Christianity Today

God loved the world with an extravagant tenderness. He spun into our genes a strand of divine DNA. Imago dei, this God with us—it's an astonishing intimacy.

The Bible shows it from various angles: God is a hen, and we are the chicks. God is a Shepherd, and we are the straying sheep. God is a Bridegroom, and we, his church, are the bride.

We can see God draw near, and it is dizzying.

But does all this closeness mean that Jesus is the personal boyfriend of Christian women? That God is my fiancé? That the First and the Last is my husband? That he and I are dating?

So it appears to some.

In a popular book, I learn of women who set up date nights with Jesus. Christie enjoys her Friday nights by going to Barnes & Noble "to drink coffee with the Lord and to read whatever book from the Christian living section he guides me to" or by cooking a wonderful meal and setting the table for two, then "talking to God as if he is actually sitting there at my table with me, because I know that he is."

The author of this book calls women to "prayer, praise, and pampering" retreats: "Although God certainly loves us even with unshaven legs, no makeup, and a bed-head hairdo, he also deserves to occasionally have his princess sit at his feet while she is looking and feeling her best." She casts these retreats as exciting dates. "You are running away with your Lover, not confining yourself to a convent."

In another book, the author assures her readers that "you are the one that overwhelms his heart with just 'one glance of your eyes,'" quoting from the Song of Solomon. "His gaze is fixed on you," she writes. "He is captivated by your beauty."

These teachings have spread into churches. My friend's mother took part in a "tea with the Lord," during which she and the other women wore their wedding gowns—those, at least, who managed to squeeze into them—and fancied themselves as brides of Christ. An influential Kansas City church teaches thousands of people the so-called Bridal Paradigm, which encourages a quasi-romantic relationship with Christ. And who among us hasn't detected an eerie resemblance between a contemporary Christian song and a pop diva's breathy rendition of a sensual love ballad?

But such eros-laced sentiments directed at Jesus aren't a new trend. Neither is reading the Song of Solomon and other biblical passages as erotically charged letters addressed directly to the reader.

Several of those whom liturgical Christians call saints considered themselves wives of Christ. Catherine of Siena received a vision in which Christ married her and gave her a ring. It was made from foreskin left over after his circumcision. Before you laugh, consider this: After this event, Catherine devoted herself to the sick and the poor.

According to Women and Gender in Medieval Europe: An Encyclopedia, edited by Margaret C. Schaus (Routledge, 2006), medieval nuns used to participate in marriage liturgies as brides of Christ. The tradition continues in various forms today. The bridal imagery "presents explicit erotic content, yet also extols celibacy and pronounces the inherent sinfulness of sexual desire (concupiscence)."

Some men, too, managed to see themselves as brides.

The great poet John Donne besought God in the often-quoted sonnet:

Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

I don't question the devotion of anyone who says she loves Christ intensely, whatever language she uses to express it.

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