"O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted, behold, I will set your stones in turquoise and lay your foundations in sapphires."
I don't write a lot about being single. I work really hard to not let my marital status (or lack thereof) be what defines me. For many years I have prayed, "Lord, I want everything you give me and nothing you deny me." I have repeatedly affirmed for myself that I may make known the desire of my heart to the Lord, but I will hope not in my desire, but in Him alone. Still, on some days, it is easier to rejoice in that hope than on other days. Some days, frankly, I'm just very human. (shocking, I know)
I have a number of happily married friends who pray for the Lord to grant me a similar state. I'm thankful for them. I'm thankful they're happily married. I'm thankful they want that for me. I'm thankful they're honest with me about the trials of marriage, so that I am never lulled into believing it is the answer to any of my problems.
A number of years ago, during a very brokenhearted season, I came across Isaiah 54. Honestly, it's one of those passages kind of like Proverbs 31 that I have a love-hate relationship with. I love the sentiment. I love the imagery and metaphor. I love the promise of God's unfailing compassion. Yet, some days, I hate how hard I have to work to find the comfort commanded for me there.
"Sing, O barren woman,
you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy,
you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman
than of her who has a husband,"
says the LORD....
"Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame.
Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated.
You will forget the shame of your youth
and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood.
For your Maker is your husband—
the LORD Almighty is his name—
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer;
he is called the God of all the earth.
The Lord's been bringing this passage to mind a lot lately. And, I've worked to make sense of it. Is He telling me to prepare myself for singleness permanently? Is He chastising me for the tears of longing I've wept recently? Is He disappointed that sometimes I just want someone with skin on to do life with?
I honestly don't think so.
The more I've contemplated Isaiah 54, the more I've come to a single conclusion. (No pun intended.) We walk by faith and not by sight. A barren woman singing for joy over children more numerous than she with a husband? I confess, I've struggled, as Sarah of old, not to laugh at the notion. And, then I sense the Lord's calling me to look deeper, to see with spiritual eyes. Do I value the "children" He's allowed me? Do I rejoice over and celebrate all that my single days have allowed me to be a part of which I may not have had the freedom to know otherwise? Do I trust God to give me the very best in every season? Do I believe that He who did not stop short of sending His only Son so that we might have right relationship will provide every good and perfect gift in time? Do I believe that God is good all the time?
Last week, I wrote on Facebook about how many children Cornerstone needed to have adopted for Christmas, hoping that perhaps, some of my friends would want to get involved. I had my socks blessed off by the response. My Beloved G2 ladies from Wedgwood answered the call. One of my accountability partners jumped at the chance. Then, I heard from a precious friend I had not seen since high school, someone I very clumsily "discipled" as an older senior high student. And, then, one of the young women from a group of high school girls I spent a couple of summers investing in during college wrote to say she was in, too. And, there were others. Amazing.
"Enlarge the place of your tent,
stretch your tent curtains wide,
do not hold back;
lengthen your cords,
strengthen your stakes.
"For you will spread out to the right and to the left;
your descendants will dispossess nations
and settle in their desolate cities.
I told a friend recently, I think that being single is toughest on the good days. On a bad day, I just want to come home and be left alone. But, on a good day, I want to talk about it, celebrate it, share it. This week has been a strange combination of bad and good, mostly good.
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