Over the last year, I have spent my time, not only with infants, toddlers and 3-year-olds, but with Stephen Kump, the man who will be my husband in just 94 short days. To say I have not learned from interacting with him would be one of the greatest lies of my life. Quite the contrary, it is changing everything about me. But as it is with my pre-K friends, Stephen is not truly the one shaping my heart. He is not worthy of worship or even credit for the ways my soul is changed. But he does reflect brilliantly and submit obediently to the Author and Perfecter of my faith. For that I am grateful, and for that I am changed.
For the purpose of these thoughts, our story started almost exactly one year ago, but one must know that we had previously been friends for four years and arguably "more than friends" for the third year of those. On December 17, 2009 I left my parents' house after a healthy but painful break-up and returned to Woodley to join my roommates and our friends in Christmas caroling around the neighborhood. My arrival was tardy and my heart was begging numbness to afford a happy face. Only my closest friends knew what my past three hours had entailed, so I braced myself for sociability and genuinely made the best of the rest of the evening.
No sooner had my heart gasped for the first breath of "life will be more than fine" than Stephen Kump reentered my world after at least a six-month leave of absence. I truly cannot recall when I saw him before that, but certainly not while I was in a relationship or even considering it for several months prior. All of a sudden I found myself in his friendly, affectionate hug, remembering what a faithful friend he had always been. Red flag.
Our interaction was minimal as I recall, but any woman can testify that a freshly broken heart does not need much. We made eye contact during a game of charades later in the evening, and I immediately knew that my defenses needed bolstering. That night I would tell my best friend, Katie, "Question me relentlessly on anything that has to do with Stephen Kump." I knew that if I were to rebound, it would be in his direction (which may or may not have happened previously), and I knew I wanted to avoid such a response with all my might.
Two days later two of our closest friends were married. I did my best not to look at Stephen on the dance floor or be conscious of where he was at all times. I tried not to notice how handsome he was in a tux or how my heart twitched anytime my eyes met his. Just as I reached around to pat myself on the back for a day well-played, my roommates planned the annual trip to his house that he and I have sustained since our freshman year at Tech. Clearly, I was going.
Three days after the wedding I headed to Columbus by myself. My roommates had bailed on the trip they instigated, but I found myself driving down to see Katie Jones as she and her brother were the only other two going. As a means of reconciliation for giving me directions that landed me briefly in Alabama, Stephen bought my movie ticket that evening and gave me two hugs as I tried to leave for Peachtree City later on. My heart felt as though it were under a siege. I cried much of my drive home. I cried because my heart was still hurting from the recent break-up. I cried because I knew Stephen Kump knew me better and cared for me deeper than any man on earth. I cried because the distance between us seemed too great to be bridged. I cried because I knew no one else would ever come close to who he was.
When I sent my thanks for the movie ticket in a text message back at home, he responded by telling me, "You're very welcome!!! You deserve to be treated well!!" For anyone who knows Stephen Kump, and I certainly did, his enthusiasm is near explosive if he ever considers using so many exclamation points. I opened the message and groaned, already exhausted from the battle against my feelings for him. Fortunately, the next few days of Christmas distracted me for some period of time and I had a reprieve.
For whatever reason, though we had not seen much of each other in the past year, 2010 began with several good reasons for getting together or at least sending a text or two. The final season of 24 started up, and that could not go uncelebrated. Georgia Tech had a swing dance, and though we both invited a good crowd to join us, we danced more together than not (much to my frustration). Stephen turned 23 late in January which warranted a "happy birthday, old man" text. And his invitation to accompany him to the Army National Guard Ball sparked a series of awkward, confusion-revealing, emotion-sensitive text messages that we could no longer avoid.
He asked me to coffee on the first Thursday of February. I went with knotted stomach and anxious heart, fully aware that we still had feelings for each other just beneath our otherwise calm exteriors. But I was also aware that my heart was still in full rebound mode. We made small talk and discussed a few ministry opportunities, but he ultimately steered the conversation into one for clarifying our relationship potential. For the first time in five years we were perfectly honest about our feelings (mostly his) and our reservations (mostly mine) in considering a relationship with each other.
As far as I can recall, I spent the entire conversation in silent prayer, something to the effect of "Oh Lord, what are You doing? Will You please just give me words? All I need to know right this second is what to say next!" He waited about seven months to really show His hand on the first question, but He told me two things to tell Stephen that night. One: I would need at least one month before I even wanted to think about a relationship due to the state of my heart. And two: I wanted my dad to be much more involved in all of my relationships in the future because he had just read Voddie Baucham's "What He Must Be...If He Wants to Marry My Daughter."
We said goodnight, I tucked the conversation away, and went on with life for the next month without giving it much thought.
Mr. Kump, on the other hand, had walked away with an unintentionally given assignment. Read that book. Call in a month.
I was only momentarily surprised when I received a text message EXACTLY one month later to arrange a coffee date for the first Thursday in March. For the entire month I had assumed that Stephen might call sometime in March, you know, if he happened to think about it or if he still kind of liked me. It only took one second after seeing, "I suppose it's about that time. You open for starbucks later Thursday evening?" for me to remember who I was dealing with. Stephen Kump thinks about everything. Apparently, especially me.
Not surprisingly, I did not have many new thoughts for Mr. Kump at this meeting. He said the Lord was leading him to pursue this relationship. I told him that was fine but that I was not interested unless my parents thought it was a good idea, which was not currently the case. In hindsight (and from hearing it from him later), I came across quite standoffish, nearly abrasive? That was not my intent, but I knew that my heart was still not quite ready and I knew that both of our hearts could easily have feelings for each other. It had happened before; I knew it would happen again as soon as we spent any amount of time together. For both our sakes, I did not want to entangle hearts unnecessarily.
I cried myself home from that meeting as well, frustrated and confused and, if I am honest, a little put-off by Stephen's pursuit. I had no idea what I wanted in life relationally or occupationally, but I did not like what was going on. Not one bit.
Stephen left frustrated too, but not without determination. He called my dad. He made plans to visit Peachtree City. And he did.
Now, in the weeks between coffee date number two and his trip to see my dad, I became thoroughly confused. I thought the meeting with my dad would close the book on "us" with finality, but in the days leading up to it I found myself wanting it to go well, wanting Stephen to be given a chance. I could not see that being possible, but my heart had made a drastic shift away from every other relational bent and toward Stephen. As I prayed, the Lord moved my heart.
But his visit to my dad left us all astonished. He did not ask permission for us to date or even go on a few dates. He asked if he and my dad could get to know each other. He would not initiate any communication with me, but he and my dad would get lunch every few weeks. How could Daddy say "no" to that?
The next month and a half that Stephen spent "dating" my dad felt nearly tortuous at times (at least on my end). We only saw each other on a handful of occasions, but each one left me flustered and eager, somewhat twitter-pated even. My dad was a steal vault full of thoughts he was (wisely) unwilling to share after each of their meetings, and I was left to wrestle with the Lord over where He wanted my heart to be.
And this is where I first began to learn my role as the future bride of Stephen Kump and the Bride of the coming Christ.
Knowing how much Stephen Kump cared for me was undoing my heart. In an effort to protect and respect him, I spent those months praying fervently for the Lord to show me His will and not let my heart's desires be deceitful. The very last thing I wanted on earth was to allow Stephen to pursue me, enjoy his attention for a while and then realize I did not truly care for him.
But as I prayed a prayer of frustration one night after seeing him at our Cinco de Mayo party, the Lord stepped in. I was realizing that Stephen's love for me was irresistible, and it was driving me CRAZY. The look in his eyes, his willingness to help, his investment in building a relationship with my dad, his restraint in not talking to me, all made me want to be with him infinitely more than I ever imagined possible. As I poured out my heart to the Lord, He said,
"You were made to joyfully reciprocate boundless, extravagant love. I made you to respond to my overwhelming, uncomparable love for you. This is not the first time you have been loved into loving Someone. I did this first. This was my idea, not Stephen's."
The truth of the realization leaves me in awe even now. It is absolutely impossible for us as human beings to resist fathomless, costly, steadfast love. The need for it was the founding structure of our DNA as we are made in the image of God who is, in Himself, Love. And yet if He did not love us with abandon, if it were not for His love that initiated pursuit when we were far off, we never could have turned to Him. Sin has too devastatingly marred our ability to respond to God except for the passionate cross of Jesus that reaches to the depths of our depravity.
Stephen's love for me has not rescued my life in such an extreme way, but the concept is the same. That while I was resisting, mourning the loss of less devoted pursuers, and frankly discouraging to the point of all-but-complete-rejection, he made up his mind and his heart, he graciously ignored my feelings at the time, and he set his sights on making me his own. He decided ahead of time that he would do whatever it took. If not for his decision to love me, he could have easily given up with discouragement from me or the magnitude of the obstacles between us.
"Jesus, Faithful King,
Lord, with grateful hearts we sing,
How great is the love,
How great is the love of our Savior.
The weight of the cross,
The curse of our shame,
You carried it all and rose from the grave,
How great is the love,
How great is the love of our Savior."
-"How Great is the Love" by Meredith Andrews
His love is limitless.
Stephen and I were given permission to go on dates on Monday, May 10. We did so almost every other night for the remainder of the month. We began courting on Tuesday, June 1, and we knew we were to be married over Labor Day weekend in September.
The big give-away in knowing the Lord was calling me to be Stephen's wife was in his seemingly infinite knowledge of my heart. His birthday gift to me in mid-August revealed just how well he knew me and how deeply he valued who I really am. No one else on earth had figured me out so thoroughly as this man. And it is truly life-altering to be known so honestly and yet loved so genuinely.
This is why the incarnation of God was so crucial to our salvation. Jesus left heaven to come to earth so that He could really know us, know our pain, know our hearts. Not that He was lacking in any knowledge prior to His glorious condescension, but He limited Himself to the form of a man in order to know us and our depravity experientially. Yet in all of this, He loved sacrificially and intentionally.
Stephen proposed on Saturday evening, December 11 in such a way that only the love of Christ could be seen. Unaware that we were on a schedule to get to our engagement party, I was incredibly frustrated and ugly toward him for rushing through a nice dinner at the Sundial in Atlanta to make me pray on top of a Georgia Tech building in the dead of Atlanta's coldest recorded winter. Because I was not informed of Stephen's recent job offer, I was incredibly irritated that we were doing such proposal-esque things on a date that could not possibly include a knee and a ring.
I continued in my funk as he asked for the chance to lift my spirits. What I was wanting was for him to realize that he had hurt my feelings, apologize profusely, promise he will try to never let it happen again, and...I don't know. What I wanted was to be right. I thought that seeing him sorry would bring satisfaction. I was ugly, horrible, just wanting to be sure he knew that he had hurt my feelings.
But what was Mr. Kump doing? He had decided to love me and marry me. So he did what it took to get me to the place where that could happen. Kicking, screaming and nasty as I may have been on the inside, he lovingly asked for permission to love me through it all for the rest of his life.
As he read to me of love's patience and kindness, as he told me he loved me for the first time in words, and as he knelt before me to ask for my hand in marriage, every crusty crevice of my heart was washed pure by humility in the light of his love. Gratitude, love and joy replaced self-centeredness, wrath and dirge.
And so it is with me and my Savior.
When I get a true glimpse of the contrast between my filth and His radiance, His death and my life, His cross and my Hope, I cannot remain unchanged by His love. I love Him all the more because I do not deserve His in the least.
And one more thing I am learning from loving Stephen Kump.
My imagination is hardly difficult to entertain when it comes to our honeymoon destination. If he will be there, I am happy to go. (Ok, in all honesty, I would pitch a fit if he tried to drag me to Canada in March, but he knows that, so we're good.) Two things here:
1. (and this applies to many other things, most recently, my ring) Stephen wants to bless me with far more than just "what works." He has far better ideas about what is special and worthwhile than I do. When I was thinking Florida's panhandle, he was checking flights to Maui and Aruba.
and 2. Because I love him, my heart is automatically disposed to jump wholeheartedly into whatever will bring him the most joy. (I know this will not always be the case because I will always have a self-centered streak, but I pray love for him wins more often than not.) My knowledge of tropical destinations is remarkably limited, making my preferences very much the same. I really could not have ranked the Caribbean versus Hawaii if my life depended on it, but seeing Stephen's excited desire to go to Maui for the thrill of whatever adventure awaits us there was enough to take my heart their too. If that will bring him joy, count me in.
My Heavenly Father wants to give me far more than I would choose for myself. And I pray that my heart will always joyfully follow Him into what brings Him most joy and fame.
I feel quite certain that I will look back on all of this in 50 years and laugh at how much I think I have already learned. In light of what is to come, this is hardly the beginning. But I am grateful for the Lord leading me in such loving lessons right now, and I pray that my heart will be soft and teachable in the years to come, both pleasant and trying, even more-so than in this season of delight.
