For the Right Reasons: America's Favorite Bachelor on Faith, Love, Marriage, and Why Nice Guys Finish First

by Sean Lowe

  Was she a Christian? Was she serious about faith?

  Though the Bible doesn’t talk a lot about how to date, there are scriptures that indicate single Christians should marry “only if he [or she] loves the Lord” and warn, “Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers” (1 Cor. 7:39; 2 Cor. 6:14 ESV). Marrying a non-Christian is unwise for the Christian and unfair to the non-Christian. I didn’t want to begin a marriage with such an obvious gap between us.

  I’d never been so torn in my life. I decided there was no possible way for me to propose to Catherine without knowing—really knowing—where she was spiritually.

  “I need more time with Catherine off camera,” I told Mary Kate. It was past midnight. By this time, everyone was busily preparing for the next day.

  “You know, Sean,” she said firmly, “we don’t do anything off camera.”

  “I need it,” I said.

  “After ten weeks of protecting the show from leaks, unexpected turns of events, and old girlfriends, do you think in a million years that I’d let you talk to Catherine off camera on the night before you propose?”

  “That’s just it,” I said. “I can’t propose yet.”

  “Why?”

  “I need . . .” I paused. “More information.”

  She was frustrated but relayed my request to Ronald, the head executive producer who’s always behind the scenes but never interacts with the people on the show. A few minutes later, I got a knock on my door.

  “Okay, let’s talk this out,” he said in his German accent. “What’s going on?”

  “I need to make sure Catherine and I are on the same page on . . . some things.”

  “Like what?”

  I realized how absurd this conversation was. How could I possibly explain to the executive producer of The Bachelor that I needed to know if Catherine and I were going to believe in Jesus in the same way? I wasn’t aware of anyone on the show saying he or she was Christian. Though everyone was nice to me, I got the feeling that most of them either overlooked my Christianity or thought it was quaint and old-fashioned, like a rotary phone.

  “Well, my faith is the center of my life, and I want to make sure it is—or can be—the center of her life too.”

  “Didn’t you talk about that in the fantasy suite?” Ronald asked. It was well known that the fantasy suites were backdrops for all-night conversations.

  “Yes, we did, but I need more,” I said. “I need more information and more time.”

  Ronald was in my room for forty-five minutes, which was really awkward and strange since I was wrangling with the toughest decision of my life with a man I’d only seen occasionally, and time was of the essence. He went through the decision rationally with me step-by-step.

  “Okay, I’ve been married for years, and marriage is bliss,” he said. “But I can tell you this . . .” He proceeded to give me a lot of very good advice. He asked me questions, and I answered as honestly as I could.

  “I think it’s safe to say from what you’ve told me and what I’ve heard tonight, we can put Lindsay aside,” he said. “Right?”

  As hard as it was for me to admit, I nodded.

  “Okay, then,” he said. “It’s time to let go of Lindsay.”

  “Right.” I swallowed hard. “I can do that.”

  “Now let’s talk about Catherine,” he said. “So you’re falling in love with her?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “But you still have questions.”

  “Right,” I said. “I need to talk to her.”

  “Okay, so here are your options,” he began. I’ve never had anyone lay out my relationship options in quite this way. I had a feeling Ronald would be happy in a boardroom with a dry-erase marker, mapping out my future.

  “Number one, you can leave here tomorrow without anyone. Brad Womack did that.” He saw my face fall. “I know what you’re thinking. Everyone hated Brad when he failed to choose someone. But don’t let that affect your decision-making process. I think our viewers will know who you are and will trust your decision.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want that,” I said. “I’m falling in love with Catherine.”

  “Option number two,” he continued, “you can decide not to ask Catherine to marry you, but instead ask if she wants to continue in this relationship with you outside of the show.”

  “Got it.” I said, trying to be logical. It was hard because confusion settled on me like a heavy weight.

  He continued, “You can ask her to stay in the relationship with you so you can answer whatever questions are still apparently lingering in your heart. Then six months or a year down the road, you can propose on your own.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That might be the smartest decision.”

  “But let me add,” he said, “this is your one and only chance to give her the proposal few people on earth get to have.”

  I couldn’t tell how much of this was sincere advice and how much of this was just spin from a producer who wanted to make a great television show. Those two things don’t always go hand in hand, and—though I was confused—I was fully aware of the fact that he had ulterior motives. He also made some very valid points.

  He stood up, ran his hands over the creases in his pants, and sighed. I could tell he had said everything he needed to say to me and was trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. He had a ton resting on my decision. Not only did a multimillion-dollar television show hinge on the proposal, but there were practical concerns. The show had spent a couple of weeks building a proposal set on the property of the wealthy man who’d let us use his home. They had planned a gorgeous setting, including a bridge and a pond they dug just for the occasion.

  “I just want to know where you’re at so I can make sure everyone’s prepared tomorrow.” I knew, even at that hour, that there were hundreds of people busily preparing for the next day’s production. “Everyone needs to know what they’re doing tomorrow.”

  “I think I’m going to propose to Catherine,” I said.

  “You think or you know?”

  “I know.” I said it emphatically, hoping it would stamp out any lingering fears.

  It didn’t.

  When he walked out of the room, I had determined the following: I was in love with Catherine; I could see spending the rest of my life with her; I had the chance to give her the proposal of a lifetime.

  When Ronald left my room at two in the morning, my mind raced out of control. There was no way on earth that Ronald—a nonbeliever—could understand why I had reservations about Catherine. I knew for a fact that Lindsay shared my faith. Her family shared my faith. It would be the easiest thing in the world to seamlessly incorporate my life with hers.

  But Catherine? It wasn’t enough for me to be with someone who generally believed that there was a God.

  “I still need time alone with Catherine,” I told Mary Kate, who was still outside my room preparing for the next day.

  “What?” She looked genuinely surprised. “Ronald just told me you guys had settled this.”

  “Please,” I said. “I just have some lingering issues.” Mary Kate disappeared. I sat on my bed with my head in my hands, trying to control my emotions. Five minutes later, I heard a knock on the door, immediately followed by Ronald barging back into my room.

  “I thought we went over all this,” he said.

  “I know,” I said apologetically. “I just need fifteen minutes.”

  “You mean to tell me that your deep, dark worries can be solved in fifteen minutes?” He looked skeptical but eventually relented. He knew this was a hard decision that would affect the rest of my life. Even though he was potentially putting millions of dollars of investment at risk, his face softened. “If that’s what you really need to put all your worries to rest,” he said softly, “I’ll give it to you.”

  Then he looked me straight in the eye. “But you must promise me—and I mean promise me—that you will not give her the impression that you’re proposing tomorrow. I
have hundreds of people making the perfect spot to dazzle her for a moment she’ll never forget . . . for a moment millions of viewers will never forget. We must catch her actual response on camera. If you ruin that in your fifteen minutes . . .”

  He didn’t finish the sentence, but I was so overwhelmed with gratitude, I wanted to hug this man’s neck.

  “I promise,” I said.

  “No, I want you to swear to me that you won’t say anything about tomorrow,” he said.

  “I swear.”

  “You will not give it away?”

  “I won’t give it away.”

  “Sean,” he said. “I am serious. There’s a lot riding on this. I’m an idiot for letting this happen.”

  “I promise you,” I said. “I want her to be surprised in the moment as much as you do.”

  I slipped on my shoes and headed to Catherine’s resort. The producers had already relayed the information that I was coming to see her. Scott made sure she was awake, first of all. Turns out, she was so nervous about the next day she was unable to sleep. When he checked on her, she had just gotten out of the shower.

  “Okay,” he said. “You can go in.”

  I knocked on the door a couple of times before poking my head in.

  “Hello?”

  She was dumbfounded that I was there. “Everything okay?” she asked. Her hair was wet and she had no makeup on. I couldn’t help but notice how naturally pretty she was.

  “Yes, but I’m kind of freaking out.”

  “Why?”

  “Tomorrow’s such a huge day and there are things that have gone unsaid.”

  She nodded slowly, though I’m certain she was not tracking.

  “I just want to make sure about your faith,” I said. “I want someone who’s going to challenge me spiritually. My faith is the most important thing in my life. I want someone who will love Jesus as much as I do. Someone to help me raise my kids in the Christian faith. Someone who won’t mind getting up on Sunday mornings and going to church.” I was rambling, because I wasn’t sure how to explain it. I simply needed to do something that was quite impossible: to look into her heart. “I need to know that you’re that person.”

  Her eyes were wide as I spoke. One second she had been brushing her teeth, the next I was in her room babbling about kids we didn’t even have yet and a faith I don’t think she was certain about. She swallowed hard and smiled at me.

  “I want to be that woman in your life.”

  We talked quickly for about ten more minutes, in a rapid-fire conversation about Jesus and faith.

  Eventually, Scott popped his head in the door. “Okay, we gotta get you out of here. I promised Ronald I’d only let you stay for a few minutes, and he’ll kill me if I let you stay.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I needed to ask these questions so I could sort out my feelings about tomorrow.” I hugged her without giving anything away about my intentions. Catherine’s confidence was boosted because of this late-night visit, but I’m sure she was also a little confused as to why I decided to come to her room at two in the morning.

  I went to sleep that night confident. I knew she loved God. Maybe she didn’t understand theology the way I did, but her heart was bent toward Jesus. Even though Catherine hadn’t yet given her life completely to Christ, it was almost as if God allowed me to see her as the woman she was becoming. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God had called her, and that he allowed me—in some mysterious way—to make the decision to propose.

  As I put my head on the pillow, all I could think was this: I’m going to propose to a Seattle, vegan, food blogger, and I’ve never been happier.

  fifteen

  DOWN ON ONE KNEE

  “What’s going through your head as you approach this day?” an executive producer named Leigh Anne asked me on the morning of the proposal. Normally, Mary Kate did my ITMs, but for whatever reason Leigh Anne—a mother of two—filled in for Mary Kate that morning. She had a kind, conscientious manner. If I’d met her on the street, I never would’ve guessed she was a big-shot Hollywood producer. The gentle way she asked the question unleashed a flood of emotion.

  In all that had happened over the past ten weeks—in all the conversations and heartbreak—I hadn’t shed one tear. That day I started crying, and Leigh Anne’s eyes also filled with tears. We sat there, knee to knee, with a cameraman to her side. She gave me a few seconds to compose myself, then—in a sweet voice—asked, “You want to explain it to me?”

  She said it in such a gentle way, it caused me to burst into tears again.

  “I’m about to break the heart of a girl I love,” I cried. “Lindsay is so sweet. She doesn’t deserve this. She thinks we’re getting married and I feel awful,” I said before correcting myself with a more accurate word. “Make that guilty. Tremendously guilty.”

  If I let my mind go to her family—her brave dad, her caring mom, and her awesome brother—I was overwhelmed with sadness. Plus, I knew she and Catherine had each been preparing for this moment by selecting a special dress with the help of a stylist. This was the only time in the show that the girls had assistance in getting dressed, and I knew they’d both look dazzling. Just thinking of the preparations choked me up.

  Then Leigh Anne flipped the script. “Okay, why don’t you tell me about Catherine?” I think she thought—hoped—this would stop the crying. Instead, it caused me to cry even more. I was about to propose to a woman with whom I’d fallen madly in love and could not compose myself. The film crew showed up to get some B-roll footage, which consisted of shots of me getting ready, walking around, putting on my suit, and fixing my hair in the mirror. Thankfully, those shots didn’t require talking, except one important scene.

  One of the major advantages to being on the show is that they provide an amazing diamond ring by prominent jeweler Neil Lane. He showed me several jaw-dropping rings. I’d never held anything so small with so much value. In the end, I selected what Neil described as a “cushion-cut diamond, filled with diamonds everywhere.”

  “This is it,” I said, marveling at the ring.

  “It’s called micropave,” he said. “That just means it has really tiny diamond work and detail. It’s very classically made.”

  On a day of big decisions, I prayed continuously, “Lord, I know your hand is in this. I just pray that if this is not the direction you want me to go, let me know now.” Normally, I don’t put a time restriction on God, but this was coming down to the wire. “Lord, let me know right now.”

  Then time ran out.

  “Okay, Sean,” Mary Kate said. “We need to walk you into position.” It was ninety degrees, and the humidity was suffocating. I was wearing a full suit and had already sweated right through it. Even though I was uncomfortable and looked as though I’d taken a shower in my clothes, I wasn’t thinking of any of that. Above everything else, I was terrified of what was about to happen to Lindsay.

  Obviously, she was up first.

  The production crew had built a wooden square over the pond they’d dug just for this moment. Lindsay’s limo pulled up a pretty far distance away from where I was standing. Chris Harrison met her and escorted her all the way to the bridge. It was a really long walk, and my heart raced as I saw her walking toward me.

  “Sean is waiting for you up the path,” Harrison told her. The road was a winding gravel path that meandered all the way down to me. As she started over the bridge, camera crews followed her every move. A huge camera on a crane swept in around her to record every painful detail.

  Of course, she had no idea there’d be pain involved. I could tell from her face that she knew—without a doubt—that she was about to have the most romantic proposal imaginable. I was about to ask the question. She was about to say yes. Everyone watched her as she made her way to me.

  It felt like an eternity.

  While she was walking, I planned out my response to her. I didn’t want to give her false hope. But when she finally arrived—and I saw her looking so beaut
iful—I couldn’t help but smile. I was always so happy to see her, but that joy soon evaporated when I remembered why we were there. I grabbed her hands and pulled her up on the wooden platform. The producers had given me very specific instructions on how to handle this moment.

  “After you tell her she’s going home, she’s not gonna hear a word you say,” they advised. “Make sure the first words you say to her are the words you really want her to hear and remember.”

  I didn’t want to build up to a climax before I lowered the boom. Rather, I wanted to make sure she knew how much I cared about her.

  “You have been such a surprise. I didn’t see our relationship coming. I knew from the start that I loved hanging out and being around you, but I didn’t know the depth I’d find. Every time I’m with you I am so amazed. At your strength, courage, love, and generosity. You blow me away.”

  Finally, the “but” had to come.

  “I want to give you my heart, but my heart is leading me somewhere else.”

  When she realized I was not proposing, I recognized the look that came over her face. It was the same look of dejection that had been on my face when I realized I was being sent home. Her shock gave way to sadness. She tried to compose herself while I was talking. Then, to her credit, she mustered up the courage and held back the tears long enough to say, “I’m happy for you and Catherine. She’s a great girl.”

  It was hard enough for me already. But Lindsay’s kind, gracious response was a punch to the gut.

  I walked her back to the bridge where Harrison dropped her off. It seemed like it took forever because she didn’t say anything. I cried the whole way.

  “Why did you let me go through all of this?” she finally asked. It was a fair question that implied so much more. Why did I sit in her kitchen with her family and drink a beer with her dad? Why did I let her select that stunning dress with the help of a stylist? Why did I let her make that long walk, with a camera on a crane following her?