I am 38 and single.
That is a statement of fact, not of lament.
As Jason Illian says in his book Undressed, "Being single is not a disease and marriage certainly isn't the cure." I have never believed my singleness to be a disease or a deficit, something to grieve. I have relished it. I have celebrated it. I have taken it to be the gift that it is. I have some friends who have been profoundly bitter about being single, and I do not doubt that for some, singleness has been a source of deep pain. I do not want to diminish the weight of their response. Singleness looks different for everyone. But in the same breath, I have often been utterly bewildered in the face of such bitterness because I cannot relate to it or identify with it. Yes, there have been moments or days when I have been lonely or wished there was a mate by my side, but those moments or days have never lingered long or taken root. This is by God's grace alone.
I want my single years, however long they may last, to matter. I don't want to be in the business of squandering them. I made a deliberate and conscious decision a long time ago that I would not sit on the sidelines of life while waiting for a husband. Because who is to say that one will ever come along? God has never made such a promise to me. I hold my singleness with open hands. If God should ordain that I go to my grave without a ring on my finger or a different last name, so be it. But if he should ordain that there be a partner along the way, then so be it. I will welcome and celebrate either state.
Because here's what I ultimately know to be true and what I keep my gaze fixed upon:
I'll be okay if I never have a husband, but I won't be okay if I don't have Jesus.
That's not a trade I'm willing to make, to say that I so desperately want to be married that I'll give up my faith. That's an exchange that leads to a certain kind of death. If singleness is what gets me more of Jesus, then that is what I will embrace, but if marriage is what gets me more of Jesus, then I will embrace that equally so. But I won't give Jesus up in order to gain a lesser man.
Even in these days of singleness, however, you better believe I am praying for the man who may be on the other side of these days. Specifically, I pray for three things:
- I pray he is a man of God's Word. This is my chief prayer. I want him to love the Bible. He doesn't need to be a scholar or a theologian. He doesn't need to have memorized the entire book of Colossians or James or Ephesians, but I want him to be a man in love with the Word of God, someone who is familiar with it, well-acquainted with its pages. Early in a dating relationship once, I asked the guy how often he read the Bible and he said maybe once a week. I was so disheartened by this. Look, I'm not saying I'm sitting over here spending hours every day reading my Bible, getting everything perfect in my own pursuit of the Word. But I want to know that the man I'm with is actively moving toward the Word with regularity and intentionality, choosing to wrap his life in its pages.
- I pray he is a man of his word. I want him to be the kind of man who keeps his promises. I want him to be the kind of man who shows up when he says he's going to show up, the kind of man who honors his commitments, whether big or small, come hell or high water. Again, I'm not seeking perfection, but I want someone who is faithful to his promises.
- I pray he is a man of words. Allow me to state the obvious: I love words. They matter a great deal to me. They are the air I breathe. Words are in my very nature. I have kept journals for the last 26 years. I've had this blog for nearly 15 years. And I haven't been penning all these words because I thought somebody would read them or because I was trying to build a brand or a platform or make a name for myself. I did - and do - these things because I don't have a choice, because I might explode if my thoughts aren't penned. Rainer Maria Rilke's words resonate with me, "This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple 'I must,' then build your life in accordance with this necessity..." And books? How many thousands of books have I probably read in my lifetime? I devoured them, even as a child, and still aim to as an adult. Writing and reading represent some of the deepest parts of my identity. I pray the man I marry would at the very least have an appreciation for words. He doesn't need to be a bookworm or a bibliophile or the world's greatest writer of love letters, although I would certainly relish it if he were.
Some women pray for a man who is a tall drink of water.
Me?
Just give me a man who is a tall drink of words.
Yes, and amen.
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If you want to read some additional pieces that echo my sentiments on singleness and dating, see also Grace Thornton's blog post "I Don't Wait Anymore" and her book by the same title. Every time I read that article - and it has been often over the years - I just want to yell "Preach it, girl!" And Jen Wilkin wrote a piece back in 2014 that realllllyy makes me want to get on a soapbox alongside her and preach some more.
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