Ah, the holidays. How I love you and occasionally dislike you. You conjure up feelings of nostalgia and romanticism and sentimentality. While simultaneously conjuring up feelings of annoyance and a deep desire to vow to abstain from all future family gatherings and holiday hubbub. What exactly is it about the holidays that so effortlessly brings out the crazy in us all? And what exactly is it about the holidays that make us single folks feel a little unhinged?
I’d like to be married right now. Or maybe at least have a boyfriend. The holidays seem to resurrect that feeling more so now than any other time of the year. I occasionally need someone to kill the bugs in my apartment (seriously, I mildly freak out over the house centipedes that take up residence in my little space), deal with my car when it needs repairs, send me flowers when I’m having a crappy day (or even when I’m not), buy me a pie from Just Pies when I least expect it, be my bodyguard when I’m traveling overseas, and generally be my knight in shining armor.
Alas, there is no boyfriend and no husband on the horizon line.
And I think far too often it’s easy for those of us who are single to look around at all that we don’t have, namely a ring on our left hand and a new last name, and want to just camp out in sadness over that fact. I made a decision a long time ago I didn’t want to join that camp. Certainly not because I don’t want those things. I do. I deeply desire them. I just know those things will never complete me or satisfy me.
Maybe your story is a little different, and maybe marriage isn’t what you long for because you’re already married. Or maybe you’re longing for a different career. Or maybe a different life in a different city with a different start. Or maybe children scampering around the foot of your bed. Or maybe a home to call your own instead of a stuffy apartment or your parents’ basement. Or maybe a different family with a little less insanity.
We’ve all got them, these things we long for, these things we desire and hope to see come to fruition.
Somewhere along the way, though, a few of us have made the mistake of equating desire with destiny. “Because I want this and have this desire in my heart, therefore, that must mean God will give it to me. I wouldn’t feel this way unless God was going to do something about it. If he wasn't going to give it to me, he would take the desire away.”
Just because I want to be married doesn’t mean God is going to give me a husband. One does not automatically equal another. Not to say that he won’t, but it also doesn’t mean that he will. Desire does not equal destiny.
But what am I to do about that? What am I to do with the longings that roll around in my heart and my head, and not just longings for a husband, but also the random assortment of other things I long for? Am I just supposed to squelch them? Am I supposed to stuff them down and never speak of them and never bring them to the surface? Am I to deny what I feel?
I believe the answer is no ultimately. No, I am not to squelch them, to act like those longings don’t exist. No, I am not to deny them. No, I am not to just shake my fist at God and say how dare you not give this to me when this is all I've wanted.
But I am to place them properly in God’s hands. Safely and rightly where they belong. Because I realized something the other day: I do have permission to long for these things. I have permission to place them before God, to ask Him for these things, to pray for these things. However, I am to remember if there is anything I long for, it is ultimately an echo and a reflection of a much larger story being told about longing. Paul emphasizes this in 2 Timothy 4:8, “Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."
If we long for anything, let us long for Jesus’ appearing. And let us remember that the longing highlighted in 2 Timothy is the banner that hangs high above all other longings, the longing that is written deep into our hearts.
If we long for another life, different from the one we have, it’s because we know in our hearts, there’s another life yet to be lived, an eternal life.
I’d like to be married right now. Or maybe at least have a boyfriend. The holidays seem to resurrect that feeling more so now than any other time of the year. I occasionally need someone to kill the bugs in my apartment (seriously, I mildly freak out over the house centipedes that take up residence in my little space), deal with my car when it needs repairs, send me flowers when I’m having a crappy day (or even when I’m not), buy me a pie from Just Pies when I least expect it, be my bodyguard when I’m traveling overseas, and generally be my knight in shining armor.
Alas, there is no boyfriend and no husband on the horizon line.
And I think far too often it’s easy for those of us who are single to look around at all that we don’t have, namely a ring on our left hand and a new last name, and want to just camp out in sadness over that fact. I made a decision a long time ago I didn’t want to join that camp. Certainly not because I don’t want those things. I do. I deeply desire them. I just know those things will never complete me or satisfy me.
Maybe your story is a little different, and maybe marriage isn’t what you long for because you’re already married. Or maybe you’re longing for a different career. Or maybe a different life in a different city with a different start. Or maybe children scampering around the foot of your bed. Or maybe a home to call your own instead of a stuffy apartment or your parents’ basement. Or maybe a different family with a little less insanity.
We’ve all got them, these things we long for, these things we desire and hope to see come to fruition.
Somewhere along the way, though, a few of us have made the mistake of equating desire with destiny. “Because I want this and have this desire in my heart, therefore, that must mean God will give it to me. I wouldn’t feel this way unless God was going to do something about it. If he wasn't going to give it to me, he would take the desire away.”
Just because I want to be married doesn’t mean God is going to give me a husband. One does not automatically equal another. Not to say that he won’t, but it also doesn’t mean that he will. Desire does not equal destiny.
But what am I to do about that? What am I to do with the longings that roll around in my heart and my head, and not just longings for a husband, but also the random assortment of other things I long for? Am I just supposed to squelch them? Am I supposed to stuff them down and never speak of them and never bring them to the surface? Am I to deny what I feel?
I believe the answer is no ultimately. No, I am not to squelch them, to act like those longings don’t exist. No, I am not to deny them. No, I am not to just shake my fist at God and say how dare you not give this to me when this is all I've wanted.
But I am to place them properly in God’s hands. Safely and rightly where they belong. Because I realized something the other day: I do have permission to long for these things. I have permission to place them before God, to ask Him for these things, to pray for these things. However, I am to remember if there is anything I long for, it is ultimately an echo and a reflection of a much larger story being told about longing. Paul emphasizes this in 2 Timothy 4:8, “Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."
If we long for anything, let us long for Jesus’ appearing. And let us remember that the longing highlighted in 2 Timothy is the banner that hangs high above all other longings, the longing that is written deep into our hearts.
If we long for another life, different from the one we have, it’s because we know in our hearts, there’s another life yet to be lived, an eternal life.
If we long for a permanent home, it’s because we know there is a home waiting for us, an eternal home.
If we long for a wedding day, it’s because we know there is a true marriage waiting for us, one where we will sit down to a feast and celebrate forever and ever.
If we long for a husband, it’s because in our hearts we know there’s already a groom, an Eternal One.
If we long for perfection, it’s because in our hearts we know there is One who is perfect.
If we long to never grow old, to never age, to never wither, it’s because we know in our hearts there is a life unending waiting for us.
If we long to belong, to fit in somewhere, it’s because we know we’re all orphans, up for adoption, but gladly welcomed into the family of Jesus Christ.
If we are longing for a body that works and doesn’t creak when we get out of bed in the morning, it’s because we know one day there will be a body that never fails.
Whatever is deficient in us here, or whatever longings we might have on this side of heaven, they are there as echoes, indicators and reminders of a greater reality.
We have permission to long for a home, a family, a child, a sense of belonging, a wedding day, a husband – to desire things that reflect the heart of the Father.
But hold to them loosely. Hold them with open hands and trust if there is ever a longing tucked inside our hearts, it's a longing that should point us to the Keeper of all that we have ever hoped and longed for: Jesus.
If we long for a wedding day, it’s because we know there is a true marriage waiting for us, one where we will sit down to a feast and celebrate forever and ever.
If we long for a husband, it’s because in our hearts we know there’s already a groom, an Eternal One.
If we long for perfection, it’s because in our hearts we know there is One who is perfect.
If we long to never grow old, to never age, to never wither, it’s because we know in our hearts there is a life unending waiting for us.
If we long to belong, to fit in somewhere, it’s because we know we’re all orphans, up for adoption, but gladly welcomed into the family of Jesus Christ.
If we are longing for a body that works and doesn’t creak when we get out of bed in the morning, it’s because we know one day there will be a body that never fails.
Whatever is deficient in us here, or whatever longings we might have on this side of heaven, they are there as echoes, indicators and reminders of a greater reality.
We have permission to long for a home, a family, a child, a sense of belonging, a wedding day, a husband – to desire things that reflect the heart of the Father.
But hold to them loosely. Hold them with open hands and trust if there is ever a longing tucked inside our hearts, it's a longing that should point us to the Keeper of all that we have ever hoped and longed for: Jesus.
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