She was the Hebrew to my Greek. Who would have ever thought that dead languages could give birth to a beautiful romance? For those of you who know us, you will understand that neither of us were romantics or versed in love. We preferred old languages, long forgotten, studied late into the night. I think we both subconsciously presumed that the ancient prose would insulate us from the over emphasis on love and marriage that we both found unattractive. Little did we know that those dusty pages would be the very things that brought us together? I guess I never thought ancient Greek could land me a girl. Apparently I was wrong. When I found out I had been assigned a co-leader for my small group, I was excited because I wouldn’t have as much to do. The first time I met Caitlin we were at a coffee shop in downtown Huntington Beach. Honestly, I barely remember the encounter. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. The only thing I do remember is that she had her Greek books with her. In an attempt to make some small talk, which I’m bad at doing, I asked her about Greek. She told me she was taking it over the summer and that it was difficult (that’s an understatement). I offered to tutor her if she ever wanted some help.

Eventually, she took me up on the offer. I still thought she was just my co-leader, and I happen to love Greek. So I didn’t think we were on a date and neither did she. In our repression, we just thought we were studying. However, if we were to ever analyze how the time was actually spent, we would have quickly realized that only a fraction of the time together was spent studying. Most of the time we talked, about anything and everything. We covered topics ranging from rap to theology. It seemed as if no topic was off limits. The only thing we didn’t talk about was how we were falling in love, a minor detail in the grand scheme of our Greek study. After countless evenings of “studying,” she finished her class, but we kept hanging out. We would meet to talk about our life group and end up spending hours together. We started going on weekend getaways with our life group (shout out to Nathan our third musketeer). And you would think, that we would have begun to realize that we were into each other, but it wasn’t until months later that I finally asked her out. The reality is both Caitlin and myself weren’t sure if marriage was for us. We were always afraid marriage would hold us back from our calling, vision, and Love himself. In fact, one of the ways we bonded was by being single. So even though we appreciated the friendship we shared, neither of us were exactly anticipating a relationship, until something changed.

Did something dramatic happen? Did some one else ask her out and make you jealous? Did one of you come down with a debilitating illness? No. This isn’t a rom-com (by the way did you know Caitlin like rom-coms? I didn’t for a long time). So what changed? Honestly, what changed was that God humbled me. For a long time I let my expectations of a future wife and my own self-sufficiency cloud my view of relationships. I thought I knew what I needed. I thought I had life under control. And then I went through counseling and realized I was a mess. And I also realized that I was lonely and longed to be in a relationship, regardless of how hard I tried to convince myself that I was satisfied being single. It was on one of our trips together that my view of her changed. I felt like I began to see Caitlin for the first time. I saw that she was beautiful, courageous, and passionate. She was in touch with the Spirit of God in ways I couldn’t understand and she was stronger (both literally and figuratively) then most people I knew. She was everything I could have imagined and hoped for in a partner, and we were already essentially best friends. I don’t fully know how to explain what changed in me, except that God opened my eyes. And thank goodness He did. The only problem was I knew God had opened my eyes, but I didn’t know if He had opened her eyes. And for those of you who know Caitlin, you understand that when it comes to these sorts of things the word “approachable” doesn’t exactly describe her. This posed a challenge to me. How do I figure out if she is interested in a relationship and if she is interested in one with me, without her running away (again literally and figuratively)? I have been described as diplomatic, but navigating these waters in a diplomatic way would prove to be my greatest challenge yet.

It really all came down to a trip we took to Joshua Tree. We found ourselves on a two-hour car ride to meet the rest of our group at the campsite. I knew this was my opportunity to ask some intentional questions. I don’t remember all the details, but I remember her sharing her heart. I remember her telling me that for a long time she had been a lone wolf and I could hear her loneliness. She was strong and independent. She told me she hadn’t felt pursued in life. She felt like she had very few friends who wanted to hear her heart and know her. She was a counselor to many, but heard by few. I distinctly remember pausing and telling her that I wanted to be her friend. When I told her that, it was one of those moments you could feel, the type of moments you don’t forget. And it was in that moment that I knew we were going to get married. I wrote it down in my journal so I have proof. We were both lonely. And God had finally brought us together to satisfy our longings for intimacy and being known in ways that a dead language never could. I believe it was that night that we began to learn a language that was alive, a language that brought joy and pain, a language that laughed and cried, the language of love. We returned from that trip and I hadn’t even asked her out, but I knew that things had changed. Two days later, I shared my feelings with her, in the most gentle and vague way possible because I didn’t know how it was going to go. She essentially had a panic attack. I wasn’t exactly surprised, but it was definitely a first for me. She kept telling me, “I’m going to get up and run from this table,” but she never left. She stayed and talked. She didn’t give me an answer that day.

Shortly after our discussion we left for a two-week missions trip. Before we left, she asked for us to put any further discussion off until after the trip, so that we could focus on our time in Costa Rica. I agreed. It wasn’t easy to spend two-weeks together floating in a sea of ambiguity, but I was glad we were able to be together. The trip was only further confirmation of our friendship and ability to do ministry alongside one another. Like I said earlier, we had always been hesitant when it came to relationships because we didn’t want them to get in the way of our calling, but this trip proved that our relationship did not detract from our ministry. We spent several long nights talking as a leadership team, crying, and praying. It was not an easy trip, but having one another to work alongside made it easier. We began to see that our relationship was a mutually strengthening and encouraging reality propelling us forward, rather than holding us back. We had walked so much of our roads individually, learning to rely on the Lord in powerful ways. He used this time to shape our hearts and minds into who he needed us to be, but on the trip he began opening our eyes to the next stage of ministry, a ministry of cooperation. I returned exhausted, but excited to finally get an answer from her. I distinctly remember not asking her on a “date” or mentioning the word “relationship” because I was afraid it would freak her out. Surprisingly when you try to ask someone out and avoid those words the process becomes much more difficult. It’s like playing taboo in real life. Somehow I was able to communicate my intentions and she was willing to give whatever we were going to call this a shot.

After this we began to date. It was an exciting time. We had already laid such a foundation that this time was remarkably fun and easy. We would hike and explore with one another. We would spend time at her apartment talking for hours. She got to meet my family and spend time with them. I got to travel with her up North over the summer to meet her family. Soon enough, she was off to Europe for a month. And I was formulating a plan to follow, with a ring in my pocket. My brother and I met her in Prague, where we spent our first night on the floor of a prayer room in an airport. None of us could really sleep, mostly because of the floor. I couldn’t sleep because I knew I would propose to my best friend in the morning. After we “woke,” we made our way to the Charles Bridge in Prague. It was a silent walk to the bridge. The nerves were really getting to me. Once we arrived at the bridge, I gave my brother the signal and dropped to my knee. She was caught off guard. She had no idea this was coming. She said yes and the rest is, well, history. For a long time we walked the road alone. We will both forever be grateful for that time. Grateful for the reliance we learned. Grateful for the friendships we developed. Grateful for the people we were becoming. During the time of our solitary sojourning, we came to hear the voice of Love himself and to find rest in his presence. Now, we embark on a different road. A road we walk together, solitude meeting solitude. We will never forget our time walking alone, and I pray we never forget our ancient languages, but as we walk this new road, I know it will not be filled by dusty pages alone, but also by the noise of tears and laughter.