As we sat down for Sunday lunch, I could tell he had something on his mind. My fiancé is usually contemplative and quiet, but today felt different. When I asked if everything was okay, he gently took my hand and smiled. “Yes,” he said, “but I would like to talk to you about something.”
We talk about everything, so I wasn’t concerned. I squeezed his hand and waited as he took a deep breath. “I see you’re really stressed lately,” he said. “I know you have so much going on with work, planning the wedding, and everything else. I want you to know that I’m here for you — whatever you need. We’re a team.”
Can you say swoon? My heart throbbed as he stroked my hand. I was about to respond when he continued.
“But I’ve noticed something. When you’re stressed, you don’t ask for my help — you tell me what to do. I know you’re overwhelmed, but when you demand things instead of asking, it doesn’t make me feel good or respected.”
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment as his words sank in. I thought back over the past month. I had been stressed, juggling work, wedding planning, and moving to a new flat. Had I let that stress affect how I treated him?
Sensing the tension in my body, he gently squeezed my hand. “If you need something, just ask me,” he said. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I love you. I want to serve you, but I can’t serve you if I’m not respected by you.”
The Vulnerability of Being Seen
His eyes stayed fixed on mine as I fidgeted in my seat, fighting the urge to cry. I’m not one to avoid hard conversations, but there’s something painfully vulnerable about staying present when your flaws are laid bare.
It reminded me of that uncomfortable feeling at an annual check-up — lying on the table under blinding fluorescent lights, wearing the flimsiest of garments, feeling exposed.
But unlike a doctor’s office, in the presence of the Bridegroom, the light that exposes me doesn’t feel cold or clinical. In the safety of His love, I can trust that even in my weakness, I am cherished. He gently lifts the weight of my imperfections from my shoulders.
I’ve experienced this time and again in prayer. But in recent years, Jesus has drawn this experience deeper into my everyday life — especially through friendships and community. The vulnerability I encounter in prayer is no longer limited to my interior world. It’s taking root in real relationships, where I’m learning to be seen and known by others.
The Gift of Healthy Love
Now, as I prepare to receive my earthly bridegroom, I’m experiencing this blessing of vulnerability on an even deeper level. In the context of a healthy relationship — one built on truth, beauty, and goodness — I can give the gift of myself in a way I never have before.
I’m far from perfect. I’m rough around the edges, and I know there’s much work to be done as I strive to love the way God calls me to. But the beauty of being in a safe, Christ-centered relationship is that I don’t have to get it all right the first time. I’m free to make mistakes and be loved through the process.
In a relationship rooted in God, perfection isn’t a requirement. Instead, I’m invited to be perfected in love — shaped and refined by mutual sacrifice and self-gift in the ordinary moments of life.
Love That Calls Me Higher
After some time, my fiancé asked how I was feeling. I picked at my empty plate, sharing my embarrassment but also my gratitude for his honesty and gentleness. I kept avoiding his gaze, holding back tears.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
I finally lifted my eyes to meet his. Though he had gently pointed out a flaw in me, his gaze held nothing but kindness and love.
“I forgive you. I’m with you. I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a soft smile.
As I sat there, his words echoed in my heart — not just as the voice of my future husband, but as the voice of my eternal Bridegroom.
This post was originally published for Radiant magazine, an online publication of Our Sunday Visitor. Since Radiant is no longer actively publishing, contributors have been invited to share their articles on other platforms.
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