Why I won't marry my soulmate

If there is one thing you should know about me, it is that I am a totally hopeless romantic.

I love “rom-coms” and have spent far too many hours observing other people’s love stories over and over again. It draws me in and reminds me of some of the deep desires I carry in my own heart.

Hopes for my future, and dreams about what one day may be…

So it may come as a surprise to you to learn that I have no intentions of

“marrying my soul-mate”.

A little contradictory, I know, but nonetheless…

Despite every rom-com I’ve eagerly absorbed and all the gooshy, sloppy romance that has been imprinted on my DNA; I am in no way planning on donning a white dress, carrying a pretty bunch of flowers and walking down the aisle to join my kindred soul in matrimony.

Don’t get me wrong, I do have every desire to marry (and do all that romantic wedding stuff); I just know that my groom won’t be my soul-mate.

To me, a soul-mate is someone that you deeply desire despite never having met; someone that has been imprinted into your very being; someone for whom you yearn for with the very fibres of your being.

A soul-mate should be that person who you know that you could never live without, because your very existence is interwoven with theirs.

Someone far greater than any mortal man or woman.

Someone like Jesus.

In my relationship with God, I have come to understand that He chose to love me, to never hurt me, to never forsake me, to never use or abuse me, to raise me up and call me His, even when I was totally undeserving of that. 

That love; that unending, all-forsaking, despite-everything kind of love; is one I know I’d never be able to live without.

 Sure, I would love to marry a man one day, and I would love to serve that man just as God calls wives to do.

And I’m hoping that if I ever have that privilege, I would choose someone who I know I will love with everlasting, passionate love. I hope to find a husband who will bring as much joy and happiness into my life as I will theirs and who I can love until

“death do us part.”  

But I won’t spend any amount of time looking for “the one” or put the undue responsibility on any human to “complete me.” If I get married, in all my efforts to live out a Godly marriage, I hope to remember that I am first and foremost created for my real soul-mate, and not my spouse.

My soul-mate will always be someone greater than any future husband and while I may be His daughter and His bride, He is not a mortal man that I desire to marry.

I may be single now, but my soul-mate has already called me His…

(image source, with thanks: Google Images)

A "Daddy" Kind of Love

I find it really easy to see God as a just ruler and judge.

I can relate to Him as an almighty God but I often struggle to see Him as a loving dad too.

In this space it is hard for me to share the pain and anger or fear I may be feeling with Him, as I tend to believe that He would condemn me for my apparent lack of faith.

But recently, God has been teaching me about His loving heart, and His really big shoulders that can carry my burdens.

I recently shared a conversation with someone I care a lot about.

Someone who I know to be struggling and could really use God's help.

She was just sharing her life with me, but her words were heavy with a deep set pain and a fear-filled uncertainty for the future.

Something about her really struck me, and I longed for God to reach down and help her, but just at that moment, He didn’t.

And I was left feeling pretty angry.

Angry at God who had promised to provide for His children.

Angry that He did not seem to want to help this lady despite knowing that He had every power and ability to do just that.

Why didn't He just help her and take away her pain?

Why didn't He fix the injustice of this world?

I –obviously- knew beyond doubt what she needed.

I –of course- had the most perfect plan.

And I –with all my authority and wisdom- had decided that now was the time to see change in this life and I was angry at God who didn’t seem to be going along with my perfect plan…

So there I was, fuming and angry, knowing full well that God would not care to engage me on this anger.

I mean, to serve Him I need to be totally accepting that He has a plan and never feel anything but awe and reverence to that, right?

So He wouldn’t get it, and if I took this to Him He would condemn and judge me for my lack of trust and obedience.

It’s amazing what we can convince ourselves of if we simply start trusting our own assumptions instead of taking the risk of finding out the truth…

I spent two days walking around being grumpy and angry, ignoring God in much the same way as a sulking child would ignore their parent.

My intentions, I suppose, were honourable or at least understandable, but I had carried them out in a rather ridiculous assumption that somehow by avoiding God my self-righteousness made me right.

But after a while my resolve ran out…

I was standing in the shower when the contempt that I had bottled up finally spewed out in an angry torrent of hastened prayer.

I told God about this lady, and I told Him how mad I was, and I told Him about how I felt that He had let her down. I called on His grace and mercy and reminded Him (because, you know, maybe He had forgotten??) that He was meant to care for the lost and to reach out to the oppressed.

I spoke the last sentence and waited, listening through the silence.

All the while, I am sure He was there, patiently listening, waiting for me to get it all out.

What happened next may have been my own mind. Or it may have been the prompting of the Holy Spirit within me.

Either way, a thought gently crossed my mind. And it came as what His response could have been…

“Robs, you have loved this person and have shared her struggle for eight months.

 But I have known every moment of her life, and have been with her through every pain.

 I love her, and I have got this…”

Sigh… How do you argue with that?

I felt chastized.

Whether or not this was Him, I knew it was right and I shouldn’t have come to this as I should trust and not question and….

…. “and right now you are hurt, and you can tell me. Because I love you, and I am your Daddy.”

Ever seen a kid that bashes their head, and runs up to Daddy crying because it hurts?

Ever seen that Dad wrapping his kid up in his arms and holding him close till the pain went away?

That’s my dad. That’s Him.

I’m sure He will help this special lady when it is the right time.

I hope He does.

But He doesn’t have to work in my time to be a compassionate and Holy and incredibly caring father.

And maybe it’s ok for us to be hurt and angry and yell and scream and have a little tantrum.

And maybe, just maybe, He will react by wrapping us in His arms and making our “ouchies” that much easier to bare.

FREE AS A PHOENIX

Mythical creatures have always fascinated me.

Not so much short little people with hairy feet- but rather griffins, dragons and the beasts of legends.  

The human imagination is a very powerful and amazing thing.

One of the stories that fascinated me most was that of the Phoenix.

As this beautiful bird would came to the end of its life, it would spontaneously rupture into flames and burn to a crisp, leaving nothing but a black, meaningless pile of ash as the only evidence of its existence.

This legend, however, was not a story of death but rather of new beginnings and new life.

The phoenix would arise from the ash as a more beautiful, more graceful, more magnificent version of itself.

Not much literature, however, dedicates itself to the understanding of how the Phoenix felt about its rather unusual life progression.

I have not been able to find any Oprah interview on the “end of life experience” of being burned to an untimely death.

I doubt the Phoenix (had it existed) would have been given an opportunity to write the bestselling autobiography, “Crispier than Chargrilled Chicken: The story of surviving the flames.”

If I were to speculate, I doubt the phoenix’s fiery rebirth into a new life was a very pleasant experience.

And in my spiritual walk, I can relate to the Phoenix.

Last year was probably one of the most challenging years of my life.

Through the combination of subtle struggles and the megaphones of major life changes, I was left metaphorically watching my life burn into a pile of ash.

I had fought so long to hold onto the things that I was idolising and the moment I finally decided to surrender them to God, all hope was seemingly lost as my idols slipped through my fingers.

Looking back I was pretty resentful to God.

I didn’t understand that He was with me through it all and I was struggling to trust that He had a plan.

He didn’t care, and my meaningless purpose seemed to be summed up in ashes that were my life.

At least that’s what I thought…

But, like the phoenix, something beautiful and majestic did come out of my personal pile of ash.

As my blistering skin and my burnt out heart began to heal, I slowly realised how much God had used the pain for my good, just as He had promised to do.

The choice to surrender began in a fire, but out of the pain of that situation, God has called me onto an incredible adventure and journey that has led me to a deeper understanding of grace, love and community.

While it wasn’t a sudden change, I now feel the wonderful joy of soaring on the thermals of His deep love and blessings.  

Before the flames, I didn’t really realise how much I was missing but He has used this time to show me, raising me as a more beautiful, more magnificent and more trusting daughter.

If you are enduring the flames that seem like the end of a life, I can’t really say anything that will take away the pain of fire and heat against your skin.

I can’t even tell you that you will come out as the same person or that parts of you won’t be scathed in the process.

What I can tell you is that Gods love, like the Phoenix, is immortal.

If you let Him, He can raise a more beautiful you from your meaningless pile of ash.

Trusting Him, you can be free to fly like the Phoenix.