On Mondays, we pray and fast for lunch—asking God to raise up men to walk upright into marriage, for God to change our hearts and make us more like Christ, and to give the gift of marriage to those that desire it.
For sometime now, I’ve been meditating on what it means to be single in the kingdom of God, what our role as single women looks like as we live out in real-time the church waiting for her groom, and how as single women we can be a source of encouragement for our married brothers and sisters in Christ.
Amy wrote last week that our stories don’t really fit a stereotypical mold, and as we walk forward, it still might not make sense—but we’re called to trust God.
What does that macro-level trust look like? If I really trust that God’s got control over the various chapters in my life, then I should have no trouble putting my name on it. I should have no trouble telling it. But, I do. I have huge issues when it comes to owning my story as it is now. I want to wait until it has some cool ending with a recognizable theme and maybe a song.
I want my story to blend in, but maybe God wants it to stand out. He’s made your story different, and it’s time to own it.
Your life is radical. Sometimes, you might hear a sermon on how we’re all supposed to be living radical lives for Christ. My mind immediately jumps to shaving my head and twirling around in public in a long woven skirt shouting a psalm, but for obvious reasons, that makes me cringe inside. But here’s the truth. If you are living a (albeit imperfectly) celibate, purity-minded lifestyle, you are a radical for Christ. When given the opportunity to tell anyone that I’m celibate, I hide. Maybe, if I owned my radical status, God might use that off-chance conversation to spark spiritual interest in someone else.
Your wait is astonishing. If we hold fast to the Word (not letting Satan beat us with the shame-stick), your life of waiting both for an earthly spouse and for the wedding feast of the Lamb is paradigm-altering. Satan wants single women to be so consumed by our un-chosen, barren, same-name lives that we can’t boast with Paul about our weakness. Jesus wants you to remember and be proud that you’ve been fought for, filled, and given a new name that you can’t even explain.
Your hope is secure. As unmarried women, we occupy a somewhat vulnerable position in the world both physically and financially. We have to be able to “take care of ourselves.” That idea freaks me out, and I’m really quite good at hiding it. But maybe, I’m not supposed to. Your radical and astonishing life walking between vulnerability and ultimate secure hope makes your story worth telling as is.
Your life and story are a profound encouragement and testimony of God’s grace and goodness—especially because “it doesn’t make sense.” God delights those stories because they have endings no one expected.
He owns your story. You should to.