Nothing Good is Happening on Prom Night, Mom and Dad

Over the weekend, I attended my Early Music Choir's season finale. I didn't sing this year, but I attended--every concert weekend.

Bach's choral works are to Grafted Branch as David's harp was to King Saul. *sigh* Is there more profound beauty on the Earth? I've not found it.

But I digress...

After the concert on Saturday, Fifi and I decided to have dinner out. And since we were dressed to "the nines," (whatever that really means), and because it was just the two of us, we decided to afford the real thing as opposed to the colorful, vinyl booths, and loud intercom announcing that it's your turn to get up and get your food from the pick-up counter. Hurry up! Get it before someone's kid goes over there thinking it's theirs and breathes or sneezes all over it.

Eeeew.

We much prefer grown people dressed as waiters and waitresses breathing and sneezing on our food, thank you.

When we walked through the restaurant to be seated, we noticed a lot of young people dressed like real people. At first blush I thought, "Isn't that nice?" But upon further inspection, I realized it was...prom night.

Uh-oh.

Now, I know why I say "uh-oh." And when I wonder why other parents--especially Christian parents--don't echo my sentiments, I can only surmise that that parent was a better kid than me.

Or they are just blind and ignorant and really like the feel of a millstone around their neck.

But I like to believe the best about folks, and so I choose to think that they never got into any trouble in their youth, and so they live in a perpetual happy place when it comes to teen freedoms.

Over the course of our dinner, Fifi and I enjoyed quite a show going on all around us! Lots of getting up and switching seats, seeing and being seen, hugs and knocking together of the knuckles in unity or approval or some such youthful and fashionable statement that we 40-year-olds are too far gone to get, and this 12-year-old hasn't been given opportunity to understand.

Poor her, I'm sure.

There were lots of spaghetti-strapped dresses in colorful shades of lilac and baby blue and sea foam green, all showing too much skin and necessitating all kinds of tugging and adjusting areas that ought not be tugged or adjusted in public. Oh my!

Oh! And the guys! Oh ho ho ho! Lots and lots of gleaming white tuxedos and patent leather shoes. I told Fifi that 10 years down the line, those kids are going to get a good laugh at their prom pictures.

That got her asking questions with the incredulous tone of a 12 year old who knows who she is, respects herself and her future husband, and guards her heart with all her might. And it got me to remembering things: three years of proms and homecomings and even more years of casual dating just about any guy who wanted to spend a little time with me.

All of which--all of which--I regret but couldn't have known to do better. And all for which I have repented. Yes, repented.

This is going to be a new thought for many, so follow me for a minute....

I could just say that there is no example of casual dating in the Bible, while there is the beautiful example of an arranged marriage with the bride's right of first refusal in the story of Abraham's servant sent to find a wife for his son, Isaac.

And I think that's good enough, but we're the thinking type 'round here, so here's some thoughts from inside my own head:

Dating is a societal normative. But look around! That norm that we've embraced comes from a culture which, as a whole, is swirling toward its last rotation in the giant commode of life.

And never mind what everyone else is doing; that path is wide and leading to destruction, remember?

And please, please, please never mind the idea that somehow dating is something that has to be done in order to know yourself, much less meet the man of your dreams. The Bible will tell you everything you need to understand about yourself; you're a helpless sinner in need of a Savior--that's who you are. And worrying about getting out there "on the market?" Those are the thoughts of a Christian following a very small god.

The Bible tells me that God knew me before He established the foundations of the world. And if He knew me that way, then it can be said that He knew my children too. He is omniscient so He knew exactly how to bring forth my children; He knew with whom I was to become one flesh.

Or maybe, just maybe--in His sight: with whom I was one flesh.

I feel like that in His sight, as He sees this earthly existence through eternal eyes which are not bound by time as our finite minds know it (and I believe a lot of the divisive truths of Christianity like predestination, election and freewill will be explained away in Heaven by our inability to comprehend a God not bound by time) my earth-bound self is always married to this wonderful man. How else could He know my children who were yet to be?

And so, given that, what business had I spending time, energy, emotion and...whatever else...on anyone but my beloved?

There is a word for that, isn't there? For that sin. And so, that is why I repented of my dating years--even though, ironically, He brought my Husband and me together through that very activity.

But then, that's His specialty, isn't it? Mercy on the ignorant and bringing His glorious will out of even our rebellion.

What a magnificent God we serve! I've been forgiven and cleansed, and by His grace my lovelies are being raised to know better.

And, I pray, do better.