Cheek To Cheek

2.  Cheek to Cheek

 

“Love flashes like fire, the brightest kind of flame.

Many waters cannot quench love; neither can rivers drown it.  If a man tried to buy love with everything he owned, his offer would be utterly despised.”[9]

 

Dancing is a wonderful training for girls:  it’s the first way you learn to guess what a man is going to do before he does it.[10]

 

Once I was inside I tiptoed to the room I shared with Terry Turner of Kansas.  Terry was a really nice guy, and we got along great.  We had shared our small, boxy, no-frills room for about five months by this time.  I’m sure Terry thought I was slightly crazy, took too many risks, and didn’t spend enough time studying.  But what the heck.  I thought he was too cautious, too serious, and spent way too much time studying.

Terry stirred a little when I turned on my reading lamp, so I took that as sign that he was half awake.  I shook his shoulder a couple of times.  “Terry,” I whispered.  “Wake up, man!”

“Huh?  Wha …?”  He was really out of it, but with a few good tugs he eventually started coming out of his sleepy fog.  He hadn’t been asleep long, so his brain was functioning at about 25% normal capacity when I dropped the bomb on him.

“Terry … I met the girl I’m gonna marry!”  I was totally infatuated!  It would eventually become love.

He didn’t even bother opening his eyes.  “Qualls … you idiot!  You woke me up for that?”  A minute or two later he was once again asleep.  Maybe he had studied too hard that day.

Vicki was a gorgeous, olive-skinned, brown-eyed Floridian brunette attending Evangel College, a liberal arts school located across town.  She was a freshman, too.

Anniversaries.  Birthdays.  Bar Mitzvahs.  Some dates just stick out in your mind.  Here’s one I’ll always remember.  The previous Tuesday night I had mustered up the courage to ask Vicki out.  She and I were in the stands at Evangel with her best friend Bonnie Mitchell, watching my best friend (and Bonnie’s boyfriend), Rick Godwin, play in an intramural basketball game.  Vicki and Bonnie were suitemates, so they hung out a lot.  They were already in the stands when I arrived.

Around Thanksgiving, several months before our first date, I had met Vicki in the Evangel cafeteria.  At the time she was “taken.”  She had a boyfriend back in Brandon, Florida, so my first thoughts when I met her were, “Unavailable!  That’s too bad.”  But the first week of February, running into her and Bonnie in the stands, I didn’t care that she was spoken for.  I thought, “The worst thing she could say was no.  No guts, no glory.”

“Wanna go out this Friday night?” I asked.  I fully expected to hear, “No thanks,” but she surprised the heck out of me when she said, “Sure.  I’d love to.”  I had asked her to go with me to the New Wine Coffeehouse the following Friday to listen to Bonnie and her Christian folk group sing. 

Then it got comical.  Right after I asked her out … I mean, maybe ten minutes had gone by … I remembered I had promised my sister, Judy, and her husband that I would watch their two young sons that same evening while they went out on a date.

I must have looked pathetic because I sure felt pathetic.  My impulses had trumped my memory.  I sheepishly told Vicki about my double booking.  Then, an inspired thought!  “Would you come and baby-sit with me?”  I assured her that we would still have time to make it to the coffeehouse to hear Bonnie sing – I was sure my good friend and future brother-in-law, Gene Norton, would relieve me if he understood the circumstances.

Any other girl might have said, “No way!  I’m not going babysitting on a Friday night!” but Vicki answered, “Why not?”  I learned later, it wasn’t that she thought I was someone special; she just didn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings.

I remember everything about our first date. 

·     The look on my sister’s face when she first met Vicki.  (She pulled me into her kitchen and said, “Don’t let this one get away!”) 

·     Putting my little nephews to bed, having bedtime prayers, and then playfully tucking them in.  It was all every entertaining to Vicki.

·     Retreating back downstairs to the family room.  Vicki brushed up against me when we descended the stairs.  I thought, “Niiiiice.”

·     Watching the first half of the Clint Eastwood/Shirley MacLaine movie, Two Mules for Sister Sara.

This is going to blow your mind.  During the movie I leaned over and kissed Vicki!  To this day I can’t tell you what came over me.  My life is filled with memories of bold moves and impulsive actions, but that kiss ranks up there … definitely in the top five!  I can recall how soft her lips felt, and that she blushed.  And I recollect the half-smile that said, “That was okay, buddy … but don’t do it again.”

Vicki was not, by nature, an adventurous person, but that night marked the beginning of her life’s most meaningful emotional and romantic adventure – one that would last for thirty-three years.

We dated 21 times in 28 days!  After our third date she called her boyfriend in Florida to say goodbye.  (After our second date I had called home to Virginia to say my goodbyes to my girlfriend.  Didn’t I tell you about her?)

During that time frame I was leading a Bible study on her campus at the invitation of Rick, my high school friend.  Most of the nights I was teaching Vicki would come, and then we’d go out for a root beer afterward.  On one of those Bible study nights I said something that really puzzled her.  I had stated, matter-of-factly in the course of the evening, that I was not “called” to be a pastor or missionary, and that I was only at CBC for a year.  I felt I was supposed to be a marine biologist, and that I would serve God in that field.  I shared with the group that I intended, one day, to go to the University of California in Los Angeles (UCLA) and complete my undergraduate degree work.

Later at the local A&W Vicki asked me to explain where I was coming from when it came to my “calling as a scientist.”  I explained that I saw every Christian as a minister, whether we had “Reverend” in front of our names or not.  I think every Christ-follower is obligated to serve God’s interests in whatever field of work we find ourselves, whether it’s flipping hamburgers or sitting on the Supreme Court.  It shouldn’t matter what our profession is because, ultimately, we all belong to Him.  Christ-followers should do what He wants us to do, whatever our breadwinning occupation might be.  The Bible says that we’ve been bought at a precious price.[12]  

The 1960s and early ‘70s have been characterized as years of youthful rebellion and spiritual experimentation, and rightfully so.  Bit I wasn’t fearful.  I was just a realist.  I knew my limitations.  I needed to grow up in every way.  In a nutshell, in the fall of 1971 I felt I wasn’t ready to go onto a secular college campus and still remain fully committed to Jesus Christ.

I told Vicki I planned to attend CBC for only one year because I didn’t want to go out into “the real world” unequipped ethically and morally; I wanted to build a rock-solid spiritual foundation.  I had come to CBC as a relatively young believer, and I looked on my year there as a time to grow and mature in the things of God.  I had my rationale for attending a Bible College down pat. 

Vic totally understood.  She was actually relieved that I was planning to live and work in the secular world as opposed to the church world.  She was beginning to fall in love with me, but she hadn’t liked the possibility that she might end up being a pastor’s wife.  She was a little burned out on “religious guys,” as she put it, and found my brand of spirituality refreshing.  She believed I had a genuine relationship with Christ … and she found that personally challenging.

One day we were out on a date, walking in a pasture.  (I know you’re thinking, “What a cheap date!”  But give me a break.  I was, for the most part, putting myself through college.  I didn’t have much money, so I had to get really creative when it came to taking Vicki out.)

There we were, walking, laughing, avoiding the manure piles and trying to get to a beautiful spot overlooking a river when I asked her, “Vicki … if things continue to go the way they’ve been going in our relationship … do you think … well, I was wondering … uh …  do you think we might get married one day?”

She laughed out loud!  We had been dating for 5 whole weeks!  She was smart, so she answered, “Let’s wait and see.”

I, on the other hand, was not smart – only smitten, so took her response as a YES!   It certainly wasn’t a “no.”  I was in heaven!

New love is so much fun, so filled with excitement and anticipation.  New love is also rife with bumps and bruises, but who cares?  I heard once, “If dancing were any easier it would be called football.  You know you’re dancing when tears of pain and happiness blend in with your sweat.”[13]  The dance of young love is like that.

Something did happen just a few weeks after our first date that challenged our newfound love, and gave Vicki pause.  I liked to go to the third floor of Welch Hall from time to time and spend an hour or more on the floor of its small chapel.  The chapel wasn’t much bigger than a large walk-in closet, but it was a great place to get away from the noise of dorm life and clear one’s mind.  Every so often I’d go there to pray.

On a night in early April of 1972, I felt I heard God’s voice.  The sound of His voice was becoming more familiar to me at that time.  I felt I heard Him say, “Will you serve Me the rest of your life?”  God and me had had this conversation twice before, and I had answered twice, “Yes, Lord, with all my heart.”  I said “yes” again.  But this night was different.  I heard God respond, “You will not serve Me as a marine biologist or ocean floor geologist.  Rather, I want you to serve My Church, and give Me all the days of your life in full-time Christian service.”

I felt blindsided!  Never would I have expected such an invitation from God.  My past was blemished.  Like a broken record, I could recite all the reasons a wise God would never have me touch His precious Church.  I could be cold and mean.  I was too selfish, too impulsive, too abrasive, too proud, too … imperfect.  Initially I said, “No” to The Voice because I felt so unworthy.  Then, “No!” because I knew God was messin’ with the plans I had made for my future.  I knew where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do when I got there – make a lot of money.  But the loudest, most inflexible (and obstinate) “No!” came from my heart when I realized my relationship with Vicki was in jeopardy.

I had just told Vicki that I wasn’t at CBC, like most of the guys, preparing for a career in the ministry.  I was there just long enough to get some Bible under my belt – one year, tops.

I began to wrestle with God, and as I did I felt intense, heart-and-soul pain.  It’s the pain that comes when God touches your ambitions, your desires, your ego and your future.  It’s the pain of having to let go.  It the pain you feel when you are dying to “self.”

People who don’t believe in God, or are not sure there is a God, won’t understand.  People who reject the main story in the New Testament won’t know what I mean either.  But anyone who has been in love – real love – will relate.  When a Christ-follower says, “Yes,” to God and begins a love-relationship with Him, there is such joy.  But at the same time there’s pain.  The joy comes from lovingly joining with Christ.  The pain results when we start pulling away from people and things that compete for that love.  Pain comes when His seemingly simple request for ownership escalates to a feeling that our fingers are being forcefully pulled off the steering wheel of our lives by the God who loves you enough to not let you go your own way.  And you KNOW it’s love that’s doing the pulling.

When all this was happening – Jesus recruiting me for life-long service, and calling me to a deeper love for Him – I felt myself begin to cry.  Surreally, it felt like I was observing me cry.  And I cried until I was snotty-nosed.

The wrestling match that changed the direction of my life lasted for what had to be 30 minutes.  God was asking for ALL of me.  I had given Him bits and pieces of “me” up to that time.  Now He was asking for my ALL.  He wanted control.  He wanted to be King more than President – there would be no more voting.  He was asking to be Boss … Master … Lord.  He wanted my heart, my head, my future … and He wanted “the veto.” 

I felt frightened by the extreme and passionate love I was feeling.  God WANTED me. 

If I said, “yes” to Him, all bets were off.  My plans, my hopes, and my dreams were going to be put aside if I said, “I surrender, Lord.”

Surrender was made all the more difficult because Vicki was now a significant part of my life.  I knew God was asking me to possibly give her up.  (I was aware of how she felt about “religious guys,” meaning pastors, evangelists and the like.  Now, God was saying, “I’m going to pin one of those labels on you, Lowell, and Vicki may walk away.”)  I thought, “Vicki will never want to be part of my life, once she gets wind of this.”

That night I quoted to the Lord what a missionary-hero had said years before:  “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”[14]  Then, at that moment and with all my heart I said, “Yes, Lord.  I surrender my life to You.  You are my Lord and Master, and I trust You completely.   You can have my ALL.”

My response seems to defy logic, doesn’t it?  Until you hear the rest of the prayer.  “I LOVE You, Lord, more than anyone or anything.  It is no sacrifice to give all of my hopes and dreams to You.”  I was keenly aware at that moment that Jesus Christ had sacrificed His life for my salvation … and that me living for Him would be “no sacrifice.  To think otherwise would have been, for me, the epitome of ingratitude.

I had, from my childhood, been fascinated with missionaries.  I thought them to be the bravest of souls.  After saying my “Yes, Lord,” I then had a request to make of God.  “Because You’ve called me to full-time ministry, please let it be to missions!” 

There was a small National Geographic map of the world on the wall of the chapel to aid in praying for the nations.  I walked over to it.  I was drawn to Israel, Jordan and Lebanon so I said, “Lord … send me here.”  And I pointed to the Middle East.

As clearly as I’ve ever heard God speak, He said, “No.  For now … you will not be a ‘sent one,’ but ‘a sender.’”  Disappointment.  But I knew there was no arguing with Him – His “NO” was that definite and that clear.

I left the Welch Hall chapel different than when I came in.  In about an hour’s time my life … and Vicki’s, as it turned out … was forever altered.

Later that same night I called Vicki and told her that we needed to talk the next day.  She could hear something in my voice, and she told me later, “It wasn’t frightening or sad.  I didn’t think you were about to break up with me, or anything like that.  Actually, it made me feel that something ‘holy’ was happening in you.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew that God was involved in whatever you had to share with me.”

We met in Smith Park.  Hardly a park, it was really more like a small green space located adjacent to the Evangel College campus.  We sat in my VW.  Vicki was mostly quiet while I talked.  A few times her head would bow as she listened to me recount my confrontation with God in the Welch Hall chapel.  Ministry?  A few times she lifted her head, looked up at me with those big, brown eyes, now glistening with the hint of a tear, and she’d encourage me to explain something that needed clarification.  We were both eighteen years old. 

As I finally wound down my story of the night before, I asked her, “So … does this change things for you and me?”

She didn’t hesitate.  There was no pregnant pause.  She emphatically answered, “No.  Nothing’s changed.  Let’s just wait and see how God leads you … and us.”

My heart leapt within me!  “Let’s just wait and see … us!” 

I recalled hearing similar words in the cow pasture just a few weeks before.  I took that to mean, “It’s you and me, babe!”  In my VW that night I took the “us” to mean that we were transitioning from dating to courtship.

So, in the parking lot of Smith Park, two young people bowed their heads and prayed something like this: “Lord, WE give our lives to You.  WE trust You.  WE will serve You, not because we’re afraid of You, but because WE love You and we know that You love us.” 

It was the first time we prayed a “we” prayer.  It was a prayer filled with significance.

Fourteen months later, on July 20, 1973, twenty-year old Lowell and nineteen-year old Victoria became husband and wife.  We began to dance the marriage dance as babies.  We were so young, and so in love.