(ABP) -- “So ... you, like, pray and stuff?”

Um, yes. I pray and stuff. As an ordained Baptist minister, it kind of, like, goes with the territory.

Actually, I responded more politely than that. At least I had to give the guy credit for attempting to engage my professional life as a clergywoman. Curious enough to sustain conversation until I could finish my chicken piccata -- and the misery of another ill-fated blind date -- I asked about his faith background. He grew up going to Catholic schools (not churches) and now he subscribed, as you would an annual magazine subscription, to Chinese Taoism (about which he could say very little).

Check, please.

Another day, another awkward blind date, another hilarious dating story to share with my married co-workers over lunch. Christians who are single are often encouraged to go to church to meet someone of faith and character. So, where do single clergypersons go to meet their potential soul mate? We can’t date in our churches, our place of employment and ministry. “Rev. Amy Grizzle: single and searching” didn’t seem like a good idea for a business card. Though happy with who I was as a single person, I still wanted to find someone with whom to share life.

Eager to encourage my college roommate who wanted to try an online dating service but was too embarrassed, I joined eHarmony with her. Granted, I was skeptical. What intelligent person wouldn’t be? It seemed impersonal, if not dehumanizing. And who knows what kind of crazy people you might meet online?

Yet, among scads of online dating services, including a number of “Christian” ones, eHarmony seemed safe and responsible. The founder, Neil Clark Warren, holds an M.Div. from Princeton and a Ph.D. in clinical psychology from the University of Chicago. Since the first three months were free, I figured I had nothing to lose. If all else failed, I’d at least have more lunch-hour tales of dating-sure-to-go-wrong.

So I sat down one night to sign up. Despite being irritated at how long it took to complete, I was impressed that a personality inventory of an online dating service could rival the many personality and spiritual-gifts inventories I took in college and seminary. Away I clicked, reminding myself not to think too hard about answers and to go with my first response. When finished, I was surprised at the thorough, intelligent and accurate profile it had created. It was right in line with other assessments I had completed and reflected realities I knew to be true about myself.

Next came my “match” settings. What geographical radius did I want it to search? I could choose a 30-mile radius of practically any point on Earth. But I figured the Dallas metroplex ought to be adequate to start with. The “religion” section was the most debatable. I selected “Christian” and opted to list "Baptist" as my denomination, although I knew both categories incorporated a broad spectrum of possibilities. I worried about the Baptist stereotype turning people away or that a female Baptist minister would be matched with a fundamentalist Baptist. Finally, it asked me to “click here” if I wanted the database to identify potential matches.

I winced and clicked. As the database began processing my information, I stared at the blank screen, half expecting a message to pop up saying, “We’re sorry, there are zero available matches.” Seriously? After swallowing my pride to try an online dating service and investing hours of my time, this is what I get? I was ready to quit before eHarmony could begin.

Three years, hundreds of matches and a few dates later, I matched with “Sean from Bellaire, Texas.” Sean and I will marry on April 10, almost two years after our initial eHarmony match.

How did I go from wanting to pull the plug to finding a fiancé online? Beyond knowing God works in wonderfully unexpected ways, I got a little help from my friends. I lamented and laughed with them as they encouraged patience and persistence while helping me hone my profile to sound “more like Amy and less like an automated response machine.” I matched with a lot of “compatible” men. Some I was clearly not interested in, although I’m confident there are women out there who like guys who pose for pictures with parrots on their shoulders, claim they talk with dolphins or say they “live to hug my Harley Davidson every weekend.”

I learned to “close” matches that didn’t make sense. While he might be a nice guy, if his passion is providing a foster home for the cat-rescue society, it’s not going to work if I’m allergic to cats. I also learned a service like eHarmony can be hard on the ego. Coming home to find several matches you actually liked had “closed” you can be tough to take after a hard day. I reminded myself to have a sense of humor about it and not to take it personally. I also learned I needed Sabbaths from eHarmony occasionally so it didn’t consume me.

While you won’t see Sean and me on an eHarmony commercial any time soon, I’m glad I signed up for the adventure of online dating. It’s important to follow some common-sense guidelines, and it doesn’t work for everyone. But if you decide to give it a try, just remind yourself daily that you are a beloved child of God. Then click away at that online personality inventory.

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Amy Grizzle is minister to adults at South Main Baptist Church in Houston, Texas.

EDITORIAL DISCLAIMER: As part of our mission to provide credible and compelling information about matters of faith, Associated Baptist Press actively seeks a diversity of viewpoints in its columns, commentaries and other opinion-based content. Opinions expressed in these articles are not intended to represent ABP editorial policy and do not necessarily reflect the views of ABP's staff, board of directors or supporters.

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