Boyfriends & the Book of Life

I don’t even remember which boyfriend we were talking about at the time. I had a couple when I lived in Evansville after college. They were perfectly earnest and suitable young men with steady jobs and good hearts; they just were not the right guys for me. I couldn’t see it at the time, but others around me could.

Anyway, when I lived in Evansville from 2005 to 2008, I spent a lot of precious time with my grandfather, Gene Gorman (or, as I always called him, “Papa Gene.”) And spending time with him meant I got to spend time with some of his dear friends. These were lifelong, thick-as-thieves couples—friends who played cards together for decades and raised their children together and went on trips together and, eventually, as spouses died and time marched on, would eat out together nearly every night. Weinbach Cafeteria and “The Carousel” were favorites. Friday nights called for Cracker Barrel.

Wanda Hooper was one of Papa Gene’s closest friends, and one of the women who looked after Papa Gene after my Nana died. She went to dinner with him. They went to Calvary Baptist together. He’d take her places. They solved world problems. You know, what friends do.

Wanda was a firecracker—bold, honest, hilarious and sharp as they come. She was a truth-teller; she said what she meant and she meant what she said. Like most of the friends in this group, she grew up with humble means. She was a strong Southern Baptist. She knew her Bible. She did hair for many years, so you know the lady knew how to shoot the breeze and dress with style. She always had cute, on-trend purses. Wanda was so fun to be around, and yet she had tremendous depth and wisdom to impart, too.

It shouldn’t have taken me by surprise when she said it, but it did. It was probably over dinner, when I was chattering on about the guy I was dating at the time. I was giving some lovey-dovey description of the person in question, when Wanda chimed in:

“Is his name written in the Lamb’s Book of Life?”

At the time, I’d never heard this phrase before. Remember: I grew up Presbyterian. We, too, love the Lamb and live by His blood, but don’t brandish these terms with the same relish as the Baptists.

Picking up on my hesitation and smiling, but clueless, expression, Wanda followed up with something to the effect of, “That’s all fine and good, but does he know Jesus?”

I was rattling off all these surface details, and Wanda just cut to the core. Bottom line: does he know Jesus as Savior? She was intent on my best interest and this relationship’s ultimate foundation—not some random guy’s biography.

I didn’t just stumble on the question because I hadn’t heard the phrase before. It took me aback because, at least at the time, I think the answer was no—a fact that I was purposely overlooking (or avoiding).

Here’s what I took from our exchange that day: Relationships are incredibly hard even when you both believe in Jesus. But when your life partner isn’t on the same page as you are about the thing that’s most essential to your identity, buckle up. She was one sister of faith looking out for another. Then and now, I appreciate it when someone tells me the truth in love (check out Ephesians 4:15).

Some application questions:

• Do the individuals you’re aligning yourself with closely (not just acquaintances) support your faith, stall your faith or snuff out your faith?
• When was the last time someone shared some real truth with you? Will you thoughtfully pray about it—and potentially act on their counsel?
• Who is a spiritual mentor/cheerleader for you?

I will never forget Wanda’s bold question. It was a big deal (still is) and it was to her (or she wouldn’t have asked); yet, she brought up this guy’s eternal salvation like it was no big deal—like asking about the weather or how your day was.

I love that that generation of old-school believers are not and were not worried about offending. That boldness, that confidence is born of a faith that has stood the test of time—and proven trustworthy. I admire it. I aspire to have it.

Later—whether that night or months later—I found her exact reference in my Bible. Dear readers, it’s not in the shallow end of the biblical pool (if there is one). We’re in the book of Revelation, chapter 21. John is talking about a holy city in heaven:

The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it. Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life.

A majestic, mysterious passage, right? Yet, the latter concept is not one that most 21st century Americans are comfortable with. Not all names are listed. By free will… but still. It might make some squirm. Wanda didn’t care. After all, maybe that squirming would lead to some soul-searching and head-bowing. She was more concerned about long-term security than short-term comfort. She was a woman of courage and compassion.

Wanda Hooper is now in the presence of Jesus. She died yesterday. And, without a doubt, her name is written in the Lamb’s Book of Life. The loss is hard. She was truly one-of-a-kind, and it saddens me to watch another from the Greatest Generation pass on. However, it gives me great joy to know that her sure hope is now sight, and she is partying it up with Lawrence, Gene, Sarah, Ginny and so many other friends in Paradise.

Great joy, indeed.