A Love Story, Part 1: How It Began

In an open pasture littered with wildflowers, a little girl with brown hair and sparkling blue eyes played. Just a mile and a half away stood a brown cottage that had always been her home, and in it her mother was cooking supper. The dinner bell would ring as soon as her father got home from work, and he was already on his way. But Anthropy had no idea of the time, she was running around with arms outspread pretending she was an eagle, and eagles didn’t have deadlines.

Anthropy spent many days this way. She didn’t have siblings, so she kept herself company, and her imagination worked on overtime coming up with things to amuse. As she grew, she learned to do all the work that her mother did, and consequently spent less and less time frolicking aimlessly. 

So, it was just the normal routine one day, when eighteen-year-old Anthropy was sent to the market to buy fresh vegetables, and nothing gave her reason to suspect anything unusual. (But of course, something unusual did happen, as is bound to with a setup like that.)

She decided to take her favourite way home, (it was the longest route, but the most scenic) which involved crossing a narrow tree branch over a muddy creek. She’d made the same trek so many times that she didn’t care to look where her feet fell, and was very surprised when her toes caught a knot in the wood and she went sprawling, fresh produce and all.

What was even more surprising was the laugh that followed her unfortunate footing. She looked up through wet strands of brown hair to see a young man jump into the creek and wade toward her. He grabbed her purchases first and set them on dry ground, then he reached his hand out to her, “Are you alright Miss?”

”Yes, I think so,” she said, taking his hand. He helped her out of the creek, and they both examined the damage done to her things. Some of them would be fine after washing, but she had landed on the most delicate of them, and they were pretty well ruined. Sighing heavily, she picked them up and turned to her helper. “Thank you,” said she, “I’ll be getting home now.” “Let me walk you home!” He offered quickly, “I mean, to make sure you get there safely.” “I think I’ll be alright, she returned, “But thank you all the same.” 

“I should feel better if you’d let me.” 

“Well, alright then.” 

“What’s your name?” He asked, taking her bags from her. “Anthropy,” she replied, smiling shyly. “And yours?” 

“I’m Khriein.”

Time seemed to vanish as they walked and talked, for they were back at the house before they knew it, and it seemed as though they were old friends, chatting about everything they knew. He tipped his cap, turning to leave before his face broke out into a massive grin. The rest of the day, she couldn’t stop thinking of him, and when her parents asked, she didn’t know what to say.

***

Soup was on the wood stove the next day when a knock resounded at the door. Her mother went to answer it, and a moment later her name was called. Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked to the door, where Khriein stood on the porch. “I brought you some vegetables,” he said, “to replace the damages from yesterday.”

“Thank you!” Suddenly yesterday’s glee was explained. Her mother took the bags from Khriein, (who was still smiling at Anthropy) and said, “I’d like some time to make supper by myself today, why don’t you two go for a walk?” 

Anthropy nodded, kissed her mother on the cheek, and practically ran out the door. They promptly lost track of time again and didn’t notice until the sky began to turn bright streaks of orange and pink. 

Coincidentally, their out-of-the-way house happened to be on Khriein’s way to work, so they came to expect him briefly twice every day and more on the weekends. One day however, he was late. 

At noon she heard the familiar sound of his heavy steps on the wooden porch, and a knock at the door. When she opened it, he was smiling, but something was a little different in his manner. “Would you walk with me?” He asked, before she had a chance to greet him. “Of course!” She quickly took off her apron, and wordlessly, they walked to the creek where they’d first met. She looked at him with concern, for he was usually quite talkative. ”I must ask you something,” he stammered. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you love me? That is—I love you!” He said, his face turning bright red, “I need to know if you feel the same.” “Yes!” She answered. “Yes, of course I love you.” Relief spread over his face and he took her hand, “Then I will go to your father for his blessing.” Anthropy nodded, her face pink. They walked back to the house hand in hand.

Part 2: Peor

Birth is Not the Beginning

I feel that it's only fair to warn you that the following is a really weird analogy. If you feel uncomfortable with topics like pregnancy and birth, feel free to flee the scene right about now.

Recently, I was thinking about one of Jesus' conversations.

Jesus answered and said to him, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” (John 3:3)

Nicodemus is justifiably confused, so he asks, and gets a... sort of explanation, of what Jesus means.

My thoughts took a different turn than Nicodemus's this time around. I've heard many a sermon and spent many a day thinking on what it means to be "born again," but that isn't what I thought of this time. Instead, I reasoned that God doesn't do things that are incomplete. God doesn't need to be educated on basic biology, He knows that birth is not the beginning of life.

If God doesn't do things that are incomplete, is there more to this analogy than comes out in their middle-of-the-night conversation?

If birth is the beginning of a new Christian's life, then what is conception? When is conception? Does the 9-month timeline, or the 3 trimesters, have any reflection in "spiritual pregnancy?"

I don't have answers to all of these questions, although I imagine God does. In the Old Testament, the analogy of "a woman in birth pangs," is used quite frequently. Usually the idea is that someone is going through something terrible and hard, but eventually it will end, and the result will make the difficult process worth it.

Be in pain, and labor to bring forth, O daughter of Zion, like a woman in birth pangs. For now you shall go forth from the city, you shall dwell in the field, and to Babylon you shall go. There you shall be delivered; There the Lord will redeem you from the hand of your enemies. (Micah 4:10)

A woman, when she is in labor, has sorrow because her hour has come; but as soon as she has given birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world. Therefore you now have sorrow; but I will see you again and your heart will rejoice, and your joy no one will take from you. (John 16:21-22)

The birth analogy is not new to the Jesus' mid-night conversation, although He approaches it from a different angle. If we examine both angles together, we see that the deliverance that is always either explicit or implicit in labour analogies, has a final fulfillment in Christ. Nicodemus, being a Pharisee well versed in the scriptures, would likely have recognized the connotation of "rebirth" right away.

Therefore I will wail and howl, I will go stripped and naked; I will make a wailing like the jackals and a mourning like the ostriches, for her wounds are incurable. For it has come to Judah; It has come to the gate of My people—To Jerusalem. (Micah 1:8-9)

Throughout the bible, God shows His grief over sin, and not just because He is offended, but because He is grieved for the sinner. I mention this because if there is a "spiritual pregnancy" resulting is "rebirth," then God is the one carrying the child, and God is the one who experiences the "birth pangs."

And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he also is a son of Abraham; for the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.” (Luke 19:9-10)

Jesus comes and shows that the pain of grief was not in vain, but like a difficult labour, it will eventually end, and new life will be the result. Jesus says that He came to "seek" and to "save that which was lost."

The seeking is the painful part, the saving is the joyful part. So it would seem to follow that the seeking is the pregnancy, and the saving is the birth.

This has a few connotations which I think are cool. Firstly, after a child is born, she is largely cared for by her mother, but she may be passed off to others around, to help. As the body of Christ, we can take the baby and help care for her. But before the child is born, she cannot be passed off to anyone else, the mother is the only one who can care for her. In a way, it's a relief for us, because it shows that God is the one responsible for that person's salvation, we don't have to try to bring it about.

 ...being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you (conception?) will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ; (Philippians 1:6 - my note added)

That being said, we are also "the body of Christ," and unlike in an actual pregnancy, this person is visible to all of us, among us all the time. So if we are not the ones responsible for their salvation, what is our responsibility to this "pre-born Christian?"

Let's start with this question, What does a pre-born child need for a healthy pregnancy? The proper nutrition, and the proper environment.

In Matthew 5, Jesus says,

“You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men. “You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven. (Matthew 5:13-16)

We are called to be "salt and light." Salt is a nutrient, and light is a part of an environment. Salt is a preservative, it makes you thirsty, and it helps to retain water. Spiritually, this is an easy parallel to draw, since the One Who brings salvation gives "Living water." (I'm not going to get into what Light is all about, Matthew 5 did a pretty good job of summarizing.)

So it seems to me, that just as natural birth is a complicated, but beautiful process, so is spiritual birth. 

Conception, in both cases, is God's work. Natural pregnancy is a time in which the child is prepared for birth, and nutrition and environment are essential to the health of the child; Spiritual pregnancy is a time in which God is seeking and preparing His child for rebirth, and we, as nutrition and environment, are essential to the spiritual health of the new child of God. 

Both kinds of "pregnancies" can be very painful for the one carrying the child, but the end result is worth the hardship.

“Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, yet I will not forget you. (Isaiah 49:15)