I have an obsession with consistency. I have for several years now.
About five and a half years ago, I sat through a gut-wrenching sermon series on dating and marriage. There were good chunks of information but what I remember most was
the pastor’s emphasis on consistency. He said that the best gauge of knowing whether or not someone is a good choice for a spouse is to see how consistent they are. With their finances, relationships, job history, etc. Basically, do they walk the talk daily and do people notice?
I took that to heart. Because I was so damn inconsistent.
All I saw in my life was a lot of talk but no follow through. I was determined to change the course of my life and become someone so obnoxiously consistent that there was no room for people to not take me at my word.
And some three years later, I sat across from a friend and colleague who told me I was the most consistent person they have ever met.
And then a boss said it. And a few more people pointed it out. I realized I had accomplished my goal.
It was a good goal, God-driven even because God is devotedly consistent.
But the last five years have beaten me down with the whole trusting God and His consistency. Because scripture says that He works all things for my good. Scripture says He has plans not to harm me but to give me a prosperous future.
In spite of scripture, the most consistent circumstance in my life has been suffering. It has been the continual rejection. The guy I like at the moment showing off some beautiful long-haired beauty all around town. Financial crisis. Family issues. Declining health. The list goes on.
Where has the consistency of God’s love been when the odds have always been against me?
Seven years ago, I had coffee with a friend where I lamented about wanting to be married. About how devastating it was to experience rejection over rejection. I was tired of doing life alone.
She said something I hated in that moment. She said that even if I met my forever, it may not be my forever. And that until I was ready to accept that, a marriage would be a bad decision. Everything outside of God is temporary and until I could welcome a man into
my life for whatever duration he would walk this earth, holding the love I had for him with open hands to God as a gift, I should not get married.
God had to be enough.
A lot has happened in these three months. I am not the same woman I was three months ago. For inquiring minds, yes. My feelings for my now former boss have only grown in clarity. With a clear mind, I know how I feel.
But more importantly, I see the consistency in who God is more clearly. No, there is not always a direct line of purpose between our suffering and our future. But I do realize that the delay in our blessings are intended to grow in our desire and reliance on God so that we can be ready when good comes. He is our ultimate goal.
A year ago, I cried on my best friend’s bedroom floor and told her I couldn’t do life alone anymore. It was too hard. I have cried countless tears over the delay in blessings. But that coffee date years ago echoed in my head. My forever could not be my everything. It wouldn’t be fair to him.
Today, I had this deep realization that whether I have 50 minutes or 50 years with the man I love, it’ll be enough. If everything is temporary, then I’m grateful for the moments and seasons I’m given with him. It’ll be enough.