| Sunny Side Up Feb. 9, 2005 �2005, Kathleen Gibson Right love, wrong love? My daughter and I turned the TV on in time to catch the last few minutes of a movie; just enough to grasp the plotline. It featured a pair of lovers - he was sixty, she sixteen. After 'The End' slipped slowly off the screen, we sat silent, thinking. "That's just wrong," she said finally, her disgust evident even over the syrupy exit music. "Yeah, it's not very acceptable in our culture is it?" I said. Then I thought a moment, remembering what I know of other places, other times. "But in some cultures an age difference like that is common. Even in Bible times�." "I know," she said, and we turned off the TV and talked about love. Her perspective is that of a happily married young woman, but with still-fresh memories of teenage romance, some she'd rather forget. Mine is shaped by almost three decades of love-filled marriage, and memories nonetheless of other 'loves' I too would sooner forget. There's a popular love song with a great melody and a haunting query, "How could this be wrong, when it feels so right?" It's true: romantic love begs questions we'd rather not think about. Is love right only when experienced by two unattached people of compatible ages and backgrounds, or even (dare I say?) compatible sexes? Is it possible that the exquisite condition of the heart which 'makes the world go around' could ever be wrong? When it comes to love and marriage are there any absolutes that cut across all ages, genders, situations, and cultures? The mention of moral absolutes, in today's melee of 'feel good, do as you please' thought, raises hackles. The primary reason evangelical Christians face media and societal scorn is because they express (not always charitably, for shame) the opinion that there are indeed moral absolutes - set out by God in the Bible; not to spoil our fun and games, but to promote our best interests. That, yes, something that feels so right can be disastrously wrong, its consequences resounding for generations. Once upon a time (I was a little younger but a lot married) a treasured family friend told me that he'd fallen in love with me. I can't begin to describe the pain his words caused. But never have I been so grateful for a strong belief in a God who loved me enough to set moral boundaries. Had we ignored those values and done what may have 'felt' right, the pain would have become a spreading cancer that poisoned us, our families, our church, and our community. "What do you think God wants for you most?" I asked a young woman weighing a romantic dilemma. "He wants me to be happy," she said. It's a popular thought - but incorrect. Happiness is not God's primary desire for us. Intimate relationship with himself is. When we fall in love with God, our human love stories are much easier to get right too. Peace and joy are byproducts. Think about that, this Valentine's Day. Respond here |