One of the most practical things I do as a single woman — and even more importantly, as a disciple of Jesus — is to tell myself the truth. Because as convincing as they may seem, not every thought or feeling I have is actually factual.
If they were all true, well, I’d be unattractive some days and beautiful on others. I’d love my loved ones one day, and ship them off to Peru the next. One week, God would be trustworthy — and the next, well, that’s when I’d need to hide in a bunker somewhere, just in case.
Oh yes, our enemy knows how we tick. One of the cruelest lies I know is the one where everybody around you has it all together spiritually — the reason being that they were simply born that way.
Not true.
No one has it all together. And nobody is actually “born that way.” No, every bit of grace and greatness and just plain looking like Jesus — it all comes straight from Jesus. There just ain’t any other source.
Now, here’s another grievous lie: I am alone in my pain.
So not true! When Jesus sticks closer than a brother, never to leave or forsake me, that means He is stuck in every painful spot where I am stuck. In all my affliction, He is afflicted.
But there’s more. There is, in fact, a not-so-secret club, the “fellowship of affliction.” My pain does not shut me out; on the contrary, it draws me into some of the sweetest camaraderie I will ever know.
I know as singles, we can feel threatened by the unwisdom or unsympathy of married friends — or the poor or clumsy choices of single men or women. Considering the fact that we are one body of Christ, this is a tragic illusion. And I don’t use that word lightly. Divide and conquer, stir up distrust, pick off the weak and hurting ones on the edges of the flock: these are the tactics of an enemy.
Let’s not succumb! Let’s lean in to the fellowship of the suffering and learn from one another. This week, for instance, I am praying in a special way about the lack of marriage in the church. Joining me are a host of friends, married and single alike, who have a heart for God’s glory and the growth of His kingdom. This is fellowship. This is bearing one another’s burdens. This softens my heart for the pain of others, as they take up the fight for mine.
Let’s tell ourselves the truth. We are not alone!
As Natasha Metzler writes in her new book, Pain Redeemed, “When I abandon the foolish idea that I’m the only one writhing in sorrow I get the privilege of watching and rejoicing in more victories than just my own.” She reminds me that whether it’s the pain of infertility, the loss of a child, the wounding of a marriage — or the lack of marriage — we have far more that unites us than divides.
For all those who are in pain (are there any who are not?), I’d highly recommend Natasha’s book. Because yes, pain can be, and is redeemed.
Elisabeth Adams 