Abstinence almost sounds like absinthe.

My confession is that I sincerely adore alcohol.

I really like the taste and look forward to the hot burn as it slides down my throat and the way I seem to glow from the inside out when it finally reaches my tummy. Hot sunday afternoons, for me, are nearly complete if I can only have a glass of ice-cold beer.

In fact, a lot of things go well with ice-cold beer, like raw fish, Tortillos, and anything my family cooks (which is probably intentional). But even then, I’m not a big beer drinker. Give me rum coke any day, and if it’s mixed by my friend Mikko, then even better. (His secret? Calamansi, not lemon.)

For years I have rebelled against the idea that I should stop drinking because some people still associate my “two bottles” with getting drunk, which, for most Christians, is tantamount to dancing with the devil.

And I hated that. I hated how I had to stop drinking some of the beverages I like just because they were so narrow minded they think one alcoholic beverage (not nearly as hazardous to your health as those cans of soda pop they ingest daily) would be detrimental to my spiritual health.

The idea was as insane as somebody telling me that “Ailene, it really bothers me that you’re drinking that banana shake. I mean, you know what everybody else says about people who drink banana shakes. They probably really love umbrellas.”

Because that’s what alcoholic beverages are for me: weird drinks that taste good. And because they’re weird I have to be extra careful to moderate it.

So what finally made me stop?

After years of my ex-boyfriend explaining why drinking is not a good thing for worship leaders, all it took was for him to be several thousand miles away for his message to sink in. Uncannily enough, he sounded a lot like Paul.

“Do everything in love.” I gave up my much-loved booze because I want whoever hears my music to know how much I love my God. I want them to realize that my booze is such a small thing to pass up on in the light of what God has done for me. In fact, if God thought that me going without clothes would make people stand up and notice Him some more, I’d do it.

You see, I finally realized that not everybody think of alcohol in such a positive light. Some of the kids I’ve ministered to grew up with alcoholic fathers. For them, my two bottles is the same as their father’s two bottles. Unfortunately, their father’s two bottles are never-ending. It’s two in the frigging afternoon and tatay’s all smashed out of his mind on their couch and cussing at them in a loud voice that the neighbors can hear. By 8PM, he’ll be hitting inay again.

Or maybe for them alcohol is about fast car rides through the night, parking on some bluff, making out with some random guy, losing your heart on that same night, and then being left behind.

I can’t be assured that the congregations’ memories of alcohol are always positive. Maybe there’ll be two or ten people out there who have been raised by good alcoholic fathers such as me and have wonderfully pleasant memories of alcohol. But not everyone.

So better err on the safe side.

When I’m up there on the altar, I don’t want them to bother asking themselves, “so why is she drinking?” All I really want them to think about is our Lord. Not me, not my music, not my lifestyle, or drinking preferences.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’ve nobly given up alcohol for the greater good. I’m just letting all the good drinks of this world pass me by as I sit here in my corner and sing to my God. But honestly, I miss alcohol a damn lot. Like I’d probably consider criminal activities in exchange for a glass of rum coke right now. But that’s just the way it is. Maybe when I meet my Father, He’ll pour me something even better than rum coke, but just for now… Well, for now, I’ll do this out of love.