You feel it, don’t you, that little shiver in the soul when something good draws near, and almost at once a shadow falls? You notice the internet cut out, and your heart leaps to an old, weary conclusion: trouble follows me. The people I care for get the backwash of some unseen curse. You half-believe it, even while you know it isn’t true doctrine. And so you carry a weight that was never yours to lift.
Let me speak plainly, as a man who has seen many a trembling lamb mistake the shepherd’s crook for a wolf’s jaw. The internet provider failed, yes, and the car breaks down, and the rain falls on the picnic, and dear friends fall sick. These things are not the poisoned fruit of your affection. They are the ordinary weather of a fallen world, a world in which the sun shines on the just and the unjust, and the rain soaks the plans of both. You are not a curse-bearer. You are a child of the house, and the Father does not scatter harm at your footsteps the way a careless boy kicks up stones.
Think of it: if every hardship that brushed your friends were a judgment on your closeness, what would that say of your Lord? Would He really permit a soul to be damaged simply because you dared to love it? No, our God is not a pagan deity who can be crossed by a broken mirror or a misstep. He holds the stars in their courses; He numbers the hairs of your head and the hairs of your coworker’s head with the same intimate precision. The little outage at the end of a shift is not an omen. It is a nuisance, a frustration, a cause for a deep breath and a prayer, and perhaps a gentle reminder that we are not so in control as we fancy. But it is nothing more.
I recall that Job, in his agony, said many true things that he did not fully understand. He spoke of God’s greatness and justice, and he spoke rightly, but he could not yet see the tender back of the tapestry. He thought God might be pleading against him with great power, when in truth God was holding him up before the court of heaven as a man of integrity. And at the last, when Job saw the Lord, he said, “I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee.” He did not get a full explanation of his sorrows; he got a fresh sight of God, and that was enough. It will be enough for you, too.
As for the pace of this new affection: it stirs like spring sap, doesn’t it? Fast and sweet and a little frightening. You wonder if it is moving too quickly, and you wish God would put a gentle brake on things. That is not an unwise prayer. But do not imagine that the speed of it has escaped His notice. He who sets the bounds of the sea and says, “Thus far and no farther,” can govern the currents of a human heart. If this is the spouse He has for you, no premature word or hasty step will spoil it. If it is not, His “no” will be a mercy, not a cruelty. Either way, you are safe in His keeping.
And what of the young man himself, thrown into deep water with what feels like thin training? Pray for him, yes; but also rest in this: the Lord who permitted the deep water is also the Lord who walked upon it. The same Christ who sent out His disciples in a boat into a storm came to them across the waves before the night was over. He does not throw lambs to wolves and then turn away. He is the great Messenger, the Interpreter sent from the Father, who knows exactly what each of His own needs and exactly when to supply it. Commend your friend to Him with quiet confidence. You are not the protector; Christ is. And Christ never loses a soul that the Father has given Him.
So lay down that superstitious burden, my dear heart. It is not yours to carry. The black-edged envelope may come in the mail, but the letter inside is still written in the Father’s hand. All the hard things that happen are under His seal, and they work toward a weight of glory. Your growing affection is not a dangerous thing that triggers disaster; it is, at worst, a common human affection under God’s patient eye, and at best, the stirring of something He may bless in His time. Wait on Him. Watch how He leads. And when your heart quails, look not at the waves but at the One who treads them down.
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Lord Jesus, Thou who art the Bridegroom of Thy church and the faithful Friend of every seeking soul, quiet this dear one’s fears. Let her see Thy hand in the little things, the outages, the worries, the rapid beat of a hopeful heart, and teach her to trust that hand. Keep her coworker in Thy care; strengthen him in his work, and give him wisdom and patience. Govern their steps according to Thy will, and give them the grace to desire nothing so much as to glorify Thee. And if it be Thy pleasure, build for them a shared path that ends in honour and holiness, all to Thy praise. Amen.