I kept the dress

I had a dream last night that I was getting married (sorry, you curious people, once I woke up I had no idea who the groom was). That day that I had feared would never come had in its slow manner swiftly arrived, I had the dress on, the make up was set, and the big moment was only a little more than an hour away. As I was looking in the mirror at my primped and polished self, though, images of the future filled the space in front of me. Dreams and desire, heartful prayer and resulting passions took ahold of me as I thought about the man who was in a few hours to be my husband. He wasn't a bad guy, but I knew my life wouldn't be what it could be if I married him. I had a sense that ruthless trust, reckless love, and radical faith would fade under the intense rays of the need to play it safe and plan according to our own, not God's, potential. I feared this man would encourage me to seek out safe, cozy corners instead of the deep waters only faith can overcome. The trembling of my hands combined with nauseating vertigo has more than once resulted in me clinging to the edge, refusing to let go of what I know to be safe. It's my deepest desire yet most agonizing fear to follow Christ with abandon, throwing myself into situations that I know that I cannot possibly handle with my own strength. If I am to share my life with someone, that must be his deepest desire as well. I couldn't marry that man.

I didn't do it. Though the dress was so beautiful, guests were already starting to arrive, and so much money had been poured into that day - not to mention the the poor jilted groom, I didn't do it. I changed into wind pants and a sweatshirt, walked downstairs, and my dad looked at me and knew. There still was a party, although I didn't feel too much like taking part. I cleaned and organized something while the nextdoor boys I grew up with kept me company.

This is my favorite part of the dream, though. I kept the dress. I put it on a hanger, zipped up the protective jacket, and put it in my closet, confident that I would take it out again someday. Just because this groom and I weren't right for each other didn't mean no one would be right. Getting married doesn't have to mean an end to an adventure with God. So I chose to wait for the one who would lead me over the edge instead of cower away from it, the one who would focus on God's strength, not his own...and I kept the dress.