Divine Plagiarism

Every play has scenes, and each of those scenes have moments. Some lines are more poignant than others. The same is certainly true for this story. These are the three most beautiful moments from my role. I want to write these down before I forget them.

Moment Number One. A few weeks ago, I remember driving around Pensacola. Leaving the bookstore/coffee-shop, I turn the wrong direction to go back home. I decide to go with it, and take the interstate home instead. So I drive North, looking for the road. I miss the onramp the first time, turning back around to find it. I notice a Vietnamese restaurant by the side of the road. I plan on returning there at some point for some Pho. (I had begun my liquid fast at that point.) My mind was set on heading home for Bible Study, so I turn around and head for the onramp the second time. I pass it again, and turn to find it a third time. This strikes me as unusual, as I am generally a good driver. Or at least an accurate driver. I end up right next to the driveway for the restaurant, and I felt as if God were telling me to go in there for some soup. Sounds silly, I know, but sometimes you just get a feeling you’re supposed to do something. That was one of those times. So I call one of my friends from Bible Study, still fully intending on heading home. She tells me that Bible Study is cancelled. I am still stopped right in front of the restaurant. I take the hint, and pull in for some noodle soup. This is not one of the most beautiful moments, but it leads me to one of them.

While going through my automotive gymnastics, I recall feeling as if God asked me a question at that last stop light. He asked me, if going to that restaurant somehow answered the things you are asking Me to answer, some way that I could never predict, would you go there? This sounds crazy, but understand there was a time (not this most recent time) when I returned to Boston, where I would spend time looking over my shoulder hoping for a chance meeting with the other main character in this story (in absentia currently.) The strangest feeling came over me. I remembered Till We Have Faces, where Psyche tells her sister that marriage is a death as well as a birth. For my prayers to be answered, it would have to mean an end to single Dave. There is a special relationship God has with me while I am still all the way His, shared with no other. It almost felt as if He would miss that, and so would I. My answer was not what I would have expected. I asked Him if I could finish out my fast (30 more days at that point) in celebration of the special relationship with Him during my singleness. I wanted to stay with Him more than I wanted to find her. I don’t know if I was imagining things or not, but I don’t think it is important whether I was or not. It was the first time I really and truly wanted Him more than I wanted her. That realization was what mattered, not the means by which He took me there.

Moment Number Two. Much earlier in this story, five months ago to be precise, I was overcome while praying by an image which took my breath away. However this ends, this is something I want to share with my wife. I saw myself behind her in front of a mirror. I wrapped my arms around her, and looked in her eyes as she looked at herself. With my words, I embraced her. Part by part, I told her how beautiful she was. ‘Your eyes are beautiful to me. They are deep wells, they hide fire.’ ‘Your hair is beautiful to me. It is a waterfall cascading at night.’ And so on, for all the parts that were presented for the world to see. I wanted her to know how beautiful she was. I wanted to silence whispering doubts and accusations with my words. I wanted her heart to be secure and at peace with her beauty.

It is fascinating how beautiful we can be through the eyes of another. The faults which are so grotesquely magnified by our insecurities are of such little significance to one who sees us through eyes of love. Perhaps we see ourselves more clearly when we learn to see ourselves through the eyes of others. Of course, then we would learn how to trust. Even harder, we would have to learn how to accept love with grace. We never want to feel indebted, so we have a hard time taking something offered freely. But this is the only way we will move beyond our ‘self-invited and self-protective lovelessness’ that is so against the will of God. For some of us, it is easy to reach out, yet tremendously difficult to let others in. We set impossible standards for loyalty, and implicitly demand impossible things of friends. Perfection is the most dangerous of these demands. We demand it of them because we demand it of us. The ‘perfect me’ is the only self we are willing to release for public consumption. When we are commended for our perfection, the pattern is reinforced, and we drive ourselves further from reality. The only salvation offered us is through the eyes of Another. When we come before Him broken and utterly real, He tells us how beautiful we are in His eyes.

Let me ‘nuance this by adding a bit of dynamic tension.’ Not my phrase. Intimacy and trust must be earned. There are those who bobble a heart in their hands until they drop it. There are those who intentionally throw a heart on the ground and walk on it. Even with one who treasures a heart, there is an appropriate level of intimacy for a given amount of commitment. This moment would have only been appropriate later in a relationship, where we had earned each other’s trust. And I would have stopped at only the uncovered parts. The other parts would have to wait until my ring finger on my left hand was an ounce or two heavier. I still plan on memorizing Song of Solomon before my wedding night. Some memory verses are more interesting to apply than others. If you catch my drift.

Moment Number Three. Six months ago. Two in the morning, praying facedown on my floor. Listening to ‘Sky Falls Down’ by Third Day. Tears streaming down my face. Presence of God was there, tangible, like you could wrap yourself in it. And I did. Bathed in it. I could hear Him breathe, louder than my own breath. I was praying for her. I did not know any unselfish prayers. He gave me one.

I saw powers and principalities. The ones that made war on her. They whispered doubts to her, they screamed accusations, they stoked the fires of her fears. With whatever strength I could find, I rebuked them. I stepped between them and her. With whatever fury and strength I could find, I stared them down, drew my sword, and stood in the gap. I finally decided to be a man. I was finally willing to protect her with my body, instead of demanding her to find the strength to face her fears on her own. That night, I felt as if God answered my prayers. The answer He gave seems awfully discordant with what my eyes of flesh are telling me now. Even so, if I heard wrong, the best way to figure it out is to draw in to Him with prayer and fasting. So that’s what I’ll continue to do.

Only a few weeks ago did I get these simple prayers back. ‘Lord, wrap Yourself around her. Keep her safe. Tell her who she is in You.’ Not about me, just prayers of blessing. I want her to be His first, regardless of whether she is mine at all. And prayers of defense. Of interposition. In the Name of Christ, binding and casting out all principalities and powers with plans on her life. I place myself in the gap still. This is freely given. I do nothing to safeguard myself if this doesn’t turn out the way I want. I will not revoke these blessings. Perhaps these prayers were the point all along; perhaps these are prayers that she needs now, and this is the only way for God to get me to pray them. I don’t know. These are the prayers I will pray for my wife. Whether I am praying them for her now, or whether I am practicing now by blessing another, I cannot say. I pray them still. I’ll trust Him to sort it out. ‘Pray the Spirit gets it right,’ I think it goes.

These are the three moments I most wanted to remember from this story. I pray that they have been a blessing to you, as well. I do not think there is so much difference between our stories. After all, all of them are woven together into His story. May we all find each other in that Greatest Story Ever Told.