Love is in the air and I have fallen into full on obnoxious-romantic-mode. Which means a whole lot of scouring the radio for the perfect song to tell her just how much she means to me. Something sweet and simple about how “she’s my strength” and how “nothing is better than being loved by her” and maybe something with just a hint of “I’ll buy you flowers if you let me touch your boob.”
But recently I have stumbled onto a bit of a problem. Every time I think I have found the most romantic song in the world, I take a good look at the lyrics and realize that the song was written about Jesus.
Now there’s nothing wrong with writing songs for Jesus. I’ve got some love for the J-Man. We’re buds. But nothing slams the brakes on a romantic moment faster than your favorite singer reminding you that Jesus is watching and he’s not happy about where this night is heading.
These songs are sneaky. They lull you in with their smooth guitar and their smoky vocals. You’re already lighting candles and spreading rose petals on the bed before you realize that the “you” the singer is so devoted to is a 33-year-old carpenter with a messiah complex, not the lovely woman who likes to hold your hand on long car rides. Be cautious around vague pronouns.
It’s hard to get the magic back after the subtle Christ-allusions stampede into the foreground. Suddenly those hands you’re holding are just a bit holier. There’s a little sand in that hair you’re stroking. That little bit of cleavage you keep casting glances at is now the hair covered chest of the man who died for the sins currently on your mind.
I don’t think Jesus is trying to mess with my mojo or anything, but I have always been told that God works in mysterious ways. Maybe I should stop trying to find these super romantic songs and just come to terms that Jesus wants me to use my lips for praying. Or maybe I should just listen to John Mayer or something. I don’t think “Your Body is a Wonderland” will be rockin’ the service anytime soon. Or maybe I’ve just been listening to it wrong all these years.