I’m basic.
Look, I’m done fighting against it. I like fruity drinks that don’t taste alcoholic. I don’t like the taste of coffee. I’m always cold. And I love a good rom com.
Another “basic” thing I like? Dating reality shows like The Bachelor or Love Is Blind.
A few weeks ago, a new season of Love Is Blind hit Netflix. Every season is the same: couples pair up, falling in love with how their partner makes them feel. If they say yes at the altar, they are saying yes to the happiness their person brings, not the person themselves. Which is why so many who do say yes end up falling apart just months later and filing for divorce.
It’s a show with a doomed concept. But it isn’t the only place I see marriage painted as the happiest ending, the arrival at paradise, the culmination of all success and meaning in life. Why else do we watch rom coms, dream about who our person will be, and spend so much time preparing ourselves? Why else do we, as Christians, pray for our future spouses, talk about this hypothetical person constantly, and paint a wild picture of idealism when we talk about them?
My argument is simple: this desire is core to who we are. You were meant to be married. Just not to a human.
When I met Nathan, it was easy to idealize him. For starters, he’s the most handsome EVER. You can’t convince me otherwise. But he also treated me differently than any other guy before. He was respectful, kind, excited about what I was excited about. Everything was easy.
As our relationship grew, my love for him grew, too – and then it twisted. At first it was innocent and excited. But soon, I’d promptly placed him on a pedestal, kicking God to the side, because God didn’t make me feel the way Nathan made me feel.
This was all subconscious, of course. I didn’t intentionally push God to the side. But I did start wondering why I didn’t feel as emotionally connected to God, or moved by him as I was before. I didn’t realize how, just as in marriage, your emotions will ebb and flow within your relationship with God. They indicate my humanity, not the strength of my relationship with him.
It all made sense when, after we got married, things finally started to get difficult.
Sitting on my pedestal, Nathan wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. He had to be perfect. So when the mistakes came, and the rose colored glasses fell, his humanity felt so much more devastating to me than it would have if I had kept God on my pedestal. I think this is what happens in Love Is Blind, The Bachelor, all the shows. The veneers come off. And we don’t like what we see.
It’s challenging to talk about, because I’ve always feared misrepresenting marriage. It’s so tricky to discuss because it is a paradox. One on side of the coin, marriage is beautiful. The best decision I’ve ever made. I always joke that Nathan is “perfect”. I love him so much, and I’m so grateful to do life with him.
On the other side of the coin, marriage is sanctifying. It is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve felt more lonely and heartbroken in marriage than any other time. Primarily because I put Nathan so high, and he had a long way to fall.
As the years go by, I’ve been learning to take Nathan off that pedestal. And my marriage is healthier because of it.
But prevailing still is this ache in my soul.
The same ache I felt before finding Nathan, the ache to be seen, the ache to be known and loved perfectly. It’s the feeling you get listening to that song on a night drive, alone and wondering if anyone gets you. It’s the feeling of doing the right thing and knowing not a soul will see it. It’s the longing for someone to swoop and make everything okay.
Before marriage, we’re told our spouse will fix that ache. But the married will swiftly learn the ache only returns.
If you’re not careful, you can take that energy and put it in dangerous places. An affair might salve the ache. Or maybe pornography. Maybe you just need to share your heart with someone else. Maybe you picked the wrong person.
But time and time again, those “salves” prove to only fester the wound, leaving your life a wreck. And that ache remains. Nothing can seem to take it away.
I believe there is one thing, however, that can heal the ache.
A marriage. What your soul has always wanted. But not to a human – to Christ.
Now before you click off, writing this all off as “Jesus is my husband” bullcrap, I implore you to allow me to explain myself.
In America, our culture is very focused on the individual. But it’s clear in the Bible God often speaks to people in groups. One group we’re all apart of? The church – or as Jesus likes to call it, “his bride.”
I’m not saying you were meant to pretend you’re actually married to Jesus and say cringe things like “I don’t need a man, I have the Lord.” I’m not saying desiring earthly marriage is wrong, either.
All I’m saying is that the ache is only healed by one man. The only man who knows you fully and yet loves you deeply. The one man who sees – he sees the breakdowns, the tears no one else saw, the good deed unnoticed, the comment that stung, the times you were forgotten. He was there. And His love wraps its arms around your soul the way you crave – the way you need. He’s the only one who can take the ache away.
Read John 1:43-50 – I especially love how this story was portrayed in The Chosen. Those words, “I saw you” – they are the very words my heart yearns for the most.
Thank you so much for reading + I hope you have a lovely weekend! Sending my love 🫶