Broken date

A Sunday of Broken Dates

Time had me. I expected a good friend to respond positively to my invite for her to join me in a church service and later on for me to join her in hearing mass. It was my way of restoring a friendship that was affected in a negative way by wrong decisions. After two attempts at trying to call her and sending three sms, I stopped trying. I accepted that she chose not to respond in any way ” just because. ” And that it was not her duty to inform me of her decision. After the service, our pastor’s efforts at trying to get God’s message through to the church ( that’s us ), worked on me. I’ve always wanted to ” disciple ” people and have always felt inadequate, somehow too shy, too afraid of being turned down, walked out on, flatly told that ” I already have a God ” and ” I don’t have time ” and a host of so many other one-liners. I bought a book written by the same pastor and as I am typing this blog post, reading through the book. One gift that I wanted to add to a gift bag that I got to enjoy first. And on page 33, the author wrote exactly what I was feeling. Wow! Time. God, you really know ” pleroo, ” your most perfect time. Wow! It was a broken plan on my end but it worked perfectly on God’s end which rubbed on perfectly on me. Perfect. God, you are indeed perfect.