By Nikki Wright
I came home on a warm summer night last August beaming from head to toe. I set my head down on a pillow and couldn’t get Chris’s face out of my mind. We just ended a pretty intense night together where we got really close physically (although no, we did not have sex). His mother, who I had met the previous weekend and bonded with immediately, had a minor stroke the night before. She was doing fine, and already recovering well in a hospital in southern New Jersey. Sadly, this was not the first time she had a stroke, due to her complications with diabetes. Chris’ parents told him to stay in New York City that night because his mother was doing just fine, and that he need not worry. Still, he was visibly upset when I saw him, heartbroken by her reoccurring health problems. All I wanted to do was be there for him.
We had been dating for only a few short weeks – but had been friends for several months since meeting on the tennis courts in Central Park that summer. We had undeniable chemistry and mutual attraction. There was just one little problem that I had been trying to overlook all summer – Chris was a born again Christian and I am Jewish. The more he opened up to me, the more it was evident that for Chris, serving Christ was his life’s mission. That little voice inside of me kept nudging me, telling me our relationship would never work out, that we had no real future together.
I’m totally open to other religions – I believe religions are, for the most part, a vehicle for people to be connected to the universe in a deeper, more spiritual way – but becoming a born again Christian had zero appeal for me. Then again, who was I to judge Chris in his spiritual journey? He confided in me that before he found Christ, he was doing a lot of drugs in college and was incredibly depressed. If being a born again Christian brought him joy, made him feel like his life had a purpose, and got him off drugs, then I was all for it. Still, I wondered if he was just jumping from one extreme to another – if the void that was left by his drug use was now filled with serving Christ. Chris displayed his desire for me typically in small ways – hugging, kissing, holding my hand. Still, I could see he was conflicted – he seemed very hesitant and guilty every time he kissed me. And yet despite all of this, I was not ready to let Chris go.
The morning following our intense date, I awoke to a two-page ranting email from Chris. As I absorbed his words, it finally dawned on me that Chris was proselytizing to me.
His email read:
“I know this is probably really hard for you to understand, but as I have tried to share with you before, my heart has been changed and transformed by the power of Jesus. I know this sounds alien to you. I have so longed to be a shining light of love in your life! I have wanted in every way to be a blessing, to please you and love you. But I am conflicted and know in my heart for sure that there is only one who can truly do this, and his name is Jesus! I really don’t have an agenda but to love you as Christ does. Unfortunately I have fallen quite short of that calling and need to recognize that the best thing right now is for us to be friends. I hope that in the midst of this trial you and I will come to trust more in the One who is absolutely sovereign and who ordains all things according to His wise purposes. There are no accidents here. You know this, Nikki!”
Chris’ critical words on what he thought of our “transgressions” burned in my head. “We had NOT even had SEX,” I yelled at my laptop. I guess a part of me believed that once Chris fell in love with me, he would give up his zealous Christian ways. In Judaism, sex is regarded as a “divine gift” from God, not solely for the purpose of procreation, but for the purpose of companionship and pleasure. Judaism does not believe that sexuality is evil, but rather a strong and chronic urge similar to hunger or thirst, that is apparent in healthy human beings. In traditional Judaism, sex is permissible only within the context of a marriage. But I’m not the most traditional girl, and neither are most of my Jewish friends.
I heard on NPR that a majority of evangelical or born-again Christians believe that sexual activity outside of marriage is likely to have harmful psychological and physical effects. Moreover, many evangelical Christians have a conflicted relationship with sex even once they are married, believing that it’s a sinful act unless used to propagate. Hear me out: I was NOT with Chris only to have sex. However, I am not a virgin and when I am in a committed relationship with a guy, I want to enjoy a sex life with him.
Besides, I take being Jewish seriously. I love the Jewish holidays with all the great food and familiar traditions. I loved my Bat Mitzvah. I love celebrating Shabbat whenever I can. I love hearing Hebrew at delis in New York City and deconstructing it. Ultimately, as much as I was falling for Chris, I knew I had to stay true to myself. And so, as painful as it was, I wrote an email back and said goodbye.
Photo by kyz, licensed under Creative Commons.
Tags: Christianity, love, relationships, sex
Sounds like you are on top of things. Good luck in the next couple rounds =)