People often ask me about this romance I call marriage. It didn’t begin very romantically.
When Eddie and I met, I was empty. I was at a crossroad, trying to figure out if I wanted to embrace God or take a deep dive into every destructive behavior that could tempt a person. I’d been standing at that crossroad for a few months. Eddie’s legs were still pumping; he passed me up, running breakneck down the destructive path. Our encounter at that intersection was uneventful. I know now it was God keeping us apart. Had we become entangled with one another then, we’d have been too broken to have a whole relationship.
I’d like to say that I decided to live for God with my whole heart right then, but I didn’t. I ambled away from the crossroad, but my steps were heavy with hesitancy as I lumbered into destructive choices yet again. Along the way, Eddie and I encountered one another. His joyride was in full swing; my tires had gone flat. He moved out of state, and I returned to the crossroad. It was a barren wasteland, this place I’d come back to.
Looking back, it seems foolish to have struggled between death and life, but in the moment, life seemed out of grasp and the tentacles of death so binding. It was easy to perceive the chains as silken cords and take comfort in their soothing familiarity. But as I stood at the crossroad this time, I gave a mighty tug toward right, and God showed up to help me make the next step.
I didn’t suddenly start skipping with joy; I had a lot of internal baggage, and though God offered to take it, I struggled to let go. But forgiveness was clean air, and I breathed it in deep gulps. Then one day, in a single step, the final threads of bygone cords snapped. Dispelled like wisps of fog, they no longer filtered my vision. I was free, dancing to the music of sunlight in the scented meadows of the Spirit.
Eddie re-entered my world. He’d stumbled to the crossroad himself. Unlike me, however, he didn’t linger there. Once he realized God would welcome him into fields of freedom, he made a decisive leap and landed in the meadow with me.
That’s when the romance began. Our joy was mutual and it was shared. The discoveries we made about one another were in the light. Our steps were carefree; hands clasped, we dipped and twirled, spinning with delight. We’d been given love, a love greater than our need. In it was security and completion. We didn’t need one another to feel whole; we possessed wholeness already. Love filled us then spilled over to one another.
It was because God first loved us that we had something to give. We could never have manufactured through attraction the soul-connection we have. Love, real love found only in God, was enough to mend, to bind, to last, and to be our story of forever romance.
When Eddie and I met, I was empty. I was at a crossroad, trying to figure out if I wanted to embrace God or take a deep dive into every destructive behavior that could tempt a person. I’d been standing at that crossroad for a few months. Eddie’s legs were still pumping; he passed me up, running breakneck down the destructive path. Our encounter at that intersection was uneventful. I know now it was God keeping us apart. Had we become entangled with one another then, we’d have been too broken to have a whole relationship.
I’d like to say that I decided to live for God with my whole heart right then, but I didn’t. I ambled away from the crossroad, but my steps were heavy with hesitancy as I lumbered into destructive choices yet again. Along the way, Eddie and I encountered one another. His joyride was in full swing; my tires had gone flat. He moved out of state, and I returned to the crossroad. It was a barren wasteland, this place I’d come back to.
Looking back, it seems foolish to have struggled between death and life, but in the moment, life seemed out of grasp and the tentacles of death so binding. It was easy to perceive the chains as silken cords and take comfort in their soothing familiarity. But as I stood at the crossroad this time, I gave a mighty tug toward right, and God showed up to help me make the next step.
I didn’t suddenly start skipping with joy; I had a lot of internal baggage, and though God offered to take it, I struggled to let go. But forgiveness was clean air, and I breathed it in deep gulps. Then one day, in a single step, the final threads of bygone cords snapped. Dispelled like wisps of fog, they no longer filtered my vision. I was free, dancing to the music of sunlight in the scented meadows of the Spirit.
Eddie re-entered my world. He’d stumbled to the crossroad himself. Unlike me, however, he didn’t linger there. Once he realized God would welcome him into fields of freedom, he made a decisive leap and landed in the meadow with me.
That’s when the romance began. Our joy was mutual and it was shared. The discoveries we made about one another were in the light. Our steps were carefree; hands clasped, we dipped and twirled, spinning with delight. We’d been given love, a love greater than our need. In it was security and completion. We didn’t need one another to feel whole; we possessed wholeness already. Love filled us then spilled over to one another.
It was because God first loved us that we had something to give. We could never have manufactured through attraction the soul-connection we have. Love, real love found only in God, was enough to mend, to bind, to last, and to be our story of forever romance.
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