A little over four months ago I met a friend of a friend. One date led to two and then somehow we had found ourselves staying in contact and seeing each other over and over again. I usually want to cry after first dates, but I didn’t feel that way with this guy (we’ll call him G). It seemed like G had a lot of the qualities that I had been looking for in a guy. Could I learn to trust this person and open my heart?
But it didn’t work out.
I was sad and disappointed. I had felt ready to move into a new chapter in my life so when he told me that he wasn’t ready to move forward with the relationship for reasons that I could not completely understand, I was crushed. I felt a pain in my chest for days and needed to grieve.
A few years ago I had gone through a much more severe relationship disappointment. But that relationship had also a much longer investment. When that relationship ended, I was devastated. I didn’t want to eat. I couldn’t go to sleep. I was angry. My prayers were tantrums at God. I was angry at God because I believed that he had dangled the possibility of marriage in front of my face and had taken it away. I didn’t understand. I was angry at the world. It was hard for me to be joyful for others. Dating and marriage looked so effortless for people around me. Though I knew that God was a good God, in my heart I still had remnants of past fears and lies. I feared that God didn’t know best and the lie that God is not good rang louder. The truth of his goodness became a faint whisper.
When this kinda-relationship (I’m calling it a kinda-relationship because we were in the period before you make things official.) with G ended, it hurt but I knew I wasn’t going to spiral into an emotional wreck. As I processed and prayed through this kinda-break-up, I kept getting the word trust.
Trust. Trust. Trust.
I meditated on those words and I was reminded of Abraham and Isaac. When God had finally given Abraham what he had promised him, a son, God wanted to see if Abraham would be wiling to give up his most precious gift for God. Then it struck me. This was my Isaac moment. Not that G is my Isaac. My Isaac is the idea of this relationship and what it could have possibly turned out to be later on down the road. God was asking me if I was willing to trust him even if this kinda-relationship died. Could I still believe that God is still good and that his plans really are the best? Could I let go without knowing all the answers? Could I accept a person as they are without placing judgments? Could I still rejoice in what God was doing in my life? Could I still be happy for those around me? Could I really profess that I loved God more than any of the gifts he’s given me?
So many of the things that I had been learning throughout the years — to be okay without things going as planned, to trust that God is not out to harm me and that he really is love, to not be bitter at another but to bless them, and to be honest with God and myself about my feelings — were coming together in this moment.
I let go.
When I used to throw tantrums at God, I would hold on so tightly to what I wanted. God had to peel my fingers off whatever it was I was holding onto (my desires, my wants, a relationship, an object). But this time I let go. I opened up my hands and gave it up to God. I told him that I was hurt, that I felt like I wasn’t worth being pursued. I told him that sometimes it feels like he doesn’t hear me. I questioned if maybe he had gotten my age confused. God, you know how old I am, right? You know that most of the world keeps telling me that I don’t have much time left to get married?
I told him that he has proven to me over the years that he really is good. I told him that he is the best thing in my life. I told him that I know deep in my heart that he is far better than any crushed hope. I told him that I believe in his timing.
And I told him that I trust him.