During a recent breakup, in an attempt to regain control over my life, I went back and forth about what would help. A new piercing? A tattoo? Dying my hair? But I hate needles, and I like my natural color. Many Olivia Rodrigo belt sessions in the car, pints of dairy-free ice cream, cuddles with my breakup bear (Build-A-Bear, have I got a marketing campaign for you!), and tears later, I started feeling a little more like myself again.
But I hadn’t resolved the tension I feel whenever one of my dating relationships ends. How do I love my neighbor when I’m telling him I don’t love him anymore? Or when he is telling me? What do we, as Christians, owe each other in breakups?
On one level, these are practical questions. Regardless of whether it was your decision, someone else’s decision, or a mutual choice, even amicable breakups often bring out the worst in us. Christians can aspire to better in those painful final conversations, informed by the instructions to early church communities that were navigating disagreements (Eph. 4:15, 29; Col. 4:6). Even in our anger, sadness, and grief, we can choose words that will inflict the least amount of damage, opting for clarity and concision rather than Shakespearean soliloquies or letters claiming to seek “closure” that are really designed to get the last word. We can be quick to listen to our exes’ perspectives, slow to speak, and even slower to anger (James 1:19).
Breaking up as a Christian also means avoiding some contemporary norms around the ends of relationships. Ranting, gossiping, or putting up a “thrive post” only leads to bitterness. (In the aftermath of my breakups, I’ve tried to avoid social media altogether.) Confiding in trustworthy friends and voicing frustrations to God in prayer allows for healthy processing without spreading rumors.
But loving your neighbor during a breakup requires a change not only in behavior but also in philosophy—of wanting the best for your ex in the fullest sense of that expression. “Our love for others, for who they are, moves us to seek the best for their lives,” wrote Pope Francis in a recent encyclical. That love might be no longer romantic but brotherly and sisterly. Love that seeks the best for the other might involve making the decision not to be together—or accepting that decision once it’s been made.
Let me be clear: I’m not endorsing that devastating one-liner God told me to break up with you. As someone who’s been on both ends of that excuse, I can attest that it’s usually not helpful. As a recipient, there’s no room to question such a declaration. If God told you, why wouldn’t he tell me? Even if a person has felt the Spirit’s prompting to end a relationship, “God told me” often comes off as the easy way out.
Better to be brave and honest about the reasons you need to part ways. It is possible to acknowledge pitfalls in a relationship without turning that acknowledgment into a diss track. For example: “We spend a lot of time arguing,” “We are not great at listening to one another,” and “I don’t feel that you respect my time with my family.”
Be Quick to Listen, Slow to ‘Therapy Speak’
Breaking up as a Christian often means considering what’s best for your ex even as you also respect what’s best for yourself. (I’m talking here about relationships ending over incompatibility or changed feelings, not over abuse.) You are not responsible for how another person reacts to a breakup. But you do have responsibility for your own actions.
If you’re the one receiving the bad news, it’s even harder to keep the other person’s needs in focus: That person is awful and selfish and wrong! It takes radical empathy (and humility) to listen to explanations for the decision and to respect the other person’s boundaries.
Though they were partners in ministry rather than romance, Paul and Barnabas’s parting ways is a helpful model for a relationship’s end. Their difference of opinion about whether John Mark should join them caused “such a sharp disagreement that they parted company” (Acts 15:39).
But both parties were ultimately instrumental in spreading the gospel. And neither is recorded as speaking poorly of the other. Barnabas never posted about Paul’s shortcomings on Facebook, and Paul never spread rumors about Barnabas as he wrote his epistles. Sometimes, relationships just need to end, for reasons that we might not be able to understand at the time but that might result in flourishing for both parties.
Seeing breakups as acts of love doesn’t mean we have to be happy about them. A therapist once told me that ending a relationship often requires moving through the five stages of grief. The Lord meets us in our sorrow; Psalm 56:8 says that God keeps track of all our tears. In my weakest moments at the end of a relationship, I’ve looked to Christ crying out on the cross, knowing he too felt forsaken.
Your Likes Are But Dust
For me, the hardest part of any breakup is always the aftermath, once we’ve returned sweatshirts, hair ties, and borrowed books and have sent our final texts. I’m embarrassed and want to move on as quickly as possible. But terrible advice from family and friends shows how futile that is. “There are more fish in the sea.” Well, what if I wanted that fish? “Your perfect match is out there right now.” But God doesn’t promise marriage. What if that was my only shot? “He wasn’t even that cute.” So you think I have bad taste?
As Jesus reminds us to love our neighbor as ourselves, he insists we must love God first and foremost: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength’” (Mark 12:30–31). Perhaps a breakup is an opportunity, however unwanted or misunderstood, to love God better. Maybe the other person had become a stumbling block for you; maybe you’d become an idol. Regardless, love of God always undergirds love of others.
You might want to avoid the tattoo, the spontaneous haircut, and the lengthy letters trying to win someone back. But let yourself get ice cream, cry to friends, go to Build-A-Bear. And know that the love of God extends graciously, both to you and your ex.
Mia Staub is editorial project manager at Christianity Today.
