when singleness is awesome

There. I said it. It will go down forever in the annals of cyber history never to be erased or forgotten. Sometimes being single is awesome. And before we go deeper into this highly suspect topic (I know you’re thinking that. Yes, you.) Let me list a few familiar reasons why.

 

     Possibilities abound.

     No one depends on me doing life stuff

     Service has few boundaries.

     Sleep in

     Eat out

     Sleep in 

     Eat all the cookie dough

     Clean house (if I want it to be)

     Just myself to get ready

     Sleep in

     Eat out

     Sleep in

You get the idea. So, what do we do with all this awesome?

    Store it up

    There will be times when singleness is not so awesome. It’s part of the ebb and flow of life. At some point, I will (yet again) yearn to do life as two instead of one. The benefits of marriage will look like the rainbow’s pot o’ gold. So take stock of what you love in singleness. Record it. And when your emotions flip (and they will) (perhaps several times a day) (I’m referring to a friend of mine here) remember it.

    Keep it to yourself

Dear marrieds: Please don’t share how you came home discouraged and your spouse cradled you in their arms and rubbed your aching muscles as they whispered assuring, passionate words in your ear. And don’t tell me that while you’re sitting squished into each other on my couch polishing it all off with a lingering kiss in my living room. This does not edify.

Dear singles: Don’t parade what you can do and be and enjoy because you’re single in front of your exhausted, aching, stressed, aMAZing married friends. (just forget the beginning of this post, k?) I think perhaps this must also not edify.

Truth is, I don’t have to confirm my worth as a single by itemizing my life for others. Love doesn’t do that. Ever. Wonderful doesn’t equal needs-to-be-shared. Sometimes love withholds what could be said even if it’s true and important to me.

Sometimes love edits.

    Use it as a launch pad

What can I do for others because I’m single? What can I do for God’s kingdom? What does laying up lasting treasure look like for me? The awesomeness of being single is not down to fluff our cushy, designer lives with. It’s a firm foundation on which we can launch into service for God and others. Use it that way.

   Don’t hold onto it

Most of my peers are in their first 10yrs. of marriage. Life is hard for them. Very.  When I think of starting all those challenges late in the game, I kind of want to throw up. Hey, I read mommy blogs, yo. Also, at this point I’m kinda good at singleness. It’s familiar and comfortable. Most days, it’s awesome.

That can make the unknown of dating relationships, um…not very appealing. There’s a give and take there. There’s sharing. There’s possible rejection, misunderstanding, giving up of single benefits…and perhaps eventually marriage and children. (looks away from computer screen because hyperventilating)

But singleness is not something to be grasped. It is something in our hand to use for Jesus until He decides He can get more glory by placing something else in our hand. Don’t panic and clench your fist if He starts to do that. Let Him choose your instrument of praise. Let Him choose your platform.

And let the awesomeness of singleness reflect our awesome God.

Beth

picture Jesus: a primer in weathering turbulence

The captain called them significant bumps, and for several moments I savored the sheer artistry of that phrase. Significant is a weighty, mature word. Unrushed. Elegant. Controlled. And  bumps is possibly the most adorable word ever. This was a word match made in Heaven. Well done, Southwest. Well done.

Pixabay.com via Wikkimedia.org 

I love everything about flying. Love catapulting through those mechanical entry doors and being swept up in this swirling eddy of vibrant humanity. Love skidding down miles of shiny terminal tiles with every possible color, race, age, size, height, and personality God made. Everyone has a look. Everyone has a gait. Mannerisms. History. Agenda. Some move fast. Some move slow. It’s a free for all on visual bliss. And everyone is a potential new friend.

Correction. I love everything about flying but flying.

So when the deep, sincere voice warned us of significant turbulence while we soared thousands of feet above ground round, with nothing but a few inches of metal between us and angry sky, I had to think fast. Lest they have to squeegee me off the ceiling, or my seat neighbor tire of me rocking back and forth in the fetal position. Or I unleash a blood-curdling, unrelenting scream. These things well up deep inside me and threaten to actually happen in turbulence. Is no bueno.

I began by picturing Jesus. He looked remarkably like the flannelgraph version. But it was not the thought of a long-haired, white-robbed man sitting next to me that soothed my rising insides. It was simply remembering He was there with me, and that His presence carried the weight of all the words He’s every spoken to me. You see, if we are to weather any turbulence in life, we must make the connection between Christ’s presence and His words.

This is what I found as we braced for impact:

    1. He keeps people in perfect peace when they stay their mind on Him. I talked with Him about this as we started our descent into Atlanta. How trusting=focusing my thoughts=complete peace. And I led my mind down a long path of thoughts about Him. My insides stopped churning.

    2. There is goodness and mercy in every day of my life. David concludes this at the end of His famous 23^rd Psalm. Surely, this is the case if God is our Shepherd. So I looked for God’s steadfast loving-kindness as my ears popped and the fasten seatbelt sign dinged. I found it all around me.

    3. The Lord is my helper, I will not fear what man can do to me.  I’ll admit when I remembered these words, my first thought was, “but man didn’t strap you to a narrow cylinder hurtling at an alarming rate towards certain death!” But the point is this: if my God were as visible as He was present, everyone on that plane would beg to be on His side. The God who speaks things into existence, the God who ‘upholds the government of worlds,’ the God with nail scars in His hands, who came alive from being dead by His own power…this God is with me. This God is my helper. My fear stayed at 30,000ft.

There were other Bible words that flooded my mind as we all sat there with fluttering hearts. But, if I were to be completely honest, I’d say that those significant bumps never actually happened. We jostled a few times, and landed on firm ground just after the major storm had moved on. Hmmm. Sounds like a Divine hand to me. And as we shuffled off the plane exhausted but relieved, a grin (I’m afraid it was cheesy) spread across my face. I could picture Jesus. He would carry and comfort me through any turbulence. 

Beth

And what at midnight?

They were just two men doing right. Doing what we all hope we would do at the sight of an innocent girl being maliciously abused. They rescue this little girl because the image of God has been stamped soul-deep into every feeble, strong, old, infant, man, woman, millions of us. Stamped like this indelible mark of value and ownership. Making every stranger our neighbor and constraining each of us to show mercy and grace. 

And this beautiful act triggers the downward spiral of worst possible events.

The abusers, unable to stomach the blow to their income, fling the two men before a pack of unjust magistrates. Lies are hurled, and the growing mob is stirred into violent frenzy. Paul and Silas are stripped naked. Then beaten. Then cast into prison. Then cast into a deeper prison. Then locked tight in the stocks. One act of righteousness leaves them bleeding, buried, and bound. Hours pass. Blood congeals. Muscles stiffen. The damp and putrid sets in.

And at midnight they pray loud and sing praise to God.

used by permission from spokenlightphoto (my cool friend!)

And we watch in awe as this beautiful act triggers the upward spiral of miraculous events. God shakes out the earth for His two children. The prison doors fling wide in the quake. The heavy bands loose and fall limp to the ground. The prison guard leads them up then out, and his God-stamped soul finds mercy and grace which spreads to every soul in his home. Paul and Silas walk away free men. The Kingdom of God marches forward.

___________________

We all have midnights.

I mean, we do right and suffer loss. We live right yet our bodies live in pain. We spread the mercy of the Gospel, and we are spread thick with rejection and hate. Like Job, we stand helplessly watching our loved ones slip away. We do right, and we are stopped. We do right and nothing makes sense. And what will we do then? What will we do when we are held fast in the bonds of disappointment and frustration? When the heavy gate of doubt slams shut and locks us tight. When the damp and putrid of life on a fallen planet sets in. What then? What at midnight?

I’m pretty convinced Paul and Silas were not pondering some salvific scheme of rescue or escape as they worshiped God in that prison. I think there was a naked faith in God that gave them confidence in the darkest hour. God is longsuffering. If we look for that in our lives, we are going to see it. God is kind. We can always trace that ray. Our God is loving, merciful, strong, wise, just, eternal, and compassionate… midnights do not quench these. His character glows bright in darkness. I believe Paul and Silas experienced that, and it gushed out in prayers and thanksgiving despite their current condition. Faith can see what sight cannot. And what faith sees will always soar the heart in worship.

But we try so hard to strap His character to what we want His actions to be. If my God is____________then surely He will_______________. And we walk away sorely disappointed, licking the wounds caused by our own understanding. We forget that perfect character will always motivate perfect actions. Do not doubt this at midnight. Trust who He is in the dark. He will move in our favor. He can only do that. Whether it ends in miraculous deliverance or some sustained dayspring of sufficient grace.

So we do right. And sometimes we sit wrapped in midnight.  But we see what we cannot see, and know it to be true. And we worship the God of miracles alongside Paul and Silas.

Beth 

He must increase

Until He is my favorite thought upon waking, and my favorite thought before sleep.

Until He is the pursuit of my quiet moments.

Until I see sacrifice as the noblest choice.

Until the faults of others become the platform for more grace and lavish mercy, not a salve for my self-righteousness or kindle for my judgment.

Until I can react to the faults of others like Christ responded to mine.

Until my heart cracks clean wide with joy when those around me advance His kingdom more than I can. When what is in their hand is praised and magnified for His name’s sake.  

Until I am happiest playing the servant. Happiest in the shadows. Happiest keeping my most lavish devotion my deepest secret.

Until “What is He doing here” is my thought on entering a room, not “how will others perceive what I am doing here.”

Until the squeezing, brazen sin of unbelievers works a sorrow and compassion so strong within me that only the Gospel comes out.

Until with forgetful abandon, I can fling behind me my greatest accomplishments for Christ, and press forward toward the mark, unencumbered with what I have done.

Until He is my favorite story.

Until the sweetness of some remembered word of His is enough.

Until I learn that loss, and pain, and hard are holy places, and the mundane of life makes for the finest altars.

Until I learn that Gesthemane and Golgatha may lead to an empty tomb and an upper room.

He must increase.

Until Christ be formed in me.

Beth

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