Dating someone non religious
He was unlike anyone I had dated before — those guys were typically youth pastors or fellow missionaries.
First, there was the aforementioned "I’m right but you just don’t see it yet" period. Our arguments about how the world worked, whether or not I’d actually witnessed "miracles," and the foundations of morality were emotionally charged.But after three weeks, Adam knew things couldn’t stay that blissful.Sitting quietly by my side, the doctor-to-be stated his prognosis: He said that though things might seem great, we believed differently, and ultimately, that would tear us apart.I didn’t want to believe it at the time, but I knew he was right. And yet, there was something that couldn’t keep us apart.A week after he had shed one of his rare tears kissing me that final goodbye, he stood outside the crappy Italian restaurant I was working at and asked if we could "try." And so began the most difficult journey of my life to date.But in the end, it felt phony, and even morally wrong, to him.
I had tried, too; I tried to keep my religion the way it had been passed on to me and hold onto a person who was headed in a different direction.
Adam was raised a secular humanist, a "nonreligous lifestance" that deemphasizes the role a God-like entity plays in a person’s life and emphasizes making good personal decisions.
His family was so far left and my family so far right, they practically came back around the circle.
On our one-year anniversary, my sister called to congratulate us and casually remind us that, on her one-year anniversary, she had gotten engaged.
So, while I only loved Adam more and more, I had expectations about what a relationship should be like, the proper timeline for it, and the most important objective: marriage.
These markers had nothing to do with the Bible (and FWIW, I’m pretty sure Jesus wouldn’t have been on Instagram), but in the culture of my faith group, they were gold.