I do [wanna come to your wedding]

I invite myself to weddings. It's a character flaw of mine.

I’m not trying to chase an open bar or an unattached groomsman or a good time…. well, not exclusively. I just think weddings are the best. The closest picture we have of heaven, without going all the way to Munich for the Oktoberfest. 

The first wedding was my boss, Meredith's. I was twenty-two, and the last time I’d witnessed vows exchanged, I’d been too little even to throw flower petals at the floor. I had grown up jealous of all the casual wedding-goers I’d known through high school and college- the ones from big families that were always adding some new uncle or cousin to the fold. I come from such a small bloodline, that if I hoped to be a part of a family wedding, I might have to wait for mine.

I loved my boss, Meredith; I loved her love story. And as I worked hours and weeks alongside her, she couldn’t resist hashing over the preparations for her upcoming marriage celebration- and I couldn't resist becoming enraptured.

Enthusiasm spilling over, I begged her dramatically to let me come. She laughed and said no (as a casual acquaintance/subordinate should rightly expect!).

But for whatever reason (...proximity...), as the day drew nearer, I became a prime audience for Pinterest board scrolling, venting sessions, and anticipating a perfect, sand-in-toes, rice-in-hair day.

Soon, I was dreaming, maybe as much as Meredith, of seeing her sister and her best friends draped in chiffon, in soft hues of mint, and grey. I was exclaiming over her treasure of a vintage dress, stumbled upon and acquired for a criminally low price; now tailored perfectly for her. I was craving to see her Aunts doting on her, her daughter taking delight in the scene, and her whole family creating joyful memories under the sails of a white wedding tent. Most of all, I wanted to rejoice with her over an epic love, bound tight and blessed in the sight of those who adored her, held up for all to see.

And so I persisted in my begging-- It was our little thing, our little joke.

And then one day, it was my wish come true.

An invitation came to my apartment. And I came to the Vineyard for a merry and holy day.

Since that time, I’ve been summoned to cheer at the starting lines of a few marriage odysseys, delighted to fuss, frolic and fangirl for what I hope will rank among the great loves of the ages. 

Where my name didn’t make the cut for the banquet list, I’ve celebrated from afar.

But for some pairs, I just couldn’t bear the thought of missing their I do’s, live and in color. When I saw those engagements announced, I was swift and shameless in making my case for a placecard. 

I recently told my friend Eric about this habit I’d developed, he was visibly horrified. And since he’s a litigator, he was soon verbally horrified, making his argument against my appalling breach of social contract.

“That’s one thing you obviously don’t do...”

Part of me agreed with him. Actually, I had already begun challenging myself to restraint for the better part of this year! (See my totally chill behavior towards Ashley’s engagement. The weddings I’d attended (after being terribly direct in my desire for a save-the-date), had been a great joy. And I was 92% sure that I would have made the lists without a formal application! But because I’d been the first one to ask, now, I would never be 100% certain of it. And I wondered if something was lost by that; if maybe in my zeal, I had stolen from my friends their privilege to bestow the honor of invitation as they wished.

On the other hand, I’d still argue, if you don't tell your friends how much you care (that is, ‘I love you this many days off from work; this many dollars and miles’), maybe they don't know.

I asked my coworker in China if it’s taboo over here to invite yourself to a wedding, and he shook his head. “No. If someone wants to come, they can come. They will bring the red envelope, and the bride and groom should profit.”

Years ago, I was having coffee with an ambassador from Ghana, and we got onto the topic of weddings. She told me that where she comes from, when someone gets married, the celebration is given for everyone in the community. It’s outside, usually in the public square, and there’s room for anyone who wants to be there. 

For roving Americans, it can be hard to gather our scattered communities into one zip code for a feast. But I’ve seen my friends take the spirit of this approach in the ways that they could. My roommate Taylor and her fiancé hosted one wedding in their home state, for relatives and the friends of their youth. But they also gave a local party to honor the friends of their current chapter in California. My friend Nate and his wife honored their families across an even greater distance- one wedding in India, and another in Michigan. My friend Meaghan, at the time of her engagement, was serving as a “House Mom” for a sorority. She and her fiancé made room for every last Kappa Delta in her charge, putting a limit on the guest count for dinner, but opening up the dance floor at night to all her girls who wanted to be a part of the festivities. 

What’s the point of a wedding party after all?

Why are they performed for an audience, when so much of a couple’s shared life and romance will play out just for them? Why must there be witnesses?

I think part of it is because we are forgetful. We forget God’s promises all the time. Maybe we are just as likely to forget the promises we make to each other.

When it comes to keeping track of God’s ordinances, he instructs us to keep notes written everywhere.

“Bind them as a sign on your hand and let them be a symbol on your forehead. Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”

Deuteronomy 6:9 

“Bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart.” Proverbs 3:3

Promises cement themselves into reality when they’re right in our face… right on our foreheads. And I think that’s why we have a marriage tradition where knots get tied in the assembly of our family and friends. 

The philosophers ask, 

If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

Probably it does. But to my poetic nature, it sure seems a pity that no one is there to appreciate the drama of the moment.

So I ask,

If one person pledges self-sacrificing, lifelong allegiance to another, and no one is there to witness it, does the promise hold power?

I’m sure it does. But to my practical nature, it seems obvious that the witness of people who believe the promise with them, who believe it for them, makes the promise that much stronger. 

When our friends make vows in our sight, we become living, in-their-face reminders of the best of what they believe and hope for. 

We were there when they were full of energy, drunk on new romance at the starting line of their lives, ready to sprint. We cheered them on then. We’ll be there when their strength starts to falter, when the road gets rough, or even when they lose sight of the course. We’ll lift their eyes, and cheer them on still. We’ll remember and remind them why they chose each other, and why they’ll want to finish the good thing they’ve started. And we’ll be rejoicing with them, for the resilience, for the momentum, for the rewards and the strength they’ll gain with every mile.

So when I go to a wedding, that’s what I commit to do. To take hold of the joy of the starting line, with the finish line in mind. To pray that what God has joined, no man will separate, and no force will isolate from the community that wants to see them win. 

I know that weddings aren't about me. But I think they are about us.

Two totally different people are mysteriously made one, and in that, we get a little preview of how all people will one day be made one-- an impossible patchwork; an unlikely match, rejoined with their Maker at the wedding feast of Christ.

I don’t take it lightly to be invited to see such an otherworldly contract get signed and sealed! And I know the cost to the bride and groom in our culture is often all too great. Oh, that we could be sure, like my Chinese friend was, of recouping the wedding costs, 5 times over with a tribute of thick red envelopes! Oh, that we could, like my friend from Ghana, just take over the whole town square! (Oh, that Jesus’ mother could be a guest at our weddings, so she could call her son over for miraculous refills every time the wine runs low!)

But I know that’s not the way of the time and place we’ve been set in. So I will try my best to hold back from future begging for wedding invitations.

(But I make no promises, and you all can be my witnesses to that.)

Because, for the record, if I’ve known you and loved you, you can be sure that I want to set my eyes on the one whom your soul loves, too. 

And much more than that, I hope you’ll know that you can count on me to keep loving, keep believing for you (-- the new You, plural), not just while you’re serving me cake and champagne-- but all your days-- until death parts you. 

For I long to see you so that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to strengthen you

-Romans 1:11

Wedding invite or no wedding invite, I want my heart towards all of you “I’s becoming We’s” to be clear: What you’re doing is crazy.... And crazy faithful; crazy beautiful; crazy good. And I want to see you win. So “Live”, or “on replay”, I’ll be in your corner, and I’ll be rooting for you. 

You’re my witnesses-- that’s a promise you can hold me to.