Introducing Andrew and Leah.

Andrew has taken over a year to pray and seek counsel and prepare his heart to pursue Leah. A godly, upstanding young woman in his church, her sweet spirit, outgoing nature, and servant’s heart have captured his attention. Hence the year of dedicated preparation.

After gearing up the nerve with a call to a good guy friend and a long night of no sleep and all prayer, Andrew makes the call.

“Leah… uh. Yeah… hi. This is Andrew. Oh, yea. Sorry… haha. You have my number. Um. So… yea I was just wondering. Would you be…. okay with going out to get some coffee or something? Do you drink coffee? Tea is fine… of course – if you don’t drink coffee… or you could always like, get a muffin. I think they have bagels too. Oh – you like coffee. Well, good. So… Thursday morning? 8? Is that too early? I’ll do any time… 8 is okay? Oh good. Well… see you then, thanks. Oh yes of course, I’ll pick you up. Sure. Yea. See you then.”

And after all the drama and surrender of the past year, Andrew and Leah finally get together for coffee – and a muffin – on Thursday. At eight.

And to Andrew’s relief, surprise, and joy, Leah agrees to his fumbled and stuttering request to begin a “courtship”. And so begins the journey… over the next few months, Andrew and Leah frequent various coffee shops and restaurants, moving forward from friendship, to romance, to engagement and marriage.

Doesn’t it all sound so romantic and meant-to-be?

There are a gazillion stories like this. I’m sure you’ve heard of a few yourself or maybe even have a similar one to share.
Here’s my question:

Who in this bally universe decided that the best way to get to know someone is to eat together?

This may seem a trivial question, but honestly…

Have you ever been over to someone’s house for the first time, or been in a setting where you aren’t all the best of friends; used to watching Bob spill mustard on his tie, and Ruth pull the tomatoes out of her burger and put them on her napkin, or John’s attempts to manage the melted cheese in his Philly cheesesteak which always comes out in awkward strings of melted goo – creating an inverted rainbow of curdled milk from the toasted bun to his open mouth?

While you are strangely comfortable with the eccentricities of Bob, Ruth, and John – when it comes to the less familiar, well – maybe it’s just me, but i think it can be quite disconcerting to observe the eating habits of newer acquaintances.

Pretend you are Phil.

“So, Phil,” says Mr. Doe – the executive director in your new job environment who has kindly invited you to share a meal with his family – “where exactly were you raised, and how did you get into biomechanical composting manufacture and maintenance?”

The question comes two bites into your chicken noodle broccoli casserole; you have been dreading it.

All eyes are on you… Mr. Doe’s steely grays, those of his four attentive and obviously pre-sedated children, and his soft-spoken wife’s large, naively anticipating blues.

You try to swallow casually, realizing simultaneously that you have broccoli sprouts populating your lower lip in distressing abundance, and wondering if they have made it into your front teeth or onto your collar.

The lump of chicken you hastily swallowed (which flavor you would have preferred to enjoy) has managed to clog your airway in a decidedly nasty fashion. Eyes watering and awkwardly attempting to inhibit the wretching, coughing sound emenating from your lips, you manage a half smile and a raised finger and reach for your water glass, trailing your sleeve through the cooling casserole.

An eternal minute later, you have a distressed airway, a deteriorating level of self confidence, an innatentive audience, a glass half empty, and an unanswered question.

You give up all hope of satisfying your hunger and abandon your food to the air-conditioned cooling powers of the environment, proceeding to answer questions and make a pretense of eating the rest of the meal by stirring your fork through delectably enticing, creamy chicken and raising it half-heartedly to your lips at periodic intervals.

And hey, this is just your boss.

Transfer the awkwardness of this all too familiar experience to your first date with a prospective soulmate.

Get the picture?

Here’s my opinion: skip the food. Get a drink, take her out for a walk, and do some crazy fun things together to REALLY get to know her.

Falling in love isn’t just about getting used to the fact that she/he cuts the crust off of their toast, prefers their steak medium rare, and hates using spoons (I actually know someone who refused to have spoon-food at their wedding – they only use forks… and no, it’s not a biblical conviction) – it’s about seeing them in different situations (not how they look in McDonalds vs. Outback Steakhouse) and how they react to different things (not a mistake in their order or the fact that their cous-cous is limp and watery) and what they know and believe and act upon.

And trust me – take the mouthful of gravy and mashed potatoes out of the picture, and you’ll get a whole lot more talking and getting-to-know-you-ing done and a lot less polite staring at your napkin while it dribbles down their chin.

“Not a sermon, just a thought.”