About Rebekah

Since a fair number of the people viewing this site either don't know me or don't know Rebekah, we've decided to each write a little bit about the other by means of introduction. I was immediately confounded by the task--I've long marveled at the bold inadequacy of responding to the question: "Who are you?" with a name, as if a name could tell anyone anything at all about what really goes into making up who a person is. At best, it tells us something about what your parents were thinking when you were born, or what kinds of names they find appealing. But it communicates nothing of your hopes and dreams, your fears and insecurities, your joys and sorrows, and your deep, painful, difficult walk with God (and your progress running to or from him). All of these things are the beginning of an answer to the question of who we are, and they are not easily told even of ourselves (even if we want it told more than we want anything else); what hope do I have of telling you about Rebekah? However, as a very wise writer once said, even the striving for great things is something great, so I will try to offer a characterization.

I think I have often misunderstood the truth of Rilke's claim that to fall in love is to see one's own greatness mirrored in another: I always took it in a selfish sense, one that always started from me. My basic thought was: "Look at all that I am, and now behold, there it is in another." Over time, this caused no end of grief. I have come to understand it now more to mean that what I see in the other is the greatness that I long to see in myself, the embodiment of the values that I hold for my own transformation. It is, in other words, not the greatness I currently possess, but that greatness that I wish I possessed, that greatness that God has destined for me in the mystery of my ongoing sanctification but to which I have in no way attained. Likewise, it is not necessary that she also have attained it--it is enough to know that she is called to it, that what it looks like for her to be a servant of God is consonant and complimentary to what it looks like for me.

It is true that she has a beauty that makes men turn their heads as she passes by, then quickly whisper to their buddies; it is true that she has a smile that lights up a room and melts your heart; and there is nothing in all my experience so subtly exquisite as the gentle cascade of her hair. But these are just the outward signs of the woman I see when I look at her, the woman I respect and love so deeply.

What really moves me is the gentleness, the grace, the consideration she shows to others. The expansive, joyous heart in which the smile that conquers all resistance is rooted. From the first moment I looked on her, I knew that the Spirit of God danced joyfully in her soul, and from there shone his light upon all who would take the time to stop and bask in the glow. I see it most of all in her incredible bravery in loving me. She fought for our relationship before she knew if it was worth fighting for; not as one who is weak or easily swayed, but as one who knew her own insecurities and scars and was unwilling to lose her chance at peace because of fear and uncertainty. I count it among the great privileges of my life that I was able watch her overcome disappointments and wounds that have been the end of so many others.

When you imagine Rebekah, you must imagine magnificence. She is weak, she is limited, she is fearful; there can be no illusions of an aloof goddess here. But within and through these common marks of our shared humanity, there is a strength and a humility that strengthens and humbles me. She is not just the great love of my life--she is a companion worthy of who I hope to be.

Junius