Recycled...

Three things are too wonderful for me; four I do not understand:
The way of an eagle in the sky,
The way of a snake on a rock,
The way of a ship on the high seas,
And the way of a man with a girl.
-- Proverbs 30:18-19

Discoshaman, of Le Sabot Post-Moderne, in a recent post wrote: "And so there's an eschatological longing bound up in both of these relationships. . . for a Spouse that will care for and understand us perfectly, and for a time when every tribe, tongue and nation will stand united in love."
It's a neat little thought -- actually a big thought -- and though what he means by it is not exactly what I have in mind to write about, it really gave an inspirational context to the theme of my personal romantic history.

The Bible describes marriage as a covenant and as a living picture of God's loving relationship with His children, and because the Bible uses romantic and marital imagery in its foretelling of our Lord's return, I have found it interesting and gratifying to think of the quest for romance -- for the waiting for and seeking of a permanent Lover to become one flesh with -- as a longing akin to eschatological hope.
I love romances that are hopeful, that are easily connected to "the hope that is within me." The film version of Sense and Sensibility comes to mind, as I pointed out in this post. (Have't read the book, so don't know about that.)

The thing about realized eschatology is that it is not only the fulfillment of hopes, but also the redemption of the hopeless. It means God's promises are kept despite our hardships, our longing, our longsuffering. I find that startlingly relatable to my life's romances.

I've been a hopeless romantic ever since I can remember. I concur with the line from a Thomas Campbell poem, "Better be courted and jilted / Than never be courted at all." And the history of my "love life," even from pre-adolescence, is a long line of sensing, seeking, and hoping for the ultimate Love it pointed to:

- In the second grade, I "married" Elizabeth Roberts in the playhouse of the school playground. As every second grader then knew, kissing is a sin, so when our "minister" Christopher Pugtenat pronounced us husband and wife, Elizabeth kissed a leaf(!) and pressed it to my cheek.

- During and after my brief playground marriage to Elizabeth (ending in playground divorce about 30 minutes later), I pined for Sarah, the preacher's daughter. Alas, Sarah was always unattainable, because . . . well, because she was the preacher's daughter. I highly suspect my marriage to Elizabeth was intended to make Sarah jealous.

- In third grade, I pined for Lisa Holly. But she was one of the pretty girls.

- I actually had a girlfriend for 4th and 5th grade, Molly Motley. A cute blonde and a tomboy I could play soccer with in the cul-de-sac. I wooed her with a note that read: "I want to go around with you. Circle yes or no. P.S. You have to stop sucking your thumb." She did.

- Moved back to my hometown for 6th grade. Sarah again. [sigh] I'm not sure I really liked her in that way, so much as I was intrigued by her virtue and unattainability.

- 7th grade: "Went around" with Stacy. Still pined for Sarah.

- Moved in 8th grade to New Mexico. Where do I begin? Trina was the girl I stared at in class, but never ever spoke to. It just didn't seem right to defile her personal space with my stuttering words.

- 9th grade: Marie Loper. A great "girl next door" who entertained my puppy-dog advances but always longed for the stud two grades up. I even dated Kendra to make Marie jealous. Didn't happen, I don't think. Then, on the day we moved back to Texas, Marie tells me she loves me. Gee, thanks. That's a big load off.

- 10th grade: Still hacked about Marie. Dated Heather to fill the void.

- 11th grade: Meet Becky Methvin in a bit of platonic foreshadowing.

- Halfway through 11th grade: Hmmm. This Becky chick is starting to seem like more than just a buddy. We have so much to talk about. In one of the dumbest moves ever made by any human being, I start "seeing" Trudy, but begin secretly dating Becky. Okay, not really dating. She was the intern for the youth group, so we just coincidentally kept running into each other at the movies and what-not.

- Last part of 11th grade: BECKY.
- 12th grade: BECKY
- First year of college: BECKY
- June 29, 1996: Becky is finally really mine.

It was always Becky. For eighteen years, it was Becky. She is the leit-motif of my life -- the Love testified to by all the loves. She is the Promised Land after years of wandering in the romantic desert.
I got my girl next door, my "prettiest girl in school," my best friend -- all in one glorious person. I am not a hopeless romantic anymore; I am hopeful. To twist an Augustinian phrase: "My heart was not at rest until it found its rest in her."
It is relatively easy to love a God who gives out women like this to portray His grace and redeeming love to mutts like me.

Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a lovelorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you're doing
In my cheek's pale hue?
All my life with sorrow strewing;
Wed or cease to woo.
-- again, Thomas Campbell

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Addendum:

We can think of a pre-Christian's seeking as his awkwardly finding his way to the One calling him. Like the Lewisian concept of mythology as "gleams of celestial beauty" perhaps providing glimpses of truth, acting as glowing signposts leading the way to the real Light like the shadows on the wall of the cave in Plato's parable, we find the things leading to a relationship with Christ vaguely satisfying but not ultimately fulfilling.
In the same way, all of the little romances we have before we marry (if we ever do -- alas, it is not meant for everyone) are awkward fumblings, sometimes clumsy "figurings out," toward the final and fulfilling loves of our lives.

When Jesus called Lazarus forth, I imagine the poor guy stubbed his toe on a few rocks as he made his way out of the pitch blackness of the tomb toward the Light.