The Myth of Compatibility

I’m going to let you in on a little secret about myself:

I’m a Christian Prayer Cupid.

Never heard of that? That’s because I may be the first one in the world.

See, I have about a 75% success rate in bringing couples together through prayer. When I pray fervently for long enough about two people getting together, BOOM! They get married. It almost always works. It worked with my younger sister and brother-in-law, after I prayed myself into a frenzy for about six months (“Please God! Bring them together! It would be perfect!”). Before I knew it he was asking her out on a date. And now they are happily married! I totally accredit myself for their success.

After my friends heard about my Prayer Cupid success with my sister, they began to entreat me to pray for another friend and a boy we all thought would make a perfect match for her. Guess what? Whammo! They’re dating, and well on their way to a life of connubial bliss. My friends are starting to come to me regularly when they have an awesome couple in mind.

It’s a gift.

The reason my success rate is not 100%, though, is because I’m having trouble with my younger sister. (I have three sisters in total, plus one younger brother. Second Sis is married. I’m talking about Middle Sis here). Granted, Middle Sis is only 18, so I still have plenty of time to pray her into the perfect relationship. But I’m still a little disappointed in the impotence of my Prayer Cupid powers on her so far.

The guy that I think would be great for her – he’s awesome. He’s handsome, courteous, artistic, smart, and, importantly, totally Mennonite. If I were a single teenaged Mennonite girl I’m pretty sure I’d be crushing on him myself. But for some reason, Middle Sis just doesn’t seem to be digging my Christian Cupid Prayer action.

The reason she gives me? “We don’t have that much in common. He listens to different music and reads different kinds of books.” (Did you hear that? He reads books, but she’s still hesitant?! Do you see what I’ve got to work with here?)

I can relate, though, because I used to hold similar views on compatibility. When I was young and single, I though my future husband would have to be a man who was into all the same stuff as me. He would have to love punk rock, the Lord of the Rings movies, loud clothes, art museums and Renaissance poetry. I couldn’t possibly date a guy who was into hip-hop, sports, cars, or Vin Diesel. I was going to marry an intellectual or poet, and his favourite band had to be either Blink 182 or Relient K.

According to this narrow idea of compatibility, I would know I had found The One when I had found a guy who was passionate about all the same things I was.

Fortunately, falling in love with Ben made me toss all that out the window.

He’s nothing like the guy I thought I would “fit” with.

In a lot of ways, you could say that my husband and I are not compatible at all. He just doesn’t seem like the guy for me. Here are just a few reasons:

• In high school, clothing was a big deal to me. I wore chains, spikes, suspenders, purple shoes and lime green pants to school. I had my eyes open for a guy who dressed like me. I was looking for blue hair and goofy retro t-shirts. I thought this was essential to finding the right mate. But this guy I ended up with preferred to wear nondescript grey crew-cut t-shirts he’d been wearing since grade 8. My husband has never thought much about clothes at all. He liked to blend in.  Totally wrong for me.

• He hated school. He worked hard to graduate high school a semester early so he could get a head start on working, while I went to university for six years after graduation. And I still don’t work full time. I would probably still be in school if I wasn’t anxious to start a family. Obviously, we have different perspectives on education.

• Ben lives for cars. He speaks of the automotive industry as his “destiny.” The skill that Ben most prides himself on, and criticizes others the most for lacking, is driving. Me? I detest cars. I think that the world is a worse place for their existence. And my only goal in driving is to get from point A to point B without killing anyone. Ben and I cannot get into a car together without at one point wishing we could shoulder the other out the window.

• I devoted six years of my life to studying English literature of the pre-industrialized era, focusing on Renaissance and medieval religious prose. The only book my husband has read that was written before 1986 is the Bible. How am I supposed to carry on a conversation with a guy who hasn’t read Donne or Spenser or Julian of Norwich? Tell me, how? (Answer: there are lots of other things to talk about).

• Most shocking of all: HE’S NEVER READ C. S. LEWIS. The horrible truth only collapsed upon me last year, after we’d been married for over three years. We were in Oxford, England, in the midst of what I’d dubbed a “Lewis pilgrimage” (taking a day to visit Lewis’ college, home, church and grave) when I turned to Ben and asked, “Which of Lewis’s books have you read, again?” I thought I had just forgotten. His answer: “Actually . . . none.” NOT EVEN THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA? Who was this man? I admit, right then and there, I paused to question whether I had married the right man. How could I be eternally united to a man who had not engaged the writings of the most important person in my literary universe? What had I done? How had I overlooked this all-important factor?

If you look at it this way, my husband and I shouldn’t be compatible. We have vastly different interests. I’m an opinionated thinker who ironically finds it an intellectual challenge figuring out how the get the grocery bags inside from the car in less than four trips. He’s a problem-solving handyman who can build and install an entire kitchen right, after changing the oil in both the cars and re-wiring the doorbell, but who falls asleep after two pages of The Screwtape Letters.

But we work.

The thing is, there’s no easy way to tell with whom you will be compatible. I’m not saying there’s no such thing as compatibility, only that it’s not as predictable as you might think. I never could have foreseen being “into” Ben Quiring – quiet, practical, low-key, non-poetry-reading Ben Quiring. But inexplicably, I am.

I do think that there are a couple of things that you have to share with your spouse. These include:

• Similar religious convictions – if you disagree on the ultimate meaning and purpose of life, you are going to have trouble making major life decisions together.  Like whether your baby should be baptized or whether you should use birth control. Of course, if you hold to different religions but both very loosely, you can probably get along. But a passionate evangelical cannot easily build a life with a staunch atheist, I don’t think.

• Shared values regarding the big things in life, like money, family, and marriage. If one of you strives for financial security but the other wants to be a missionary, you might have problems. If one of you believes divorce is acceptable but the other does not, you’re asking for heartache. So look out for these things when you’re looking for a mate.

There are probably other essential keys to compatibility  – can you think of any?

So, Middle Sis, what I’m trying to say here is, Handsome Mennonite Boy doesn’t necessarily have to have all the same interests as you in order for you to love him.  Give your Big Sister the chance to show off her Mad Prayer Cupid Skillz and give Handsome Mennonite Boy a second thought. You may be surprised to find how deeply in love you can fall with a man who seems to be totally incompatible with you.

I sure was.