I feel awkward writing about love. Maybe I’m too juvenile. Maybe. Probably because writing about love is sappy and when you’re single I think sappy spells “desperate.” Since I’m not desperate (believe me if you want to!) this makes for an obvious tension.
That, and people are too quick to take anything written on relationships as prescriptive. (I don’t claim to speak to every situation, or for any of my words to become a banner for a crusade against anyone’s conscience.) Finally—and this is the deepest issue—my love-philosophy is near and dear to my heart.
Every girl has a love philosophy. Every guy, too, for that matter. I’ve been working on mine for a long time. This article is that philosophy. It isn’t meant to be the next I Kissed Dating Goodbye, nor will this be in any way based on the Song of Solomon. All I intend to do is stir the pot. What’s your philosophy on all this stuff? What would you tweak about mine?
So here it is, my not-so-perfectly honed philosophy on love and relationships, as written by the light of a slivery moon (not silvery) and under the influence of the Tangled soundtrack. You’re welcome.
A Mature Reality. I am not a Disney princess. If I were one, I’d probably be some combination of Belle and Rapunzel. But that’s silly, because there is no such thing as a Bellezel (which sounds like the evil sister of Beelzebub.) There’s a reason they have magic carpet rides, hair-that-heals, and magic wilting roses. Because they’re fairytales.
It’s only rational to draw a distinction between fairytales of our childhood and the reality of life in a pain-filled, bleeding world. If I am to live in this realm, I’ve got to be honest. This is not a place conducive to happy conclusions. But a mature outlook on pain and reality does not necessitate a rigid, depressing perspective on love. Just because there are famines, AIDS and devils stalking the earth doesn’t mean that God cannot be gracious. David wrote of the hope of God being good in the land of the living. (Psalm 27:13) Whether or not that goodness translates for a happy marriage for you personally—it shows that God has been kind in the past, and will be in the future. There is such a thing as grace, and God gives it out in the form of relationships all the time. If I have an amazing love story that makes Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe look like shadow puppets, I won’t be surprised. Because that’s just the kind of stunningly gracious God that He is.
For Guys. Re-stating what is coming to be known as common sense in evangelical circles: it’s the guy’s job to initiate and lead. There are pastors who have elaborated on why this is. Mark Driscoll said, “Too many Christian guys are cowards. That’s why so many non-Christian guys pursue Christian women, because those women are waiting for any man who’s got initiative, leadership, courage. That’s why sometimes Christian women are interested in non-Christian men; because the Christian men are cowards.” There isn’t much more I can say beyond that, except as a Christian young woman, I appreciate that someone loud and listened-to spoke that openly. Guys, he’s right. Let Driscoll’s belt-whipping sink in. Now go git ‘er.
For Girls. Oh, girls. We talk about relationships so much. But I wonder how often we’re actually preached to on this subject. Just how solid is our grasp—beyond gossip and the Christian version of Cosmogirl wisdom? We’re told to wait, to be patient, to not throw ourselves at guys. (That, we know, is the best way to be desirable. It’s good sense to wait, but do we adopt this as our motto in an attempt to become more attractive to guys, like becoming forbidden fruit? Is this just the old game of hard-to-get, or is this actual patience birthed in self-control?)
Patience makes sense, because if guys are going to be initiators and leaders, we have to give them space to breathe. But I do wonder if, in all the d’s where we demand them to direct, define the relationship, and decide if they like us right away, whether we’re calling them to a standard of bravery we’ve neglected for ourselves. We call on guys to decide if they wish to spend their lives with us. (And guys, you need to decide this. You really do. As pastor Matt Chandler said once, “Quit playing with their hearts. Fricking grow up…You’re leaving a wake behind you of destruction.”) But I wonder if, when we want all our borders and statuses defined officially (that is, Facebook officially) from the get-go, if we are calling our brothers to a braveness and certainty we don’t have ourselves. Because if we were brave, we’d learn the meaning of self-control; of taking things slow, and of wise evaluation. This leads me to my next thought.
Pain. Let’s just get this off the table once and for all. A friend of mine told me on the phone recently, about how she was hesitant to say anything confrontational to a guy who has given her special attention on-and-off for three years. She’s afraid to do something that may cause her pain. “Okay,” I said something that had been brewing in my heart for weeks but was never verbalized, “let’s just forget this pain thing altogether. It’s not worth being a factor in your decisions. Let’s just face it right now that if you date the guy, and get engaged, and then get married—he will hurt you. In some way, shape or form, he will because he is human and to live a human life is to have pain; and there is no relationship that isn’t messy. And if the status quo continues, you will be pained as well by the ‘what-if’s.’ So let’s just get this pain thing off the table forever, because pain is going to happen.” Thankfully, she took it graciously. She knows I was preaching to myself.
That being said, pain is real and will always be present in this body. Instead of running away from it, the Christian call has always been a unique one—that we must learn to view pain as a carrier. Pain carries us to the arms of the Father. Pain brings us to a place where we are moldable, pliable in the hands of God.
Pain is a product of the Enemy, but still subject to our Father, who allows nothing to happen in vain–no agony is by Him wasted. (2 Cor. 4:17) As the poet, Auden said, “…in the prison of his days, let the free man learn to praise.” If the contents of your days imprison you, you’ll find freedom in the learning of praise. Real freedom–the kind prisons can’t keep locked.
With that in mind, rather than fearing pain, wouldn’t it be infinitely better to fear mis-using the pain we’ve been given? If we’re going to be given prisons (we know we are), neglecting to learn joy-amidst-suffering would make the pain a waste. That would be the truest tragedy.
How do you know if someone is THAT SOMEONE? Find out in part two . . . click here.
