But the hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for the Father is seeking such to worship Him.
John 4:23

Johanna

"What are you doing here, Johanna?" he asked, his brows furrowed in gentle concern.

"Oh, um, I was just—" I stammered, biting my lip, searching for the right words. "I was with a friend earlier, sir," I confessed softly, lifting my gaze to meet his. "What about you, sir? What brings you here?"

He exhaled lightly, a trace of a smile tugging at his lips. "I had some business with an old friend. I was just about to head home. What about you?"

"Ah, yes... I was just about to go home too, sir," I replied quickly, only then realizing the contradiction between my words and the way I'd been wandering aimlessly. Was I really going home?

"Uh-huh?" he lifted a brow, a playful knowingness in his voice. "Either you live in the park or you're not telling the truth." My cheeks warmed, the flush spreading as I sighed.

"Sorry, sir," I murmured, lowering my head. "It's just... my mind is a bit tangled right now."

"Oh?" he asked, his voice softening. "Did something happen with your friend?"

I nodded. "She's not just a friend, sir," I breathed, my words heavy with feeling. "She's my best friend. We've been inseparable for three years."

He tilted his head, listening. "So, what happened?"

"I kind of... blew it today," I admitted, brushing a tear from my cheek. "She wanted me to join her at the bar, but I just couldn't... and she walked away. I—" My voice broke, and I wiped away another tear.

I felt his warm hand rest lightly on my shoulder. I looked up, meeting his kind eyes as he spoke.

"Ayee," he said softly in his native tongue, "that must have been so hard, Johanna. But I admire how you stood your ground." His lips curved into a smile, and fresh tears slipped down my cheeks, though this time they fell softly, mingled with a hint of hope.

"But I don't want to lose her," I whispered, my throat tightening. "I can't—"

"You won't," he said firmly, his voice calm and steady. "We'll pray for her. Prayer is powerful, especially when we pray to a powerful God." His assurance warmed my heart. I let out a slow breath, a small smile tugging at my lips.

"Thank you, sir..." I whispered, grateful.

"Well, you need to get home now," he reminded gently.

"Oh—yes!" I said, startled, realizing how late it had become. "I'd better get going."

"Yeah, let's go," he said, stepping into stride beside me.

"Um, sir?" I glanced at him. He looked at me curiously. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" His brow lifted, amused. "I'm walking you home, Johanna. Do you think it's safe for a woman like you to be out here alone at this hour?"

"Oh," I murmured, surprised by his thoughtfulness. "O-okay, sir... but my apartment's a bit far. It would take at least an hour to walk..."

"That's not a problem," he replied with a smile. "That's what cabs are for." He turned toward the road, waving down a taxi.

"Right," I whispered, a little embarrassed but thankful, following him.

Once inside the cab, I gave the driver my address and leaned back, the city lights flickering past the window. After about fifteen minutes, we arrived.

"We're here, sir," I said, glancing toward him. "Just a short walk from here to my building."

"Alright, let's walk then," he said, stepping onto the sidewalk.

"So, about your best friend," he said as we walked. "How did you two meet?"

A smile lit my face as the memory rose. "Oh, I met Mercy three years ago," I said, my voice light with nostalgia. "We were pushed to sing a duet at a Christmas party. From then on, we were inseparable."

"Oh, so you sing?" he asked with a smile. I nodded. "How nice. I've always admired singers and musicians. I wish I had that gift, but I must have been sound asleep when God passed it out," he joked.

"Wow, tough luck, huh?" I teased, seeing him laugh softly in response.

"Yes, I do sing, sir," I said. "But honestly, I never really appreciated it."

He tilted his head, puzzled. "Why?"

"Well... I can sing, but my voice isn't exactly competition-worthy. My aunt always pressured me into talent shows, but I never had the courage," I admitted, my voice soft.

"Maybe your voice isn't meant for competitions," he said quietly. I looked up at him, surprised.

"Huh?"

"Why compete for people's applause when God delights in hearing your voice?" His words hit me like a gentle wave. I'd never thought of it that way, but suddenly it made so much sense. His words stirred something deeper than any stage or trophy ever could.

"Did you see what Pastor Marina did during the revival crusade?" he asked.

I nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Instead of singing for people, why not sing for God?" he said softly.

"You..." I hesitated. "You think I could do that, sir?"

A warm smile crossed his face. "Why not? Who knows—by leading worship, you might come to love the gift you've been given." My heart fluttered at his words, something stirring deep inside me.

"But... what if I'm not good enough? I don't know the first thing about leading worship," I said hesitantly.

"Johanna," he said gently, "God doesn't call the qualified. He qualifies those He calls. The only question that matters is: will you respond to His call?"

His words echoed in my heart as we reached my building, its blue-painted walls familiar and comforting.

"This is my building, sir," I said quietly.

He smiled down at me. "By the way, you've been calling me 'sir' all this time," he chuckled. "You can call me Manung. We're not in school."

"Oh," I said, lowering my gaze with a shy smile. "It'll take some getting used to, but okay... Manung."

"That's better," he said warmly. "Goodnight, Johanna. I'll see you at school."

"Manung?" I called after him as he turned.

"Yes?" he asked, glancing back.

"About leading worship... how do I learn?"

He turned, his smile soft. "The best way to learn to lead worship," he paused and locked gazes with me, "is to lead worship."

Manung : Older man / Older brother (A much more intimate term especially when statuses greatly differ between the people using it)