romance Archives - Held By His Pierced Hands

Like a Woman in Love

This weekend, I had the honor of singing at the wedding of a former student and his lovely bride. It was a profoundly moving ceremony and the most beautiful wedding reception I’ve ever been to, but what made the day so marvelous was knowing the happy couple. Andy and Suzy love each other deeply (though they love God more). They are kind and joyful and loving towards everyone they meet and watching the way they love each other–Andy so filled with joy as he watched Suzy walk towards him that he actually laughed out loud and Suzy even more radiant than usual when she gazed on her beloved–has reminded me once again what it means to be in love with Love himself.

Remember when you first fell in love?¹ How thoughts of the beloved would push their way into your mind unsolicited? How every decision was made with him in mind–what you’d wear, what you’d read, how you’d walk to class? Remember spending the day filing things away to tell him about? Longing to be with him? Aching over the distance that still had to separate you?

Remember when you were first engaged? How all you could think about was becoming a woman who deserved him? How you could hardly bear to keep your distance? How you were almost consumed by a desire to be his, to bring more of his life into the world?

Remember when you were first married? How you couldn’t wait to get home to him? How the world more beautiful because he was in it, more beautiful because you were his? Remember looking in the mirror and rejoicing at the gift your body was to him? Knowing you were beautiful because you saw yourself through his eyes?

My friends, that is the love God desires from you. When he speaks of his love in Scripture, he calls himself our bridegroom² and our lover.³ He describes our relationship with him not as a contract but as a covenant, a marriage, a love affair.

This isn’t the unique realm of consecrated women–or even of women, as St. John of the Cross would be quick to point out. Every person is called to a wild, passionate, being-in-love with the Lord. What if your relationship with Christ were less a series of obligations and more an enthrallment? Oh, you can’t manufacture feelings like that. But you can do your best to view Jesus as your beloved and not just some God-man who wants you to be good. What if you made every decision with him in mind? Stopped to talk to him about the things that excite or upset you? What if you asked him to make you long for him? If you looked at him in the Eucharist and tried to imagine what it would mean to be in love with him?

What if your purpose in life was to try to deserve him? What if you asked him to let a desire for him consume you? If you saw yourself through his eyes and knew that your life was a gift to him? If you made every decision because you are his, holding nothing back?

This mosaic from the St. Louis Cathedral shows the Cross as a marriage bed. I got so excited! But then the picture was dim and so I tried to fix it and kind of failed. But you get the picture.

The only reason romantic love exists at all is to teach us the way God loves us and the way he wants us to love him. Scripture is saturated with this imagery of God as lover.⁴ Jesus tells us again and again that he is the bridegroom.⁵ When he handed himself over for us on the marriage bed of the Cross, his body cried out in the language of marital love, “I give myself completely to you forever.” At each Mass, he speaks again through the priest, “This is my body which will be given up for you.” “I give myself completely to you forever,” he says, and we walk down the aisle to receive our groom.

What if we just tried to view the Eucharist like it was the supreme act of love, the consummation of our union with Christ? What if we approached the Mass like it was our wedding–or at least a date? Like it was more than just a box to check but an opportunity for communion with the Lord? Like it was the most important moment of our week?

Of course, love isn’t always pleasant and it isn’t always easy. Remember when it all started to fade, when you lost the love you had at first?⁶ When it was hard to find things to talk about? When he began to seem too demanding? Remember how you stopped thrilling at the sight of him? That’s part of love, too. It’s the part, I think, when love becomes real. It’s no longer about us. It’s not about feelings or fun. It’s a choice made for the beloved. We choose to love, choose to spend time together. We work at love not because of what our lover can give us but because of who he is.

Maybe this is where you are. Maybe you’ve had the butterflies and the longing for heaven and now you’re just trudging through. Maybe prayer is boring and living for Christ just seems too hard. That’s when it’s time to double down. Just like you wouldn’t quit on your marriage,⁷ don’t quit on this love. Don’t settle for mediocrity. Fight for this love. Read up on some strategies for prayer or just commit to doing it without any strategies. Start talking to God, even if you have nothing to say. Spend more time with him, not less. It’s okay that it’s not fun–it’s still good. And it’s worth fighting for.

I guess I’m just saying that if you’ve been settling for doctrines and pious practices and rules, know that there is more. All those things are designed by God to lead you to what really matters: being in love with him. So many of us are pushing through the day-to-day without any attention to God beyond the obligatory grace before meals–or going to daily Mass and praying the Office and the Rosary without a spirit of love. The Lord is offering you more than a membership card with the occasional obligation attached; he’s offering you a love affair of the most passionate sort, a relationship that shakes your world, that defines you, that fills your heart and still leaves you longing. You may never thrill to the thought of a holy hour, but your life can be so much more than just the things of this world with a side of Jesus. It can be beautiful, intense, amazing, terrifying, and real. But he’s a gentleman. He won’t force you. He’ll keep chasing you, but eventually you have to stop running and draw near to the God who is closer to you than you are to yourself.

It’s a choice, just like love is a choice. It’s a choice to spend time with him every day, a choice to pay attention when you’re there. It’s a choice to see the world through his eyes, a choice to make him more than just an obligation. It’s a choice to live like a woman in love and I’ve found that the more you make that choice, the more you find that’s exactly what you are: a woman in love with Love himself. What a gift.

Guys, I’m going to direct this at the women since I have no idea what it’s like for a man to fall in love and I don’t know how to talk about men being in love with a God who primarily reveals himself as masculine. Do what you will with it. [↩]
Isaiah 62:4-5 [↩]
All of Song of Songs. [↩]
Song of Songs, Ezekiel 16, all the above passages from Isaiah, etc. [↩]
For more on this, read Brant Pitre’s book Jesus the Bridegroom. I haven’t read it, but his Lighthouse Catholic Media talk by the same name was INCREDIBLE. [↩]
Rev 2:4 [↩]
Especially in this analogy, where your spouse is without fault. [↩]

A Modern Translation of 1 Corinthians 13

Since we all know the Bible is, well, out of date,¹ I thought you’d appreciate a more modern and relevant reading of the old wedding standard. I don’t know about you, but all that talk of selfless, patient, trusting love makes me a little nervous. Wouldn’t it be better if we updated it so that it talked more about romance and being in love instead of all that nasty suffering and virtue we always have to hear about? Try it this way:

If I speak in human and angelic tongues
but am not in love,
I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal.
And if I have the gift of prophecy
and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge;
if I have all faith so as to move mountains,
but am not in love, I am nothing.
If I give away everything I own,
and if I hand my body over so that I may boast
but am not in love, I gain nothing.

Isn’t that a nice start? Just a little shift so that we know that really, it’s romance that makes life worth living. And just in time for Valentine’s Day, too!

Love is tolerant, love is nice.
It is not demanding. Love is not needy,
it is not hard, it is not dull,
it does not outlast romance,
it is not faithful, it does not forgive when wronged,
it does not challenge or correct
but lets the beloved be comfortable.
Love improves all things, tolerates many things,
ignores some things, endures nothing.

See what I did there? This passage gets read so often at weddings, but I don’t think modern Americans want to be thinking about jealousy and rudeness and wrongdoing at a wedding! Isn’t it better to take all that messy stuff out and put in those nice sentiments about how we’re all just going to feel good forever now that we’re in love? Let’s not get all bogged down by the old notion that love is challenging or, God help us, that it’s not an end in itself. A path to holiness? No, no, holiness is hard and if love gets hard, well it just isn’t love anymore, is it?

Love feels good.
If there are major differences, they will be brought to nothing;
if fertility, it will cease;
if unchastity, it will be brought to nothing.
For we love partially and we are loved partially,
but when the wedding comes, the partial will pass away.

So forget your mother’s objections! Don’t listen to the studies that tell you that cohabitation will mess up your marriage! Who cares if you can’t trust your fiancé? Marriage will fix all this! Just walk down the aisle in a dress worth more than your grandparents’ first home, say the magic words, and you, too, can live happily ever after!²

Then there’s some funny stuff about kids and mirrors, which is stupid because weddings aren’t about kids unless you mean the flower girl, and hopefully her mother took her out of the church the minute she walked down the aisle because she sure as heck better not be messing up your perfect day. And mirrors–well, weddings are definitely about mirrors, but no need to call anyone’s attention to the fact that you spent more energy on your makeup than you did on your pre-nup. Hey, at least you got a pre-nup, right? Of course you did–you’re not stupid.

At present I love fully;
then I shall love less, if I am less loved.
So success, money, love remain, these three;
but the nicest of these is love.

Remember, friends, love is a feeling. Now go out there and find someone to make you feel good! Then enjoy it as long as it’s nice and easy. Don’t worry what anybody else thinks about your partner or your behavior–this is just about you two (or three–no judgment here). Make sure you have a good friend to complain about your partner to, somebody who’ll take your side and bash him right along with you. But never actually communicate about your frustrations. That wouldn’t be fun or pleasant and love is all about pleasure, isn’t it? Guilt-free, consequence-free, self-gratification. So go grab yourself a mate or you’ll be alone and empty–but don’t actually *mate* unless you’re financially comfortable and emotionally stable and you actually want kids. (And really, who wants kids? Except as an accessory, I suppose.) Then stick around as long as you’re having a good time. That’s all anyone can ask of you.

Before anyone gets mad, let me make it very clear that this entire post is completely sarcastic. And, lest you be offended, I assure you that I’m not making fun of you. Unless you’re completely shallow and secular and saccharine and over-sexed. In which case, hi! Welcome to my blog! Please read absolutely everything on here. [↩]
Unless things get too hard and then you can start over. [↩]

Letting Him Lead

He taught me to dance in my tiny grad school living room. We had to push the futon out of the way to have room. Sure, I’d “danced” before, but I never could get my feet to do the right things, and I was nervous. I’m not generally clumsy,¹ but there’s something about someone being that close and paying that much attention to the movement of my body that just makes me nervous.

Dancing — This is not a picture of that dance lesson (although it would have been nice if he had been wearing a tux). But it is a picture of me dancing. So that’s relevant. Right?

But he was nice, and not my type, so I let him teach me.

“What do I do?” I asked, as he put his hand on the small of my back.

“Just lean back,” he smiled.

“But what are the steps? How do I count?” I’m sure a look of panic crept into my eyes, despite my desperate desire to maintain my composure.

“Just lean back and let me dance you. Relax and look into my eyes. In this style, the guy does the work.”

So I put my arm around his shoulders and my hand in his. Then I took a deep breath and let go of myself. I had to be loose for this. I had to surrender, to let him hold me and look at me and move me. A few times I tried to pay attention and catch up and do the “right thing” and it just got me all twisted. For this dance to work at all, I really had to let him lead.

Dancing close — I could have fallen in love with him right there. I don’t know why more men don’t learn to dance.

I was wearing ripped jeans and flip flops, but I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so elegant or so graceful or so captivating. There was nothing between us but the dance, but oh, what a dance.

It was one of the most intimate moments of my life, looking into his eyes, being held so close, almost letting him carry me. It was pure and innocent and intense and I’m so grateful for that dance.

It’s a moment that comes back to me in prayer often, that ethereal half hour in the living room. There’s something so beautiful about that image,about the surrender involved in that dance.

I picture myself in the arms of Christ, just being held and adored. I spend my life doing and thinking and achieving, but here it’s enough just to be. There’s so much of me that wants to know what to do next, how to act, what steps to take, but that just makes me stumble. The beauty of dancing with a man who knows how to lead is that all I have to do is look into his eyes and trust.

And so in prayer and in life, I’m trying to lean back. I’m trying to let go of my plans and intentions and desires and to be caught up in his embrace. There, in his arms, I don’t have to do anything but let myself be loved. Dancing through life with him, I don’t have to know the song or the steps. I just have to let go of my obsession with being in control and let him lead.

For years, my relationship with Christ has been a romantic one. It’s the only way I can understand how consumed he is with love for me, the only way I can learn to live and move and have my being in him. Maybe this image of being held and loved and danced won’t work for those of you who see him differently–men especially–but, oh, what a gift it is to find him in prayer and to feel the beauty and the power and the intimacy of that living room dance session in his Eucharistic embrace.

More often than not, the song I hear is a setting of St. Ignatius’ Prayer for Surrender:

Take, oh Lord, and receive
All my liberty, my memory,
My understanding, and my will.
All that I am and all that I possess
You have given to me.
And I surrender it all to you.
Form it to your will.
Give me only your love and your grace!
For with these I am rich enough
And desire nothing more

How perfect.

Irregular

That scar on my arm? I ran into the door. At the library. Just call me Evel Knievel. [↩]