I just read a Tweet from @GoogleFacts that said, “An average of 2 friends are lost every time someone falls in love,” and thought to myself…that shouldn’t happen.
It amazes me how easily we ditch friends the moment a potential love affair enters our sights. We bail on Bachelor evenings and bro nights, we skip a study session or workout, all to spend time with a new interest. Then we go as far as to keep the boy or girl that caught our attention away from our friends for far too long before we actually allow them to meet because… “I didn’t want to introduce them without them being the real deal” or whatever excuse comes to mind.
And that’s why we lose friends over love—because erotic love outshadows agape love. Because we think some new fling is more important than a lifelong friendship. Because we think we must play to the emotional and physical needs of our love interest rather than support, enjoy, and journey with our best friends.
If you do any relationship right, you should never lose friends.
Remember all those heartbreaks where your friends let you cry on their shoulder or complain to them or say “I told ya so”? Well, your friends know you pretty well and if you want to gauge if the next person you want to date is worth it, make them hang out with your friends within the first couple dates. You’ll get the honest feedback you need right away from your friends rather than discovering it months later on your own.
I think dating is all wrong when we create a fantasy for ourselves to date in. It can happen in two ways:
#1: We create a world where we can date this person and not let them near anyone else—no friends, parents, coworkers involved.
#2: We become someone we’re not—city girls become country gals, the non-athletes become sport heroes, the nice become naughty.
You have to be you. You need to pull dating into your life rather than leave your life for dating. Friends and family are forever, dating rarely is. I think the quickest way to see if the person you’re dating is a lifetime investment, is by showing them your life, raw and real. Ask them to come to game night, invite them to a family birthday party, make them go to Hot Yoga or hang with the guys for a night. That’s how you keep your friends and that’s how you keep dating real.
I’ve held a lot of grudges because of one moment of interaction with someone else. I’ve never met them or hardly know them and they do that?! Judged. Although the saying “don’t judge a book by its cover” is a common warning, I find it a struggle to follow. One look, word, or action and we choose to classify people into a genre—punk, druggie, loser, sappy, too happy, too nice, fake, jerk-face. Why are we using one moment to define a lifetime?
Honestly, you’re just like me, we’re not perfect in every moment of every day. Emotions are a funny thing—they roar in some moments and are balanced in others. Sometimes anger and sadness outweigh happiness and joy.
Whether you know the individual intimately, cordially, or briefly, one moment shouldn’t define your love towards them. Love is a free gift meant for the happy and the hurt. Interactions can give you clues into who the person is, but behind the mask and inside the human is a world constructed from a lifetime of battles and attempted recovery. Your love can pull them through.
We tend to offer more grace to momentary mess-ups with those we know well and cast more judgment on those we don’t—but shouldn’t the scales of grace be equal?
One moment is not enough to categorize an individual into a group you “don’t want to deal with,” because it’s a cop out to not have to work at loving someone. Isn’t it interesting how we like to love when it’s easy but struggle to love when it’s hard?
Jesus was great at tough love. How many times did he have to correct Peter before he became the rock the church was built on? How many moments did he tell the disciples to quit being jerks and let the children and the sick come to him so he could heal them? And—how great his love was when he knowingly let Judas betray him, extending his grace to the sinner and sacrificing himself for the world.
When it comes to people we don’t know well, we need to choose any moment that comes our way, good or bad, to be the presence of love. There are too many factors we don’t know about the person to write them off and withhold something God has commanded us to give.
In every interaction today, choose to embrace the weird, risk the uncomfortable, connect with the impossible and be love in the moment to share grace with a lifetime you’re not sure of…yet.
Admittedly, I have been in a lot of relationships throughout my life. Some were popularity moves and comforts (those darn high school years) and others were pursuits of the daunting Christian journey of finding “the one.” And now I’m 26, had three breakups in the past two years, and realizing how much closer I am to God when I’m single rather than when I’m in a relationship.
It shouldn’t be that way.
I wrote the Ebook Why Christian Relationships Fail and How to Make Yours a Success two years ago; although the content is filled with my relationship stories, lessons, and helpers, for some reason, my relationships are still failing, even the one with the big guy upstairs.
I always thought Paul was crazy when he told people not to marry in 1 Corinthians chapter 7—all I have ever desired in life is to be married— it’s the ultimate Christian christening. But the more I live and get my heart broken and grovel in the mess of my life, I find that the journey out of relational brokenness and into singleness grows my relationship with God more than it ever did when I was in the relationship.
In verse 32 Paul relays, “I would like you to be free from concern. An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord’s affairs-how he can please the Lord. A married man is concerned about the affairs of this world-how he can please his wife-and his interests are divided.”
I’ve never been married, but I have been in a lot of relationships where this statement is still true. Reflecting on my time in and out of a relationship, I find that I always trust God and pursue God more when single than I ever do while in a relationship. Paul is spot on—our concerns change once a significant other is involved.
We are more worried about why she didn’t text me back or why he chose to go out with his friends rather than come over and watch Netflix. We care more about how she is feeling and how he is doing and connecting on a euphoric level that makes us day dream of wedding bells than we ever do about how our relationship with God is going.
Married couples tell me similar concerns arise too—jobs, money, kids, drama, and problems often take a higher priority than focusing on a relationship with God does.
And let’s be honest, we do a pathetic job of making God our first priority. Because he always should be, in or out of a relationship.
I do love the benefits that relationships offer when God is pursued first, when every problematic blip on the relationship radar is approached with God’s love, God’s guidance, and God’s Word. People grow into God and into each other when relationships are operated that way.
Even so, we have a solo journey that we will always adventure, and it’s the personal pursuit of God. While in a relationship, we need to long for God more than we long for our other. We need to be right with God, before we can be right with our other. And if we can’t do that, then maybe we shouldn’t be in a relationship, because a rough relationship with God will bring a rough relationship with those we love.
In my singleness, I feel God closer, I notice him more often, he is a life-spring of everything that I’ve searched for in a significant other. I understand why God’s role in my life changes in a relationship, and I also understand why in the future I’m never letting that happen again.
Instead, I’ll tell the girl I fancy that she can come along for a lifelong pursuit of Christ, but that I don’t need her, cuz I’ve got Jesus. And I hope in return, she’ll tell me the same thing, “I don’t need you either, cuz I’ve got Jesus.”
Jesus is many things to many people—a conversation-starting tattoo, comforter in trouble, good luck charm, master of all plans, that “guy with the cross”, and everything in-between. Even the various Christian denominations and non-Christian religions can supply a twist on who Jesus is to them.
I’ve been the annoying kid in Sunday school who knew every answer, the gutsy teen who spoke at his own youth group, the exemplary college kid who everyone knew was a Christian, even been the gung-ho young adult who preached in churches and led his own mission trips. Now I’m 25, burnt out and derailed at a quarter life crisis, and wondering if I even know Jesus—any form of him.
Jesus has always been the answer for every problem I’ve run into—and you’ve probably felt the same. Not necessarily that I looked to him to be the solution right away, but others around me assured he was the remedy, like Robitussin is to a cough—you just need a particular dose and everything will be alright.
Life has brought a lot my way—axed friendships spiced with bitterness, rotting relationships soaked in emotional discord, wayward paths full of messy mistakes, unexplainable loss of identity and worth. Again, you’ve probably experienced some of those yourself, as well as other scenarios full of turmoil. But doesn’t it seem repetitive that Jesus is the cure-all?
I think that’s how a lot of Millennialls feel—Jesus has always been the answer, but with him life’s problems aren’t always fixed. That’s why it’s so easy to shove faith aside in moments of despair. Even with Jesus the pain isn’t lessened, the time frame for hurt doesn’t get cut in half, you still have to journey through it.
When life brings a punch, we feel the weight of emotions pressing us into darkness. It is in this place we wrestle with solutions. Our flesh longs for instant relief and wobbles between help from God and a pursuit of pleasure. At the root of us all we are searching for meaning—the “whys” of every happening. And it’s in the darkest moments people offer Jesus, and yet, our humanness screams for something else, something tangible.
As a 25 year Christian who has preached on the lows and helped many people through them, my darkest moments question God’s ability to heal. When friends and family drop words of hope and reassurance of Christ into my lap, I push them away, because Jesus has always been the answer, he is the answer I give to others, but when you’re the one at the bottom of the pit—Jesus doesn’t seem to hold the solution.
And yet, God calls us to him when:
He’s promised to be there for everything.
I’m not sure what keeps us from believing his promises in moments of dangerous lowness. We can blame satan, but maybe it’s a lack of faith. Maybe it’s the struggle against flesh and spirit or our inability to see beyond what is happening right then and there. Whatever the reason, the toss-up of giving Jesus a chance is what splits those who continue a life for Christ or one without him.
I’ve been there, too, moments where I utter, “I’m giving up. I’m done. This is all a hoax and always has been.” Even so, I keep choosing Jesus, but I haven’t always been sure why.
I do know that we have to doubt before we can believe in anything. That’s how you develop trust. And in moments of doubt, Jesus has always followed through and his promises have always remained, I’ve just been the one who ignores them.
I also know that when the world seems like it’s ending, hope still exists, even if I don’t want to believe it. Even in our darkest moments—we all have a future. Finding the light again sucks, but the process of growth that occurs is unforgettable.
Furthermore, Jesus isn’t a magical elixir, he isn’t an instant fix for all your problems, and we can’t expect him to be.
Jesus is a companion. One who has faced every temptation and walked a journey full of highs and lows. He, unlike many others, is willing to go round and round with you through them, too.
You may not feel him, you may not want to believe that he can help, but he’s the only person I know that doesn’t shove you out of his life because of mistakes, apathy, uncertainty, or deficiency.
And that’s what keeps me coming back, whether I want to or not.