So Close to Jesus

A second date proved no better. We stared awkwardly at the walls, each of us hoping the night would end quickly. "So," he said, "You are a career woman? What career?" I said, "So you are a missionary? Where do you do your missionary stuff?" No amount of loneliness was worth this agonizing conversation. I vowed to never see him again, and he was feeling the same way. But in the morning, I found my heart had softened toward him. A third date proved just as bad as the first. Why weren't things getting any better? I longed to have a real relationship with him. I was intrigued by his line of work, but couldn't think of a single question that made any sense to ask. I was a new Christian and so missionary work appeared to be the top spot in the kingdom. Full time work was like being so close to Jesus. What was that like? I was so stupid back then, I didn't realize, of course, that being "so close" to Jesus, implied closer to suffering, closer to obscurity, closer to ridicule and mockery. The very life that Jesus lived and was still living through His body. 

There was still a veil between us and no matter how hard I tried to penetrate the veil, it would not fade. Something separated us and it was as solid as glass. My romantic relationships in the past had always been a case of me giving my heart away at my own discretion. I "fell in love" with whom I chose. But this time, my heart was frozen. I would not be having a relationship of any kind with Hans Weerstra. Perhaps that is what it means to be led by God and to belong to Him. This time there was no flirting, no exploration, no heart to heart exchange. I vowed to never see him again. 

Meanwhile our children were going crazy. They had been friends and now they were potentially going to be brothers and sisters. The unspeakable had occurred. They were to be a part of a bigger famlly. But Hans and I were doing terrible at getting along. Until one night. 

We had now been on our fifth date. Nothing fancy, just coffee or walks. He had brought me home from a truly awful evening and we decided that we would walk around the neighborhood. I happened to be standing on the curb which minimized the difference in our height when he leaned down and kissed me for the first time. It was the softest kiss I had ever experienced in my life. And then it was over. When it was over we stood perfectly still. There was complete silence in the air. I had nothing to say and neither did he. I vowed to never see him again. 

But in the morning, my head swam with the memory of that night. I must have relived that moment a hundred times.  And even today, when he is gone, I remember that kiss and a thousand more that came later.  I think we had a good life. We were blessed. There was magic for so long. It was always like that first kiss. 

God's works never lose their glory.


 To be continued.