Mr. Handsome Goes to Church

Post Author: Anonymous

In seminary, my professors taught me many things. I learned to exegete, to lead a meeting, to sing hymns on pitch, and to recite significant dates in the history of the church. Unfortunately, I did not learn what to do when a blindingly handsome stranger with straw gold hair and dazzling white teeth began attending the church where I am pastor.

I consider myself a reasonably mature person. I always scoffed at stories of ministers getting embroiled in sexual indiscretions. I believed the phenomenon of male pastors running off with their secretaries was an embarrassing mid-life-crisis cliché. Certainly I would never get so overwrought with passion that I would cross a boundary of appropriate behavior.

Sigh.

In reality, I am just as subject to the humiliating lack of rational thought that comes with romance as any middle-aged man.

So, when the handsome blonde man came to church, my rational thought flew out the window and my inner 15-year-old came out with a vengeance.

He tended to come to church early, and when I saw him, my heart started fluttering, just like it would in high school. I found excuses to go near his pew—rearranging the flag, making sure the matches were stocked, stacking the bulletins more neatly. I would “casually” strike up conversation, learning about his work, his interests. He never mentioned a wife or girlfriend, which I thought was a good sign, but whenever I invited him out with the other young adults, he did not seem interested at all.

Even my boss got into the act. If my boss noticed that Mr. Handsome was in church, he’d shove me into the sanctuary and say, “Go talk to him!”

And I did. I talked and batted eyelashes and talked some more. I talked to him so much that eventually he just stopped coming to church. That’s right, I flirted myself out of a parishioner. I fell prey to the ridiculous rush of endorphins and super-ego blocking hormones that comes with attraction and I made a fool of myself and cheated Mr. Handsome out of a peaceful church experience. He moved to a church with only male pastors who would leave him well enough alone.

Years later, I found out that Mr. Handsome was also Mr. Lothario—that he had a string of girlfriends, some overlapping, and had huge problems with commitment. So, in some way, maybe my idiotic behavior spared me from an even worse fate than embarrassment! But my reaction to Mr. Handsome was still a sobering experience.

How humiliating to realize I had the capacity for such spectacularly stupid behavior! First, as a woman, I completely ignored the powerfully strong signals of disinterest that Mr. Handsome sent out. He never flirted back and always answered my questions respectfully. Maybe if he had curled up into the fetal position and shouted, “Back! Back away woman! You’re freaking me out!” I would have paid more attention. Alas, I was oblivious.

Secondly, as a minister, as a pastor I completely ignored my inner pastor-voice telling me that my behavior was not in this guy’s best interest. How can you listen to a sermon or really relax in worship when the pastor is gazing at you like you’re the dreamiest dreamboat ever? Oy.

I’ve been a pastor longer now, and have not made the same mistake again, but I’m still unsettled. If attraction/love/lust comes hand in hand with irrational behavior, how can I know I will make good choices in the future? Short of wiring some electrical device to deliver a painful electric shock anytime my “romance” neurons fire at church, what practices can I integrate to protect myself (and others!) from passion’s wayward leadings? What prayers will guard me from blonde boys and their sparkly pearly whites?

I do not know. But I trust that my experience with Mr. Handsome, and my own desire for the good of my congregation, and the grace of the Holy Spirit will lead me on a wise path. If not, maybe I should just go work at a nursing home.