connecting the dots, it’s maybe (again, this is just my random theory) it's because we’re so immersed in the moment that we don’t even think of any good or bad possibilities.

We’re not stuck in our thoughts or inner voices full of uncertainties. We’re just... so present.

And I think being able to be present in this loud, distracting world is a gift. Realizing that “I need to be present” needs a piece of awareness and lots of practice.

I often find myself thinking I’m really drawn into somebody else’s stories—until I realize the whole time my ears were listening to her stories and my eyes were following her mouth blabbering, my mind has actually wandered deep into a buried memory of mine 5 years ago when facing the same situations, and that got me thinking a lot about how I handled the situations back then. And then I just no longer followed my friend’s stories.

Or when I went for a family trip and my Pakde just gave us a vague hint we would go to one of the hidden beaches at Kulon Progo without giving the exact name. I got so upset because I had to wake up early at the crack of dawn and took 3 hours of long and winding road to that particular beach. And when I got there, all that negative feeling suddenly just switched into excitement. I felt something quivering down my body as soon as my eyes captured a breathtaking scenery of the unending blue water and my feet touched the white sand. My inner child bursting with joy to know I could build an ugly lookalike sandcastles, splashing & playing tags with my nephews, and just sit there knowing that I have deadlines in front of me, yet I felt careless and, in fact... fulfilled. The very unfamiliar yet captivating view of the beach somehow became one of the most exciting big family trips in my life.

That was just a few tiny examples of how easily I could get distracted and how being present and expecting nothing can bring you farther than you can imagine.

Now that I came with a new shift of perspective, I’m anchoring this thought:

Presence makes the moment.