In many ways making friends hasn’t evolved much since childhood. Sometimes it really is as simple as picking a kid on the playground, and asking them to be your friend. We can all do better at smiling and saying hello.
We all have a thing that is yet to be satisfied within us, and when we stop calling that thing marriage, we are faced with the unsettling and wondrous depths of a God we can’t fully understand.
The ability to desire is mysterious, beautiful, sacred, holy, yet not to be feared. There are visceral, continual, intentional qualities to desiring that are meant to help us glimpse eternity. Our longing whispers to us of something unseen, something yet to be. Desire is the foreshadowing of heaven, the divine leverage, the ultimate…
…sometimes desire is something we create ourselves. This can be extra confusing for Christians because we have a hard time distinguishing between the spiritual and the hormonal. It is made more difficult if we mistakenly assume that, by following God, any whim we have is Holy Spirit directed. It is worsened still when we affirm that myth by praying about something over and over again causing the desire to seemingly grow stronger. So how can we discern the Holy Spirit’s planting of a seed from our own obsessive thinking?
How do we know when we are experiencing a holy want versus being ruled by our own urges?
Out of all my historical prayers that fall into the “take pain away” category, I suspect I have most begged God to remove the desire for marriage. It just seems to me like the single life would be easier without it. It’s interesting, because I have lots of desires that I don’t even think about praying away or consider being mad at God over. For example…
By virtue of being single, I am largely underrepresented when it comes to an evangelical approach to sexuality.
As one who grew up in church, I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard it announced that it’s time to do that series again: a series or message on sex or marriage or love or commitment or something like it. It’s usually announced in late winter to most inconveniently coincide with Valentine’s Day.
The series is always for married people, because marriage is what makes it ok for us Christians to talk about sex.
Everything is not about you.
Stated as a quote from a quirky movie, anytime someone in my family starts getting a little too self-centered, another is likely to diffuse the tension by comically blurting out, "Everything is not about you!" While the phrase borders on humiliating, it usually serves its intention of putting the guilty party in their place. Unfortunately this practice doesn't translate so well outside of our family, but in recent dealings with people who I would love to apply this phrasing to, I’ve been pondering and studying a lot about the importance of humility.
I’m never quite so aware of my driving habits as when I’m taxiing other people’s children around.
While I would hardly characterize my solo driving as reckless, the chauffeuring of another’s precious cargo induces an acute sensitivity that perceives all stops as too short, all corners as too sharp, and all speeds as too fast. Similarly, a backseat of little people makes me more cognizant of my attitude behind the wheel: There is nothing like the monkey-see-monkey-do perspective of a toddler, with tiny lips poised to mimic, to ensure my attentiveness that expletives are not emitted during the encounter with the swear-word-of-a-red Hyundai cutting me off.