He Doesn't Complete Me
I married an amazing man. I met him when I was twenty-two years old. He was tall, handsome, and had a irresistible charm about him. He had long rockstar hair, was incredibly artistic, and could make me laugh until all the mascara melted down my face. We were inseparable. We were married just nine short months after the day we met on that sweltering August day.
And I've never looked back.
(Photo Credit: Oleh Slobodeniuk, Creative Commons)
He's kind. He's gentle with my heart. He is the most compassionate man I know. He stands up for what he believes in. He lights a fire under my arse when I forget who God has created me to be. Sometimes I think he believes in my dreams more than I even do. Best of all, he really loves Jesus.
I grew up in the True Love Waits generation. If you grew up in the church when I did, you know what I'm talking about. Young girls were chided to guard their hearts and write countless letters to their future husbands. All talk among young christian girls growing up in the culture I did, was wistful dreaming about future husbands. Honestly, all I remember from High school is one long, exhausting conversation about finding the illusive future husband.
So, I wrote the letters. I hid them away in a box, and continued to waste time loitering around youth and college groups in hopes of finding "the one." I wasted so much time searching, hoping and dreaming.
We married, settled down, and added two beautiful blonde haired babies to our lives. But my soul was restless; I was sad, empty, and felt like I was just going through the motions. I was about to face the monster of depression in the deepest, darkest way I had ever encountered in my life.
From the outside looking in, I had everything I had prayed for. Internally, I chalked my sadness up to something being psychologically wrong. Maybe I just wasn't by nature a happy person. Maybe I just needed a hobby, or some direction in my life.
I married the love of my life, and he didn't and doesn't complete me.
There has been an unearthing, foundation shaking movement in my heart over the past few months. There have been Holy revelations of scandalous grace that have romanced my heart out of the scarcity of the wilderness into freedom. And I know it is just the beginning; a rumbling of something bigger and braver and more beautiful that anything I've ever known.
Raising two little girls makes me question and re-evaluate how the world and the church collectively speaks to them about their hearts. This is an issue I wrestle with daily, sometimes minute by minute, how to teach my girls that they are so much more than future wife material. Maybe they aren't future wife material at all. It saddens me to see how we chalk our daughters up to simply become good wives, as if that was their only calling.
Now, before the barrage of WAIT A SECOND comments are hurled my way, allow me to clarify a few things:
1. I'm very, very happily married. I'm madly in love with the wonderful man I married nearly five years ago. I look forward to, Jesus willing, growing old and wrinkly with this wonderful man. I am NOT against marriage. Marriage is beautiful. Marriage is holy. I am for marriage.
2. I'm not a bra-burning-man-hating kind of woman. I love my man, and I wear an over the shoulder boulder holder.
If my daughters are called to be married, I am for them getting married. What I am not for is them wasting precious years, and time, and their beautiful, intelligent minds pining away for a marriage that will not complete them. The only thing that can complete my daughters is Jesus. Period.
I want them to grab life by the horns, and squeeze every ounce of goodness out of it. I want them to find something in life that they are so passionate about, that it keeps them awake at night. I want them to discover their God-given natural talents and abilities and pursue them to it's fullest. I want them to be brave. I want them to be adventurous. I want them to have a quiet spirit before Jesus, and a loud voice to proclaim His goodness. I want laughter to bubble up in them and spill out. I want them to ask hard questions. I want them to stand up to the lions of injustice and fight for what is right. I want them to know their voice is unique and needs to be heard. I want them to serve the least of these. I want them to be ambitious. I want them to dance to music that moves them, and to read great books that speak volumes to their hearts.
What I don't want for them is to be good little church girls fitting into a mold of a model good wife. I just believe there is more.
Now, this all being said, I digress. The other day as my husband and I were driving around, having heart to heart conversations about issues of feminism and how we want to raise our girls, I was struck with a thought. It takes a really strong man to be married to a strong woman. My Kyle is such a man, and I am so proud of him. He encourages myself, and our daughters to be bold and brave and adventurous. I laughed thinking about how he probably had no idea what he was getting himself into five years ago, marrying a passionate Jesus loving, yoga instructing, feminist. Or maybe he did.
I pray, that if my girls do decide to marry, they marry a man as great as their Daddy.
He's kind. He's gentle with my heart. He is the most compassionate man I know. He stands up for what he believes in. He lights a fire under my arse when I forget who God has created me to be. Sometimes I think he believes in my dreams more than I even do. Best of all, he really loves Jesus.
This wonderful man doesn't complete me. Not by a long shot.
I grew up in the True Love Waits generation. If you grew up in the church when I did, you know what I'm talking about. Young girls were chided to guard their hearts and write countless letters to their future husbands. All talk among young christian girls growing up in the culture I did, was wistful dreaming about future husbands. Honestly, all I remember from High school is one long, exhausting conversation about finding the illusive future husband.
So, I wrote the letters. I hid them away in a box, and continued to waste time loitering around youth and college groups in hopes of finding "the one." I wasted so much time searching, hoping and dreaming.
And then I met him. And he was wonderful.
We married, settled down, and added two beautiful blonde haired babies to our lives. But my soul was restless; I was sad, empty, and felt like I was just going through the motions. I was about to face the monster of depression in the deepest, darkest way I had ever encountered in my life.
From the outside looking in, I had everything I had prayed for. Internally, I chalked my sadness up to something being psychologically wrong. Maybe I just wasn't by nature a happy person. Maybe I just needed a hobby, or some direction in my life.
I married the love of my life, and he didn't and doesn't complete me.
There has been an unearthing, foundation shaking movement in my heart over the past few months. There have been Holy revelations of scandalous grace that have romanced my heart out of the scarcity of the wilderness into freedom. And I know it is just the beginning; a rumbling of something bigger and braver and more beautiful that anything I've ever known.
Jesus completes me. End of story.
Raising two little girls makes me question and re-evaluate how the world and the church collectively speaks to them about their hearts. This is an issue I wrestle with daily, sometimes minute by minute, how to teach my girls that they are so much more than future wife material. Maybe they aren't future wife material at all. It saddens me to see how we chalk our daughters up to simply become good wives, as if that was their only calling.
Now, before the barrage of WAIT A SECOND comments are hurled my way, allow me to clarify a few things:
1. I'm very, very happily married. I'm madly in love with the wonderful man I married nearly five years ago. I look forward to, Jesus willing, growing old and wrinkly with this wonderful man. I am NOT against marriage. Marriage is beautiful. Marriage is holy. I am for marriage.
2. I'm not a bra-burning-man-hating kind of woman. I love my man, and I wear an over the shoulder boulder holder.
If my daughters are called to be married, I am for them getting married. What I am not for is them wasting precious years, and time, and their beautiful, intelligent minds pining away for a marriage that will not complete them. The only thing that can complete my daughters is Jesus. Period.
Whether my daughters marry or not, here is what I hope for them.
I want them to grab life by the horns, and squeeze every ounce of goodness out of it. I want them to find something in life that they are so passionate about, that it keeps them awake at night. I want them to discover their God-given natural talents and abilities and pursue them to it's fullest. I want them to be brave. I want them to be adventurous. I want them to have a quiet spirit before Jesus, and a loud voice to proclaim His goodness. I want laughter to bubble up in them and spill out. I want them to ask hard questions. I want them to stand up to the lions of injustice and fight for what is right. I want them to know their voice is unique and needs to be heard. I want them to serve the least of these. I want them to be ambitious. I want them to dance to music that moves them, and to read great books that speak volumes to their hearts.
What I don't want for them is to be good little church girls fitting into a mold of a model good wife. I just believe there is more.
Now, this all being said, I digress. The other day as my husband and I were driving around, having heart to heart conversations about issues of feminism and how we want to raise our girls, I was struck with a thought. It takes a really strong man to be married to a strong woman. My Kyle is such a man, and I am so proud of him. He encourages myself, and our daughters to be bold and brave and adventurous. I laughed thinking about how he probably had no idea what he was getting himself into five years ago, marrying a passionate Jesus loving, yoga instructing, feminist. Or maybe he did.
I pray, that if my girls do decide to marry, they marry a man as great as their Daddy.
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