Redefining romance?

Of the books I've read in the past few months, I was surprised by one that, before I started reading it, I thought would be a waste of time. I think I was prejudging it by its title: The Sacred Romance. I thought if it was based on the idea of "romance," it would be full of fluff and false promises, like the typical movie in the romantic-comedy genre. However, I was pleasantly surprised by much of what I read from it. Here are some excerpts, related to each other, that stood out to me and got me thinking (and recognizing my own errors, such as the "survivor" role I tend to play):

Desperate for something larger to give our lives transcendence, we try to lose ourselves in the smallest kind of stories. Some of us choose the “Why does everything go wrong for me?” story. The plot of life is a tragedy, and we are playing the role of the victim of cruel circumstances. Our Arrows (the things that have hurt us) are our identity. This is an immensely popular story line because it relieves us of having to take any real responsibility for our lives. Victims demand to be understood, but don’t you dare require anything of them.

And then there is the survivor, living in a life where the plot is a siege. The world is a dangerous and unpredictable place, so I will hunker down and survive, taking little risk, doing what I can to protect myself even if it means cutting myself off from others and from my own dreams. These stories focus on the Arrows at the expense of the Romance.

On the other hand, some of us are trying to live out a story line that preserves the Romance in some way. . . . The most popular option is romantic love, the idea that somewhere out there is that special someone who will sweep you off your feet, take your breath away, with whom life would be one idyllic adventure and sex an unending ecstasy. It is the theme of popular music, the false transcendence of our day. . . . It’s not so much that lovers cannot live with each other as that they cannot live without the Haunting, which they mistook for romantic love. So they move to the next partner, trying to capture that evasive feeling again. . . .

Christians can opt for one of these, or choose a more “spiritual” version. The Religious Man or Woman is a popular story option in which we try to reduce the wildness of life by constructing a system of promises and rewards, a contract that will obligate God to grant us exemption from the Arrows. It really doesn’t matter what the particular group bargain is-–doctrinal adherence, moral living, or some sort of spiritual experience-–the desire is the same: taming God in order to tame life. Never mind those deep yearnings of the soul; never mind the nagging awareness that God is not cooperating. If the system isn’t working, it’s because we’re not doing it right. There’s always something to work on, with the promise of abundant life just around the corner. Plenty of churches and leaders are ready to show you how to cut a deal.

. . . There comes a place on our spiritual journey where renewed religious activity is of no use whatsoever. It is the place where God holds out his hand and asks us to give up our lovers and come and live with Him in a much more personal way. It is the place of relational intimacy that Satan lured Adam and Eve away from so long ago in the Garden of Eden. We are both drawn to it and fear it. Part of us would rather return to Scripture memorization, or Bible study, or service – anything that would save us from the unknowns of walking with God. We are partly convinced our life is elsewhere. We are deceived.

. . . So much of the journey forward involves a letting go of all that once brought us life. We turn away from the familiar abiding places of the heart, the false selves we have lived out, the strengths we have used to make a place for ourselves and all our false loves, and we venture forth in our hearts to trace the steps of the One who said, “Follow me.” In a way, it means that we stop pretending: that life is better than it is, that we are happier than we are, that the false selves we present to the world are really us. We respond to the Haunting, the wooing, the longing for another life. . . . Pretending that life is easier and more blessed than it really is hinders our ability to walk with God and share him with others. Faith is not the same thing as denial.