Why Do We Have to Become Someone Else to Be Loved?
God,
I don’t even know how to pray this anymore.
Maybe this isn’t even a prayer.
Maybe it’s just the sound of a heart that is tired.
Lately, I’ve had so many conversations with friends.
Different stories.
Different lives.
But the same ache.
We’re all told the same things.
“The right person will come when you stop looking.”
“Maybe God is still preparing you.”
“You still have some growing to do.”
“Maybe you need to heal first.”
“Maybe after you finish your degree.”
“Maybe after you get your career together.”
“Maybe after you’ve worked on yourself a little more.”
And after hearing it enough times…
you start wondering if you’re only lovable in some future version of yourself.
As if who you are today could never be enough.
But why?
Why do we have to become someone else before we’re worthy of being loved?
Why does it feel like love is always waiting on the other side of another milestone?
Another achievement.
Another lesson.
Another version of us.
Why can’t we be loved here?
As we are?
People tell us to let go of the desire.
To stop thinking about it.
To surrender it.
But why?
Why do I have to forget a desire that I believe You placed in my heart?
Why can’t I carry it honestly before You?
Why can’t I pray for it, hope for it, cry over it, while still trusting You?
I don’t want this desire to become an idol.
I just don’t want to pretend it isn’t there.
And then people say,
“You’re still young.”
Or,
“Marriage isn’t always easy.”
As if that somehow makes the longing disappear.
I know marriage isn’t easy.
No beautiful thing is.
But please…
let me decide whether it’s worth longing for.
Because the truth is…
I’m tired.
We’re tired.
We’ve prayed.
We’ve waited.
We’ve downloaded the dating apps.
We’ve gone to the Christian events.
We’ve met people through friends.
We’ve tried letting go.
We’ve tried trying harder.
We’ve lowered our expectations.
Sometimes we’ve even considered compromising on things we never wanted to compromise on, simply because loneliness became louder than conviction.
And still…
nothing.
At some point, the disappointment stops feeling temporary.
It begins to feel personal.
You stop asking,
“Where is he?”
And you start asking,
“What’s wrong with me?”
Maybe if I lose weight…
Maybe if I gain weight…
Maybe if I become prettier.
Maybe if I save more money.
Maybe if I become more successful.
Maybe then…
Maybe then I’ll finally be enough.
But, God…
that can’t be true.
Please don’t let that be true.
Because if love has to be earned,
then none of us will ever rest.
Some days it feels like everyone else is moving forward.
Engagements.
Weddings.
Pregnancies.
Families.
While we’re still standing in the same place, asking the same questions, praying the same prayers.
No one can tell us when.
Not next month.
Not next year.
Not in five years.
Maybe not even in ten.
And that’s the hardest part.
Not waiting.
But waiting without knowing how long.
So tonight…
I don’t come to You pretending I’m okay.
I come with every question.
Every disappointment.
Every tear.
And I ask You the only thing my heart still knows how to ask:
God… do You see us?
Do You see women whose hearts are breaking quietly?
Do You hear the prayers we’ve whispered for years?
Does this ache matter to You?
Are You speaking, and we’re simply too hurt to hear?
Or is this waiting part of a story we cannot yet understand?
I don’t need every answer tonight.
But please…
don’t let us believe that we are forgotten.
Don’t let us confuse waiting with being unwanted.
Don’t let us measure our worth by whether someone has chosen us yet.
Remind us that we are already fully known.
Already fully seen.
Already deeply loved.
Even here.
Even now.
Even while we wait.
Amen.