The Dating Idol

Imagine that you lived in a cookie factory, so you could learn the cookie making process. You spent your days roaming the factory admiring how these cookies were made. Every morning you would start the day by watching the staff make the dough, and get the cookies ready to be baked. Then, mid-afternoon, you'd see all the cookies being taken in and out of the oven. The smell was intoxicating. At night, after the cookies cooled, the milk was poured and the cookies sat on the counter tops, ready to eat. You could practically taste the cookie even though you hadn't even put one near your mouth. It seems like such a wonderful picture doesn't it? Well imagine now, that there are lots of people closely trailing behind and around you eating cookies, saying, "You can't have any of these cookies until later. I know you live here, watch them be made, and smell them everywhere, but you absolutely cannot eat these cookies, because you probably couldn't handle the amazing flavor. Boy, do they taste good though. Oh and if you do eat one too soon, you'll explode. But wow, these are the best cookies I've ever had." Those cookies would become the only thing you wanted. And waiting until you could have one, while watching them be made, would be extremely tempting. They would be the only thing you thought about. Learning the art of cookie making would no longer be your focus; eating a cookie would.

Anyone who entered Master's Commission knew full well that they were going to be asked to refrain from dating, and I was no exception. At the beginning of the year, I willingly signed the "covenant" that all of the first year students were required to sign. In short, the "covenant" was a promise and commitment to spend the next nine months focusing solely on your relationship with God... oh, and abide by all their rules. The "no dating your first year of Master's Commission" rule was the biggest focus and therefore received the most emphasis. It was also a rule that I assumed would be easy to live by since I had stayed away from dating anyway.

Just for kicks, some of the rules included...

1. No talking on the phone past 11:00- even to your family. Unless you got permission from your house leader.

2. Strict 11:00pm curfew.

3. No hanging out in even numbers of guys and girls.

4. No talking on the phone with the opposite sex for more than 5 minutes.

5. NO DATING!

You don't have to tell me how ridiculous those rules were. Believe me, I know.

The first two months of the program went great. I followed those rules in my sleep. Then I met Bobby, and I knew that the remainder of the year was going to be tough. It didn't take me long to fall in love with him, though I didn't admit it to myself for at least four or five months. I noticed that I had feelings for him in early December when he went on a mission trip with a group and I felt his absence heavily. I had never missed someone like that, and I knew I was in trouble. It was the first time in my life that I actually wanted to be with someone, and the only time that I couldn't. We kept our covenant the entire year, not breaking any of the rules set before us, but it was brutal. Bobby and I often look back and laugh, saying that if we didn't have the no dating rule, we would have been dating by Christmas. Or that we should have just secretly dated. From the start, we just knew that we wanted to be together.

From the time that I started to care for Bobby, the word "covenant" quickly became synonymous with the word bondage, for me. It was used about 456236574945 a day to remind me of what I couldn't have. For someone who was already hyper conscious of rules and boundaries, no reminders were needed. I put enough pressure on myself. My first year was no longer about getting closer to God, it was about waiting out the time until I could be honest with how I felt. "Covenant" meant that I had to stare at what I couldn't have. It meant temptation was thick. It meant I had to suppress. The bottom is line is that I became a slave to the rules. I spent more time feeling guilty for caring for Bobby, and asking myself if I had followed the rules perfectly for fear of some impending doom, than I did building the kind of relationship with God that I thought I had come there for. The rules and dating became my idol.

This brings me to the cookies. The cookies in the story, were dating in Master's Commission. We were told day in and day out that we could not date, and that if we did, our marriages wouldn't be blessed.  But here's the crazy thing...what did they think would happen when you stick two hundred 18-25 year old students together in a controlled bubble? People are going to connect. People are going to lean on each other for survival, and for sanity. Dating was like the cookies. Don't date, but let's all live in the same apartment complex. Don't date, but let's all do ministry together. Don't date, but watch how others date because they're second and third year students and are clearly more ready. All any first year student wanted to do and talk about was dating. The precise thing we weren't "supposed" to be focusing on that first year, became the main thing that was talked about the entire year by staff and students alike. Dating was everywhere. Dating was our end game- or at least being able to have a normal conversation with someone. I may not have technically broken my covenant, but I was definitely practicing idolatry.

Here is the point to this entire post, and what I've learned through this. An attempt to set students up for a pure experience with God, turned in to a breeding ground for the opposite. It's one thing to choose not to date based on your own preferences, but to make it forbidden, yields very different results. The insane and unnecessary amount of control that was in place, practically threw people in each others' arms. The more you try to control an environment and those in it, the more you create a ticking time bomb. I think that not allowing students to date actually caused more harm than good. The "no dating" policy left you with idea that you cannot be close to God and care for someone simultaneously. That attraction is a bad thing. It left you thinking that if you did care for someone while you were under this covenant, that you had committed an unforgivable sin. It left you feeling like you needed to squelch desire. It left you feeling guilty and ashamed. It left you feeling like a failure. I spent most of my first year trying to fight the way I felt for Bobby because I was under this umbrella of rules, and I know that was not healthy. Who has the right to tell me (or anyone for that matter) not to love another, or say that God would withhold blessing from me because of that? They may have been trying to stop the craziness that dating can cause, but in turn they created a whole new monster- one of legalism, which produced guilt, shame, and secrecy. Letting students date would be way less destructive.

I truly believe God saw and knew how my heart was aching my first year. Not just because I had begun to care for Bobby and had to wait to be with him, but because of the oppression I felt I was under. He graciously walked with me, and loved me through a very difficult and confusing year. Bobby and I spoke the night of "graduation" and have been inseparably since. Not perfect, but fully committed. Because I love Bobby, I've found that loving another is beautiful. It opens doors you didn't even know you had. Love makes us do things we wouldn't have done otherwise. Love illuminates parts of you that have need light. Love gives you strength to walk through any valley. Love gives you hope. Loving another magnifies the Greater love that created us. Love saves. I have been with Bobby for about 8 1/2 years, and because I have loved him, I have experienced the vastness of God's love. Now, I don't even care that I loved him during a time where I "wasn't supposed to," because loving him that year ultimately showed me more about God than anything else did.

In every fiber of my being, I believe that Christ died to set us free. In the last year and a half I have experienced that freedom deep within my soul, and because of that, I can recognize times in my life where I was in deep bondage and may not have fully known it. I'm discovering my first year in Master's Commission was one of those times. I'm speaking about it to bring myself more freedom. The bottom line is anything that causes you to jump through hoops, and follow a set of standards, as the means to getting closer to God, is bondage and idolatry because they aren't Christ them self. You don't need rules and regulations to have a deeper relationship with God- you need desire. And loving someone doesn't make you desire God less. You need love. I learned about God's love for me in Master's Commission because I loved Bobby, not because I followed every rule that was set before me. Under a covenant or not, I can't see how caring for someone is a bad thing. My covenant threw me into loving Bobby (that, and he's quite the looker.) I know it sounds ironic, but that's exactly how it happened. And cookies are delicious.

A Master's Commission Experience: Scripture Memory

For whatever reason, I'm feeling honest this week. Not just generally honest, because I try to be as transparent as possible in all my posts, but specifically honest about certain things I experienced through the program, Master's Commission, that I was in for two years.

I was in the program from October 2003-May 2005.  I am now seven years removed from being a part of MC and it has taken me about that long- and still going, to detox from my experience there. There are certain things that have been more quickly sifted though, and others that continue to take years to unravel.

I learned a lot from MC, but not in the ways you would think. What I anticipated being an experience that would draw me closer to God, and give me a good foundation for adult faith, turned into the exact opposite. I learned what I don't believe about God, what I don't buy in the church world, and what I will not be a part of. You couldn't pay me enough money to go back there, but I also don't regret going. In hindsight, I see that going to MC was the beginning of my redefinition of faith. Walking through the extremes of that place, gave me part of a perspective that I am grateful for today, even if the means of getting that perspective weren't how I anticipated. Sometimes that's how it goes, though.

Starting to tell my stories about the program are part of my ongoing process of self-discovery, not an attempt to hurt anyone who has attended or works for/at MC. I've realized that summing up my experience in one post is impossible, for there are so many different pockets, facets, and corners that make up the whole of my time there. The best I can do is speak to aspects of that program that are directly related to what I'm feeling and thinking about in the present. Maybe over time, as I share more, a bigger picture about MC will be developed for you to see. For now though, I'll share my experiences singularly, specific to a current thought or idea.

So, here I go.

One perspective I hold to now, that is different than what I experienced in MC, is how scripture works. We would spend hours upon hours studying for our scripture tests. The goal at the end of the year being that each first year student would have 400 scriptures memorized to always have God's word "hidden in your heart," and easily accessible in any circumstance. Lucky for me, I have a great memory, and truthfully didn't struggle with this part of the program at all. I always got 100% and finished rather quickly. After each test, I'd pat myself on the back, and then go get a milkshake. At the end of the year when we had to write down all 400 scriptures for our final test, it was a cinch for me, no problem at all. I finished under the time allotted, and moved on with my day. I was obviously changed by those scriptures (said with heavy sarcasm).

Ask me today, though, how many I remember from that time, and I could hardly tell you five of them. I have a theory about why. It was the same as memorizing a bunch of information in High School to pass a test. You remember it at crunch time, then leave it behind because it doesn't matter to you. The only reason I was memorizing scripture was to pass a test. To get to the next thing. To say, "I did it," and check it off my list of accomplishments for that year. I imagine I'm not the only one who felt that way. What I've found, is that information is useless if there isn't significance attached to it. That includes scripture. Was it horrible that a requirement of being first year student in MC was to memorize scripture? No. But the problem is, I'd venture to say, little to none of us hold all of those words dear to us today, because it was set up as a test- as a hoop to jump through to "graduate," not connected to things that were important to us. We were being tested like we were in school; we just wanted to finish. It became part of the motions. We remained unchanged.

Now here is the flip side... ask me if I have scriptures that mean something to me, and I'd give an emphatic, yes. But are they attached to my time at MC? No. They are attached to my real life experiences and moments that have shaped me. The words that I hold dear to my heart, in the present, are ones that remind me of the goodness of God when I've needed to be reminded of that. They aren't attached to pleasing staff members or getting a pat on the back. My favorite verses are ones that have helped me when I've been at my lowest, my most anxious, and my weakest. My favorite verses are ones that express words that make my soul move.  They are the scriptures that have come to mind when I am taking a walk and start to ponder the intricate beauty of nature, and know that the creator of those leaves, flowers, and seasons, cares for me even more. They are the scriptures that tell me when I am in the middle of a very dark moment, that peace is available to me. They are the scriptures that tell me my hope is everlasting, even when I feel like I am losing ground. I didn't learn those things from sitting in a room studying, starting at note cards. I learned those things by walking through life.

I guess the reason I am telling you about this part of my time there is because it's a safe place to start, but also because it's been a week where I've needed reminders of God's goodness, care, and peace, and my first thoughts were never, "What did I learn in MC?" The scriptures I've recited this week, have been ones that have carried me through specific moments in the past, and because of that,  I know they will continue to carry me through the crazy moments in the present and future.

I don't want to go so far as to say that memorizing all of those scriptures during that year was a waste of time, because I do think the intention was/is good, but I want to be truthful and say that I think it may have missed its purpose. I think it could have potentially left a bad taste in students' mouth when they were struggling to memorize all the words and felt like they were failing. I think it just felt like busywork. Though it's great to have important words with you, I realize now that memorizing for the sake of memorizing means nothing, and the amount of scriptures you know, doesn't equal anything except a good memory, if you don't walk away changed. These days you can always open up an app and read those words on your iphone. The words are the same no matter where they come from, whether your head or your phone. The point of scripture isn't the means in which you read or know those words, it's the power and perspective they give you... and that comes for experience.

In that spirit, here is on of my favorite verses that I could give you countless stories about. This week, I have been once again reminded of the beauty and power of this verse.

What are words that you hold dear to your heart? Whether scriptures or phrases, what keeps you together, reminds you of goodness, and gives you perspective when you need it? I bet you didn't learn that at a desk.

Watering the Grass

Anytime I begin to think about when and where Bobby and I met, that thought is immediately followed by this thought: “I can’t believe we got out of there alive.” Bobby and I met at a faith-based program in Phoenix, where the expectations were unrealistic, where the pressure to maintain a certain image was overwhelming, where we were daily reminded of the strict and intense rules, and where frankly, the theology was whack.  As if it wasn’t hard enough to live up to and muddle through those standards as an individual in our first year there, it became increasingly more complicated in our second year when Bobby and I were finally “allowed” to date (as if it was really anyone's business to tell us not to-they hardly knew us).  Someday, if I can figure out a way to articulate my thoughts and experiences about my time there, I will, but for now, I’ll tell you that when Bobby and I finally realized that we needed to get out of there, we were burnt out, frustrated, and glad to be free from the demands and unhealthiness of that program.

This past winter, after six years and three months of marriage, Bobby and I realized that our dating experience had been so unlike a “regular” couple’s dating experience, and because of that, there were some places in our marriage that needed attention. We didn’t get the time together at the very beginning stages of our relationship that others do, to have fun, get to know each other like we wanted, go out to dinner, and to make-out in the car without feeling like were being watched. We realized that we needed to start over, in a way. We needed to try and re-get to know each other without the pressures of that program, without the expectations, and without fear of making a wrong move. That realization was both painful and freeing all once.

Here we are today, nine months later celebrating seven years of marriage. Our life together is far from perfect, but we've come a long way since we got married on September 3, 2005. Hell, we've come a long way from those dark days last December. We’ve got two beautiful kids, a life that we don’t deserve, and the feeling we’re going to make it, because honestly, if we could make it through six moves, two kids, job losses, anxiety and depression, hard realizations, and that program, all under a decade of being together, then I feel like we’re going to be alright.

These first seven years of our marriage may have had the theme of "getting out alive," but here’s the thought I carry now:  “The grass ain’t always greener on the other side, it’s green where you water it.”

That mentality, to me, is the only way to have a thriving, growing, and healthy marriage.  When Bobby and I stood at the altar seven years ago, and committed our lives to one another, we took that seriously, but we also had no idea how hard marriage was going to be. There have been, and will continue to be, opportunities left and right to quit. We’ve faced some tough days, dark seasons, and hard challenges. I know now that that is part of what comes with marriage, and if you expect anything different, you’ll be let down very quickly.  But, water your grass with what’s true, instead of comparing and hoping for something else, and you’ll see those green sprouts start to pop up. We've been working really hard to water our grass.

Today, looking back at where we met, in that bubble of intensity, I realize that we desperately needed each other. That we were each others saving grace. That without having each other during that time, we wouldn’t have survived that program. Though we may not have had a “normal” dating experience, it was a great  foreshadowing of the kind of love that we still share today: One of companionship, protection, commitment, hope, and promise.  Those things are what we started to water our grass with then, even in the most trying of beginnings, and those are the things that we will continue to try and water our grass with now, and in the future.

My heart was Bobby’s then, and it still is now. I would gladly, willingly, and happily give it to him over and over again.  I’ve found someone to water the same grass with, and though our grass may be brown and dry one season, and bright green in another season, it’s our grass. I don’t want anyone else’s grass no matter how good it may look. 

Here’s to the future, no matter what it holds. Here’s to the ongoing commitment to water our grass. Here’s to the story that started unfolding at that crazy program in Phoenix.

Happy 7^th Anniversary, my darling- I love you.