intentionality

A little more than fourteen years ago, I was sitting on a jungle gym in the park, talking with a girl who I had recently grown to appreciate. During our conversation, I mentioned nobody in particular as I indicated my desire to "date around" during my final summer before college. My friend nodded in "understanding." Shortly after, I asked this girl to prom -- we had a great time. Two weeks later, I pragmatically expressed that we should be a couple because it was already assumed. She said okay.

What began as a "practical" approach to spending time with one another soon became the burden I had foreseen that day in the park. I spent my summer on family vacations and camp counseling; she sat at home writing very heartfelt letters as I traveled. I couldn't reciprocate. In the back of my mind, I knew college would tear apart anything or anyone that I brought with me. But this didn't make me less of a jerkface. She had wanted to be with me all along, and I dragged her heart so that I could fill the empty places in my summer schedule.

Leaving work on Friday, July 4, I noticed an envelope attached to my windshield wipers. My girlfriend did what she knew I wouldn't: she broke off the relationship. She recognized the inequality in our feelings for one another, and couldn't afford to allow her heart to receive further pain. She showed character, and I was able to weasel away without a poor reputation. Whatever.

I had been taught to date only Christians, not have sex, and define the relationship. I followed all of these rules, but I was not blameless with her heart. Preparing her for a disinterested relationship did her few favors. Her heart was broken, and I was the cause. I wish I could say that this was the last time I held a woman's heart like puddy with no intent to commit. But greener pastures were just as tempting through my college years, and had I never loved a girl and been left myself, I may have never been reformed.

In the nine plus years since my last date, God has shown me the purity of being intentional in my relationships, including my platonic friends. I began to realize how many people I "needed" to know, simply for the feeling of worldly approval or personal value. Those on the peripheral might say that my personality changed -- that I became introverted. Extroversion however is defined by how one "refuels" rather than how outgoing one is: to be replenished externally as opposed to internally. In this regard, I am still very much an extrovert. But the depth of my relationships has dwindled the number to a handful, and I owe this to intentionality.

For the first time in my life. I have no purposeless relationships. There are no take 'em or leave 'em friends that are contacted merely for the sake of larger numbers. One of the reasons I deactivated my Facebook last year was to determine just how many "friendships" were on life support. Indeed, my expectations are now further aligned with reality.

It brings its share of difficulties in this culture. Whereas the American church promotes the idea that singles are better served when congregating in massive come-and-see parties, I must demonstrate spiritual authenticity and vulnerability with those in my life. When given the choice to comfort myself or spend hours in conversation with a hurting friend, my commitment is sealed. If one of these friends asks for prayer and I offer, this is held as an expectation and not merely a nice thing to say. I'd stand in the gap for any of them in warfare, and this takes precedent to any personal pleasure.

Does this torture the flesh that still loves the intensity of crowds? Sometimes. I have to continually bear in mind what is being produced. Where I find fruit, I know the Spirit is at work. And as much as I was personally satisfied dining on megachurch dessert, my life and my relationships produced nothing. I spent my days making merry with whoever gave me the time of day, and never fully committed my heart to any of them.

You might say, "But you gave so many hours to those kids!" Yes, I did. But the difference between offering your services and offering your heart is vast. It's the difference between spending the summer with someone crazy about you and giving your heart to someone you cannot live without. American ministry "subjects" are fully replaceable. We may like some congregants better than others, but inevitably it's a game of collection rather than one of substance. We don't feel we can give our hearts too recklessly for the sake of one, because the demand to be diplomatic is too high.

I like that I'm able to express when I am angry, frustrated, tired, confused, or heartbroken. I love that within my intentional relationships my mess will be considered, even if they don't have an answer for me -- even if I'm the one in leadership. That's certainly worth the ole' one-two punch to my flesh. The Bride of Christ is built upon intentional people sharing in His life with one another. No more dating around. No more summer flings. My brothers and sisters are in this thing for the long haul -- hearts out and vulnerable.

And physically, God has used these principles for His Church to teach me a thing or two about committing to a bride. These past ten years, my heart and mind have been unable to even consider another woman once they've been drawn to one. Monogamous intentionality, if you will. A purposeful relationship is like seeing with tunnel vision: this one woman should receive the firstfruits of everything God has left me to offer.