Is Singleness A Workaround?

Is Singleness A “Workaround”?

We hear the term “workaround” used a lot these days, especially in the information technology world, where the term usually refers to solving some kind of hardware or programming problem.  Once the problem is fixed, the workaround is abandoned.  Wikipedia defines a workaround as “a temporary fix that implies that a genuine solution to the problem is needed.”

I think a lot of people view singleness that way: a temporary fix, a stopgap measure to use until the “problem” is fixed.  Many, including singles themselves, consider singleness a life stage to get through, with marriage as the ultimate “solution”.

Have you ever thought of singleness as a workaround?

If you’re married, you may consider your single friends incomplete or unfinished (maybe even broken).  You may have “fixed them up” with other singles in an effort to help them find a date and a mate.  (And they may have appreciated it!)

If you’re single, you may have put your life on hold until marriage, even without realizing it, and have begun to wonder if you’re ever going to get to live that life you envisioned.  If you’ve been married before, you may be hoping for another chance and you, too, have put yourself in a holding pattern “until”…

Many who are single have found themselves there as the result of a death, a divorce, or a painful breakup that they never anticipated.  Whatever the circumstances, singleness need not be a fragile kind of “cobbled together” existence to be merely endured.

Looking at singleness through a New Testament lens gives a whole different perspective to the concept of singleness.  Jesus himself chose to be single and used it as a particular opportunity for dedicated service to God in this life.  His was a life rich in relationships, meaning, and deep intimacy with God.  He challenged others to remain single if they could (Matthew 19:12), and set a perfect example of effective ministry and genuine love for others.  He enjoyed a mutual companionship with His Father through prayer and meditation that was fully satisfying.

What if singleness is not just a stage to endure but a status of great significance to embrace with joy?  What if singles really can enjoy a deeply satisfying intimacy with Christ and a thrilling experience of the true community He experienced?

Singles can be transformed in their Christian faith now – whether or not they eventually marry – and they are uniquely positioned to play a critical role in God’s overall plan to redeem humanity.  That’s no workaround.

What is your perspective on singleness?  Is it a limitation or a desirable status with potential for meaningful service?

How can we as Christ followers think “outside the box” about singleness? 

What are some stereotypes that stand in the way and how can we rethink them?

Reflections on Life as a Workaround

Since “Reflections on Life As a Workaround” is the current subtitle of my blog, I thought it might be helpful to elaborate on the idea a bit here and in future posts.

I suspect I am not alone in the realization that this life – the one I am living now – is not at all the life I would have predicted when I was younger.

What was I envisioning?

There was a time when I thought I would be a missionary to a foreign country because as a young child, I had this idea in my mind that God would love me more if I worked really hard for Him.  I desperately wanted that love.

But I never became a missionary.

I majored in advertising in college, worked in radio, print, public relations and promotions for about a decade after graduation and wandered away from God for a long time.  It wasn’t until years later that I began to truly understand grace and His desire for a relationship with me, whether I “worked really hard for Him” . . . or just accepted His immeasurable, unconditional love.

I also thought I would be a schoolteacher because I loved the idea of making charts, writing down the grades for all the students, and keeping track of information.  I wanted to collect the milk money on Mondays and make sure all the children got one of those little cardboard half-pints at the mid-morning break.

But I never became a schoolteacher, either.

I didn’t even like kids all that much until I had my own!  Instead, after I grew disillusioned with the advertising world, I became an FBI agent.  I made plenty of charts, kept track of lots of information and wrote reports of everything I did on each case.  I made sure criminals got what was coming to them, too, and it wasn’t half-pints of milk.

As a young girl, I assumed I would someday be happily married and have twins – one boy and one girl – and my perfect little family would live on a ranch with acres and acres of property to explore, always on horseback and always at a full gallop.

But I grew up in Key West – no livestock there! – and my track record on marriage turned out to be less than stellar.  I had one beautiful daughter who I would have instantly died for the moment I laid eyes on her.  And I found myself raising her alone from the time she was about 17 months old.

During those years, I taught single parents as a volunteer leader in my church, coaching them along in their spiritual journeys as they struggled to understand that with Christ, they could pass more than just a “broken baton” to their children.

A lot of how my life turned out was just the way circumstances unfolded.  Families move, interests change, people disappoint.  But a good part of my plans also got derailed because of my own bad judgment and ill-advised decisions.

Let’s just call it what it is:  sin.

The consequences caused pain and heartache, and required a lot of adjustments along the way.  But I realize now that God accompanied me through all of it and looking back, I see how He continues to redeem my life, even through all these workarounds.

My now-grown daughter, Allison, gave me a wonderful book for Christmas by Rainer Marie Rilke, a young poet writing at the turn of the last century.  It is called Love Poems to God and is translated from the original German.  Here is an excerpt from the collection that expresses with wrenching beauty the reciprocal loving relationship God invites us into:

God speaks to each of us as he makes us

then walks with us silently out of the night.


These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,

go to the limits of your longing.

Embody me.

Flare up like flame

and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.

Just keep going.  No feeling is final.

Don’t let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.

You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

(Almost) Slaking My Thirst for Community

It happened again.  I went on this amazing vacation, expecting excitement and beauty and awe.  I was not disappointed; it had all that and more.  After a brutal Midwest winter, the Caribbean cruise was a reminder that the White Witch really does not rule Narnia.

For five days, the paralysis of cold and gray gave way to warmth and life.  My soul began to thaw.

But as I have found previously after a vacation like this, the real value of the experience was not in the weather or the activities or even in the content of the conference.  It was in the community that was built, if only for a few days. A few intense but much-too-brief days.

Then there is the familiar ache I have come to expect, the ache unrelated to being back in the “real” world, but with leaving behind fresh new relationships, connections formed out of shared passions and common interests, and stories of hope and triumph.  It felt like I was presented with a tall glass of true Christian community and then had it snatched away before I could drink it in fully.

This thirst for community is a common theme for me.  My friend Wendy told me once that the grief I feel at this loss of community is from God; that it is the result of having been given a tiny glimpse of what we will experience in Heaven.

When the preview is over, as it is for me tonight, it makes our longing for Heaven more intense, and living without it that much harder.  It is an exquisite thought – unending “fellowship” (as we used to say in the church of my youth) in an atmosphere of pure love.

But for now, I will have to enjoy the drop of cool water on my tongue that these earthly experiences provide.  I’ll take the “almost slakes” and be grateful for the memories  …  and the preview of what is to come.