# 35 | The Crash

If you're a documentary nerd at heart, you've already seen the reels, the recaps, the articles and the rabbit holes about Netflix's new true crime doc The Crash.

On the surface, it’s a true-crime story about a fatal car accident involving a teenage couple. But dig a little deeper, and it’s really a story about obsession, possession, and what happens when someone simply cannot accept that it’s over.

The documentary revisits the 2022 case of Mackenzie Shirilla, who was convicted after driving her car into a concrete wall at 100 mph - killing her boyfriend, Dominic Russo, and his friend, Davion Flanagan. All under 20.

Although this is still an ongoing discussion and case, it made me realize how this girl’s crash-out led to an actual crash. That enough emotional turmoil can quickly translate into physical wreckage.

A relationship that probably should have ended long ago became so emotionally consuming that it swallowed reason, perspective, and eventually, multiple lives.

I couldn't figure out exactly why Dominic stayed. By all accounts, Mackenzie was controlling, volatile, immature and abusive. He was handing out husband-level loyalty to someone who hadn't even earned girlfriend-level trust. And paid for it with his life.

But toxic relationships don’t come with a warning label. And by the time you realize what’s actually happening, you’re not asking, “Should I leave?” - you’re asking, “How do I keep this alive no matter what?”

Here’s what Scripture doesn’t say: that marriage is finding someone you simply CAN’T survive without.

In fact, the ideal biblical marriage doesn’t revolve around two people clinging to each other - it revolves around both of them clinging to God. He’s the necessary buffer who brings (and keeps) equally yoked people together.

When Isaac met Rebekah: the whole operation ran on divine direction, not desperation or chemistry.

When Ruth met Boaz: the story revolved around God’s provision, not their mutual obsession.

And then when David met Bathsheba - which led to his ultimate crash-out, complete with the murder of an innocent man. That story revolved around lust, pride, and an all-consuming desire for a woman who wasn’t his.

The difference between the first two and the last one is simple: who’s in the driver’s seat.

Today’s culture tends to praise the David-and-Bathsheba version of love. The can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, burn-the-world-down-for-you energy.

Ariana Grande built a career on it. Half your Spotify Wrapped is probably about it. The Notebook convinced us that screaming at someone in the rain is the highest form of devotion.

We’ve learned to romanticize tragedy through movies, music, and art. It’s aesthetically appealing now, so it’s alright—right?

Wrong.

And it costs you. Every year spent forcing the wrong relationship is a year stolen from preparing for the right one. Every ounce of emotional energy spent trying to resurrect what God is asking you to release becomes energy unavailable for the future He may be preparing.

In other words: quit wasting your time.

There’s a reason God warned us against worshipping idols. Even when they come wrapped in the “person of your dreams.”

Call it love, loyalty, or “fighting for the relationship.” - but if God doesn’t have control - it will eventually own you. Mackenzie couldn’t let go. And she didn’t just destroy herself. She took other people with her.

The terrifying part of this story isn’t the ending; it’s the sequence of events leading up to it. The slow build-up of obsession. The refusal to release. The quiet replacement of God with a person.

And that progression could start in any of our hearts.

Maybe it already has.

Moral of the story? Let Jesus take the wheel—for all our sakes.

You know the system is broken when a Christian dating group hosts a Zoom event and five thousand singles show up every night for four days straight. That’s twenty thousand people - on just one group.

You know the system is broken when you scroll the participant list and find twenty women for every one man. A 20:1 ratio.

You know the system is completely broken when the same group runs an Instagram post the day after: “pitch yourself in the comments.” And Jessika, who introduced herself as a 32-year-old, runs half marathons, cooks from scratch, serves at her church every week, is intentional about her faith, and is looking for a God-centered man who wants to lead, gets a grand total of 38 likes.

While Chris, 38, extroverted, bilingual, leans into Jesus, smells amazing, gets 367.

Chris got ten times the attention.

Those numbers: A 20:1 ratio. A 10x gap in attention (38 vs 367) - are the honest data points about where Christian dating actually is right now.

It feels like we’re living in Isaiah 4:1 - where seven women will hold on to one man. I’m not saying we’re there yet. But we’re closer than we’d like to admit.

Churches genuinely want to help their singles. Most just don't know how - so the default answer is always the apps. Download something. Swipe somewhere.

And the apps have their own problem: you are searching for a spouse inside a pool of people who are mostly open to finding dates. You're thinking lifelong covenant. Most of them are thinking Friday night.

So a lot of Christians are deleting the apps altogether to go organic.

But underneath all of that - the apps and the church small groups and the "just trust God's timing" advice - there's something else happening that almost nobody is willing to say out loud.

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