he who has eyes...

“And when you date someone, be sure to do it honorably and with love. For he who does not honor his date during the meal might as well kiss dating goodbye.” [1 Hezekiah 5:22-23]

Two friends of mine recently got married. I hadn’t seen them in the months since the wedding, so I decided to ask the most generic of all questions (because that’s what we do, isn’t it?), “So, how’s married life?” The wife’s response — which was comical because the husband was right there and just nodded in agreement, as if resigned to the inevitability of this story coming up — was that she just had no idea what a slob her husband was! Laundry would stay unfolded in their dryer for days if not weeks, damp towels would find their way on the floor of the bathroom and the bedroom (even the kitchen!), and the empty envelopes of already paid and filed-away bills were strewn across their desk. (Hey, at least the bills were filed away!)

This isn’t really a unique story by any stretch. I’ve heard it countless times, as well as many other slight variations — “I can’t believe what a temper she has!” or “I never knew someone could breathe so loudly.”

It’s sort of funny though, because these poor people have become duped into dealing with slight annoyances from their spouse for the rest of their lives because of a strange system we’ve developed in our consumerist world: dating.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not about to go off on some strange anti-dating rant like Joshua Harris might. I like dating.

I’m just saying that what we see in the dating world is much like what we see about a product in commercials or what we see from a job applicant during an interview — namely only the best side. And when you buy the Magic Bullet from the infomercial, and it makes a mushy paste instead of chunky salsa, you are surprised. But, of course you are. You’re expectations were unrealistically raised because you spent time getting to know a product from its commercials without actually getting to know it in reality (wait… I don’t think I’m talking about Magic Bullets anymore…).

You see, if we’re constantly trying to sell ourselves to each other so that a purchase is made (that purchase being marriage), we set up some false expectations that quickly come crashing down when our temper is revealed because we’re just really, really moody in the mornings, especially when someone was hogging the blankets all night long.

But, there are different ways of dating.

One way that I’ve heard suggested is to go out and do something together, not just the generic dinner-and-a-movie date, but partnering together to do something challenging. Volunteer at a soup kitchen together, train for and run a race together, tutor some kids together.

In doing so, you not only get something totally worth-while accomplished (who doesn’t like it when homeless and hungry people get to eat?), but you also get to know each other in the process. In fact, what you get to know about each other is generally far deeper than what you would find out about otherwise. You get to see how the other handles stress, adversity, fatigue, responsibility, and so on. How often do you get to see these characteristics exposed in the generic “casual” dating life?

When I think back on a particular relationship I was in once upon a time, what I remember about this girl’s character was what I learned about in volunteering with, being around, and generally loving international students she was ministering to. Sure, we had dates together where we went to a restaurant or a concert, but when I really started getting to know who she was and what she had a passion for (and even when I began seeing the pain of her life and what drove her) was when we would do something like play volleyball with some students who were generally lost in the city otherwise. I got to know her in the process, and it was actually fun. Heck, it didn’t even cost anything!

But I don’t think this sort of paradigm shift is only helpful when it comes to the romantic dating world.

When I think about the way our churches often do community together, I actually think that there must be a different way to date than this.

These words “fellowship” and “community” are thrown around so much in church nowadays as something that our churches should strive towards. And, as any good church leader would do, pastors find ways to foster this fellowship and community so that people belong to something bigger than themselves. We develop worship services on Sundays that are “open and inviting” and have a network of small groups catered to all the different people in the church — the moms’ group, the men’s group, the funny-hat-wearing group. We fit together and grow close together because we’re so much like each other that it’s hard not to.

And the church grows.

Community is had by all, and we win.

But the people in the community are still miserable and messy and hiding it all underneath the shroud of “How am I doing? Oh, I’m great! God is so good!”

I’m part of an amazing community (See! I can’t even help using the word!) of people called Greenhouse at the Evanston Vineyard Church. Every Sunday evening during the song-singing part of the worship service, we do something called a worship offering. There is a basket over on the right of the stage with some index cards and markers next to it. You write on this card something about the place you’re coming from with worship today (anonymously, of course) and leave it in the basket. The following week, a little video is made showing a sampling of what people wrote on the cards last week so that we all know where each other is coming from — “I’m so filled with love this week!” or “I’m actually hopeful for a change.” or “God, if you just give me this one thing, then I’ll be happy!” And, given the anonymity of the offering, the results are often staggeringly raw and unfiltered. People say such things as “Hiding disappointment…” and “I hate everything about myself.”

Even in this community that I feel is so fantastic and wonderful, there are people suffering anonymously and no one is getting to know this pain or this anguish because we’re all dinner-and-a-movie dating and hiding the fact that we’re messy and have a temper in the mornings.

I’m not saying that the general way we do community-building in church is bad. I love it! I think the model of having small groups where people study the Bible and sing songs and share food together is wonderful and should absolutely continue on — if for no other reason than I like getting fed in the evenings.

What I’m saying is that we need a second kind of dating that people are actually engaged in, allowing themselves to be challenged and forcing all the ugliness of who they are to the surface so that everyone in the community can help them deal with it. I know churches have programs all the time where we can serve the homeless, do yard-work for the single mother, or tutor the foster kids in the schools, but who participates in these? And, do they do them all the time? And, do they do them as part of a regular community doing these things together? Because, I think that if there are groups doing this form of “dating” together, not only will something good come out of it (who doesn’t like it when single mothers have a bit of their responsibilities lessened so they can spend more time with their kids?), but you also get to know each other in the process — the good side and the ugly side.

Maybe instead of our Bible studies and pot-lucks being our primary focus of community building, we need to look at the places where we can be used together as a group doing something with a tangible, but difficult-to-achieve, Kingdom focus in renewing a bit of social justice that is so lacking in our cities and neighborhoods.

Let me just prod a bit further by suggesting how it is that we could learn whom we should serve and in what way to “date” as a community together. It’s often suggested that leaders should pick places to serve and people to aid based on his or her particular strengths. You’re good at teaching? Then go tutor some kids.

But, in his book The Monkey and the Fish, Dave Gibbons suggests that maybe we should rework our leadership selection paradigm. He suggests that we should learn to lead not from our strengths, but from our pains. He calls it the pain principle.

The pain principle grows out of two axioms: (1) For leaders, pain in life has a way of deconstructing us to our most genuine, humble, authentic selves. It’s part of the leader’s job description. (2) For most people, regardless of culture, it’s easier to connect with a leader’s pain and short-comings and mistakes than her successes and triumphs.

If we, as a group of people, are serving together because of our pain and our short-comings and our mistakes, not only will we be filled with so much more compassion and grace and humility, but we’ll be more genuine, more humble, and more authentic. Not only will we deeply connect with those we are serving and probably serve them much better, but those serving alongside of us will more fully see our true selves — so when you think, “I hate everything about myself,” there are other people with you who know what you’re going through and who can be so much more of a beautiful support system.

Besides, who wants to become part of a community where your fellow house group members leave their damp towels everywhere?