How Singleness Can Be a Bountiful Season
If I’m being honest, I used to think singleness was a punishment or curse. I had a lot of dreams and a lot of hopes for my twenties—and none of them really came true. I watched all my friends from high school, college, graduate school, and then work find partners and get married and have kids—all while I stayed single. I’ve watched my “forever” single lady friends find spouses, build their dream homes, and stop working corporate 9-5s to raise the family of their dreams. Even the guys who were so against marriage, had terrible relationships one after another—I’ve watched nearly all of them, the ones who wanted nothing to do with marriage, walk down aisles and post perfect Instagram recaps of the whole thing. And I would think…why them? Why not me?
(Can anyone else relate?)
I’ve also seen a lot of people get married for the wrong reasons, end up in toxic commitments because they felt pressured, and be disappointed by the lies of lust and sex. I’ve seen divorce. I’ve had friends become widows. I’ve watched loved ones lose babies and miscarry and then miscarry again. Or lose their homes in natural disasters. Or get laid off from their dream jobs. I’ve seen disease interrupt fairy tale endings. Marriage, relationships, dating, finding “your person”...it doesn’t lead to a perfect life. Or to perfect happiness. Or mean that bad things won’t happen to you after you marry. Even though we’d like our perfectly Christian “God brought me this spouse” social feeds to portray anything but this reality.
In all of my wondering and waiting and disappointment and confusion—I’ve felt God always encourage me that singleness was for a reason. That singleness was good. Not just something to be tolerated. That there was purpose in every season. So I’ve set out to find that purpose over the last few years, and surprisingly, I’ve discovered a rich garden in what felt like a barren desert.
There is a Time for Everything Under the Sun
Every season in the garden has purpose. It can’t always be spring. There has to be winter; there has to be a cutting back and dying away to make room for new life. The Earth has seasons—and so do we. Like it or not. You can strive against the season you are in, or you can grow alongside it. We can’t always choose the places God plants us, but we can decide if we will take root or wither away.
I always hated all the feedback that singleness was such a beautiful season because of “all the time you get to spend with God.” As if God was some cheap consolation prize you trade in for a husband later. I can’t help but roll my eyes every time a recently married friend says, “You better enjoy your singleness because you’re going to miss it after marriage!” I don’t think this is the sole purpose of singleness. We get to spend time with God, throughout our whole lives. It’s why Jesus came to Earth. To dwell with us. The veil was torn, and there is no more separation. Regardless of marital status or kids. Most people mean well when they promote this sentiment, seeking to encourage single people. However, we’re missing the main point. It’s an honor to do life alongside the Creator of the Universe, in every season. So I don’t see “spending alone time with God” as the purpose of singleness.
I also tend to shy away from the conversation that singleness is solely a “preparation” season or “training ground.” I think that is a little condescending, especially for people whom God hasn’t called to marriage. Not everyone gets married—just read in the New Testament about all the single apostles and disciples who were going out and risking their lives every day. Are those people lacking because they are unmarried, never “arriving” at their destination? What about the people who lose their spouses early in life and don’t remarry? Defining our lives based on marriage is a very narrow view of what it means to be human.
Instead, I find the richness of this season aligned more with the writer of Ecclesiastes, who was a bit morbid and depressing, but also pretty relatable. If human life is but a vapor, we should enjoy the fruits of our labor in every season, as there is a time for everything. Even death. Even mourning. God doesn’t shy away from our mess. Or our loneliness. Or anger. Or despair. As we ache, He leans in. He doesn’t run away.
And that for me has been the greatest gift of this season. It isn’t having “extra free time” to read my Bible or getting to “prepare my heart” for some guy or becoming more spiritual because I can spend more time praying about things to come. The greatest gift God has given me in this season is an acute awareness that even in my suffering, He is so near. And it’s not a gift that leaves me, should I ever get married. It’s a gift, that no matter the season, grows and deepens, even in the darkest of places. The intimacy of suffering.
The Problem with Desire
A desire for marriage isn’t wrong. It’s just often placed above where God intended it. Having relationships with others is beautiful. We were designed for community. We were designed for sex. We were designed for male and female romantic relationships. We crave love and acceptance—to be known—which is meant to point us toward a God who can fully fulfill that desire, except we tend to ignore this truth.
We often trade God’s primary, all-consuming love for a secondary love with humans that leaves us empty and lacking, though it might feel better or more tangible in the short term. Until your dream guy does what he said he would never do. Until she walks out. Until they get sick. Until…life happens, and we learn that we were placing all our hope into temporary things.
There is brokenness in the world. There are many disappointments. Things happen to us that should have never happened. And at this crossroads of suffering and desire, we get a choice:
Do we bend our desires, our dreams in exchange for God’s plan? Or do we go our own way, make our own decisions, and elevate our preferences?
Do we let our idea of what life should be like control us? Or do we trust in the narrow path God is calling us to, even when it looks like the opposite of what we want?
Do we walk away from God because we feel He is withholding? Or do we believe He withholds no good thing?
These are the choices I’ve been faced with in the last few years. And I haven’t always made the right ones. There’s no shame if you’ve found yourself choosing sin and selfishness. You simply just need to turn around and get back on God’s path. Repentance is that simple.
You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. You can be angry and confused. You can simultaneously feel excited about a friend’s recent engagement while grieving your loneliness. You can celebrate others while still grappling with bitterness.
And you can enjoy your singleness, too. You can wonder at the future and be filled with wonder by God’s mysteries every day. You can have more flexibility in your schedule to prioritize spiritual practices over worldly troubles—if you choose to put your phone down, set boundaries, and make space. Singleness can be freeing and exciting and empowering. You can spend time with all kinds of people and build beautiful communities without having to balance a spouse’s emotional needs. Paul wasn’t joking when he said he would like to spare believers from the burden of marriage and cultural obligations so that they can have an undivided devotion to God and His Church.
Because the greatest marriage is the marriage between the Bride (The Church) and the Lamb (Jesus). And if that doesn’t excite you in this season of singleness, no lover, marriage, relationship, career, money, or fame is going to fill that ever-growing feeling inside of you that there’s more to this world than what you’ve been offered…
Dig a Little Deeper
I have so much to say on this subject that I wrote a book! So if you’re in a season of singleness and you want to continue the conversation, check out The Season of Singleness. You can read it for free by signing up for The Greenhouse, our online community, which features free Biblical resources. (Or it will feature more resources, whenever I make the space to finally publish all the drafts I’ve stored away, lol.)
I hope as you continue on your journey, you feel a little more seen, maybe even challenged. Don’t be afraid of where the Holy Spirit wants to take you, even if it feels like the long way ‘round. You’re in good company.
xo
elise
ELISE LAKEY
Elise is a writer and artist, living in the in-between. She’s the founder of Garden Theology and seeks to help all gardeners-in-training come to their full purpose in God. When she’s not writing, you can find her playing in the dirt, snuggling her cats, or weaving tapestries.
