Check in with Jesus

On our initial trip to Bloomington for planning, we also attended church services. It would be embarrassing to be smitten by the Lord at my wedding, so I figured a test run in God’s house would help me determine my standing. We also scheduled a meeting with the minister who had agreed, by e-mail, to preside over our ceremony. He came well recommended by those who are familiar with the church in Bloomington.

What is he going to want to know? Have I involuntarily spoken with a police officer before? Have I done things I felt were wrong and not told any one? Did I experience alcohol before I was twenty-one? Did I tackle any landscaping in the Blue Ridge neighborhood anytime between 1987 and 1992? It all depends on interpretation. I did make amends by speaking openly in the Colorado Christian College free-rides van at South Padre Spring Break 1997. So I thought all of that was behind me.

I was unusually nervous heading into counseling. The minister is a fantastic man. He reminded me of a slightly older version of Jimmy Cooper from The OC. He approached it primarily as a logistics meeting to set the order of events and get a little background information from each of us. Should the conduit of God’s word know I consider the speed limit merely a strong recommendation? For no reason, every answer came with the constant thoughts: Don’t say anything unholy. Say you love her for any reason besides she’s hot. Eventually, after reciting her nonphysical qualities, I did slip in “…and she’s not bad looking”—because I did notice that, after a careful assessment of all her inner beauty.

The most awkward moment came when the minister counseled us on sex. But he didn’t really counsel us; he said it was something some couples needed to discuss, but he could tell we were OK. I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been handling my own equipment for over a decade. No need for the health-class filmstrip here.

We both left feeling somewhat relieved. I am not sure if we felt that we had a chance of rejection from the church. It wasn’t one that either of us attended, but it was pretty. We both felt the same uneasiness during the process. It seemed that he was not only considering us as a couple, but also evaluating whether I spoke in run-on sentences or hesitated in relaying personal information. I worried that he would put a finger to his ear, as the Lord whispered some tidbit from the Pearly Gates dossier being kept for my final judgment into his Holy Moses 3000 earpiece, and then ask me about the results of the informal flammability study on insects I conducted at a younger age.

As we exited the building, Christa said, “I think that went pretty well.”

“I felt unusually conscious of being truthful,” I confessed.

“So did I.”

“We’re a fantastic couple, aren’t we?”

“I think so.”

“I feel like we just won something.”

“You won me.”

You have to reward that with a kiss. So I did.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival