the road less traveled by: a call to rejoice in singleness

You know this Robert Frost poem, right? About two roads diverging in a yellow wood and all? And one traveler, as though on a Sunday stroll, contemplating which one to take? It’s a classic. The ending is what I love best though. I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference. A seemingly inconsequential choice between two equally appealing ways, and yet he looks back and sees the profound impact of taking that path. He sees the difference it made.  

We all know singles are choosing to remain (or just remaining) single well into their 30s and 40s. Still, in the conservative, Christian environment singleness is most clearly the path less traveled. The unfortunate path. The misfit path. The you-missed-the-boat path. Ok, so I’m being a little melodramatic here. But this unlikely path can make all the difference. I found myself thinking on this last week. Thinking about all the unique and beautiful of my single life. Here’s three to get you started.                                                  

#1 Time

Now don’t go blowing up on me by pointing out that we are all frenetically busy as singles, because even with that we have more discretionary time than marrieds. And time is a very precious gift indeed. It means we can give, and go, and listen, and pray with, and help, and care, and serve when others simply cannot. Think of the times you were able to reach into your storehouse of time and offer it open-handed this week. And there were more opportunities, but selfishness got in the way (or at least it did with me.) Don’t sit on the couch moping, single. Don’t fill the discretionary time with pointless entertainment, or activities that keep you alone. Leverage it for the glory of God. This is a privilege unique to the single path. Time can make the difference.

#2 Friendship

No one in my home is dependent on me. This means I can befriend a young mom, and go to them. Meet for a long bike ride with a neighborhood friend. Take the little girl down the street for a chatty walk around the block. Cry in mysterious corners of dim coffee shops with my girlfriends. I can crash downtown with former colleagues. I can go for a milkshake with a widow from church. I can meet a flustered friend for lunch during the week, or message for long hours with them in the evening. All of these have happened recently. Because I’m single. And on this path, friendships fly thick. They make all the difference.

#3 Worship

Singleness comes with its own set of altars. To keep myself pure costs me something. Stewarding income, managing time, and home, and car, making decisions…doing all of these as one person instead of two is not the worst, but rather something I may offer up. Wrestling with what holiness looks like is a sacrifice. Or choosing to stay late to fellowship at church, when I could easily skip out and leave early. These are some of my altars. I can sacrifice to God through these by yielding to His revealed words and will as I experience them. By laying down my rights. By giving up what is good for what is best for His kingdom and name’s sake. This is my secret privilege. A unique oblation before the Lord. The worship found on the single path. The difference.

______________________________

So much more could be listed, but did you catch a common theme? Time, friendships, and worship make my single path beautiful because they focus me on others and God. This is reason to rejoice, my friends. As you view the benefits and challenges of being married or single, do not be sorry that you could not “take both and be one traveler” as the man in the poem. Run steadfast and rejoicing on the one God has put you on.

That will make all the difference.

Beth

on Father's Day and everyday

I was sobbing. I was crumpled on my twin bed sobbing, and shaking, tears pouring down my face, and gasping for breath. Cheeks blotchy. Nose running. I couldn’t see.

Moments before we’d all stood around the kitchen counter. My sister and I fresh home on college break. My brothers shoving each other. My little sis tossing her blonde hair and giggling. Mom and Dad smiling. And a new-comer. He’d followed us (or more specifically, my sister) home from college and there was love in the air. And really, we were all in love with love that break.

The mail came. With it, a grade from a correspondence course I’d taken. I opened it knowing it wasn’t going to be good. The class had been impossible. A disconnect of gigantic proportions in content, teacher, and student. That’s all I’m going to let myself say.

D-

It hit me like a slap in the face. I’d never come close to that grade before. Ever. All that hard work. Hard work.  And this would ruin my GPA. It would ruin my reputation at school. I was embarrassed. I was devastated. Unraveled. If I couldn’t handle a simple, ole’ course from some dumb university what good was I anyway? A failure. I’d failed everyone. I’d failed God. My parents. My school…I could barely see straight as I stumbled to my room. My life was ending just as my sister’s was taking off.

My door creaked a bit as Dad strode in. Sat down close on my flowered bedspread, and looked straight at me. Unraveled, pimpled, greasy-haired, blotchy, sobbing me. Then he pulled me into those strong arms, broad shoulders, and scent of Stetson, and just held me. Long moments passed. The sobbing passed. Then he said three things.

Look! I still graduated! 

 I love you. I’m proud of you. God is in control.

What is unusual about this memory is there is only one. Only one horrific grade. Only once my Dad sat down on my bed and held me close like that. But what is not unusual is that the disappointments have kept coming. The frustration with my performance in life. The unraveling. The failure. The keen discouragement. These happen to us throughout life, and most often our Dads are not there. There is no knock on the door and strong embrace. Perhaps because they’ve passed from the scene. Perhaps they were never on the scene to begin with. Perhaps we wish they weren’t.

That’s ok.

Because the best thing my Dad taught me was not that he would always be there for me. The best thing was that He modeled the character of my God who always is. There is a Father who never leaves or forsakes. Who is there in the secret disappointments in life, and the wide-open, public ones. Every one of them. He is there when the relationship crumbles. When the job falls through. When the miscarriage happens. Again. When the children get sick. Again. When we sit alone and wish we were in a crowd. When we sit in a crowd and wish we were alone. When we wish life would just speed up already or slow down for cryin’ out loud. When those we depend on most give way under the weight of that dependence.  Our Heavenly Father is there. One who has taken whole passages of His book to declare His love for me, His pleasure with me, and His control over me. One who says-

I love you. I’m pleased with you. I’m in control.

I don’t know what your Father’s Day will be like. Perhaps your memories of Dad are far worse or better than mine. And I don’t know the discouragements you face today. They are likely much more serious than a bad grade. But I do know the Heavenly Father. I know His Words are truth. I know He can be trusted with the feelings of my weaknesses. I know He can be leaned into.

My Dad taught me that.

Beth

three anchors for the crazy of summer

I mean, I remember when summer mornings started slow like a cat stretching in sunlight, and ambled blissfully into pick-up lunches of peanut butter sandwiches, sun tea, and apples slices. Then the long stretch of afternoon would drift into heaping hours of daylight after dinner. We would fall into bed feeling we’d lived a century that day, and it would still be light as we winked at sleep from our soft, cool pillows.

It don’t be like that no mores, folks.

Summer is crazy. And don’t we know it. All the hectic, and upheaval of kids home from school, and activities with friends, and yard work, and normal work, and travel, and vacations, and half-days, and houseguests, and possibilities, and longings for the beach…we need help in this here crazy of summer. We need something to ground us to truth.

We find our anchors in 1 Corinthians 6. Paul is reminding the believers of how their salvation can (and must) affect their lifestyle. And in the last couple verses, he brings it all home.

#1 I am bought with a price

Your summer will disappoint. Count on it. Coworkers will be crabby. Vacation will evaporate. It will rain. The kids will bicker or be bored all the minutes. It’s hot, ya’ll. The garden we thought would be our savior turns into the devil incarnate. We get sick. Summer sick is the worst… We need our gratitude to hang on something more sturdy than our anticipated summer hallmark moments. We need to remember our salvation.

I was bought with the precious blood of Christ, and the day I believed that, everything changed. In Him I am continually loved, protected, forgiven, strengthened. He is my wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace, Everlasting Father. Let that sink in. When all my summer hopes and desires seem to melt in this here low country sun, I may whisper low I am bought with a price, and be refreshed and content. I am His.

#2 I am not my own

 Summers breed selfishness. Someone comment below and tell us why that is. I want the perfect wardrobe. The relaxing schedule. The tan. The foods. The long walks. Less work. Less average-day time, more me time. And I want right now. 

But you see, I am not my own. My summer is not my own. Look closely, and you’ll find a blessed relief in those words. This is not the summer of everything-must-be-about-Beth. This is the summer of Christ-lives-in-me. His revealed opinion of my circumstances can matter most. Where and how He is at work in this child, friend, coworker, church member, sibling, parent, spouse standing in front of me can be more important than my agenda for them (or getting them out of the way of my agenda) While the world screams “YOU, baby!” from every billboard, catalog, and summer commercial, I may find deliverance from just that. Hallelujah, folks. My life is not my own.

#3 I am made to glorify God.

Every day this summer, every moment, I may bring God glory. This summer is a free-for-all on glorifying. Paul places no stipulations on this. When I’m frustrated at work, when my kid projectile vomits across the living room, when my roommate__________, when my spouse doesn’t_________________, when I’m tempted to____________, I may glorify God.

And Paul specifically mentions our bodies. In the context of this verse, that has strong implications for my purity this summer. Wrestle with that. Summers are not license for loose living and lust. (please marvel at that alliteration.) But, really. How does that apply to you? I know how it does to me. These couple months are not a season where I can use my body to look, act, and think as closely like the world as I want without consequence. The world is bent on pleasing itself this summer. I have the privilege of being bent on pleasing God.

 ____________________________________

Three anchors. Attach yourself to them. Make them your mantra. Put them on continuous repeat in your mind’s Pandora channel. Right after Traditional Hawaiian. Then let this crazy, ol’ world spin around us. We are rooted and grounded in truth, and will not be unmoored.

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you have been bought with a price: therefore glorify God…”

Beth