I didn't know how deep in trouble I was until the words spilled out during a debate at a party. Friends from church were discussing the old evangelical emphasis on "relationship, not religion"—disputing its merit—when I suddenly snarled, "Well, I wouldn't still be practicing chastity if it were only because of [expletive] religion." There was a pause, then after one woman laughed, the conversation moved on, leaving me to ruminate on my forceful reaction.
I've never thought of singleness as especially easy or fun, but now that I'm in my middle 30s, it feels harder. Some days I find myself saying to God, "I want to keep obeying you, I want to make it as long as I can, but I don't know what is in me. I don't know how I would handle certain situations."
Childbearing isn't exactly a race, but sometimes it feels like most of my friends have lapped me multiple times, while I'm still at the start line, trying to overcome a stalled go-cart engine. And that's not all. Even if I weren't ...1