Interfaithing: Love and Marriage

Ever since high school, the interfaith movement has meant a lot to me. I was raised in a rural community (well, several) that was (were) primarily white, middle class, and Christian. The summer before I began high school, after moving to a suburb of St. Louis, I took a P.E. class so that I would be able to take choir - an elective for which I didn't have room in my rigorous schedule - in the fall. The first day, I met Nipun. We happened to be sitting at the same table at our class meeting spot, and we started talking. Eventually, we talked about Harry Potter - an obsession of ours, if you will - and the rest, I guess, is history. Nipun is Indian. She was born and raised in a white suburban community, one of only a few South Asian students and the only Hindu at our predominantly-white, almost exclusively-Christian, conservative, "average American" suburban high school.

I would like to say that I just enjoyed making a friend so quickly, but that's not the whole story. I didn't just enjoy being around Nipun, I was fascinated by her. I wanted to know about the religious reasons that she didn't eat meat, and how her family immigrated, and where she worshiped, and whether she spoke Hindi at home, and a million other things. So I asked, and we talked. And I told my family. Even though most of the conversations we had over the course of that summer revolved around our similarities and common interests, I was in love with everything that was different about us.

By our sophomore year, Nipun was one of my closest friends. Among others in our cohort were two Jewish twins, a Mexican-American, and a Filipino-American. We were school-loving, parent-pleasing, Harry Potter-obsessed girls who loved to laugh, and - most importantly - we cared deeply about one another. I have been infinitely blessed by the people God has given me to walk with. High school would have been absolutely miserable without my friends; they made it worth the emotional heartache, overwork, and constant anxiety. I love them, and, no matter where our paths take us, I will love them forever.

I suppose I digress (although digressions often convey more about what we're really trying to say than we think). Our junior year of high school, my friends began a club about interfaith understanding and learning. It was a hard sell to the principal - it smacked of collaboration between church and state (ours was a public school) even though another school club was allowed to hold teacher-led Bible studies on campus. Anyway, it happened. It was short-lived, but it meant a lot to them. It meant a lot to me, too, although I didn't really understand its importance at the time. But more on my interfaith journey later. For now, I was to narrow the focus to something I've been thinking a lot about over the last month. This issue, like all others regarding interfaith questions, begs where, short of universalism, one must let go of multi-faith ideas and cling to the Word of God.

I ask this not only in terms of what is acceptable to consider as truth across boundaries of faith but when considering how we relate to one another. Specifically, at the moment, my thoughts linger on the question of interfaith marriage. I know that re-considering my beliefs on the topic is, by itself, treading dangerous ground. I was raised to believe that marriage is a bond made holy by God. Romantic love is only an extension of Christ's love for us (and ours for Christ). One must not marry selfishly; the aim must be to further the Kingdom of God. Because of this belief, I was always taught that marrying a non-Christian is wrong. The commonly-cited verse in defense of this is 2 Corinthians 6:14:

"Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness?"

Those who believe that interfaith marriage is possible turn to 2 Corinthians 7:14:

"For the unbelieving husband is made holy because of his wife, and the unbelieving wife is made holy because of her husband..."

Both verses have context issues. The verse from 2 Corinthians is not explicitly about marriage. The latter comes in the middle of Paul's directions concerning existing married couples in which one person is not a believer.

Considering these things is, of course, a very preliminary step in thinking about interfaith marriage as a whole. The usual questions still exist: in which faith would children be raised, how would you tithe, etc. More importantly, can marriage exist in the God's perfect, intended form between one person who believes that Jesus Christ is the salvation of the world and one who does not?

Unequally Yoked

I've had a lot of crushes in my time. Not all of them have been "major," as it were, but they've all had certain things in common: the ol' butterflies in the stomach, daydreams, increased social awkwardness...and pain.

My first and only boyfriend came into my life when I was 11. I know, I know. I was just a kid. Let me start by saying that I was a very mature 11-year-old who had been through quite a bit in her time. By the time I was 11, I was having panic attacks about reaching age 40 and not having gotten anywhere in life. When I was 13, I was manning a garage sale and had a woman ask if "my husband" and I were having the sale because we were moving or if we just wanted to get rid of a few things. I blinked at her and, not wanting to embarrass her, replied, "Yes, we're moving." Right. I would go on a month later to begin eighth grade. But I digress. I met Wyatt at Pokemon League (laugh all you want - it was super fun), which met every Saturday and Sunday at Toys 'R Us. After being friends with him for a year, I was crushing on him so badly it was ridiculous. You know, crying at night because he didn't love me, etc., etc.

Well, he eventually came to like me, too, and we started "dating." We kissed a lot, which, of course, I thought was awesome and very mature of us. The problem - besides my being very young - was that I saw Wyatt more as a mission field who happened to come in cute boy form than an actual "boyfriend." You see, he wasn't a Christian. In fact, he'd never even heard the story of the birth of Christ when I met him. I'd never met anyone who hadn't been at least raised in the church. I felt like I had a duty to God and to him to convert him.

Actually, it was more self-serving than that. My grandmother reminded me at one point that I shouldn't be "unequally yoked" (2 Corinthians 6:14). But I really liked Wyatt. I figured if I got him to become a Christian then we could go on "dating" and everything would be fine. I would like to remind you at this point that I was eleven. Anyway, it ended badly. I broke things off, and, because he was an earnest and mature twelve-year-old kid, he was absolutely heartbroken. That, my friends, is pretty much the extent of my experience in the world of dating.

There is an epilogue to that story, but I'm not going to get into it here. Just know that it ended happily and hearts were mended many years later. What I do want to talk about is what my relationship with Wyatt taught me about the way I handle things now. So let's get back to the issue of "crushes." I bring this up because it's something I'm dealing with right now. There's a guy, and he's fantastic. He's a "good person," and he just might be interested in me. Not having had much experience in the world of dating, however, I really don't know. He may find me utterly repulsive. I'm not great at reading these things. But I digress.

I like him. When I first came to this realization several weeks ago, I panicked. You see, I relate perfectly well to guys if I don't have feelings for them. When I do, however, all of my social deftness decides to run away. As quickly as possible. I become either defensive and sarcastically mean or girlish and princess-y. Neither of these is part of my personality normally, so I usually end up regretting everything I say and do when I'm around guys for whom I have feelings. It's happening right now, in spite of all my attempts to suppress it. That's not the big issue, though.

The real problem here is that he isn't a Christian. I could come up with a million reasons not to get involved with a guy right now, including the fact that I'm graduating and moving in two months and that I don't know if it would even be appropriate for me to pursue a romantic relationship. Singleness has been going pretty well, particularly in how I relate to God. I don't know if He would give me the go-ahead on a relationship right now no matter what the other circumstances were. I haven't really been thinking about those other things, though. I have to keep reminding myself that no matter what I feel for him or he might feel for me, I absolutely cannot pursue a relationship with him because he doesn't love Jesus.

The modern, wordly part of me keeps saying, "It's fine! He's a good guy! And it's not like you're going to marry him! You're young! Maybe casually dating would help to cure you of your weird social awkwardness around guys you like!" This kind of rationalization presents all sorts of problems, though. First of all, I believe that dating is a precursor to marriage and that it cannot exist on its own. God has not laid down rules for "dating" in the modern sense. He laid down rules for marriage. Thus, casually dating is not appealing to me on the whole, and I'm not sure that it's even obedient to God to do it. Second, I don't feel like being "young" is a justification for any of my actions. Third, I'm an emotionally serious person. I really don't think I could date someone without giving part of my heart away. Some people can, and that's wonderful. I just can't. I get far too invested in my relationships with people to look at romance flippantly.

More than anything, though, I know that God commands us to do and not to do certain things for very specific reasons. In this particular instance, dating a non-Christian would be damaging to my relationship and my partner's relationship with God. I would be missing out on the godly part of romance, which, for Christians, should be most of it. My significant other would be getting less from me than he would expect because I would continue to give most of myself to God (ideally). If the relationship evolved into something serious, I would have to break things off for religious reasons. That could lead only to heartbreak and, most likely, a really negative attitude toward God on the guy's part. It would basically boil down to me using someone.

So, after going over all of this and understanding how much is at stake, I've realized that it just can't happen. I've been asking God to guard my heart and to help me to treat my romantic interest in a friendly, not flirtatious, manner. It seems like it should be so easy, and yet...it isn't.