As we were driving home tonight, Alisa turned to me with hopeful words.
“Just imagine – someday we’ll have men who love us this much,” she said, referring to “Three Days, ” which Pat Green was crooning on her CD player.
“It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it?” I sighed.
She agreed but remained optimistic. “I honestly doubt we’ll still be single when we’re forty.”
I’m not so convinced.
It won’t be the end of me if I never marry. The more time passes, the less I believe it’ll happen. I believe in love, I guess. I see it around me in the lives of people I care for. But I find it difficult to believe that it can happen to me.
I don’t want a “good Christian guy.” Instead, I want someone with passion and vision. I want a man with a hunger for life, someone who will love me wildly… but will love God more fiercely still.
That’s the catch. I do want a godly man… but so many of them seem so bland. Is the church encouraging men to live fully, or are we domesticating them in an effort to be more PC? Are we turning our men into women?
I don’t want a man to handle me with kid gloves, but I do want to be treasured above every other person in his life. I’ve yet to meet a man who fits this description – who loves me this way.
But then, as Alisa said… it only takes one.
Feel free to point out the plank in my eye. I’m not blind – I don’t think I’m perfect. But I am jaded.