I’ve heard it I’m sure you’ve heard it. I’m sure you’ve heard it from peers (other single women especially) a lot. “Be careful that you don’t want marriage so much that it becomes an idol.” In fact, I’ve heard it so much I find it very tempting to never mention that I want a relationship, that I want to be married. If I talk about wanting a job or improving my career, missions (no matter my true motivations), the latest tv show, anything but relationships. Anything but marriage. And, it’s not if you talk about it a ton either. I’ve found the admonition often comes with my very first mention of relationships or marriage within a group. They couldn’t warn me faster if I said that I liked watching porn from time to time.

I read this blog in Boundless the other day and I really think she has a point. I also read the comments and I wanted to point out comment #13. I wish I could give her a hug! She is obviously my sister. There was another comment  which I can’t find now, but it said something along the lines of “maybe people tell other people not to want marriage too much because what they really mean is “you’re obviously desperate to get married and it’s tacky and a turn off and you might have more success if you backed off” but that people are too nice to really say that. I want to consider if what she said is true, and what else it might imply (on a side note, my father always says that your should write things that get a response, well, they certainly have gotten one from me).

First, is it really kinder or more discreet to say that rather than “you seem desperate.” Because most people will not only not hear what they “should” be hearing, but hear something else entirely. So then, through an attempt at subtle manipulation and non-confrontation you disseminate falsehood while not correcting anyone.

Second, what else might people be saying when they say “be careful not to make marriage an idol” or “be careful that you don’t want marriage too much?” I can think of a few:

·         Don’t talk about this, guys are around and you’ll scare them off with talk of commitment. (because obviously all guys, Christian and non-Christian, are commitment-phobes and don’t want to be married and thus must believe that we don’t either lest the very mention inspires them to feel pressured and get scared and allow their true cowardly immature character show. Why would we want those guys anyway?)

·         I think marriage should just happen and you’re ruining my fairytale idea (this comes from listening to the world, and reading/watching one-too-many romances)

·         I think God is kind of cruel and won’t give us something until we don’t care if we have it. If you say you want it you’re jinxing yourself (and this is just an erroneous idea about God)

·         I’m afraid of marriage and commitment myself and you’re making me uncomfortable (that’s your issue, not mine)

·         I feel the desire to get married but I don’t want it and you’re reminding me that I’m pulling a Jonah in this regard and it’s making me uncomfortable (also your issue, not mine)

·         I’ve grown bitter/hopeless/resigned to my condition of singleness and I don’t want that wound reopened by someone else’s determination and hope. (and again, your issue, not mine)

·         We’re Christians, so since religion is off the list of taboo things to talk about we’ve replaced it with romance. It’s now not polite to talk about romance or politics. (if this is just about what’s taboo than I really really don’t care)

How did I do? Did I cover all the other bases not yet mentioned?

Or, maybe people mean exactly what they say and they think that the desire for marriage is, quite apparently, a bad thing, so easily corrupted that you have to nip it in the bud at its genius. Well, guess what, the heart is so corruptable that technically none of our motivations or desires are pure (so you don't have to worry about them being corrupted, they already are). And, there are a lot of other things that I think are much more likely to make us fall. Pride, for example. And faithlessness.

I think this is wrong and a major reason why there are so few marriages now and a contributor to so much immorality within the church and so little preparation when people actually do get married. I think it discourages marriage in the same way that discouraging people to think about money at all would keep them from knowing how to manage money. I think it encourages immorality in the same way that starving children binge themselves on food when they get an opportunity to eat, even if it means stealing. I think it leads to little preparation because there is little discussion and even less about what happens and how you should truly handle what happens *after* you get married.

You see, I think that the desire for marriage is not often an idol. I think lots of things can be an idol, the but the desire for Godly marriage and a godly relationship, I don’t think that’s often an idol. Mostly because it’s not a very self-promoting god. Let’s see, marriage, you have to submit to your husband, you no longer belong to yourself, your entire life’s point is to think of his good and help your husband, kids will give you lots of embarrassment and no time to yourself, you have to put up with someone else’s faults and failures and short comings for the rest of your life. Oooooh, yeah, sounds like the best idol ever!

I think what people fall in love with, and idolize, is a romance novel. Basically, a fantasy. And before you go accusing someone of idolizing a fantasy you’d best make sure it’s a fantasy that they’re thinking of. That means actually engaging them in a conversation about what they want and expect out of marriage. It means asking secondary questions *before* you pass judgment.

In light of all this I’ve come up with some easy detections of “making marriage an idol.” For those of you who are worried that you’re making marriage an idol (and I’m pretty sure that any Christian woman who would like to get married, who has that desire even a little, may wonder). Here goes:

First, do you have standards? Do your standards go beyond “he goes to church and he breathes?” If so, good.

Second, do the words “till death do you part” make you feel a bit sick to your stomach with fear? If so, you definitely don’t have to worry about the desire for marriage being an idol.

Third, do you regularly lay in your bed at night crying in desire for a husband, or for marriage? Do you look at wedding magazines and pine? Do you read home décor magazines and wish? Do you coo and cry over every cute baby, wishing you had one? Do you arrange chick flick nights where you eat fattening food and watch a visual romance fantasy unfold before your eyes and wish that if only that could happen to you? No? No to most of them? Eh, than I wouldn’t worry.

Fourth, (and I would say this is the clearest indicator). If an angel met you and said you were going to die in 30 seconds, that you would never have a husband, that you would never have children, that you would never grow old or leave a legacy, but that you were about to be in the presences of God, what would you do? Would you call a loved one and leave a quick message of love and hope? Would you stand in stunned shock and horror? Would you cry out, saying something like “but I’m still a virgin! I can’t die a virgin!” or “But what about a husband and babiiiiiiieeees?!” Would you go contentedly into that good night or would you fight it, or wish to fight it, feeling that you hadn’t yet done what would make eternity worthwhile? If you answered ‘yes’ to anything but the first option, this might be time to reassess. If the answer was no to all but the first option than you have nothing to worry about. You see, and idol is something you place over God, it’s something you want more than God. If you would happily forfeit husband and children for a chance to be with God in eternity I don’t think that there’s any need to worry about marriage being an idol. If you still desire marriage than take it as a natural craving, like hunger, that God has given you. I do.

And let me tell you, I see marriage and loving God very much like this analogy. When I was in Korea I missed my family. I wanted to go home. I would lay in bed sometimes just aching to feel the true embrace of someone I knew loved me. I was a stranger in a strange land. And I had a job to do. And I got hungry. A lot. There were times I would sit at my desk and dream of food. Sometimes it wasn’t time for me to eat but I was really hungry. Would it have helped for me to deny my hunger? No. Would it have helped to ignore opportunities to sate my hunger when they came? Would it have been good for me to chew gum? No, that just would have made me more hungry in the long run, and gassy. What was better to accept that I was hungry, even say that I was hungry, and when I had the opportunity, eat. Now, was I a glutton? No. But I loved the food. I desired the food. Moreover, did I want the food more than I wanted to go home? If I had been given the opportunity to up and see my family, or them to see me, but I’d have to miss food, would I have taken it? Heck yeah! I would have gone without food for days just for that feeling of home. I figure that the desire for marriage is a lot like that desire for food. I’m here, a stranger in a strange land, and I have a job to do, and I can’t go home until it’s done. In the mean time I have this desire, and it’s not going to go away, and I can try and sate it with fake things but that won’t help and it won’t last, and I can try to deny it but that will only cause problems. I shouldn’t feel guilty about it, but what I should do is acknowledge it and take the opportunity if it grants itself. And I should always understand that this is not what I want most. I assure you, sisters, it is Heaven that I lay in bed and cry for, not a husband. It is intimacy with my God that will fill all my desires, not a husband. It’s not an idol. But do I want a husband? Do I want to eat? You bet. And I bet you do, too.

Heaven. Hell. How many people actually believe they exist? Even of those who say they do I’m finding there are many who really don’t. Or rather, they don’t think on it at all. Their visions of heaven and hell have been as much shaped by multi-media as anyone else’s.

Then, of course, there are the reformer’s ideas. Heaven becomes this boring celestial city where we sit around singing out-of-tune hymns and hell is all fire and brimstone.

I read both Mere Christianity and The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis and his ideas on heaven and hell spurred me to realize what my ideas where. Then, a few months later, I went through this panic about whether or not I really was saved. If you check further back in the blog you can read all the wonderings and fearmongerings I was doing then. And, it’s good to work out your faith from time to time. But *why* was I so upset? *Why* is being a Christian so necessary? I came to one conclusion and that conclusion has changed the way I see the world. It’s so important because I am desperate to get to Heaven, and desperate to avoid Hell.

Well, what is Heaven, what is Hell, that they should matter? I could give you a bunch of verses that may or may not make sense, refer you to articles I’ve read, and I may do that, but I’d rather just tell you about what I believe.

You may have heard the old song “when I get to heaven, gonna talk with Jesus, when I get to heaven, gonna see his face…” And we dismiss the words.

Imagine this: you die. You die and the world goes dark around you and you blink and there you are, standing before the throne of God. Light brighter than the sun on the hottest day, brighter than the sun without ozone, brighter than any star, blasts you, staggers you back, but you don’t die. You’re already dead, remember. As you squint through the light you see a man before you. He is both so big that his throne cannot contain him and just the right size to meet with you. What shines from his face is Glory, Power, Love, Justice, Mercy, and Wrath. Again you’re staggered, and this time you drop to a knee as you realize who you’re before. And, as soon as that realization hits you memory does as well. You’re no God, you’ve failed, you don’t deserve to be here. Mourning and panic and fear and awe sieze you. You drop to your face in the heavenly dirt, tears stream from your eyes. “My God, forgive me,” you beg, even as you acknowledge that you don’t deserve it.

Then a hand is on your shoulder, and you choke on even more tears, because of the warmth and generous love that spreads through you, the forgiveness. “Arise my beloved,” says a voice that is both quite and permeating in a way that no bullet could be, “you have served me well.” You look up and the One on the throne, though He is still somehow upon it, is also before you, helping you your feet, brushing off the dirt. And there is such compassion, such pride, such love in his eyes that again you are overwhelmed. At once you are entirely known and every ache and every hole in who are is healed and sealed up. The joy and intimacy you sought through sex is fulfilled, the confidence you sought through jobs is granted, the humility you sought through service is attained. You stand there, struck dumb for ages by the amazing thing that has been done for you. You who knows you don’t deserve it. You’re more real and more whole than you ever were when alive. It feels like you just woke up from a lingering dream. God himself is pleased by you and wraps you in a welcoming hug. You’re shocked that God would touch you, because all your life, though you prayed and sang and read and did your very best to believe without proof and serve without return, God was still something you didn’t quite comprehend. But now you see Him clearly, see yourself clearly. You are loved, you will never be turned away, you are known, and in that you are made the best possible you. You’re forgiven, you’re fixed. Nothing could surpass what you’re experiencing. Each new moment in the presence of your God reveals new insights. For the first time in your life you’re free, content, happy, fully informed of the state of yourself.

And then it gets better, because your eyes turn to take in this realer than real heavenly place and you see a country all around you. A city without walls. Pastures and woods stretch into the distance. Trees in fruit and trees in bloom. Soft grass and inviting riverbanks. Glorious roads leading into a distance. People, old friends who you’d mourned, enemies and now you’re excited to see them free as well, and a goodness in them you could never recognize in your Earthly life. There are people there who you never knew, and some you recognize though you’ve never met. All complex and complete. Angels and men walking and talking together. More company than you’ll ever need but how wondrous to share such a thing with them. Not only are there plants and people, but animals too, and water, and food. Such food as you’ve never had. Food untainted by toxins, or death. Sweet and rich. Food that fills you. And you find that you’re not hungry nor thirsty nor tired. Every pang of sadness is healed, every remorse set aside for the joy of where you are and in whose light you stand. This is a place that has a place for you. You belong here. You were made for here. This is where the forgiven stand. This is the home of the renewed, and it is forever.

Now, in contrast, imagine Hell.

You die, you feel your soul slip from this world like a hand passing through the surface of water. For a moment nothing and then you are aware. Of nothing. At first all you feel is pain, pain that cannot be stopped our placed, it bounces from limb to limb like a child playing hopscotch. Your skin feels like it’s burning, your bones like their breaking. You try to scream, but no noise comes. Try to thrash but feel no movement. You hear nothing. Finally you open your eyes and you see nothing. It takes a while, because you’re in denial, you think you’ll wake up, you think the real world will come back to you, before you realize where you are. You didn’t really believe in this place. It’s so hard to conceptualize. You’re in Hell. Your limbs ache like one giant amputee. You feel them while they seem to no exist. You feel like a vapor. That sense of incompletness, of being not quite whole, that lingered in life, is now consuming, maddening. You never even got a chance to see what you’re missing, but somehow you know, because now that you’re in so much agony you can easily imagine what the opposite it.

But this place has no escape hatch. It is nowhere and it goes on without end. You don’t know if anyone else is here. For all you know you’re the only one. You hope you aren’t, but you can’t be sure. No senses to tell you otherwise, not even the smell of your own burning flesh to assure you this is real, and you can’t kick the feeling that you are less real than you were before, less valid by exponents. You can’t kick at all. And you can’t take comfort from knowing your enemies are here too. You agonize over the possibility that the people you hated most aren’t here. You wish for a fair fight, try to scream that God should come down here and face you, but you know you had your chance. Now, suddenly, and with sudden clarity, you can see all the times you had chances and turned them away, all the possibilities that would have lead to a different end but you ignored. You see with stunning clarity just how unworthy you were of the good things you received, and how much you took for granted. You see with true clarity the reality of the universe, and how small you are, how messed up, how dirty, how alone. This is your fault. You’re guilty here. The weight of your pride and degradation are yours to bear. Here it is both a sensory deprivation tank and a torture chamber. None mocks you but your own failings. None but your own heart accuses you. The world has lifted away and you have fallen into the void. And with a growing sense of horror and mourning, so overwhelming in its intensity you’d cry if you could, you understand. This is Hell, and it’s forever.

When I think of Heaven and Hell these are the concepts that trail through my mind. No clouds in heaven, no boring hymns (though I’m sure there will be singing. I imagine it’ll be a bit like Sojourn, a good mix of everything), no babies with wings and harps. Neither do I think it’ll be a throng of enraptured looking people standing around a giant impersonal throne whispering words like “God” and “Savior” and “Master” (though I imagine that there will be a good bit of that as well). I think there will be singing, and eating, swimming, laughing, eye rolling, joking, painting, stone working, writing, relaxing, running and jumping, talking, hugging, reminiscing, thinking, quiet being, and shouting. I think there will be learning, and some forgetting, I think there will be making, and building, and planning, and doing. Heaven will not be static. Nor will it be impure. There won’t be sex (sex, like sleeping, are not bad at all, but will be fulfilled in different ways once we reach that Heavenly realm), or sleeping. There won’t be resentment or fights or pride or “issues” or ego or disappointment or rage. There won’t be malicious talk or depression. There won’t be failure or lying, or injury. There won’t be broken trust or broken hearts.

Hell, on the other hand, won’t be a big party with all your biggest partier friends. It won’t be the place where all the rebels go to have a good time without anyone telling them what to do. It won’t be a gathering of all the strong ones while the weak ones go to a nice quite white place. It won’t be sexy (I imagine more it’ll be castrating and filled with a sense of incontinence). It won’t be comfy. You see, all pleasure comes from God, and Hell is supposed to be, at its most basic, the absence of God. So, you couldn’t even have your favorite sins if God wasn’t in the world making pleasantness possible. Since God makes things, and holds all things together I think it’s reasonable to assume that Hell will be without true place or true form. That means there won’t even be devils or demons wandering around to yell at you and poke you with nasty pitch forks. Hell is going to be one nasty place. A to fear and a place to avoid at all costs. And, please understand me that when I say this I mean only truth and no malice: lots of very good people are going to find themselves in Hell. Being good won’t save you. And not believing in it won’t stop you from going.

Why wouldn’t you want to think on this? Why wouldn’t you want to hope for the one and dread the other? Our faith is not just for this life. Jesus didn’t die just to offer us a new way to live for the short time we walk this globe. To live is Christ, yes, but we forget the other part; to die is gain. As Christians shouldn’t we anxiously look forward to the day when we depart from our mortal bodies? Shouldn’t we be excited about what awaits us? I know, you can’t prove Heaven and our modern minds make poor doubting Thomas look very trusting. We don’t want to believe in something in which we don’t have proof. I would suggest that if Heaven seems distasteful to you, or Hell too harsh than perhaps you should reexamine how you think of God. 

Think. When we're saved, what are we saved for, and what are we saved from?
 

• Your spouse will change
• It will turn out that you married a virtual stranger
• You will change
• At times, you won't love your spouse at all
• Your spouse will piss you off
• You will piss your spouse off
• Your spouse will hurt you, and it will hurt more because you chose them and they chose you and now it feels like you're getting unchosen
• You will hurt your spouse, and the guilt will be all the more intense because you really really shouldn't have said it.
• You will have the unpleasant realization that you have to watch your words a lot more around your spouse because they have so much more impact
• You won't want sex when your spouse does
• You will want sex and your spouse won't
• Their little habits will drive you insane
• Their big tendencies (that you love so much before) will drive you insane
• Your spouse will make really bad choices sometimes
• You will have to deal with you spouse's personal baggage
• Your spouse will have to deal with your personal baggage, no matter how much you try to hide it.
• At times they will seem to be going backwards spiritually
• Your parents will die and your friends will leave
• Your spouse will let you down
• You will let your spouse down
• You will be a bad parent sometimes maybe a lot of the time
• They will be a bad parent sometimes maybe a lot of the time
• You will be tempted to be bitter
• The grass will look greener on the other side
• The kids will take away the time you have with your spouse
• You will grow apart from your spouse when the kids take up all your time
• You will doubt whether you should have gotten into this mess to begin with

• Women, your man might work too much, leaving you feeling lonely and unloved
• Men, your woman might not understand your desire to provide and will become distant from you instead of appreciating your effort
• Your spouse may be in a fire and be horrible disfigured and in pain all the time
• Your spouse may turn out to have a mental illness that makes them unstable or unreliable
• Your spouse may experience trauma, war, or attack and change.
• Men, your wife may be raped, or have had sexual trauma as a girl and often have difficulty with physical intimacy
• Women, your husband may have been to battle and have violent flashbacks
• Women, your husband may attack you
• Men, your wife may reject you
• Counseling may not help
• Your spouse may develop a debilitating medical condition
• Your spouse may be into porn
• Your spouse may be in a car accident and be paralyzed, they may never be able to pee on their own again
• A horrible tragedy may strike your spouse and it might break them
• Your spouse may withdraw or turn way from you or blame you in an unchangable situation
• You may depend too much on your spouse to make you feel complete and you may do the same, only to experience an increased sense of emptiness, resentment, and failure.
• Men, your wife may be rebellious
• Women, your husband may be unjust, unwise, and undeserving of the respect his position demands
• Your spouse may cheat on you
• You may be stupid enough to cheat on your spouse
• You may experience pain, anger, and fear deeper than you ever thought possible
• You or your spouse may (probably will at some point) loose a job and you will find yourself in financial crisis
• You may be in huge amounts of debt
• One or both of you may be pretty freaking bad at sex
• Your children may have a mental, personality, or physical disorder
• Women, your husbands may be afraid to parent
• Men, your wives may make the kids their only priority
• Your children may not serve the Lord
• You may screw up your kid
• Your spouse may get depressed or even want to die
• It may turn out that your spouse is a much worse person than they originally seemed
• It may turn out that you got married for all the wrong reasons

• Love
• security
• intimacy only surpassed by that you have with God
• sex
• a heartfelt connection to another person
• a companion
• a best friend
• a partner in crime
• a partner in faith
• someone whose got your back
• a special brand of sanctification
• children
• joy
• the privilege of knowing someone intimately
• the privilege of being the most instrumental person in someone else's life

• papers laid out
• books being read
• letters being read
• boxes
• computers being used
• places where you do not see them until they want you to see them
• clean clothes
• clothing that smells of people

*I would like to ask that family memebers who might read this blog not comment on it online or via email and only in real life if you feel it is absolutely neccessary. Thank you.*

There are some who would call me a good Christian. They’d be wrong. Wrong by a generous mile. And that is something I’ve been thinking about lately. What it is to be a Christian. Not just in Sunday attending or going to a Bible study now and then and not just in people you mentioned Jesus to, but a real Christian. A person who *lives* because what they have is worth living for.  In that sense I think I may have failed miserably thus far. Because really, in all my questioning about what I ought to do and what my “calling” is, *that* is my calling. To live and to live well, because I’ve got something that makes it worthwhile. I look at myself and my heart hurts. How often do I read the Bible? What, twice a week, maybe a few paragraphs in total. You know, I believe that that’s God’s letter of love to me. I read kind letters from friends over and over. I read health books, books of warning, go back and check them to make sure I have it just right. I believe that the Bible isn’t just a love letter, it’s my self-help-for-life manual, but there are times I don’t even know where it is beneath the mess (literally). Simply because of what I believe it to be it should be a staple in my life, something I go to over and over, that I commit to heart like I’ve committed the Pilates book to heart. And, I groan about how things don’t go my way, and I’m a huge snob half the time.

I think I’m good. I think because I made it out of cutting in one piece than I’m good. I forget I didn’t even want to stop. To this day I still don’t quite know how it happened. I start thinking I’m a good strong person and I forget. Extremes never fix anything. Hating myself didn’t fix anything, glorifying myself won’t either. And I get afraid. Really really afraid, and I try to think and plan for all possible scenarios. Maybe if I can come up with plan A – Z than nothing bad will happen to me. I can hedge it all, while deep in my heart I know I can’t protect myself from anything. And my question to myself is; Where is God in all this? I talk about how Christian men are cowards. I say “If their God makes them a coward than we don’t serve the same one,” but I’m a coward too. I don’t pray. I don’t say I’m sorry. I pretty much never say I’m sorry to God. Do you not see how horrifying that is? I mean, if I really believe what I say; if I really believe that God is Love, that God is Good, that he is all knowing, all seeing, all powerful, if I believe that God cares deeply and personally about me and that praying is a kind of spiritual interaction with God. *If* I say I believe that prayer changes things than why aren’t I praying? And if I’m not praying, what isn’t happening because I’m keeping my heart to myself?

And the thing that really breaks my heart? My sister. Her mediocrity hurts me. I’d be much more comfortable if she would deny Christianity than…play the game that she does. She lives as though there is no God and then goes to church on Sunday. She says “I ought to change this and that,” and then forgets her own mind. Her heart lives as though tomorrow she dies. And I wonder how much of that is my fault for living as though God doesn’t care.  Maybe it’s just the next step. The family lives as though God doesn’t care, and so the next generation lives as though He doesn’t matter.  I wonder how much of it is my parents’ fault. How much of her immaturity is due to a combination of easy ways out and insulting words, neither that show love properly. I wonder how much is society’s fault, her views on indulgence and blame placing due to a media that tells her she deserves everything without ever having to compromise or sacrifice. I wonder how much of it is her friends’ fault. The blind leading the blind off the cliffs of inanity. I wonder how much of it is the Church’s fault for not addressing the real issues because those things make them squeamish and they don’t want to think that the adage “nothing has tempted us but that which is common to man” is true. Sometimes even the Church is reluctant to believe the Bible if it’s words sting. What a shame. What a heart breaking thing.

And then, even as I talk with my friends about going organic and recycling. About politics and theology and the latest comedy I find myself wondering: is this Christian or is it culture? So much of what I see, especially in the south, isn’t necessarily Biblical, but it’s Christian culture. That point where the secular world and the Christian faith meld into this weird misshapen thing that is neither. Has it simply taken on a new shape? Is the new greener Christian still just someone giving into the culture? Are we better at all? If I have such trouble with keeping my eyes, or my heart, or my mouth on what I believe than how can I be sure that what I think is good? How can I be sure that my behavior won’t grow up generations just like, or worse than (selfish, manipulative, unloving, without self-control, excessive, mediocre, thoughtless, lifeless) my sister.

And will she change? I can’t trust her. Will I ever be able to? I find it difficult to love her. Is that her or me? Because, quite frankly, I’m the one who openly claim to be a follower of the God-who-is-Love. I think I’m supposed to be the bigger party here. :-\

I talked to my friend a little while ago, who talked to me about loving even when it was hard, about sharing your life with another person, giving your life to them. That’s scary to me. She told me I needed to learn to trust God with it. I said it wasn’t God I didn’t trust, it was people, but we both knew the truth; if you trust God than you’ll trust people. Mistrust is what happens when you believe you’re depending only on yourself.

But where does wisdom come in?

It’s a miracle I haven’t died after taking communion.

A few years ago I asked God to make me transparent, and he did, against my will. A few months ago I asked him to rid me of my materialism and I’m trying to work with him this time. And…I just find myself wondering, what would happen if I decided to love like Him, without a promise of return and in a way that could tear me up? What would happen if I asked him to teach me to love? What would happen if I asked him to turn my mediocre dull fading tinder of life and faith into a roaring flame
 

… and what if I meant it?