Church and the Single Girl, Part 2

I have been avoiding this. This processing, this writing, this — dare I say it, I really don’t want it to be — calling.

After my last post, I have felt so BURDENED.

I thought that I felt burdened before, that I needed to write those words, and that I needed to publish them but then once they were out there on the internet they seemed to have a life of their own.

People read “Church and the Single Girl”, they shared it, and more than a hundred of you shared your stories of singleness and the Church. {I urge you if you haven’t — especially if you are a ministry leader, please take some time and browse through them.}

I read every single comment…

Like this from Renae: “The hurt I feel going to church is just not worth it.”

Like this from Cal: “Speaking as a married Christian, I observe that the singles who call themselves “Christian” are just as narcissistic as singles who claim no religion at all. They’re just as likely to sleep around as non-Christians.”

…and my heart broke. And I realized what may have been obvious to you, this whole thing is bigger, harder, and more complicated than I imagined.

I cowered just a bit — okay, maybe I cowered a lot. I used all the excuses — work, the holidays, family, my lack of knowledge on what needs to happen next — to avoid delving back into the topic of singleness.

But the more I wrestle with how to help, the more I become convinced that the answers are painfully simple.

We must love better.
We must listen better.
We must stop jumping to conclusions and put away our preconceived notions.
We must push our anger, our grumbling, and our fear aside and let others into our pain, our struggles, and our dreams.
We must step outside our comfort zones and build diverse relationships with people who are playing different roles and facing different challenges.
We must reevaluate the false narratives we believe and reexamine Truth.
We must stop trying to find wholeness from our jobs, from our spouses, from our children, and embrace the true wholeness we find in Christ.
And we must figure out what it looks like to begin to see men and women as our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Easier said than done.

I know this.

I know this — just as well as the next girl — but I believe this a part of what we we as Christians are called to and we will all feel a little less lonely for trying.

Case in point, a couple of nights ago was New Years Eve — not my favorite holiday by any stretch. It always feels stressful. Especially as a single person. Do I go get dressed up and go to a party? It sounds so exhausting and so loaded with expectations. Do I stay in? It sounds so pathetic to be alone as I ring in the New Year. What will other people think? Do I need to go find Prince Charming under whatever proverbial rock he has been hiding? Maybe this is why I am single, because I can’t make a decision about New Years Eve? Ugh!

I went back and forth and back and forth and finally landed on wanting to find a small group of friends to enjoy some good food and good conversation. So I asked around. An invitation was extended, but more than that I was welcomed, to join this crew of married women and their spouses at dinner.

It would’ve been so easy for them to say they were just doing something with couples. It would’ve been so easy for me to say I didn’t really feel like being the odd woman out. And yes, it could’ve been awkward — our party of 9, me being the only single person at the table — but it was just beautiful.

We reminisced on who we had been in 2015 and who we wanted to become in 2016. And I realized some things at that dinner table — I want to continue to lean into the hard situations and conversations. I want to courageously share my heart and give others the gift of going second. I want to love and to be loved. A husband may or may not be on the books for me — this year or ever — but that will not limit the places I go, the things I do, or the person I am becoming.

As we hurried to settle the bill and move on to our little after-party, a friend’s husband leaned over and said, “your bill has been taken care of.” Their simple acts of generosity and inclusion left me overwhelmed with gratitude and hopeful for a world where we truly live as brothers and sisters in Christ.

Let’s love like that, friends. Boldly. Courageously. Generously. Compassionately. Tenderly. Gracefully. Because that is how Christ taught us.

Your turn — What did you do for New Years? And if you are willing, I’d love to hear a little about who you want to be in 2016?