When who loves you lures you
Our story, part I – Our Earliest Days
We met almost right away in college, perhaps 6-8 weeks into my freshmen year, at the local Applebee’s of all places. Ironically, we met through the guy I was dating at the time – a very short-lived and sensationalized whirlwind of a relationship (seriously, it lasted maybe 3 weeks) – and I knew immediately that I enjoyed Z so much. He was so funny and seemed to think I was hilarious, too. I would sometimes take my then-boyfriend’s phone (oops) and text Z to invite him out with us. It was fairly platonic as we got to know each other more that fall, as our paths crossed in several different areas being that we went to a small Christian college. We even weathered a pretty intense Charismatic phase for a couple months, tagging along to an absurd amount of “worship night” events, using any excuse to put an arm around each other to pray or give excessive amounts of hugs (as young Christian college students do). Although coated in a lot of hyper-spiritualized language and categories at the time, I did notice then how incredibly gifted Z was in leading, connecting with others, and intuiting what was happening in and around him. I was drawn to him as a deep-feeling, clear-communicating person with a lot to share (I mean…a LOT).
It wasn’t until Thanksgiving Break that I noticed my heart flutter a bit when he was around, and I was sad when he left a room. Since we both had more flirtatious tendencies back then, I didn’t know if our connection was any different than with anyone else on campus. Besides, I had part of my heart back in my hometown, unresolved feelings for someone from high school I was set to be seeing over Christmas break. Classic Freshmen year, am I right? That or a Hallmark movie. And in like form, my high-school-best-guy-friend-turned-passionate-fling consumed my entire existence for the next 3 months, while Zach and I continued to casually connect here and there. I planned a trip to visit said guy over spring break, and because of my Christian-culture context, many told me it was a “bad idea” to go – something about him “not being a Christian,” something about me “not listening to God,” etc etc. One person even told me that I was “intentionally stepping outside of God’s will” or some Christianese bullshit like that. I wanted to be with him so badly at the time that I didn’t care what people said.
Z actually sent me a text the night before I was scheduled to leave for my trip. He asked if he could pick me up and go for a drive. Here we go, I thought. Someone else here to guilt-trip me. But deep inside I knew he genuinely cared about me, so I agreed and jumped into the car. After a few minutes of driving, he began to share why he wanted to see me that night. “Hey,” he said, “I feel like everyone is telling you not to go, or telling you God somehow disapproves of what you’re doing.” He swallowed, then added, “I think you already know this, but in case you don’t: God loves you regardless of whether or not you go.” I looked out the window to blink through the tears welling in my eyes and leaking down my face. “I think you might have to go,” he added, “And that’s OK. I just wanted to be able to tell you that it doesn’t and would never change God’s love for you.” His care, kindness, and willingness to show up and tell me that without any pretense or expectation absolutely melted me.
I felt seen by Z on a deeper level than this guy I was about to go see for the week – so much so, that when he dropped me back off at my dorm later than night, I told one of my best friends, “I want to marry that guy.” (To which she replied “What the actual hell?” – rightfully so, since I was literally going to see another guy the very next day). While I was head-over-heels for this person on the east coast, and my trip to see him felt like a fairy tale at the time, I’d check my phone while I was there and see texts from Z just checking in or sending something encouraging and kind. I felt the stark contrast between what couldn’t quite be and a real, flesh-and-bones person who saw much more of who I was every day.
Within weeks of returning, the chemistry was noticeably taking shape between Zach and I. No longer just running into each other, we were looking for ways to be together, to sift through the depths of life and laugh our asses off – it always was (and still is) a little of both. He asked me on a date shortly after Easter that spring, a warmth in the air and lightness in my heart. I still hear the start of Strawberry Swing by Coldplay, or all of John Mayer’s Where the Light Is live album blasting with the windows down and sunshine out. I remember Your Body Is A Wonderland was playing when he picked me up for our first date – which he swears wasn’t intentional – in his golden 1997 Toyota Camry. Both of us unfamiliar with the city we ended up calling our own, we drove to one of the only “cool” areas we knew. We ate at a local pizza place I love now but hated then (I didn’t have the heart to tell him). Our conversation quickly dove from banter to heart-level in a matter of minutes. We walked the streets hand-in-hand, unsure of our destination because we were already where we wanted to be: together.
Baby Z & Me - May 2011
At the same time, during those same few weeks, Zach also introduced me to a realm of Christianity I somehow completely avoided up until that point: Reformed Theology in an intense campus ministry culture. I believe his exact line was something like, “If you really want to know God, come to this church,” or something super compelling like that (lol). Having grown up in a vaguely Christian context without any real church community, I was drawn to the intentionality and felt belonging of this ministry. Since making a pivot from where I was to what I wanted to believe, this seemed to offer some clarity and pathways for growth. Lo and behold, it was Bethlehem Baptist Church, John Piper’s church in a suburb of Minneapolis. To be clear, I did not have any idea who John Piper was or what kind of ideas his church may have about the world. I just knew they took the Bible seriously and I was ready to, too.
I didn’t know a thing about Christian community, about believing the Gospel of Jesus and its implications on your life. Most of my faith journey up until this point had been incredibly isolated – more between God, the pages of my journal, and my headspace lying awake at night (with an occasional Summer Camp High). This made me a perfect candidate to be fully submerged in The Way You’re Supposed To Do Things at a church primed for Doing It Right. Z was already up to his neck in this water and I dipped my toes in. Although I caught glimpses of who he really was outside of this, I also had to navigate a Performative Z that cared far too much about The Right Way of Doing Things – even dating. I had to deal with the dissonance of this cerebral subscription and what he was actually doing with me. I didn’t always know which version of him I was going to get, and having my own faith-related insecurities at the time, I figured it’d be best for me to fall in line.
We kissed for the first time watching The Office. Alone in his dorm room, it’s a college kids’ classic – before we knew it, we were making out and there were articles of clothing coming off. Hilariously, there were two interruptions – the first, a couple of our goofiest friends pretended they were vacuuming the room (seriously – they knew what was up and decided to mess with us bringing in a vacuum). We pushed them out and locked the door, getting back into it. Within minutes, one of Z’s best friends knocked on the door and I jumped to the floor. We collected ourselves (and our things) and answered the door all casually, acting like nothing was happening, and invited him in to watch The Office with us. Poor guy (love you, Kev).
I first encountered The Disconnect when I left the room that day and he didn’t even talk to me the next. We reconnected on my birthday several days later. He gave me a thoughtful gift and we collectively shamed the shit out of ourselves for making out a few days prior. Then, get this – we vowed not to touch each other for the next week before we left for the summer. He even asked me to be his girlfriend later that day, in a very genuine and happy way, and rather than at least hugging – letting our bodies respond in the way(s) that made sense – we awkwardly smiled at each other and got back in the car. Then we launched into a summer apart where he was in another state doing some level of leadership within this ministry, and I went back home – the wrong move in The Way It Was Supposed To Happen.
That summer we lobbed Bible verses at each other, Skyped periodically (this is pre-smartphones, mind you), and got in a million arguments about how we “should” be interacting. Some leader in the ministry at the time prescribed us talking once a week, which Performative Z took literally and, as you can imagine, we struggled to find each other meaningfully. Because I had never really dated a “Christian” before, and I was doing my best to follow along with the supposed-tos, I cried and fought – mostly with myself – to just be OK with the way he was treating me. He barely reached out, tolerated hearing about my life, and would quickly find ways to get off the phone with me. Long distance is already hard, but adding spiritualized rules and regulations made it exceptionally difficult. I was dizzied by The Disconnect I experienced between the kind and caring Z I got to know and the Version I was getting now – the one allegedly more “Leader” and “Man Doing Ministry.” It all goes to show how you can Do It All “Right” and still treat people you care about like crap.
I remember this photo feeling awkward, posing like we were comfortable together but barely talking to each other.
I figured being back together at college that fall would help align us again, where we could find each other and see what was more true together. One of my first memories back on campus was him surprising me at my on-campus job, returning a couple days earlier than I even expected. I was so happy to see him! And, from what I could tell, he was super stoked to see me, too! I rushed to finish the work I had left and called him right after I clocked out. He wouldn’t answer. I texted him. He was busy. I found him in his dorm room sitting on his computer with a roommate, talking about nothing in particular and obviously annoyed I had come over. In the weeks to come, The Disconnect would become more of my lived reality with him than not. I didn’t know how to relate to a guy who was so immersed in a culture that made sure he couldn’t be his full self, a culture that painted women as something to be threatened by and managed rather than engaged with and partnered with. I was dizzied by the whiplash, holding on for dear life in hopes that I hadn’t just spent months and time and energy in vain.
I started having a sweating problem (lol) – I was so on edge most of the time and, because of the small school, we’d see each other whether we planned on it or not. I was always aware where he was but he seemed unaware (and honestly uninterested) in my whereabouts. There were so many times I would have to quite literally take him out of a conversation with someone else just to say hi. He was Big Man On Campus (big fish, little pond) and I was learning how to make myself smaller and smaller. Our relationship that fall was a swirl of feeling dismissed and put off then roped back in by some romantic gesture away from everyone else. Again, because I was pretty desperate for Christian community and thought this was The Way To Do Relationships now, I stayed and prayed and hoped things would get better.
Finally, on the night late into October, I asked to actually talk about our relationship. He asked if I could wait until the World Series game was over.
Thank goodness I said no.
We broke up on the steps outside. I felt more cared for by how he broke up with me than any part of our dating relationship. He actually was honest with himself and with me, naming how I deserved to be treated better, letting go of trying to do it all “right,” and knowing it had to end. I was grateful but certainly heart-broken, more angry with myself than anything as I seemingly wasted all this time on a guy who couldn’t date worth a crap. I went back to my room and sobbed. My phone buzzed – a notification that Z was tweeting about the World Series.
I really dodged a bullet with this one.
(Or so I thought).
I wasn’t having it, in more ways than one. ;)