Singled Out by God for Good
by Paige Benton Brown
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Had I any vague premonition of my present plight when I was
six, I would have demanded that Stephen Herbison (incontestably
the catch of the second grade) put his marriage proposal into
writing and have it notarized. I do want this piece to be
practical, so to all you first-graders: CARPE DIEM.
Over the past several years I have perfected the artistry
of escape regarding any singles functions—cookouts, conferences,
Sunday school classes, and my personal favorite, putt-putt.
My avoidance mechanism is triggered not so much by a lack
of patience with such activities as it is by a lack of stomach
for the pervasive attitudes. Thoreau insists that most men
lead lives of quiet desperation; I insist that many singles
lead lives of loud aggravation. Being immersed in singles
can be like finding yourself in the midst of "The Whiners"
of 1980's Saturday Night Live—it gives a whole new meaning
to "pity party."
Much has been written in Christian circles about singleness.
The objective is usually either to chide the married population
for their misunderstanding and segregationism or to empathize
with the unmarried population as they bear the cross of “Plan
B” for the Christian life, bolstered only by the consolation
prizes of innumerable sermons on I Corinthians 7 and the fact
that you can cut your toenails in bed. Yet singles, like all
believers, need scriptural critique and instruction seasoned
by sober grace, not condolences and putt-putt accompanied
with pious platitudes.
John Calvin’s secret to sanctification is the interaction
of the knowledge of God and knowledge of self. Singles, like
all other sinners, typically dismiss the first element of
the formula, and therein lies the root of all identity crises.
It is not that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but
that life has no tragedy like our God ignored. Every problem
is a theological problem, and the habitual discontent of us
singles is no exception.
Can God be any less good to me on the average Tuesday morning
than he was on that monumental Friday afternoon when he hung
on a cross in my place? The answer is a resounding NO. God
will not be less good to me tomorrow either, because God cannot
be less good to me. His goodness is not the effect of his
disposition but the essence of his person—not an attitude
but an attribute.
I long to be married. My younger sister got married two months
ago. She now has an adoring husband, a beautiful home, a whirlpool
bathtub, and all-new Corningware. Is God being any less good
to me than he is to her? The answer is a resounding NO. God
will not be less good to me because God cannot be less good
to me. It is a cosmic impossibility for God to shortchange
any of his children. God can no more live in me apart from
the perfect fullness of his goodness and grace than I can
live in Nashville and not be white. If he fluctuated one quark
in his goodness, he would cease to be God.
Warped theology is at the heart of attempts to "explain"
singleness:
Accepting singleness, whether temporary or permanent, does
not hinge on speculation about answers God has not given to
our list of whys, but rather on celebration of the life he
has given. I am not single because I am too spiritually unstable
to possibly deserve a husband, nor because I am too spiritually
mature to possibly need one. I am single because God is so
abundantly good to me, because this is his best for me. It
is a cosmic impossibility that anything could be better for
me right now than being single, The psalmists confirm that
I should not want, I shall not want, because no good thing
will God withhold from me.
Such knowledge of God must transform subsequent knowledge
of self-theological readjustment is always the catalyst for
renewed self-awareness. This keeps identity right-side-up
with nouns and modifiers in their correct place. Am I a Christian
single or am I a single Christian? The discrepancy in grammatical
construction may be somewhat subtle, but the difference in
mindset is profound. Which word is determinative and which
is descriptive? You see, we singles are chronic amnesiacs—we
forget who we are, we forget whose we are. I am a single Christian.
My identity is not found in my marital status but in my redemptive
status. I 'm one of the "haves," not one of the
"have-nots."
Have you ever wondered at what age one is officially single?
Perhaps a sliding scale is in order: 38 for a Wall Street
tycoon; 21 for a Mississippi sorority girl; 14 for a Zulu
princess; and five years older than I am for me. It is a relevant
question because at some point we see ourselves as “single,”
and that point is a place of greater danger than despair.
Singleness can be a mere euphemism for self-absorption—now
is the "you time." No wife to support? No husband
to pamper? Well, then, by all means join three different golf
courses, get a weekly pedicure, raise emus, subscribe to People.
Singleness is never carte blanche for selfishness. A spouse
is not a sufficient countermeasure for self. The gospel is
the only antidote for egocentricity. Christ did not come simply
to save us from our sins, he came to save us from our selves.
And he most often rescues us from us through relationships,
all kinds of relationships.
"Are you seeing anyone special?" a young matron
in my home church asked patronizingly. "Sure," I
smiled. "I see you and you’re special."
OK, my sentiment was a little less than kind, but the message
is true.
To be single is not to be alone. If someone asks if you are
in a relationship right now, your immediate response should
be that you are in dozens. Our range of relational options
is not limited to getting married or to living in the sound-proof,
isolated booth of Miss America pageants. Christian growth
mandates relational richness.
The only time folks talk about human covenants is in premarital
counseling. How anemic. If our God is a covenantal God, then
all of our relationships are covenantal. The gospel is not
about how much I love God (I typically love him very little);
it is about how much God loves me. My relationships are not
about how much friends should love me, they are about how
much I get to love them. No single should ever expect relational
impoverishment by virtue of being single. We should covenant
to love people— to initiate, to serve, to commit.
Many of my Vanderbilt girls have been reading Lady in Waiting,
a popular book for Christian women struggling with singleness.
That’s all fine and dandy, but what about a subtitle:
And Meanwhile, Lady, Get Working. It is a cosmic impossibility
for God to require less of me in my relationships than he
does of the mother of four whose office is next door. Obedience
knows no ages or stages.
Let’s face it: singleness is not an inherently inferior
state of affairs. If it were, heaven would be inferior to
this world for the majority of Christians (Mom is reconciled
to being unmarried in glory as long as she can be Daddy’s
roommate). But I want to be married. I pray to that end every
day. I may meet someone and walk down the aisle in the next
couple of years because God is so good to me. I may never
have another date and die an old maid at 93 because God is
so good to me. Not my will but his be done. Until then I am
claiming as my theme verse, “If any man would come after
me, let him. . . "
Reprinted by permission (in PCPC WITNESS),
re-generation Quarterly.
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