Singleness is a long hike up a steep hill. Those who have navigated its precipices have stories to tell of it. (It’s that kind of hike. It’s that kind of hill.) While I didn’t hike nearly as far as some, I spent 34 years on that beautiful arduous hill. It was harder than I can describe, and I’m left with some hardy callouses and a few long-term injuries. And though I’ve been married for nine years now, I still smell strongly of the dirt and pine of that hill. Contrary to the cliches, I didn’t arrive when I got married; life didn’t begin when I gave birth to my son. The terrain altered significantly, yes—but the Goal and the Guide remained the same. ••• BEWILDEREDSingleness was the conduit of incredible blessings in my life, but it was not at all what I’d wanted or prepared for, and it was anything but the norm in my circles. The problem was actually a good one: as a single woman who loved Jesus and his church, I held a high view of marriage, sex, and children, and I longed to enjoy those gifts—gifts God himself created, gifts he chooses to give most women. I also understood that marriage would not be the answer to all my problems. And I wasn’t duped by the notion that a man (or children) would fulfill my deepest desires. Only Jesus could do that. But when all except one friend had married and started their families—and I was left standing on the sidelines with a collection of bridesmaid dresses and baby announcements—I felt bewildered, even broken, as I figured out how to live outside the natural order of things. I wanted what God wanted for me (and on those days when I didn’t want it, I asked him to help me want it!), but I was a square peg in a round hole. I didn’t know how to fit into a world made for couples and families. It wasn’t that I lacked love. I was surrounded by friends, family, roommates, colleagues, and church community—and my days were filled with meaningful work and ministry, travel and adventure. But for all practical purposes, I was flying solo. I paid my own bills, haggled with the repairman at the car shop, navigated revolving housing and roommates, held down high-pressure full-time jobs, and cooked and ate countless meals by myself. (Day after day, year after year.) One of my roommates, Sarah, expressed it best when she said: “The hardest part of being single is knowing I’m no one’s first priority.” Sarah was not one to view singleness as suffering, but she grieved the reality that there wasn’t one main person to do life with and for. I’ve heard many single women echo this sentiment. I felt it keenly myself. BELOVEDBut the absence of a “first priority relationship” meant that Jesus became more to me—he became my First Love, and I truly felt like his beloved as I tangibly experienced his presence and provision, protection and power. As much as I didn’t like the Apostle Paul’s enthusiasm for singleness, I had to admit he was right: I was enjoying a unique and beautiful devotion to Christ (1 Corinthians 7:32-35; see also Isaiah 54:4). Out of this devoted relationship with Christ flowed a life of ministry: I had time, energy, and love to invest in hundreds of junior high, high school, and college girls. My days spilled over with the joy of these relationships and my life was filled with the kind of purpose that can only come from loving and serving others for Jesus (no matter how poorly or awkwardly I did it!). Although the deepest desires of my heart went unfulfilled, I could see God’s hand at work in and through me. I knew my singleness, my suffering, mattered. ••• BEHIND?Over the years, I came to be known as a strong, self-sufficient woman (an identity not without its own issues), but still there was this underlying tone in many people’s comments to me—an unintentional message that I was not as complete or mature as my married and mommied friends. We’ve all been guilty of saying foolish things in our zeal to help a friend, yes? (In my twenties, I practically buried people alive with my naive advice and opinions.) But as the proverb says, ignorant counsel is a lot like a knife in the hand of a drunkard (26:9)—and many a single woman has been cut by comments such as… “Motherhood is the most sanctifying thing in the world! I was so selfish and immature before I had kids!” “Marriage is so hard. Don’t get your hopes up…” “You’re so lucky to be single! I’d give anything to have a day all to myself!” “As soon as you’re perfectly content, God will bring along your husband.” “Maybe you should ____.” (try online dating, lower your standards, change churches, put yourself out there, learn to flirt, wear more makeup, etc.) Because it takes time to truly listen and understand someone’s story, to pursue knowing them past our own limited experiences, singleness is easily misunderstood by married people—and the single woman can be treated as a problem to solve or a lesser citizen, instead of an example to emulate and a vital part of the community. My single friends who love Jesus are wellsprings of wisdom and maturity. They live out their faith in secular workplaces and high-profile ministries. They know how to navigate a wide variety of relationships. They’re generous and selfless and hospitable. They seek to know and love God more by knowing his Word—and that (not a particular status in life) is what forms wisdom and maturity in us. The psalmist wrote, I have more insight than all my teachers because your decrees are my meditation. I understand more than the elders because I obey your precepts. (Psalm 119:99-100) Yes, marriage and motherhood can mature us in big ways. We could even say they are the normative method for maturity.