Already Living a Love Story

I had this whole plan after not writing at all in December and only posting one blog in January that this month, for February, I would go back to my original goal of publishing a post every Monday. This month would have a 4-entry-segment themed around love — fitting for the holiday. But then I got sick and slept all day Monday. So here is the first post, two days late but here nonetheless. And it just shows how real life is. How easily our plans change. Because how small and insignificant am I? But a vapor in the wind. And yet God chooses me, He loves me, anyways.

Some background information on myself if we’ve never met. I am currently seventeen-years-old, a hopeful romantic, and have never been on a single date. I have never even (to my knowledge) had a crush on a guy who liked me back. Not that I’m saying I think I’ve never been liked… I mean, I guess I don’t know for sure but I like to think I have been. At some point, at least.

I just mean that while friends have had the experience of the boy they liked liking them back and getting to have fun flirting around the idea I have yet to experience it. Which is fine.

Do I have three Pinterest boards of relationship goals? Obviously.

Do I think having a boyfriend would be fun? Of course.

Do I spend far too much time day-dreaming about “what-ifs” for my future. … Define “too much.”

But at the end of the day, no matter how I joke and “cry” to my friends about still being single I really am, deep down, content to wait. Because I know God has plans bigger than I can see. And also, half the time I’m struggling to manage my own life— I have no doubt I would be a disastrous girlfriend if I tried to take on someone else’s right now. I’m not ready.

However, knowing all of this does not eliminate the dreaming side of me for sometimes resenting still being single. Especially lately. It seems no matter where I go or what I do that’s all anyone talks about, that’s all they have to ask me. “Are you dating?” “Is there a guy in your life?” Even at home, my family gives me a hard time. My baby sister thinks every guy should be in love with me and is constantly asking why I’m still single and, furthermore, “when are you getting married?” (She desperately wants to be a bridesmaid, who wouldn’t after seeing my Pinterest board?)

When I stay out in the car texting my best friend about our plans for the weekend, or our dresses for the school function, or even our annoyance at still being single, my Dad asks “what were you doing out there? Talking to your boyfriend?”

Don’t get me wrong, I love the teasing. I think it’s fun and sweet. But sometimes when boys are the only thing you get asked about and your answer is constantly “no” it can be hard to remain content. Especially this time of year.

I don’t really have a strong opinion about, whether for or against, Valentine’s Day. I think it’s sweet but also very much can be considered a ‘Hallmark holiday.’ However, flowers and chocolate are great any day, and while (I imagine) would mean more if they were given spontaneously rather than because it’s expected, that’s also not to say they mean less on the holiday. So yeah, neutral feelings. Aside from the fact that every year I find myself wishing I had someone who loved me enough to make some sweet romantic gesture— not a big one, I’m not an over-the-top girl by any means, but a small one. Simple. Sweet.

Maybe a new book, or surprising me at work, baking me cookies. All of these were the fantasies filling my head the other night before I was reminded, not for the first time, that I already have been given the best, most over-the-top, sacrificial gesture of love known to man.

The God I denied, God who I was enemies with, hostile and hateful towards, sent His Son to die for me.

Jesus, Son of the Most High, loved me enough that He came down from Heaven, walked my life in the perfect way I never could, took on my wounds; my separation from God; my death. He was betrayed by one friend and denied three times by another. He was stripped of His clothes and His dignity. He was scorned, scoffed, ridiculed, and mocked. He was beaten until unrecognizable as a human figure. He was made to wear a crown of thorns and carry the weight of the cross meant for me. He had spikes driven through the veins of his hands and feet in a way to bring about the maximum amount of pain as He was nailed to the cross. He labored for hours, dragging Himself up for every breathe, until finally even His last words were for me.

“Tetelestai.”

“It is finished. The debt is paid in full.”

My debt. The debt of my depravity. He paid it in full. He died so I could live. He was dead for three days before walking again, that I might rise from the death of sin and flesh with Him.

And even now, after He has called me out of darkness and into His Light; after He has broken the chains of my bondage to sin and Hell, giving me the freedom to one day dance in Heaven; I still reject Him. I think my way is better. I think the desires of my misguided and deceitful heart are better than the good gifts He lavishes me with graciously. And I turn away. I leave Him. I ignore Him. But He chases me back down. Waiting patiently for me to turn around again. He stands, with open arms, for me to run back to Him.

He is the Father and I the prodigal son. And He will never tire of welcoming me home.

He is Hosea and I am Gomer. He will never stop coming after me, helping me see once again that He is the only way out of the messes I find myself in.

When I consider all of this, suddenly flowers and chocolates, dates and someday-kisses don’t seem so important anymore. Dating and marriage, romantic relationships, are gifts from God. They are to be an earthly blessing, an earthly picture of the love He has for His people. They are a gift, not a guarantee.

Furthermore, how can I expect to enter into a relationship that is supposed to be a mirror of the love God has for me when I am not walking fully in His love on my own? How much of a hypocrite would I be if all I ever did was long for the “tangible,” “touchable” - but humanly flawed and imperfect - representation of His love for me through another man, without ever leaning into His actual love for me?

I’m already living a perfect love story, one far surpassing all others. How ungrateful of a girl am I to think it’s not enough? If God isn’t enough for me (and He is, much as my flesh tries to deny it) no one else ever will be.

I don’t need a boyfriend. I already have a bridegroom. He calls me Beloved.