Going steady

Back in my high school days, a mark of status and popularity (so important to teenagers) was a state-of-being known as “going steady.” It meant that a boy and a girl decided to exclusively date each other. They publicly declared this intention when the girl wore the boy’s school ring on a chain around her neck. It told the world—I am desirable. I am chosen. I am worthy.

Most of us adolescent girls longed for this. I know I did. But I must confess, I never went steady in high school. I had good friends, yes, but never a steady boyfriend.

College brought a certain level of maturity to relationships. No girl wore a ring on a chain around her neck. But there were couples, naturally, and it sometimes seemed as if finding a marriage partner was one of the main purposes of a college education. A ring around the finger.

Eventually, in the post-college years, I got that ring around my finger. It’s turned out well. I now look back on my high school longings and smile.

The phrase “going steady” is interesting and can almost be seen as an oxymoron,* with going and steady cancelling each other out. In high school it meant simply dating (going out) only one person (steady). Understood. But going is a word of motion, movement, and adventure. Steady can imply standing firm, rock solid, intentional.

I like oxymorons. I may even be one.

Now in my aging years, going steady has become more important than ever. I have a chemical condition inside my head that makes me perpetually dizzy. I am most comfortable sitting in my easy chair where I can look out the window or read a book. But the rest of my body wants more. It wants me to be active, go places, and do things. I need to please both.

So I’ve learned some physical therapy exercises for improving balance, even (or especially) when in motion. I’m currently in an exercise class called “Strong for Life” that allows me to do most of the routines sitting down. Even seated I can break a healthy sweat, with no fear of falling. And I’m taking my walking stick with me when I go out. I insist that it’s a walking stick, not a cane. I’m learning to go steady. Intentionally adventurous.

The oxymoron can also be applied to our relationship with God. “Going steady with Jesus” sounds a bit trite (because it is), but there might be something to it. God is “my rock and my fortress” (Psalm 18:2). David sings for joy because “He lifted me out of the slimy pit … he sat my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand” (Psalm 40:2). Jesus tells us that he is the vine and we are the branches; we are to abide (stand firm) in him in order to bear much fruit (John 15). And Peter promises the early Christians that God is at work in them, making them “strong, firm, and steadfast” (1 Peter 5:10). That’s the steady part.

Jesus also asks us to follow him (Matthew 16:24), to put our feet in motion, to go out to the ends of the earth making disciples of all nations (Matthew 28:19). The whole of the Scriptures tells the story of a God who loves us with a steadfast love, makes us strong and whole in him, then sends us out to befriend and bless the people he loves. That’s the going part.

I’m still drawn to the idea of going steady. And slowly learning how to do it.

*Oxymoron: a combination of contradictory or incongruous words, such as “cruel kindness.”