Caleb - Stand

I did not leave Aika alone.

I followed her departure at a distance. Far enough that she would not feel watched, close enough that I could intervene if I had to. The platform lights washed everything in pale yellow, and the late train crowd was sparse. Aika walked with her shoulders tight, one hand clutched her bag strap, the other ushered Bingo to follow.

Bingo stayed glued to her ankle like he had been given an assignment. Once, he stopped and turned his head, amber eyes locking onto me. He flicked his tail in annoyance.

‘‘I’ve got this’’, his expression seemed to say.

I stopped there. I watched as she boarded the train. Waited in silence as the doors slid shut. Only when the train disappeared down the tunnel did I let myself breathe. I stayed another minute, scanning faces, shadows, exits. Nobody followed. No one lingered. Only then did I feel convinced that I could finally turn back.

I returned to the café long to let Miho-san know Aika was safe. Well, as safe as she can be, given the recent events. She looked at me carefully, the way women who have lived longer do when they already know the answer to questions they haven’t asked.

‘You’re going to get in trouble,’ she said.

‘I know. I am ready to face the consequences.’

She nodded once. ‘Good.’ She tapped my shoulder in solidarity and gave me more food to take back with me.

By the time I returned to the church grounds, the lights were still on in the administrative wing. Someone was waiting for me. Of course they were.

I was reprimanded for being out late. For taking unnecessary risks. For allowing myself to be potentially seen by media pottering about at night when I had been instructed to maintain clean reputation and lay low.

I told the truth. I said I had followed her to ensure she arrived safely. I said there were men watching her building. I said I would do it again.

That earned me tired looks, exchanged glances, the kind that meant “we will deal with this later”.

‘Enough for tonight,’ one of them said. ‘Go to your room. We will speak in the morning.’

Dismissed just like a child. Not to confused with being forgiven or understood.

*****

I was not able to sleep that night. The bed felt too soft for what I needed to ask, so I knelt on the floor.

My Bible lay open beside me, spine cracked from years of loyalty, pages soft from use. For the first time since I was fourteen, I did not know if the place that had raised me still fit the man I was becoming.

‘Lord,’ I whispered with forehead pressed to my clasped hands, ‘I need You to speak plainly to me. I am losing confidence in what I thought was my calling. I don’t know if I am disobeying You… or finally listening.’

My chest felt tight with fear and grief. I had always believed calling was linear. A straight road. One entrance. One destination. You step onto it early, you walk faithfully, and if you stumble, it is because you lacked discipline.

That was the story I had been taught. But the story I was living did not match it anymore.

I opened my Bible without ceremony. My eyes landed on Proverbs.

‘‘In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their step”

Steps… hmmm.. Not roads. Not careers. Steps.

I exhaled exasperatedly. ‘Have I misunderstood You?’ I asked. ‘Or have I misunderstood them?’

I turned the page.

‘’There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord”

Different kinds of service…

The words felt like a hand at my back instead of a finger in my chest.

I had served. Truly and fully. To the the best of my ability. I had loved God with discipline, with structure, with obedience sharpened into habit. I had learned theology, liturgy, silence. I had learned how to disappear behind a role.

Nowhere did Scripture say that a calling could only wear one uniform. Nowhere did it say that faithfulness meant passivity.

‘’For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do”

Prepared in advance. Not revealed all at once. Not explained to satisfy institutions.

An uninvited memory surfaced. Aika’s earnest prayer. She didn’t follow the general guideline of firstly, giving reverence to the Lord, thanking Him, then, asking for forgiveness, and lastly asking of what you need. She only spoke from her heart. She spoke gently like God was close enough to hear her breathing but sure enough to thank Him, for my existence in her life.

That prayer had felt holy. More holy than any meeting I had sat through recently.

‘’When the Spirit of truth comes, He will guide you into all the truth”

Guide. Not command through intermediaries who benefit from your silence.

For so long, I had confused submission with surrender to God, when in truth I had been surrendering to comfort, approval, and being told I was doing well.

God had never ordered me to abandon compassion. God had never told me silence was righteousness. God had never said love was an inconvenience.

‘’The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want”

I laughed quietly. After a year of studying them, the verses had begun to feel familiar, almost repetitive. And yet, the humility and awe that settled over me each time the Lord spoke clearly through the same pages never dulled. No matter how many times I returned to the same words, the gratitude that followed, the sense of being seen and answered, was nothing short of overwhelming.

I wanted clarity. Courage. Permission to move. And here it was. It didn’t have to be dramatic. It just had to be undeniable.

Sometimes a calling is not a destination. Sometimes it is training. Sometimes it is shelter. Sometimes it is the place you stand until you learn what you cannot unlearn.

I pressed my palm flat against the page.

‘If You are leading me somewhere else,’ I whispered, ‘then I will follow. Even if it costs me the title I thought defined me.’

The fear did not vanish. Fear of disappointing everyone who had ever believed in me. Fear of regrets down the line. Fear of having wasted everyone’s time. Everyone who invested in me. It’ was still there. But it no longer owned me.

For the first time in weeks, I felt God not above me, not ahead of me, not around me, but beside me, holding my hand.