 If I’m Honest…
I’ve always felt insecure when it comes to relationships. Dating. Friendships. Even marriage. For as long as I can remember, I’ve carried this quiet fear that a beautiful connection—once found—could evaporate into conflict at any moment. Here’s why. In high school, I learned firsthand—like so many girls do—that a friend can quickly become a frenemy. Girls I had known since early childhood began to gossip about me and bully me. At first, I confronted the lies head-on. I tried to explain. I tried to defend myself. Eventually, I was exhausted—and I gave up. High school became miserable. I avoided the lunchroom whenever I could, opting instead to eat quietly in whatever teacher’s classroom would let me hide out. While people cried at senior graduation, I threw confetti. I couldn’t wait to leave. Only to enter college terrified to make new friends. I didn’t know how to trust anymore. I ended up dating a guy who emotionally and spiritually abused me for a year. At nineteen, the stress of relational failure—combined with my relentless drive to succeed in both regular and honors classes—finally broke my body. Shingles erupted across the entire right side of my face, leaving nerve damage down my neck and nearly blinding my right eye. I’m sorry for the heaviness of that story. But I want you to see the full picture—because by the time I entered my twenties, relationships had left both personal and physical scars. Already prone to anxiety, I approached deep connection with intense apprehension. I made friends, but kept most people at arm’s length. I dated, but usually ended things after a few months. I didn’t know how to guarantee I wouldn’t be betrayed again, and it felt safer to love lightly than to go all in. So I didn’t. I’m sure I hurt people along the way too. I wasn’t a great girlfriend—I was distant and flighty. I was a good friend and spiritual confidant, but I rarely asked for the favor returned. It was fine for others to need me, but I wouldn’t allow myself to need anyone else. Does this sound familiar? Have you ever felt abandoned, lonely, or just downright broken when it comes to relationships?
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 During my time in ministry, I was a part of a night dedicated to talking about relationships. At the Q & A portion of the evening, I got this question that I ended up thinking about a lot. When I first read it, it seemed like the answer was obvious, but the more I thought about it and how I was going to answer, the deeper the answer seemed to become.
This was the question….
Let’s Be Honest
Relationships will inevitably disappoint us. People will let us down. And—we will let people down. Why? Because every relationship is made up of imperfect people loving imperfectly. I’m cutting to the chase because disappointment in relationships isn’t always a bad thing. In fact, Scripture shows us that disappointment can exist even alongside deep faith. To be fair, there were many people who had a relationship with Jesus—and were disappointed in Him. Think about this…
So You Want to Be in Love Like the Movies?
Windows rolled down, my hair billowing around my face, the college version of myself had the Avett Brothers cranked almost all the way up and was singing at the top of her lungs: “So you want to be in love like the movies But in the movies they’re not in love at all And with a twinkle in their eyes They’re just saying their lines So we can’t be in love like the movies.”* As a self-declared non-romantic, these lyrics always felt like a duh statement to me. Of course real love doesn’t look like the movies. There’s no perfect soundtrack swelling behind an ordinary morning coffee when we accidentally reach for the same mug as a handsome stranger. We don’t lock eyes, smile, walk away, and then discover our phone number magically written on a to-go cup. We don’t fall in love on the first date and go on to live a flawless life with a picture-perfect family. It’s just not real—and I’ve always known that. We all know that. People fight. They carry flaws, baggage, and wounds. They hold reservations and secrets, doubts and expectations. And still… don’t we all secretly want to be in love like the movies? Behind our realism lives a quiet longing for the meet-cute moment. We want to be unexpectedly swept off our feet by someone who gives us security and worth. Someone who chooses us out of a crowd. Someone who loves us as we are, never makes us question their loyalty, and somehow makes us feel—well—whole. This is the tension we live in: the longing to be fully and perfectly loved feels like fantasy—something reserved for rom-coms and fairy tales. And yet, we yearn for it anyway. So what do we do with our desire to be loved--and to be in love? |
