I Was Made for You: The Story, Singleness, the Church, and a Love Letter to Those Who Really Love Me

I was doing some studying this morning and listening to Spotify when Brandi Carlile’s “The Story” came on. Because it was the favorite song of one of my favorite professors from grad school, I really listened to it this time—and I think I get why it speaks to him so deeply because it also resonates with me:

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8pQLtHTPaI&w=854&h=480]

You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what I've been through like you do
And I was made for you

As someone who believes strongly in the value of being real, of confessing, of knowing and being known, I live a life torn in two directions. As desperate as I am to be known, I think the vast majority of people around me see the smile on my mouth and call me blessed. What they don’t realize is that I have so much to say that doesn’t come out. They don’t realize I’m a messed up head-case who’s insecure and needy and impatient and selfish—but as much as I want them all to know that and accept me and love me, the reality is that I don’t trust that they’d really accept me if they knew the real me. I can barely get people to like the projected me, so what hope is there that they’ll accept the whole, unfiltered me behind the projected me?

That’s what makes a few people around me, first and foremost my wife, so special. As much as I love my wife because of who she is, I really love my wife because she accepts me for who I am. As much as I love things about my wife, the most amazing thing about her is that she loves things about me, even the parts of me that I don’t understand, the parts that I’d change if I knew how, the parts of me that I’m not even sure how to show to other people that only see me in certain sets of circumstances. We’ve been married for over nine years, and I’m still speechless over being really known and accepted. I’m speechless over being loved.

It’s exactly this kind of love and acceptance that keep me Christian. Despite my philosophical and scientific streak, it’s not facts about the origin of the universe or proofs about God’s existence or arguments for the Bible’s authenticity or supernatural personal appearances of Jesus that keep me believing. It’s love. It’s being loved. The idea that another person could accept me is sometimes overwhelming. And the idea that the Creator of the universe could too is so overwhelming as to thrust my soul forward in a frenzy, grasping and groping and desperately hoping that it could be true. Of course, I’m materially comforted by the historical, philosophical, and scientific arguments that support and confirm this truth. But in the end, it’s love that drives my belief. It’s God’s love, but even more than that, it’s my actual experience of love from a real, live human being that both validates and concretizes my belief of the fact that God loves. God is love—and I know that love in large part because of having seen and experienced love, even from other sources. God is love, so any real, true, deep love is able to reveal Him to me because all such love is, at its root, from Him.

But as I say this, I find myself hesitating: what about, say, single people? Am I saying that without experiencing this kind of love and acceptance from another person, we’re limited in our experience of God’s love? Basically, yes, I am saying that.

But wait. I’m not (not! really not!) saying that single people need to get married to know God. I’m not saying that they need to get married to be fully Christian, or fully human, or anything like that. I’m saying they need to be loved for these things to happen. I’m saying that without knowing love, I don’t know how we know God, become mature Christians, become more fully human, or anything like that. I’m saying, I think we really need each other. I’m saying I think we really need love. But this love isn’t restricted to sexual relationships. That’s the good news! This love is here. It’s available. And it’s available to everyone around us, regardless of marital status, sexual orientation, family situation, or anything else that typically constrains our concepts of love because love, this kind of powerful and accepting and relentless love that we’re talking about, is precisely what Jesus expected would characterize His church.

Being loved has been powerful for me. It’s what compels me as a husband, as a friend, and as a pastor. It’s what keeps me going, even in the face of great obstacles as we work towards starting this new church because I expect, or at the very least hope and pray and dream, that this kind of unconditional, transformative love that reveals the very face of God to us will come to characterize Redemption Church. I hope it comes to characterize all of my relationships. I hope it permeates every pocket of people I’m linked in to. And, perhaps grandiosely, but something deep within me tells me not futilely, I hope it permeates every pocket of people, every family and workplace and coffee shop, throughout Houston and even the world. I want this. I long for this. I’m willing to sacrifice my own well-being for this. I’m fighting for this with everything I have—all because this kind of love is beautiful, its beauty makes it powerful, and its power is what we were made for.

So to those of you who know me and love me anyway, thank you for showing me the face of God. I don't deserve you. But I don't know what I'd do without you. Thank you.

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true—I was made for you