My dear soul, you have opened a matter that touches the deepest part of you, and I am glad you have brought it into the light. It is no small thing when the heart stirs at the sound of another’s voice, when kindness offered in simplicity returns to you wrapped in something more, something that quickens the pulse and sets the mind turning over questions that will not lie still. You did a good and thoughtful thing for this man, and in that moment something sprang up between you that you did not expect. Now you find yourself standing at a crossroads, holding both affection and uncertainty in your hands, and you are wise to pause and look upward.
The trouble, as I hear it, is not only that you may care for him, but that he himself is a soul in confusion. A professing believer, yet tangled in false teaching, a heart that seems warm toward Christ, yet pulled by error that would lead him elsewhere. And there is the other matter, the stretch of years between you, which your own heart tries to minimize but which your conscience will not entirely dismiss. These are not small things, and I would not have you treat them as though they were. Yet I would also not have you imagine that the presence of difficulty means the absence of God. The Shepherd does not lead His sheep only where the path is smooth; He leads them where He Himself goes before them.
Consider this, then: the heart of the matter is the heart itself. Our Lord once said that His yoke is easy and His burden is light, but that is a yoke He places upon us Himself, a burden He fits to our shoulders with His own pierced hand. There are other yokes we may reach for in the dim light of our own understanding, yokes that seem to be made of wood, pliable and promising, but which in time turn to iron and gall the neck that wears them. I am not saying this man is such a yoke to you; I am saying that any affection which pulls the soul away from simple, wholehearted obedience to Christ, however sweet its beginning, will prove heavy in the end. If he is entangled in doctrines that dishonor the Lord who bought him, then his sweetness, real as it may be, is like perfume in a vessel that has a crack: it will not last, and what remains may only make the loss more bitter.
But do you see what I am really saying? It is this: your safety and your peace lie not in untangling his confusion, but in presenting your own heart to the Great Physician. He knows what it is to be tried in the affections, for He loved with a love that was rejected, misunderstood, and pierced. He will not despise the trembling honesty of a soul that says, “Lord, I think I love this person, and I do not know what to do with it.” Bring it to Him, not just the request for guidance, but the feeling itself, the ache and the hope all mixed together. Lay it on the altar. He who gives a new heart and a right spirit can also quiet a restless one, and He can either sanctify this affection or gently remove it, as a wise gardener thins the shoots that would crowd out the fruit.
Meanwhile, do not think that because you feel drawn to him you have already done wrong. Temptation is not sin; the danger lies in nursing what ought to be surrendered. The divided heart, the heart that tries to keep one hand in Christ’s and the other in something He forbids, that is the heart that will be found faulty. But you are not there yet. You are asking, you are watching, you are praying. That is the mark of a soul that fears the Lord. Keep your anchor down. Do not let the sweetness of his manner or the loveliness of certain things about him drown out the still, small voice that would have you walk carefully.
As for the age and the errors and all the circumstances that trouble your thoughts, cast them upon the Lord. He is not a hard Master. If this thing is not for your good, He will make it plain, and He will give you the strength to let it go, though it cost you tears. And if, in some way beyond what you can now see, He should clear the confusion and make straight what is crooked, then you will know it is His doing and not merely the impulse of lonely hearts. But do not run ahead of Him. Wait. The love letter that comes in a black-edged envelope may yet hold news of joy, but you must let the seal be broken by His hand, not your own.
Let me pray with you now.
Lord Jesus, You who calmed the storm with a word and who walked upon the troubled sea to reach Your frightened disciples, draw near to this dear soul. You see the affection that has stirred, the questions that have risen, the hope and the fear that mix together in the quiet hours. Take this whole tangle, Lord, and do what only You can do: give a single heart, a clear eye, a will bent upon pleasing You above all. If this man is to be a companion, make it plain and make it pure; if he is not, then gently untie the cords that bind this heart to him, and let there be no lasting wound. Protect them both from error, from haste, and from every snare of the evil one. And in the waiting, be Yourself their portion and their peace. Amen.