Elisabeth Adams

Probably my biggest fan in the whole wide world is my two-year-old niece. From the day she was born, I’ve been thrilled to welcome her, and tiny as she is, I think she knows she’s not too small for her interests and feelings to matter to me.

Having been warmly included in the lives of many folks who invested in me, I’ve begun to realize how much I view mentoring through the lens of welcome. Romans 15:1-7 reads “Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you.” So perhaps I’m not too far off the mark!

Even at two, my niece is not too small to practice hospitality. At her brother’s birthday, she finger-fed us frosting. If we sit down with a bowl of popcorn, she’s handing out kernels to others. When I’m on the doorstep,  two pairs of little running feet and two toddler voices calling out my name are a pretty potent welcome.

In today’s article at Boundless, I dive into the simplicity and beauty of the mentoring relationship, telling stories about how the smallest of actions (someone saying hello!) had a lifelong impact on me.

Whether as a mentor or someone who’s receiving mentoring, I hope you’ll find something to encourage you here.

Two springs ago, just before I celebrated Passover in Israel, I asked God a question. Not an angsty one, just a simple wonderment, like a child would express to her daddy. “Would it be better if I stopped hoping I’ll get married someday?”

I meant: Would it be wiser? Would it be a better use of energy? Is this just not the direction You’re going?

I let the question hang in the air and went on with my life. After all, I’ve found that God seems to love direct questions, and if I’m patient, the answer will come into focus. Here’s what happened in the next few days:

Boundless highlighted this article: “Why You Should Keep Hoping for Marriage.”

A four-year-old post I wrote for Resurrection Day came up in my feed:

David Wells speaks of prayer as rebellion against the status quo: to be so convinced that God is able and willing to do good in the world that we humbly demand, “Your kingdom come! Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven!”

I read a review of The Waiting, in which 93-year-old Minka DeYoung’s prayer-grown-into-hope became reality: she found the daughter she’d given up for adoption — 77 years before.

I reread Every Bitter Thing is Sweet, in which Sara Hagarty hoped for twelve long years before she bore a child.

And I listened to “But God.”

To me, His answer was clear: It just wasn’t time to stop hoping for marriage. And despite the sorrows of that year, it ended with something beautiful: my friend “Mark” asked me to consider a deeper relationship. Feeling like I was perched on the edge of a roller coaster, I deliberately chose to hope in a more serious way than ever before.

Hope itself is a gift, it’s true. But the Bible says that deferred (or prolonged or long-drawn-out) hope makes our hearts sick. There’s so much risk, and even grief, that can come along with making the choice to hope.

And yet (right in the face of many disappointments) I have found abundant reason to believe that God has provided the means to renew my hope in Him.

If you’re feeling exhausted, cynical or sad, or if you’re asking the same questions I was, then “When Hoping Hurts” is my gift to you.

Hi, friend. Welcome.

Normally the topic of today’s article is something I’d prefer to talk about in my living room. I’d offer you tea and we’d share what God is up to, knowing one another’s context and having an inkling of one another’s hearts.

So why am I writing publicly about some very personal fears, disappointments and joys? For several reasons:

Because when I sent out a long questionnaire, twenty-four people — many of them friends, but others friends-of-friends whom I’ve yet to meet — generously shared their lives with me.

Because I was surprised at how much encouragement they offered, and I wanted to pass it on: My 12 married friends gave me great hope that God can move anyone – at any age – past the hurdles to marriage. My 12 single friends gave me great confidence that God is at work in my life today.

Because my editor sensed I was holding back — and skillfully pushed me to include myself in this article, taking it to a whole level that I’m very grateful for.

Because, in writing about Transparency for the Sake of Others, Brittany Lee Allen reminded me of 2 Corinthians 1:3-6, which says that the suffering and the comfort God gave me — are for you. And that’s a gift I’m glad to give.

If you’re looking for further encouragement, I highly recommend these resources:

During my season of indecision, I read my friend’s novel Emma and the Reasons (You can read my review here), which is a good companion to another book I read during that time: Kingdom Single by Tony Evans. Despite the fact that I’ve read many books and articles on the topic, these two had something fresh and substantive to say to me. And they had a lot to do with the fact that I began feeling my singleness as a gift in a whole new way. (Yes, I do think that a period of singleness — even when I want to be married — can be A gift, even if it’s not THE biblical “gift of singleness.”)

For a number of years, I’ve been grateful for how Lore Ferguson Wilbert articulates her singleness in such a wise and relatable way. Recently, after living a rich single life into her thirties, she’s begun writing about her new marriage in a way that really helps me visualize and prepare for marriage after 30. 

I’m also very refreshed by the purposeful and trusting path Nancy Leigh DeMoss took to marriage for the first time at 57, and I think you might enjoy reading the entire story, or watching her interview videos.

I like to write articles that have an element of doxology in them: a sense of wonder that no matter how we praise God, we can never, ever (ever!) exaggerate. I love to point out what’s good in life, to assemble sturdy truths from a wide variety of friends, to craft the most beautiful sentences I can.

But this is not (exactly) that kind of article.

If you could get a letter from the middle of a wrestling match or a battlefield, then you’d be closer to what it is.  The emotions are still raw, and there are a few ragged edges. Even the ending I originally wrote has been lopped off, and you’re left with a cliff-hanger, of sorts…but only because we’re all still in the middle of our stories.

I wrote while healing, and yet still brokenhearted, and I wrote it to the brokenhearted.

Whether or not you read Faith in Crisis, I hope (and pray) that you find, as I am finding, that of all people, we brokenhearted are not alone.

Two years ago, I wrote at Boundless about fear and suffering and danger, and what a gift they are, because they stir up my hunger and thirst for heaven.

Even in Jerusalem, it’s easy to think, Rockets will never rain down here. Yet sometimes they do. Wherever we are, it’s easy to think that cancer won’t strike, that my job will always be mine, that I’ll never experience injustice or be disappointed by a friend, yet “many are the afflictions of the righteous.”

Not long afterwards, all these things I could have feared came true.

Though it wasn’t rockets, I had my first real brush with danger on the streets. I experienced a few of the most terrifying moments of my life (though not because of any danger to me). My aunt was diagnosed with cancer. I was let down by friends, and I was verbally attacked in a way that took a while to heal. I returned to the US and took on a completely different job.

And you know what?

There. Was. So. Much. Glory. I saw outright miracles from a front-row seat.

But.

All that pain — and even all that glory — maxed out my feelings-meter. I came home bewilderingly numb, and for months, “How are you?” seemed like the hardest question in the world to answer.

So no, I haven’t written much in the last two years. But God has been gently waking me up.

Today I’m sitting in a hospital room with my (now cancer-free) aunt. Are the days after surgery supposed to be like one long sleepover? Because while God didn’t give me any older sisters, He gave me aunts like this one. And the presence, and the loved-with-everlasting-love of God Himself has been here in the middle of her fear, and wakefulness and pain.

He has shown Himself in the steadfast, sacrificial love of her quiet husband. In the doctor who held her hand while explaining the release papers for her surgery. In the tenderness of her nurses. In the Jamaican pastor who just “happened” on her room while waiting to speak to another patient. In the fact that I had booked a ticket to see her before she was rushed to the hospital.

He has shown Himself to me in the fact that I’m more peaceful, more joyful, and more alive than I have been in a long time.

My sister says we prove in every situation that Jesus is enough.

But to prove it there, you have to be in that situation!

Hear me: I am not suggesting we should become pessimistic or morbid or seek out pain. I’m just saying that Jesus has won my trust in the middle of a lot of things I could have feared. “Won my trust” is an understatement, because in the trials He warned me I’d face, He has overwhelmingly come through for me.

Some of my fears have come true, but they wore an unexpected face. That face belonged to Jesus…and with it came beyond-words joy.

And these three men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, fell bound into the burning fiery furnace. Then King Nebuchadnezzar was astonished and rose up in haste… “I see four men unbound, walking in the midst of the fire, and they are not hurt; and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods.” Daniel 3

God is always able to deliver me…but if it’s not His plan this time, then He joins me in the furnace.

And that’s why there’s no real need to be afraid of the future.

“Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised.” Proverbs 31:30

In the classic film, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” George Bailey meets his wife Mary as she would have been, if he had never been born. She’s a colorless, timid, doe-eyed, bespectacled librarian dressed in a dowdy suit, and clutching a shapeless purse. In short, she’s an old maid. As a single thirty-something, I hugely enjoyed the irony of attending a friend’s costume party, dressed this way.

Is Mary what you picture when you read this verse? Charm and beauty aren’t positive: I’d better be dowdy and meek. 

I’m today’s guest blogger at the Modern Ruth Project, thanks to the kindness of Joanna Saul, who has recently been blogging for Boundless.org. The Modern Ruth Project is Joanna’s own site, which is all about encouraging older singles.

This month’s theme is the book of Proverbs, and I couldn’t resist taking a stab at the chapter many women seem to find so overwhelming. I hope you’ll read on to learn why I think Proverbs 31 is really good news for women, whether married or single!