“But God…you’re just so boring.”

The confession was guilty, but honest.

I was in the waning years of my teens, struggling with loneliness, and had stumbled upon an article telling me to “find my ultimate satisfaction in God”. The author just dropped that little gem in front of me and then…finis. End of article. Walked away without telling me how to do it, how to find pleasure in a God I couldn’t see or hear.

As if it’s a piece of cake or something.

Relationship with the unseen is hard. I don’t wake up every morning and have a crisis of belief over whether my best friend exists. I’ve seen him, I’ve heard from him, and even though we don’t get to hang out as much as we’d like, I know – easily, simply, without a doubt – that he loves me as a brother.

It isn’t like that with God. He’s intangible. Elusive. He tends to speak with a still, small voice. Sometimes it takes hour of prayer, Scripture, and meditation to hear him.

I certainly believed in God through Scripture, saw him as a master and a savior. But intimacy? Delight? That’s another level. Especially when I felt I was disappointing him, that our relationship was mostly expectations. When the Psalmist spoke of “eternal pleasures at his right hand” (Psalm 16:11), I felt guilty. Like when you sing the lyrics “O How He Loves” and secretly groan, “It’s a beautiful song, but I have NO idea what he’s talking about.”

Who wants to be pressured into a relationship?

Especially with human fulfillment so seemingly close at hand, so simple to drink from. Home and hearth and sex and babies seemed way more tantalizing. Everyone else seemed to be getting such a kick out of it. Looking back I can see the illusion, how tense and spotty it really was, but at the time, I remained blind. God seemed like the manipulative mother, sabotaging her son’s life so he’d stay home.

So I spent years resenting the very God who wanted to fill me. I accepted a grievous lie, one which I believe many Christian singles have embraced deep down.

“God can’t really fill me like a mate can.”

If you don’t think you’ve embraced this lie, tell me your reaction if I told you you’d be single the rest of your life. How do you feel? Do you have something else to fall back on?

I didn’t.

I’m embarrassed about it now. But I didn’t.

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