
As if I needed any more proof that God didn’t love me, my car wouldn’t start.
My first instinct was to crank it again, because surely God wasn’t letting this happen.
When it didn’t as much as sputter, I called my dad, who lives 400 miles away. He didn’t answer the first two times I rang, but he did on the third. By then, my panic had fully set in, and I, hardly a force of strength to begin with, had started crying. His suggestion was to check the battery, as if I had any idea how to do that.
The context for the breakdowns (automotive and emotional) didn’t help things. I was headed home from a members’ meeting at my church. I had skipped out on the second half of it, staying for the finance update and new member announcements but clearing the scene as soon as the potluck began. The straightforward, informational half of the gathering was manageable, but sharing a meal with families was too much for my heart to handle. Seeing so many young married couples and their little children practically paraded in front of me—however unintentional—hurt.
I felt as if I had unhappily single stamped on my forehead, and the truth is I was already in tears when I stopped for gas on my way home.
—
I had a broken engagement a while ago. It was the deepest valley my soul has ever known, and it brought to a head the necessity of deciding what I really believed about Jesus when I felt completely abandoned. When I determined he had, in fact, capriciously cast me aside, he began to restore my soul, one mercy-stitch at a time.1
However, on the other side of healing was the crushing heartpain of being single, the longing for a new relationship that feels like I am somehow grieving a person I have never met. It is a sorrow that, unchecked, consumes me, devolving into anger that my life doesn’t look how it’s supposed to. The grief is separate from my broken engagement, but it carries the same temptation: God cannot love me and let me suffer like this.
I once told my pastor, “God hasn’t given me what I want—a husband—, and I don’t understand why.” It sounded like a complaint, which was precisely how I meant it. In some ways, I laid out my disappointment because I wanted him to make my pain comprehensible. I wanted to hear I wasn’t good enough for a husband—and here’s a checklist to become good enough. I wanted to hear it would just be a matter of time—surely I would meet someone soon. In short: I wanted the mystery of my pain unraveled, but mostly I just wanted the pain to go away.
Instead, my pastor said, “Jesus is what you want.”2
I’ve forgotten how I responded, but I didn’t share what I was thinking: No, he’s not. I didn’t want to wrestle with a God who proclaims his love for me while letting my heart ache.
The truth was that I hated my story. I didn’t see in it the marvelous weaving of God’s mysterious ways, the undercurrents of his love in the most impossible circumstances, or a hope that never fails. I looked at my life and saw indifference, and hurt, and a God who seemed silent when I was the most desperate for his voice. Suffering through the pain of being single felt unfair and unreasonable and unnecessary. How could I want Jesus when this was the story he gave me?
—
And so I sat in my car thinking about how the situation was a metaphor for literally everything bad in my life, ever. I didn’t want anything to do with Jesus, who allowed all the bad stuff to happen in the first place.
Then I realized I was a text away from everyone in the state of Georgia who could help me because they were all at the potluck. If my car had to die on me, this was the perfect time. It was grace, and it irked me: The One who I was convinced had let me down was also my only hope—through his Church.
And when I asked for help, the Church answered. I later learned that as soon as my worship leader got wind of my problem, he grabbed his keys and nearly ran to the parking lot. A group of guys immediately volunteered to help. However, the first person to get back to me (by about 30 seconds) was a church elder, and soon he arrived. We determined my 18-year-old Toyota would have to be towed the next morning, and he pushed it to a parking spot. Then he drove me home. When I started crying on the way (of course I did), he was gentle with me.3
The irony was deep: When I left my church early because I could not bear the pain of being single, God brought my church to me. No one asked why I left the meeting early. They just saw a need and met it in love.
—
Less than 24 hours later, my emergency fund had a hefty dent in it, and my car had a new starter under the hood. A church friend4 gave me a ride to the mechanic.
I wish I could say that as I drove home, I felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude to God for providing so perfectly. I didn’t need a husband; everything was taken care of.
But I can’t.
I was glad my car was fixed, yes, but I was disappointed, convinced the whole situation would have been much, much better if I were married. My church’s help was something less than what my heart longed for. It felt like God threw me a crumb because he felt sorry for me, not like God Almighty, the Creator of the Heavens and Earth, moved on behalf of his beloved daughter.
Certain my singleness proved that God loved me less than he loved everyone else, I sat in my living room on the verge of tears again.
It was as if I could see my entire future before me. Sitting by myself at church Sunday after Sunday. Fighting a stab of grief upon receiving another wedding invitation. Feeling hopelessly awkward at social gatherings, a perpetual “party of one.” Skipping church potlucks because it just hurt too much to go. Worst of everything, though, was the ache in my heart saying something was missing, that my life would be less meaningful, less valuable, if I never got married. I wanted Jesus to be enough—I really did. But how was that possible when my heart seemed bound to keep breaking, over and over again?
—
When I have a moment of lucidity in the pain, I remember what I believe—Jesus died for me and calls me his own. Jesus cares for me and loves me. This should be enough, I tell myself, trying to make the gospel melt the jagged edges of my soul. But sometimes these magnificent truths don’t stir a thing in my heart. Instead of giving me more faith and courage, they make me angry. They feel like trump cards, silencing my oppositions. I cannot argue with a God who died for me; I cannot demand explanations for my suffering when he has promised it’s passing away; I cannot withhold my heart from him because he created it.
So I feel trapped by the gospel my mind believes but my heart resists. I know the future is good but don’t understand how to make sense of the present. I want a comprehensible God who prevents me from suffering, but instead I have a God who took on flesh and suffered for me on the cross (John 1:14; 2 Philippians 2:5-7; Hebrews 12:2).
However, even as I wrestled with God and the mess of my life that night, there must have been an ember of belief somewhere deep down in my broken heart. I believed there was a chance someone in my church would be willing to inconvenience themselves to come to my rescue, so I asked for help. This was an infinitesimal act of faith, but it was faith, all the same. Through it, Jesus taught me something about himself.
Tim Keller once preached about how as long as our faith is in the One who has the power to save (Acts 4:12), we have all we need, even if our faith is weak. He uses the miracle of the Red Sea Crossing (Exodus 14:1-31) as an illustration:
The Israelites all crossed over, but that doesn’t mean that they all crossed over with the same disposition.
Some walked through marveling at the walls of water: “Wow! Look at that! God is on our side! Eat your heart out, Egyptians! The Lord is fighting for us.”
Others were probably walking through like this: “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die!”
Yet they all crossed over. Individual Israelites had different qualities of faith, but they were all equally saved. They were equally delivered. Why? Because you are not saved because of the quality of your faith. You are saved because of the object of your faith: the Redeemer, the God who is fighting for you. Everything about this text says, “Grace, grace, grace, grace. Crossing over is by grace.”5
In case you haven’t guessed it yet, I would be in the “I’m gonna die!” crowd. My weak faith is sometimes a single text message deep. However, as it was for the Israelites who made it to the other side of the sea, that’s enough for our strong Savior. He loves us; he alone is our salvation.
I knew these things as I sat in my car. I believed the gospel even as I fought against it. So maybe God knew I needed to see it. I needed to see my church really did love me. I needed someone to push my dead car to a parking space. I needed someone to show me I still mattered. Now, looking back and seeing the perfect providence of God, the cross no longer feels like a trump card, but an invitation to come and see.
To come and see that neither God nor his Church is after some stellar blockbuster story of great faith or even some example of what it looks like to trust Jesus wholeheartedly through the pain of being single. God had every reason to write me off that night (and many other nights). And yet he sovereignly made a way for everything to get taken care of, knowing that as I drove up to my apartment in my repaired car, I’d still say it wasn’t enough. Apparently, Jesus is not after anything I can give him; instead, he’s just after me. He has chosen to love me even when I say I don’t want him back.
—
Here is how the very thing I long to be delivered from—the pain of being single—is turning into my deliverance. I have been asking myself, Is Jesus what I want? My answer wavers on something as mercurial as the operational status of my 2006 Toyota. But when I see myself as I am—crossing the Red Sea with trembling hands and shaking knees—I pretty much see a failure, someone who is always falling short, someone who just can’t get herself together. Then a truer question comes to mind: Jesus, do you want me?
His answer to me is yes. I fall apart when my car breaks down, but Jesus remained on the cross for me.
Here’s another thing I don’t understand: love like this. It’s too much grace for my mind to comprehend. It means I never have, and never will, sit by myself in church. Nothing is missing; my life is not less meaningful; I am not less valuable. It means my story isn’t about a relationship that ended in heartbreak and the subsequent grief of singleness but about a Love that will not let me go.
I do still struggle with being single. Sometimes, Jesus feels far away, and my faith falters. But when I put my faith—little as it is—in him, I discover his unfathomable love has held me fast the whole time. He loves me from the beginning to the end, from my best moments to all the rest of them. The evidence in my life forces the conclusion that Jesus wants me. And something else rises from my soul: I want Jesus.
–
About Olivia
© Olivia Davis 2024, all rights reserved
Footnotes
- You can read about my heartbreak and healing here and here.
- Thank you, Daniel Chen.
- Thank you, Charley Malmquist.
- Thank you, Julie Malmquist.
- Tim Keller. “Get out! Tim Keller on the Exodus Story.” The Gospel Coalition, June 18, 2019. https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/get-out-keller-exodus/.
Lover of Jesus says
I remembered this streams in the desert devotional and may the Lord Jesus help the single and married ones who struggle.
For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us (Romans 8:18).
I kept for nearly a year the flask-shaped cocoon of an emperor moth. It is very peculiar in its construction. A narrow opening is left in the neck of the flask, through which the perfect insect forces its way, so that a forsaken cocoon is as entire as one still tenanted, no rupture of the interlacing fibers having taken place. The great disproportion between the means of egress and the size of the imprisoned insect makes one wonder how the exit is ever accomplished at all — and it never is without great labor and difficulty. It is supposed that the pressure to which the moth’s body is subjected in passing through such a narrow opening is a provision of nature for forcing the juices into the vessels of the wings, these being less developed at the period of emerging from the chrysalis than they are in other insects.
I happened to witness the first efforts of my prisoned moth to escape from its long confinement. During a whole forenoon, from time to time, I watched it patiently striving and struggling to get out. It never seemed able to get beyond a certain point, and at last my patience was exhausted. Very probably the confining fibers were drier and less elastic than if the cocoon had been left all winter on its native heather, as nature meant it to be. At all events I thought I was wiser and more compassionate than its Maker, and I resolved to give it a helping hand. With the point of my scissors I snipped the confining threads to make the exit just a very little easier, and lo! immediately, and with perfect case, out crawled my moth dragging a huge swollen body and little shrivelled wings. In vain I watched to see that marvelous process of expansion in which these silently and swiftly develop before one’s eyes; and as I traced the exquisite spots and markings of divers colors which were all there in miniature, I longed to see these assume their due proportions and the creature to appear in all its perfect beauty, as it is, in truth, one of the loveliest of its kind. But I looked in vain. My false tenderness had proved its ruin. It never was anything but a stunted abortion, crawling painfully through that brief life which it should have spent flying through the air on rainbow wings.
I have thought of it often, often, when watching with pitiful eyes those who were struggling with sorrow, suffering, and distress; and I would fain cut short the discipline and give deliverance. Short-sighted man! How know I that one of these pangs or groans could be spared? The far-sighted, perfect love that seeks the perfection of its object does not weakly shrink from present, transient suffering. Our Father’s love is too true to be weak. Because He loves His children, He chastises them that they may be partakers of His holiness. With this glorious end in view, He spares not for their crying. Made perfect through sufferings, as the Elder Brother was, the sons of God are trained up to obedience and brought to glory through much tribulation.
–Tract
Fact says
God really cursed many of us guys with singleness, even though we never wanted to be in the first place.
E.F. says
Singleness is a gift from God. Matthew 19. 1 Corinthians 7. Marriage is also a gift. God does not curse His children, He blesses us.
Sean Malloy says
Olivia, Reading this was very encouraging, knowing that there are many of us out there walking down the same road! “His ways are higher than our ways…and lean not on our own understanding “. I have been on this road for WAY TOO LONG. I am 63 years old, had many relationships that ended sadly, but ultimately not what God had intended for me. ” Be not unequally yoked”…however, my “yolks” have been more like scrambled eggs! I throw my hands up and ask Why! I’m a good looking guy ( people say I look like Mark Harmon; St. Elsewhere, NCIS), so I am frustrated. Are we all just destined to be alone? I keep trying, but at this rate I’ll be walking down the aisle at age 90! I will follow His will regardless and , oh boy, stay patient. Great article! It gave me hope! Keep it up!
BRIANNA says
This article is absolutely beautiful Olivia. I am constantly inspired by your vulnerability in writing and your bravery to share it with the world. God bless you, sis!
Edward Ferrars says
I am a 40 year old man who has wanted little more in life than to be married and to have a family. I know exactly what Olivia and Laura are talking about when they speak of the after-church tears. I am often not two feet out the back door of church on Sunday before feeling the weight of the prospect of nothing for the rest of the day—Nothing I’m truly looking forward to, anyway.
But friends, my confidence is that Jesus has, does, and always will know what’s best for us. His timing and wisdom are perfect. Many have nudged me to be more aggressive in my pursuits, but I find that biblically, prudence and patience are to be championed above self-determination. Ours is but to wait on the Lord. God speed in all of your journeys.
Laura says
You pulled the words right out of my soul. I’m 34 and single. Everyone else my age at my church is married and has at least three school-aged kids. I wept as I read this. Thank you.
I joined my church shortly after moving here three years ago. They are Biblically faithful and incredibly welcoming. They have helped me move house and invited me to holiday gatherings, and never done anything to make me feel less-than for being single.
And yet I still drive home in tears most Sundays. I feel like God is playing some cruel joke on me, taunting me with everything I don’t have.
Even so, I keep going to church, week after week. Until I read your article, I’d ascribed this more to inertia than to faith. (Would I rather spend the whole day at home sad, or just the afternoon?)
Thank you for reminding me of Jesus’ faithfulness to those of meager faith. I’ll be back at church tomorrow. God bless you.
Olivia Davis says
Oh Laura, I am so glad you commented. What an encouragement it is to me. I am so glad that you have a church home, even though there is a lot of pain. What a gift that Jesus loves us even when the only thing we can muster is a tearful, “Your will be done.” I am so proud of you for going to church tomorrow in spite of that pain! May you feel Jesus’s love for you and rest in our Strong savior! <3
Sharon says
This article just hits the nail of the head. I read it with balancing tears, nodding my head on almost every experience!!!
The pain is real and raw. My struggle is not that I don’t know God is able to provide the gift of marriage, my wrestle is to believe He actually can. I believe help my unbelief.
Rachel says
Funny. It’s not God’s power I doubt but His love for me.
I think He just wants me to suffer forever. Pain is the end game and my tears make Him laugh with glee up in Heaven.
I gave up on my prayer request for marriage years ago once I realized how horrible any marriage this late would certainly be. The wonderful scenario painted as a fairy tale dream come true is, “My great aunt married after sixty but God’s timing was perfect. He sent her a sweet widower who was her best friend’s husband as a reward for years of faithful joy-filled service.”
What I hear is: Force yourself to smile all the time you unwanted, unlovable, ugly leftover, garbage spinster and do lots of grunt work volunteering so we real members of the Christ’s body don’t have to see your disgusting, pathetic face. After years of loveless, joyless service–either ridiculed or ignored by us real Christians–God will reward you with some doddering, demented (what sweet really means) fossil in his eighties or nineties. Some manipulative, unloving jerk who lies about multiple health problems he conceals till after the wedding and uses your friendship with his dead wife to guilt/manipulate you into becoming his free live in nurse as he totters to the grave. Of course he, and everyone else, will think he’s doing you a favor.
“God’s best for you” will be so physically repulsive, you’ll get nauseated every time you touch him. Which will be often as you change his Depends and spoon Jello into his drooling, toothless mouth. God’s perfect timing means missing out on all the good parts of marriage with no memories and becoming a pro bono hospice worker to some hideous old creep who wouldn’t love you even if he weren’t in advanced dementia. These “sweet widowers” are the worst. I hate the stories about these buzzards and prefer to avoid a loveless, sham of a marriage to some hideous, decrepit, ancient man touted by church people as “God’s best for you!” Grr.
Since I was not good enough to love and spend your life with a have a family together with and build memories to share with, I sure won’t play nursemaid to senile Gramps in his declining life.
A friend said, “Why do you think God would give you that kind of husband?”
I said, “God forced me to go through long, miserable, painful years of loneliness just because He loves inflicting pain on me. God enjoys seeing me suffer and laughs when He sees me crying. The only reason He would want me to marry late is He wants the “marriage” to be miserable and the widowed nonagenarian will be physically revolting, decrepit, and deceitful.
Late marriages are loveless, joyless shams. All the stupid anecdotes about people suddenly getting married for the first and falling in love now that they’re decrepit and hideous are lies. After turning fifty I feel nothing but anger and resentment at the prospect of being asked out. Leftover, disgusting scraps of someone else’s garbage is all that remains.
I deeply regret not being able to marry when younger. But no guy I met in youth group or Bible college ever asked me out. Too ugly and unlovable, I guess. No point to marriage or trying anything this late. My best years are far behind. I just sit and wait to die. God has cursed me.
Anonymous says
Thank you for the transparency to share your story! Your writing ability is a sweet gift from the Lord ! You are learning at a tender age the greatest joy of what life really is about…….having your soul satisfied in Jesus❤️ Keep sharing your story and the joy of Who Jesus is !
Hugs from the 918
Olivia Davis says
This is so kind! Thank you so much. What a joy our Lord is! 🙂
Siyoung Chun says
You have a way of writing that makes me stop and think. It felt like someone shared my mind! I also often feel that I try to use the trump card, “Look to Jesus” but it does not work. “How can I look to Christ when my life is not what I want to be. I just want to be done with this problem and have what I want.” Then there’s still more silence from God. But it is only after that silence, through ordinary people, lingering time, and mundane events that God makes me see that “I have been loving you.”
Your story was encouraging and made me feel and look back that he loved me when I don’t love myself. Keep writing! Thanks to Tim Challies because he led me to this post.
Olivia Davis says
Thank you so much, Siyoung. Your words are a blessing to me! I am so grateful that we really do have a god who has always “been loving us,” like you said. How merciful a God he is! Thanks so much for taking the time to read and for your kind words.
Linn says
Hello, Olivia,
I’m a 66-year old single lady with a lifelong disability that, at times, can really interfere with my mobility. I’ve had surgery off and on over the years, and 20 years ago it was two that put me in a wheelchair for a year. I wasn’t so worried about being single as I was about being disabled, but being single complicated everything (except it didn’t). I didn’t have family close by, although those that were did help a bit. And God knew…my church friends (of all ages and stages) brought me home from the hospital, supplied meals for three months, picked me up when I was stranded because the wheelchair van didn’t appear, let me call them at all hours for anything, and celebrated every milestone that got me back to work (I’m a teacher), driving and, finally, up on my beloved Rollator. They continue to bless me by checking if I need something or being available to fix things that I can’t reach. My church has recognized that I have gifts in teaching and translating (Spanish), and I head up an ESL class, translate the occasional sermon, and teach Sunday School. Family comes in different ways (mine, unfortunately, is not a believing family), and my church family has more than filled that void. Being married might have been nice, but I wouldn’t swap my church family for anyone and I know that they are God’s special gift to me.
Olivia Davis says
Wow, what a beautiful testimony, Linn. I praise God that his purposes are always so good and that he always knows what we need. What a foretaste of heaven his Church gives us! Thank you so much for reading and for sharing your story. It encourages my heart!
Thomas Chesko says
Thank you for sharing your heart. I will be praying for you.
Pastor Tom
Olivia Davis says
Thank you so much for reading and for those prayers. I really appreciate them!
kingsford boafo says
Coming soon and both of us travel to abroad so that we can stay in England
Meagan says
Everything about this post is so powerful. I am also a single Christian woman (and now in my early 40s lol) and can relate to it sooooo much. <3
Thank you!
Meagan says
OH, AND! () I’m also in the Atlanta area! Holla! 🙂
Olivia Davis says
Hi neighbor! Thanks so much for taking the time to read and for your encouraging words 🙂
Harald Hämmerling says
Brilliant – moving – bery helpfull
Olivia Davis says
Thank you 🙂
Amy Medina says
This is brilliant writing of a heart-wrenching story. Thank you for cracking yourself open for us to see. You make God more beautiful.
Olivia Davis says
Wow, that’s an incredible compliment. Thank you so much, Amy!