We don’t talk about it. We’re trying to be content, to avoid comparison, or jealousy, or even covetousness. We’re trying to dodge comparison that dogs our steps, to avoid the ache that accompanies what can feel like a gaping hole.
We’re single women, serving the Lord.
We don’t want another sermon on singleness by someone who met their spouse before they even hit 25 years old. We don’t want platitudes about waiting on God, or how His plan is best, or how He’s getting us ready. I had the “letter from God” about how He would hold off marriage until I was ready to trust Him completely — and it stinks of fairytales. We’ve watched plenty of others get married who weren’t following God, who weren’t “Proverbs 31 women,” who weren’t even trying to do things God’s way.
We’ve watched single Christian men, who say they feel called to missions, make marriage decisions that block that path. And we wonder, “Why didn’t you look at us??” There are HUNDREDS of Christian women already serving, already going.
We’ve prayed for an as-yet-unknown husband — both to find him and also for his life and health and relationships. We’ve questioned a hundred times, “Is this the one??” . . . only to be disappointed again. The enemy whispers that we aren’t enough, or are too much, or intimidating, or in the wrong place. He whispers that there must be something wrong with us, else we too would have been chosen.
We joke that “our husbands died at birth” or that he must have “gotten lost.” We drag our focus and our minds and our hearts back to God’s faithfulness, to how He has promised to never leave us or forsake us. We remind ourselves that marriage is hard (in a way we just can’t understand) and that God has good plans for us and for those whose marriages we surely don’t envy. That things aren’t as glamourous as they look from the outside.
But our hearts ache to be held. Our arms ache for a baby to call our own. We see seemingly everyone sharing pictures of days and adventures with husbands and children, and we often feel left behind.
Because there might not be a “someday.” And while the loneliness of this moment will surely not be forever, just because we wrestle our hearts to be content doesn’t mean that we don’t still yearn.
So please don’t write us off. Please don’t forget us. We have no one to bring us flowers. No reason to save and spend a kind-of-ridiculous amount for a birthday surprise. Or have that done for us. Too often, our holidays either slip through the cracks or are land-mined with well-intentioned but oh-so-painful questions — “When are you going to get married? Aren’t there any men there?” No, there aren’t.
“Well, you’re young,” changes to “Well, there’s still time.” The US culture is obsessed with relationships. We want someone to grow old with — the right one. We’ve seen the devastation of others who were desperate to get married.
We want someone to serve alongside. Someone to process with and laugh with and serve our great God with.
But more than all this, we want to please our Lord. So we stay, and we serve, and we desperately try to trust Him with it all.
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Rachel B. is a cross-cultural ministry worker and medical professional currently serving in West Africa. With experience in ministry, healthcare, and team life, she is passionate about member care and helping missionaries and ministry leaders remain healthy and resilient as they follow God’s calling. She loves listening to people’s stories and finding practical ways to encourage and care for those serving Christ around the world
A few years ago, I flew back to the U.S. from my home in Thailand to be a bridesmaid in my dear friend’s wedding. It’s a common missionary experience. Occasionally, if the moment is dear enough to us that we just can’t miss it, we might fork up the money to fly back for such an important event.
As soon as I landed in the U.S., delirious with jet lag, I was swept up into the flurry of the wedding: getting nails done, preparing the bachelorette party, sleeping on an air mattress, squeezing in a trip to Chipotle. After just a few days of craziness, I found myself all dressed up, standing to the right of the altar with the other bridesmaids and watching one of my best friends walk down the aisle towards her almost-husband.
At some point during the ceremony, we all sang the song “You’re Beautiful” by Phil Wickham. I was already failing to hold back the tears, but they really started to stream on the last verse:
When we arrive at eternity’s shore Where death is just a memory and tears are no more We’ll enter in as the wedding bells ring Your bride will come together and we’ll sing You’re beautiful
I wanted to think that I’m just a sentimental person, that weddings are so beautiful and I’m just so tender, so that’s why I couldn’t keep my composure. But now, a few years later, I’m trying to be honest with myself: that moment was not only beautiful to me; it was also deeply painful.
I resent that singleness could make me feel pain. It feels embarrassing to care. It feels anti-feminist. It feels weak. I have spent years learning the gifts and the beauty of singleness and have preached it from the rooftops. I shout to anyone who will hear me, “Singleness is a valuable gift! Jesus was single! Paul recommends it! Marriage isn’t superior to singleness!” And I still stand by these things. At the same time, in my own experience, singleness has caused me deep grief.
I’ve been seriously processing my singleness since I was about twenty-four. At that age, it truly felt like everyone around me was getting married. I had two roommates who were planning their weddings, and that same year I was discerning whether or not overseas missions would be my long-term career. I imagined going overseas and being the only single woman in a missionary community of marrieds and their kids. I pictured the isolation on Christmas when others would celebrate with their families, and I would be alone. I pictured the humility of it — being regarded as less mature or less of a leader because of my single status.
[Praise God, most of these concerns have not been realized in the way that I had feared. God has given me wonderful friends—of both the single and married variety.]
It was age twenty-nine that singleness struck a new chord with me. I was twenty-nine when COVID upended my life. I found myself stuck in America, my home and possessions left behind in a country I had no idea if I’d ever get back to. Perhaps more importantly, I found myself living far away from my overseas team. I experienced, quite dramatically and suddenly, what I knew would come for me sooner or later: having to say goodbye to my teammates and closest friends — alone.
Because friends don’t come with a “till death do us part” promise, I parted ways with the friends I had come to depend on like family. I’ll always remember when I chose to relocate to Thailand in 2021, and my favorite married couple decided to stay in America and work on getting pregnant instead. They told me they would be exiting this next chapter of my life over a Zoom call. We stayed on the call and cried, hardly saying a word, for probably an hour.
About a month later, I packed my bags and joined a new team in a new country. The missionary life is full of goodbyes — goodbyes on goodbyes on goodbyes. But for single missionaries, it is uniquely difficult because we do it alone.
I saw a statistic once that said of all the single missionaries on the field, women make up 80%. This means a couple of things for us single ladies. First, it’s hard to meet someone out here. The odds are not in our favor. Second, I am mercifully not alone in my singleness. In fact, I feel more seen and understood where I live overseas by other single missionaries and single Thai sisters than I do back in my church community in the U.S. where it feels like everyone was married by twenty-three.
Are we missionaries because we are single? Do singles have more freedom to go to the nations than those who marry? That’s at least partly true. I can think of a few people who had dreamed of being overseas before they married someone who did not share that calling. So, are we missionaries because we are single? Or are we single because we are missionaries? Would I have met someone and been married with kids by now if I had lived in the U.S. for the last twelve years instead of Asia? Maybe. Not necessarily. I know plenty of single people who live in their home country.
Yet I find myself in a situation where my obedience to share Christ in an unreached part of the world appears to be at odds with my desire for marriage. I could “try” to meet someone, but again, there aren’t many options where I live. I could get online, but then I’d likely be meeting men who live somewhere else, so I’d have to be willing to at least consider leaving the field. Is my ministry calling more important, or is marriage? If a simple answer popped into your head, I doubt you’ve walked a mile in the single missionary’s shoes.
Singleness is a strange grief. It’s a grief that increases with time. I process it. I mourn it. I put it away for a time, only to take it out again and realize it’s grown bigger and changed shape.
I’m thirty-four now. Some days, singleness hurts. It’s not having anyone to bicker with. It’s the social smallness you feel in comparison to a couple. It’s a lack of physical affection. It’s having to build trust from the ground up all over again with another new roommate. It’s when your age is getting older and your life stage is the same as a recent college-grad. It’s the feeling of rejection compounded over many years. It’s when the conversation turns to pregnancy or kids, and I have nothing to contribute. It’s when baby showers have a new twinge of sadness and shame.
One night, lying in bed trying to fall asleep, my overactive mind stumbled upon a thought: What if God really loves me? A few days earlier someone had been praying for me, and as she prayed, she said this to me: “He loves you so much, Emma. He would do anything for you — just ask Him.” Those words stunned me. They felt so personal and specific to me. Days later, they were still ringing in my ears. Is she allowed to say that? How could she even know that that’s how God feels about me?
Yet I couldn’t deny that it had to be true. God’s Word says so over and over. Jesus said to his disciples, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). And a few verses later: “Whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you” (John 15:16.) Romans 8:32 says, “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?”
The idea that Jesus deeply loves me and takes care of me wasn’t brand new information, but that night, the Spirit allowed me to believe it in a way I hadn’t dared to before. I sat up in my bed and started to cry. I started to really cry. Sobs. I had to get a box of tissues. Sobs of relief. Sobs of joy. Sobs where my walls of self-protection were being dismantled. Sobs I thought I might have if a man ever told me, “I love you, and I choose you.”
And ever since then, I’ve consistently found it much easier to believe God really loves me. His love is not theoretical. It’s not just for theologians to muse upon. He is near to us. He heals our wounds.
When we arrive on eternity’s shore When death is just a memory and tears are no more We’ll enter in as the wedding bells ring Your bride will come together and we’ll sing You’re beautiful
I may never ever have a wedding day. I may have to continue dealing with my ever-expanding, ever-changing grief for the rest of my life here. But I will be at that wedding — the marriage supper of the Lamb (Rev. 19:9). Because of Jesus, I’m invited to be in that marriage. The marriage of which all marriages are but a dim shadow — the eternal union of Jesus and His bride, His people.
At that wedding, rejection and shame will fall off my shoulders as I am welcomed by the King himself. To be included and chosen on that day will far outshine any loneliness I’ve ever felt. And I know that on that day, when I finally see Him with my own eyes and worship Him alongside people from every tribe, nation, and tongue, no part of me will regret trusting God with my singleness. Not one part of me will regret putting my whole life into His hands. When I hear Him welcome me home, I won’t have any more questions.
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Emma Bell has loved doing evangelism and discipleship with the unreached for ten years now — first in East Asia and now in Thailand. If you’d like to respond to this article, Emma would love to hear from you. You can contact Elizabeth Trotter, and she’ll connect you.
Being a single woman on the mission field is tough.
I volunteered abroad in Uganda with a faith-based development organization for four years straight out of college. Serving overseas was something I had been looking forward to my entire life; it was a dream-fulfillment scenario for the missionary kid in me who just wanted to return to the familiar smells, sounds, and lifeways found in Africa.
My optimism about how great my assignment was going to be sailed me through my weeklong orientation session in the States without deeply considering the challenges of serving solo. While I do remember attending a session or two on security protocols in our placements, including one on identifying and reporting sexual harassment, I did not anticipate just how lonely I would feel and how hard it would be to make friends as a twenty-something single white woman in Uganda.
In my life up to that point, I leaned into my interests to make friends. But there was a mismatch between my interests and the typical (accepted) interests of Ugandan women my age. At the time, I was a sports fanatic. I thrived in competitive settings and felt most at home in my body while sweating under a scoreboard.
At home, I had a healthy mix of male and female friends. One of my first questions after I had settled into Soroti Town was where young people went to play sports. My hosts took me to the sports ground, an open multi-use field near the government offices which contained areas for volleyball, netball, soccer, and squash. I was in for three of those, netball being outside my frame of reference as an American — was that a broken basketball hoop?
I entered the grounds with great anticipation, sure that I would find friends. The problem was that the majority of the players who gathered in the evenings were men. And my presence garnered a lot of unwanted attention.
It was difficult to be “of marriageable age” but uninterested in marriage. It was also difficult to represent a country that markets female sexuality and availability in the bulk of its media and have my disinterest read as a genuine “no.”
I was an anomaly. And anomalies tend to garner more interest, not less. So, while I would have loved to compete every evening on the sports ground, I knew it wouldn’t get me closer to developing the secure friendships I sought; I had to find where the women my age hung out.
That’s where things got even tougher. It turned out that most Ugandan women of my age and socioeconomic status were either in a degree program in a larger city or were established in a home with so many responsibilities that they were generally unavailable to “just hang out.” The fact that I had leisure time was another anomaly.
I reflected on these challenges with my host mother one evening, joining her on the mat she had pulled out into the shade. Stretching her aging legs in front of her and sitting ramrod straight beside a basin of peanuts, she began shelling what she needed for the peanut sauce that evening.
I, too, sat, spread my skirt to cover my knees, and mimicked her motions, scooping up a handful of peanuts, popping them open, dropping the shells to the mat and the nuts into her basin. Along with the peanuts, my story opened; I laid out my challenges for my host mother to see. How could I make genuine friendships with people my age?
“You can do this,” she said, motioning to our shared work. “You can visit your friends and join what they are doing. There’s always work to do; it is lighter when we do it together.”
This was the key. So straightforward. So actionable. But not easy. Internally, I had to wrestle with my deeply held “shoulds” that raged against women having to do the bulk of the unpaid labor in the household. But if I wanted friends, I needed to meet them where they were, and where they were was in the laboring.
Additionally, I needed women to trust me enough to allow me into that work space, and that meant moving from official visitor status into potential friend status: from formal sitting room and finest china to tea in a chipped mug out back on the mat shelling peanuts and sharing stories.
I tried this out with my language teacher, Rose, the woman I had grown closest to. We would sit side by side on her couches, holding a primer between us — I, struggling to string new words together; she, patient and encouraging. There always came a point where the lesson blended into evening tea, and Rose would usually excuse herself to gather the hot water flask, the tea leaves, and the accompanying treat — banana, boiled egg, bread with fresh peanut butter.
The first time I asked if I could help with the tea, she froze. I could read her indecision on her still face as she considered the ramifications of her response.
Allowing me to the back of her house meant that I would see that she didn’t have a cabinet for her dishes but kept them neatly stacked on a plastic rack in her pantry that also held a giant sack of charcoal for her outdoor cook stove and several sacks of dried sweet potatoes and peanuts, a testament to her latest harvest. Allowing me to the back of her house meant that I would notice that the reason we usually moved outside to take our evening tea was because her house had no electricity. Allowing me to the back of her house made our curiosity, expectations, and judgment of one another take on new depth.
What courage it took for Rose to say yes, to show me where she kept her tea things, to chat evenly all the while, though internally she was likely wondering what I was about to say or ask next. All I had hope for was the possibility of sharing deeper, truer stories about our lives. Of becoming friends. I held Rose’s yes with such tenderness, not wanting to shatter this generous extension of trust.
The fact that Rose said yes and handed me the tea tray transformed my life in Uganda from one on the periphery as a visitor to one where I was included and even expected to do the dishes from time to time. Through our friendship, our time together expanded. Rose taught me to crochet wonderfully detailed placemats. I taught her to play Rook, the Mennonite trick-taking card game. We cooked together, taking turns teaching one another our favorite dishes. We shifted most of our interactions outdoors, near the cook stove, reserving the sitting room for the days when we were hosting other friends, together.
What I learned in my friend-making adventures while serving solo is that I had to make an effort to demonstrate cultural understanding throughout the process. I had to leave the sports ground and find women in their homes. I had to spend time sharing food formally as an official visitor before I could make the audacious request of becoming a regular friend. And when that request was granted, everything and everyone felt a little more real in the best way possible. I might still have been serving solo, but I was no longer alone.
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Esther Harder manages the Substack Write Like an Outsider. She is a book coach who helps missionaries and expats transform their life journeys into stories that lead readers home. She served in Uganda from 2003-2008 and Rwanda from 2011-2012. Find out more about Esther on estherharder.com.
Sandy was raising support, and she was stuck. She had exhausted all of her contacts – friends, relatives, acquaintances. She had contacted all of the churches where she knew someone, and had reached out to dozens of other churches with no response. Yet she was still far away from that elusive 100% funding goal.
So she tried a different strategy. Each Sunday morning, she would pick out a church to attend – cold turkey – not knowing a solitary soul. She would show up at this church where she knew no one, look for a friendly face, strike up a conversation with this complete stranger, and ask if this person could connect her with a pastor or missions leader.
Sandy is an introvert. She is warm and confident but not the kind of person who especially enjoys entering new churches and striking up conversations with strangers. But she did it because she had to. She was determined to get to the country where God had called her and was ready to do whatever it took.
I was Sandy’s coach during her support-raising season. When she described this to me, my mouth gaped open and my eyes bugged out. All I knew was that I didn’t think I’d ever have the guts to do what she was doing, Sunday after Sunday. This took resolve. This took courage.
I thought about my own support-raising journey. My husband and I would “divide and conquer” in our support-raising tasks. I wrote the newsletters and thank-you notes; he wrote the sermons. He fixed the printer when I was about to throw it out the window. And having him by my side every time I entered a new church gave me a measure of security.
I coach many single missionary women who are raising support, and they don’t get to delegate these tasks. If they hate public speaking, they don’t have a spouse to pass that off to. If they aren’t good at technology, they still have to figure it out themselves. When their pitch is rejected, there isn’t a partner by their side to share the burden.
We laud the courage of single missionary women when they single-handedly figure out how to exterminate a rat invasion, stop the flood seeping into their house, or replace a blown-out tire. But we don’t often recognize the additional demands of everything they must do to build a support network on their own.
I realize that much of this could also apply to single men. However, I believe that single women often face unique challenges in earning others’ respect and attention – in foreign cultures, on their missionary teams, and in the churches of their home country.
As I walk with these women on their journey to the mission field, I brim with tremendous admiration for their grit, perseverance, and resiliency. The truth is, most of these women would love to be married with a family. For many of them, it’s their deepest heart’s desire. Yet they are steadfast in obedience while they trust the Lord with their futures.
This is what courage looks like.
Do you have a single female missionary in your life? Probably more than anyone else,they need advocates to raise their support. Maybe that could be you.
“I have to go back home and work on my seminary degree. It’s an org requirement, and it will take me too long to complete online if I stay here. But don’t worry! Once I finish, I’ll be back.”
Jacob* was resigned to the fact that he would be leaving the field for a while to fulfill the requirements of his sending organization. While the seminary degree in and of itself was not a bad thing, it would be the impetus of his leaving the field for good.
That’s because, about a year into his program, Jacob fell in love with Kara. They shared a deep love for Christ and making him known, but Kara was not at all interested in living outside of her home country. Nevertheless, the couple went ahead with their wedding day. Five years and two kids later, Jacob and Kara are pretty well settled into life in their home country. With Jacob having no intention of going back overseas, the team he left behind now consists of two couples and five single women.**
There’s a cheeky statistic I’ve heard that says, “About two thirds of field workers are married couples. Another third are single women, and the rest are single men.” Of course, this facetious statistic would imply that there are no single men on the field. And while we know this is not correct, most of us have noticed the conspicuous imbalance of single women to single men on the field.
While I have yet to see a study on why there is such an imbalance of singles on the field, there are some interesting observations to be made and perhaps a few questions we should be asking to get a clearer picture of the reasons and consequences of the male shortage in overseas ministry.
Why Are There So Few Men? So, why are we not seeing more single men in full-time overseas ministry? It certainly cannot be said that there is a lack of men wanting to work in full-time ministry. Men fill most paid ministry positions in local churches, but when it comes to overseas work, single men are heavily outnumbered. Here are a few observations about this phenomenon:
1. Men are compelled (and are sometimes required) to go to seminary or grad school before they begin service in overseas ministry. Sometimes, this requires several years away from the field. The extra time spent obtaining more education can be long, burdensome, and expensive. In the midst of time spent obtaining this education, these men may find themselves with mounting student debt, in love with someone who does not share their desire to live overseas, or drawn into the world of preaching to congregations in their own country.
2. Some men who desire to minister cross-culturally don’t want to do so until they are married. However, this “wait for a mate” time often leads to involvement with other ministries or jobs that pull their attention and passion away from living overseas. Some of these men wind up marrying women who do not share their passion or desire to minister cross-culturally. These life changes often mean a complete redirection of plans and passions.
3. When a single man expresses his desire to minister overseas to his church leadership, these overseers tend to encourage men to stick around and “learn about ministry” by interning or leading a ministry in their local church. While the heart and intention behind this is one of love and mentorship, the experience gained in a local church in the Western Hemisphere is often entirely unhelpful for a person headed to a culture that does not even have a concept of church.
4. Churches often want men to be married before they go overseas because it’s believed that marriage will save them from sexual temptation and pornography addiction. However, the widely-held belief that marriage will be a deterrent to sexual misconduct is not only entirely inaccurate, but also keeps church leadership from addressing an actual issue that is likely already present in most men’s lives.
5. When I have put this question to men who are engaged in ministry in their home countries, many have responded with a real apprehension about fundraising. They might be willing to go overseas and work a paying job, but the thought of asking churches for support feels arduous and humiliating. I am not sure how this mindset might shift between unmarried and married men, but it seems to be a common sentiment.
Feeling the Strain The imbalance of men and women serving cross-culturally has very real consequences. We don’t just stand idly by and make observations because it makes us feel smart or important. The imbalance takes a heavy toll, and many field workers are feeling the strain.
My team in particular lives in a place with a disproportionately large population of male migrant laborers. Our team is and has always been mostly female. While there will always be work for the women to do, there is a much smaller workforce to focus time and attention on a population with whom we, as women, cannot interact: men. We live in a conservative country with strong cultural taboos about mixed company, so there is rarely a situation where women speaking to these men is appropriate. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 7:32-34 that “An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord’s affairs— how he can please the Lord. But a married man is concerned about the affairs of this world— how he can please his wife— his interests are divided.” To put it plainly: We need a more diverse workforce because the harvest field itself is diverse.
In addition, many ministry teams work in cultures that have oppressive and cruel attitudes toward women. Living in patriarchal societies takes a heavy toll on women. There are spaces where women are simply unwelcome, and there are areas where women know they will be ogled or sexually assaulted. However, these locations may be the only places to, say, get a car repaired or buy a ceiling fan. Within the community of Christ-followers on the field, we depend on each other for help with tasks we would ordinarily be entirely capable of doing on our own.
Then there are the cultures that simply expect single adult men to misbehave. The expectation is that young men will stay out all night, philander, and live as wildly as possible until they tie the knot. Who will show them another way? Where are the single men who can live a life of sacrifice, love, and purity among them? We need representation of the body of Christ in all of its diverse beauty, and that includes the unique struggles and freedoms that are inherently a part of a bachelor’s life. Jesus himself lived his life unmarried and devoted to the work of his Father. Ministry as a single man is the first example the church was given, so why would we believe that this status is less than ideal?
How Can Churches Help? Of course, the questions and observations merit answers. While I do not believe that there is anything simple about the dilemma we face, there are some ways the church can help more single men get to the field:
1. Stop expecting men to get married before they live cross-culturally. Have the difficult conversations and counseling sessions to deal with porn addiction, lust, and objectification. Do not fall for the lie that having a wife will be the fix-all for potential sexual misconduct.
2. If single men express a desire to be married before they move overseas, ask them why they feel that way. We must be willing to ask where this desire is coming from, and to explore their reasons why ministry overseas requires them to be married but ministry at “home” does not. It also bears mentioning that the pool of single women on the mission field is deep and wide. Men who want to get married may actually have a lot more opportunity to find a spouse who shares their vision once they get to the field!
3. Rather than creating years-long responsibilities as a prerequisite for life on the field, set goals and reasonable expectations for men’s personal and theological development. Like anyone headed into overseas ministry, single men need people to walk alongside them to grow in maturity and in gaining an understanding of cross-cultural ministry. But we have to be willing to allow life on the field itself be an instructor. I once heard Vinay Samuel say, “Theology should be written on the mission field.” Indeed, life and ministry on the field will likely be a far better teacher on theology, scriptural interpretation, and strategy than any seminary class.
As churches, we should be questioning why such an enormous imbalance exists both within domestic ministry, where men hold most full-time ministry positions, and within cross-cultural ministry, where women hold most full-time ministry positions. Granted, the gender disparity is far greater domestically than it is overseas. But, with such an abundance of women in full-time cross-cultural ministry, and so precious few of them in full-time local church ministry, we have to ask: Are women just picking up the ministry positions that men don’t really want? Women have a long history of heeding the call of Christ to make him known near and far, and there have been relatively few barriers to keep them from overseas work. However, if women wish to fill ministry positions within their home countries, the opportunities tend to be limited, unpaid, or for men only.
While I’m not wanting to get into the weeds on gender roles within ministry here, I do believe that we must take a hard look at how ethnocentric our attitudes have become when it comes to women ministering domestically versus overseas. For example, the ESV Bible was translated and overseen by an exclusively male team of 95 scholars and translators. Apparently, women were not invited, so this was not a simple oversight. However, when it comes to women leading bible translation projects in languages other than English or outside the Western Hemisphere, there is scarcely a voice of dissent.
These are issues of importance not because sexism in church is a hot button issue. They are important because Jesus said that the harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. In fulfilling the command of Christ to make disciples of all ethnicities, the workforce must be as multifaceted and diverse as the world itself is. The goal is not just to have a balanced ministry team, but to give the world — women, children, men, marrieds, singles, widows, minorities, rich, poor, and so on — a chance to hear that Jesus loves them from someone who can effectively live and communicate that truth to them.
*Name changed
**This story is not taken from one individual per se. It is a combination of many such stories that I have seen and heard from multiple cross-cultural workers.
I have just returned from spending a week in Germany with a group of missionaries. While with them I lead several workshops, one of which was “Being Single in Missions.” Since I’m still jet-lagging and processing conversations we had, today I will share a post from a couple of years ago about singles and online dating. We will hear from three singles. How well does your organization make space for talking to singles about dating?
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I’m not a fan of dirty little secrets. Dirty little secrets are laced with shame and create hiding and distance.
I am a fan of having confidants and knowing how to hold a confidence. Oh the joy of being known and feeling safe enough to trust someone with a piece of yourself!
I first became aware of this dirty little secret in a conversation with married friends around a pool in Thailand. We were chatting and I mentioned a stat from some research I’d conducted for a presentation at a professional conference. During my research, I’d learned that 32% of the singles in our organization had either tried or were currently trying online dating.
We were in a fairly large organization so this was no small number.
With shock and a tinge of panic, they said, “No! We are going to lose too many singles to eHarmony!” That is a fairly common response from married folks on the field. Is it any wonder many singles are ashamed to admit they might want to try online dating? The result is that many singles have no idea how many others are trying it–and once they find one or two, it’s almost like they have fallen down the rabbit hole, left to wonder, “Why isn’t anyone talking about this?”
Shame from fellow servants isn’t the only pressure singles can face. On the other extreme, many folks back home want to know why a single is not on a dating site and pressure, pressure, pressure them to try and get married.
Of course, not all singles are the same and their experiences are going to vary as will their definitions of “success” when it comes to online dating. Since this topic is broad, my goal today is simply to say online dating is happening and to get the conversation started. Instead of talking in stats and hypotheticals, I contacted three singles I know who started dating someone via online dating in the last year and asked if they would share their stories with us and they agreed saying, “Finally. Finally, we as a community can talk about this!” So as to not get bogged down by whether you know them or not, I’ve changed their names.
How long have you been on the field?
Ann: I’ve been on the field since 2003 (with a one year and a half year home assignment since then).
Beth: I was on the field for 2 years. I’m back in the States now.
Cici: I’d been serving with my organization for nine years when I signed up for eHarmony. I’d been overseas for about half of that time.
What factored into doing (or not trying) online dating?
Ann: I had a few friends on the field join eHarmony and they were really honest about the process, with the struggles and ups and downs of online dating including dating long distance. One of my friends on the field met her now husband on eHarmony and she really encouraged me to think about joining. I knew she didn’t suggest it lightly because she had joined eHarmony the year before with no “success.” I felt like I had a pretty realistic and balanced view of long-distance online dating and, with a lot of prayer and consideration, I decided that I would join while I was on home assignment since had time to invest in it and could theoretically meet someone in person faster while in the U.S.
Beth: The most significant thing that factored into using online dating was the fact that there were very few single men on the field. I lived in a very small expat community and all the men my age were married. I had dabbled a little in online dating during college (but it wasn’t really successful). However, after I moved to China, I decided to try my hand again after realizing that the options on the field were very limited.
Cici: Several of my friends had met their husbands through online dating, so I knew it could work. When I decided to try it, I factored in cost, safety, and timing. When I joined eH, I was planning to be on the field for another year, and I only signed up for three months because I didn’t want it to consume my time for that long. For me the timing seemed good because I wasn’t too far away from being back in the States if I met someone, but I was far enough away from being home, that I wouldn’t be disappointed if I didn’t meet anyone. I originally looked at it as “practice” for when I got back to the States because I rarely interacted with any single men where I was living.
Did you feel this was something you needed (or wanted) to hide from your team or organization? Did you feel comfortable sharing it?
Ann: Since online dating is pretty common I didn’t feel like it was something I needed to hide though it wasn’t something I necessarily advertised. I’m more of a private person that way and so it wasn’t unnatural to me that I wouldn’t share it with just anyone. My close friends knew about it though.
Beth: To be honest, I didn’t tell a lot of people on my team about meeting the two guys I dated these past two years online. I felt really ashamed and lot of people were really concerned about it (online dating is seen by the Christian community as not such a great thing — or at least that’s been my experience). Only a few people knew about the first guy I met when we first started dating. However, because of my first experience, I was a little more open telling people about Ben (my current boyfriend).
Cici: I chose not to share with my teammates, but that was based on team dynamics that were already in play. I did tell former teammates about my online dating, including teammates who were still with my organization. I chose not to tell my organization at the time; however, I have been honest and open about the timeline of when I met my now boyfriend and how we met when I’ve been asked questions about my future plans and when former (but who were current when we met) teammates found out via social media.
What was the reaction when people heard you were trying it out? Or succeeding? (All three of you have succeeded, so to speak)
Ann: Most people, what they hear that my boyfriend and I met online, say something to the effect of “lots of people meet that way now” or “so-and-so also met their boyfriend/husband online” as if to assure me and/or themselves that it’s a common and valid way of meeting people (not something I struggled with though). I expected more people to ask me what that meant for my life/calling overseas, but I’ve been surprised at how few people ask that.
Beth: I kinda answered this above, but it wasn’t always positive. I started talking to Ben in September but we never actually met in person until I visited him in February over Chinese New Year. People were really worried about me going to Australia and visiting Ben (I had friends on the ground there and I felt comfortable with the whole situation — my friends and family all knew where I was and where I was going so I felt that I was safe enough. I had met Ben’s family on Skype so I was fairly comfortable with the whole thing.) After Ben and I met in person, people were way more open to it and very excited about it.
Cici: Everyone seemed supportive, and I think this is because it’s becoming far more common for couples to meet online. For people who didn’t even know I was dating someone until a couple of months after we begin communicating, there was definitely surprise. I think a lot of this is due to the fact that people had been receiving regular updates on my life and ministry and assumed they knew everything that was going on in my life. However, aside from family and close friends, I chose to keep my relationship private in order to maintain a distance between it and my decision to move back to the States.
What have been the challenges and blessings of trying online dating while on the field?
Ann: I met my now boyfriend online while I was still on home assignment. Dating long distance definitely has many challenges and it has its blessings too. Since all we can do is talk while I’m on the field and he’s back in the states, we do a lot of talking! We have lots of good conversations though I miss the opportunities to just go out and do something with him and experience life together that way. But we’re able to build a really good foundation of communication (and the fact that we spent some time together during my home assignment before I went back on the field was really helpful!) Another big challenge has been figuring out how this new relationship and my life on the field fit together, and how and when to return to the U.S. so that we’re not always long distance and we can actually be together to figure out where this relationship is going.
Beth: I did date a guy my first year in China who lived in another city in China, but it didn’t pan out. The challenge was his approach to faith/Christianity — he was really liberal and eventually said I needed to show more of a commitment in physical ways I wasn’t willing to do. This is the downside to online dating. You don’t actually know how they will approach the physical aspect to your relationship until you’re in it.
However, this past year I have seen the absolute blessings associated with online dating. Ben is the man I have been looking for my entire life. Because our relationship started on Skype and emails, we were able to be open and honest with each other. Our relationship started as a friendship first before developing into something deeper. My relationship with Ben is not founded on the physical aspect (which is something that has really tripped me up in past relationships). It’s founded on our love for the Lord and on our friendship and care for one another.
Communication is one of the strongest aspects of our relationship because we have had to work so hard to do it well since we live so far apart. I feel that this is one of the best benefits of online dating. You really get to know someone and who they are. Ben is from Australia and I’m from the US, so it’s been challenging, but because we started this relationship at a distance, it’s made it easier dealing with it since we know it will eventually end (he’s moving to the US sometime next year).
Cici: The challenge for me was how time-consuming it was. It can be like having a part-time job, which was a little stressful when I was trying to prepare to move back to the States. However, it was also a welcome distraction from all of the drama that was going on in my life at the time. Waiting for communication and emails because of the time difference was difficult as well, especially the more I got to know my now boyfriend. Another blessing was feeling like I had a personal life that not everyone was privy too. Much of my life is public knowledge, and I appreciated being able to get to know someone without everyone at home or on the field watching.
Ann, Beth, and Cici thank you for sharing your experiences with us and for helping to remove some of the shame singles might experience in this area.
For the rest of us, what could online dating for singles on the field mean?
Let your single friend or teammate bring up the subject. Just like a married couple may or may not want to discuss infertility, some singles will want to talk about online dating a lot (maybe too much for your taste) and others not at all.
Try not to use language like “we’re losing so many singles to online dating.” This elevates location and current assignment over following God and tends to shut down conversations.
Write your prayers, run your prayers, bake your prayers, however you best pray, pray for singles and the pressures they face when it comes to dating, not dating, leaving the field, and staying on the field. Pray that above all else, that they may know the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in them, the hope of glory.
Might I remind us of the obvious: singles aren’t just women, they are men too. I know this post is female heavy and hope to hear from men so that we can learn from your experience as well.
I began what I thought would be a long career as a single male missionary in 2002. My years of education and preparation got me through many challenges, but when I arrived, I was not ready for the impact of cultural gender roles.
I soon learned I was an enigma in the culture. At the age of 32, most men are married and have children. So to arrive single, white and rich (according to their economy) set me up for some interesting interactions. It was assumed I could bless my neighborhood. It was taken for granted in the markets I could pay more. And everyone assumed I needed help finding a wife.
One of the staples in West Africa is rice and sauce. Vendors typically place themselves under large mango trees. They have spent the morning cooking rice and sauce over wood fires. For the equivalent of 25 cents, you could purchase a heaping plate of rice and sauce. So being poor (by American standards), it was a great bargain.
There was a mango tree outside the gate where I worked. Each day, the nationals who were constructing our new office building would gather to eat. I often joined them, but I noticed the guys were going out earlier and earlier, while I ate at noon. Often the rice and sauce was gone when I arrived. What happened next should have been a yellow flag.
The vendor began keeping a plate for me so I could eat at noon. This meant the two of us were alone while I ate — a cultural signal for a different kind of relationship. Her French was poor, and I barely knew more than greetings in her language. We smiled at each other a lot.
I came to realize she wanted to marry me, despite the fact that she was already married. I met her husband one day, and he seemed to be OK with that arrangement. She began pressuring me with family concerns. I discussed all of this with my supervisor, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to marry any Africans. I explained this to my new friend. She soon left to be near her aging mother, and I learned an important lesson in culture and communication.
I had other marriage proposals, sometimes as direct as an old man pointing at some women nearby and asking whether I wanted to marry either of them. Sometimes when I was out with colleagues, nationals would hint that I should marry one of them. I handled these as delicately as I could.
I tell this story to illustrate the importance of understanding the culture of those you serve. Learn about cultural cues and taboos you will likely encounter from your experienced teammates. Knowledge in advance is far better than learning from a mistake or misunderstanding later.
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Dave Parker served as a missionary for three years in West Africa, managing a print shop that produced Scripture and literacy materials in a dozen languages. He has also served for ten years in the Communications department of Pioneer Bible Translators and Seed Company. Dave and his wife are the proud servants of their golden retriever, Jenny. He lives in Ft Worth, Texas, with his family and his drums.
The first time I spent 2 months in Ethiopia by myself, I returned to America and announced to my parents that I wouldn’t go overseas for an extended period of time until I was married because it was just too isolating. That was almost 10 years ago, when I was in college.
But life has a way of making me do things that I vowed to never to do. I graduated from college and got my first real job as an executive assistant. Before long, my boss was asking me to move to Malawi for a few months and manage some exciting projects for him. I didn’t even think as I jumped into the opportunity and a few months turned into a few years.
Those 3 years living in Malawi, single, were some of the most complicated years of my life. It was the best of times and the worst of times; my career was soaring but my soul was decaying. I hate to admit this now, but I did everything wrong that could have been done wrong. I forgot who I was and where I came from. I became a person I never wanted to be; someone I did not recognize.
Here are 8 lessons learned the hard way from someone who did living single overseas all wrong.
1. Find community that has similar values. I was strong. Or so I thought. I didn’t go to Malawi with a mission organization and I was working for the government. Though I had a lot of friends, I was never able to plug into a community of believers. Mostly that was because I was stubborn about the type of people I hung out with. In expat circles I find that there are two types of people: the believers and let’s just say the very non-believers. I thought that I could be a believer but hang with the non-believers. Part of the problem with most of the believers I encountered is that they were married and were homeschooling and had 5 kids. I know I am making huge generalizations with my comments but there wasn’t a lot for us to relate to. I wanted friends that I could go out with and dance with and travel with.
2. Live with safe people. Never underestimate how your environment can begin to wear you down over time. I lived with a male co-worker who didn’t have the same values and poked fun at me for not going out more and not wearing enough make up. My parents encouraged me a number of times to find a new living situation but he was fun and had a lot of friends and I felt cool hanging out with him. We had a great house with a pool and it was hard to make the changes that I needed to. I should have moved in with some good girls. I didn’t need the added stress of my home feeling unsafe. Your home needs to be an oasis not a war zone.
3. Stay connected with people that love you. It’s hard to stay plugged in back home with the time change and the expensive internet connection going in and out, but I wish I had made more of an effort to talk to my family and close girlfriends back in the States. It would have helped me stay more grounded in who I was and where I came from.
4. Know why you are going to live overseas. You need to know why you are living isolated in a different country and making all these sacrifices. In retrospect, I see that I was running from my real life to this exotic job; I wanted to be this international woman of mystery. Even though I played the part well, being an international woman of mystery isn’t a good enough reason to live overseas all alone. There are too many cracks in that identity where doubt and fear and loneliness can creep in. Honestly, there is only one reason good enough to live overseas: you have to be called and know it is part of your vocation. There are a lot of doubting moments and in those moments you need to know your purpose and not be fumbling with a mysterious identity.
5. Know what gets you into trouble. Is it drinking? Is it when you are lonely or feel rejected? For me it was traveling alone, which I did a lot for my job. I should have had a strict no going-out policy, but of course, I was lonely and wanted attention and always found my way to the dance floor. There is no reason not to have a great time on the dance floor, except when it leads to poor choices. Know your limits and be honest about what you can handle and where you need support as well as boundaries.
6. Know your values. Write them down and make a plan for how to stick to them. I thought I knew my values, but when push came to shove my apparent values came crashing down. First, I was a little vague about what I believed to be right and wrong. Second, the further I got from community and the lonelier I became, the more those values seemed to fade into a distant memory. The truth was, I really wasn’t sure what I believed. When put to the test, I got a big fat F. I should have done some soul searching to figure that out, but I was in a self-discovery phase of life that I didn’t want dampened by rules or regulations. Which, by the way, really got me into trouble. Knowing what you believe and what you believe in and how that plays out in your life is extremely important.
7. Remember that we are all just one degree away from being someone that we don’t want to be. Humility is important. You are going to mess up, and there is grace for you. Living overseas single is one of the hardest life trials, and it could make you question everything that once seemed certain to you. Life in a foreign country is hard enough with a spouse, but alone it can seem impossible at times. Rest in grace; make friends with redemption.
8. Know when it’s time to go home. I figured that part out too late. I was stubborn and determined to make Africa work for me. I loved the continent, and I ran my life into the ground before I was willing to wave the white flag of surrender. It was humbling to go home. I felt like I was giving up a dream. I tried to save myself and my situation by every means I could think of, and finally I fell into the arms of God and his salvation for me. I wish I could have acknowledged sooner that I was not in a strong enough emotional place to make Malawi the right place for me at the time.
I have learned much from my mistakes and experienced the sweetness of salvation and redemption in a way I never knew before. Singleness can be an incredible gift to understand who you really are, and living overseas single can heighten that understanding further. Push into God and who He created you to be without fear.
For those of you who have lived overseas single, what challenges have you faced?
What did you learn about yourself and about God through them?
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Elizabeth Spencer and her husband Greg live in the desert highlands of Northern Ethiopia where Greg manages a clean energy company that manufactures wood-burning cook stoves. Elizabeth buys local because that’s all there is, and she’s an avid cook because it’s the only dining option. She travels with her husband to tiny mountain towns distributing stoves while writing about the grace that has been birthed in her life through loss, rejection, and her own poor choices. Before living in Ethiopia, Elizabeth lived in Malawi for 3 three years working for President Joyce Banda. Elizabeth and Greg met miraculously on overlapping projects in Rwanda almost 4 years ago. You can find her on Instagram, Facebook, and her blog Making Me Brave.
Normally a Part 2 comes just a few days after a Part 1. So, if you have forgotten about Part 1, no problem. In brief, last month I shared a letter Janice wrote to me in which she is getting married and her roommate isn’t.
“My roommate really desires to be married. She is mid-30s, and has been in Laos for over seven years. So she is older than me, she’s been overseas longer than me, and she has probably been praying for a husband longer than me.”
“I know that God does not always do things in ways that seem obviously fair to us, but in this situation I feel the unfairness very deeply myself, and I can only imagine how it might feel from her perspective.”
“How are you supposed to feel, when you know that what is a blessing in your life is the subject of such deep pain and disappointment to someone you love?”
“It is painful for me to leave her. I know that our friendship can’t be exactly the same after I leave Laos, but I don’t want to lose it entirely.”
I wanted the posts spaced out for two reasons:
We live in a click-bait, hurry up world. Let’s go deep and then move on. The internet is wonderful—just consider how many different places this very post is being read right now while YOU are reading it?! Kind of mind-boggling, isn’t it? But in general it is geared towards noise and new information. This forms us unconsciously to have a false sense of urgency and move on to the next topic, post, crisis. It confuses our soul as to what is a urgent and what is important.
I believe this is an important conversation to have.
I did not want to jump in too quickly with my thoughts, instead I wanted to create space for God to speak. I did not even look at the comments until prior to starting this post.
(Normally I read and respond to comments; so if you wondered where I was, the spiritual discipline of listening to God instead of checking comments was not easy. And then I read the comments and felt a bit guilty myself that I had “left people hanging.” I share this to say that this speaking and having opinions and thoughts and stories is easier for me than listening.)
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If you haven’t had a chance to read through the comments, please do. They are rich and offer additional perspectives.
In this month of listening, here is a bit of what I’ve have been thinking and praying over:
1. We need to have these conversations. The very enemy of our souls wants to isolate and through isolation whisper lies mixed with half-truths. In the whispering, we can become disoriented as to what is truth, what is half-truth, and what is lie.
In community—and let me stress safe, healthy, trustworthy community—we do not have to bear burdens alone and we can sort out what is true in our situation and what is not.
2. Notice how the language of “fair” and “guilt” are both a part of the swirl of emotions, thoughts, and reactions. I find this fascinating how almost universal both concepts are, whether married, getting married, or desiring to be married. Both can be very strong which can be confusing because they seem to run counter to what “good Christians should” believe or experience. Because we do not talk about “fairness” or “guilt:
people often don’t know what to do with these feelings
how to start conversations about them or
how to process them
Allowing them to grow which can lead to greater isolation (see #1 above).
Too often we believe that we must pick between one emotion or the other.
Guilt is often a by-product of one emotion saying “If you feel me, obviously you don’t REALLY care [about either the joy or the sorrow].”
So, for the person getting married, if she expresses happiness in getting married, she may hear in her head, “If you are happy, then you don’t really understand how it feels to live with disappointment.” Or If a someone is not getting married and feels angry, disappointed, and sad, she may believe, “You are an ungrateful, selfish, bitter spinster.”
You don’t have to choose between joy and sorrow. You can have both. Guilt tries to manipulate you into one or the other, so that you don’t live an integrated life.
We need to grow in our capacity to experience (and give permission to experience) more than one emotion at a time.
4. I am more and more convinced we need to lead the charge in a “culture of grief.” We, as Christians, should be the best darn grievers on the planet, and yet, too often we stink at it. I dedicated an entire chapter in Looming Transitions to grief. I now see that the need to weave grief into our lives runs deeper than I ever thought.
Feelings of “fairness” and “guilt” can also be warnings for “an area to grieve.” Look for the loss. Are you loosing a friend? A location? Control? Someone who gets your jokes? The list could go on.
5. God is mysterious. I had a professor in seminary who cautioned us, as Christians, not to be too quick to cry “Mystery!” in the Christian faith. He instructed us to do the hard work of studying scripture, of asking theologians, of knowing history. But he also said, we needed to also remember that at the end of the day, studying, questioning, and knowing may not provide an answer and we will be left with mystery.
Why do some get married and some don’t? Why do some spouses die and others don’t? Why do some struggle with this addiction but not that? Why do some children have problems that other children do not have?
It may seem cheap to say it, but only God knows. And we have to live with that tension of the mysteriousness of God.
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Above all, God can be trusted with all of our emotions. If you are angry, you don’t need to hide it. If you are sad, you don’t need to “put on a happy face.” If you are excited, you don’t have to pretend you are not. If you are not at the same place emotionally as someone else you don’t have to fake that you are.
But you do have to own it. You do have to offer it to God. You do need to find community to bear and process it with you.
Trusting that in the offering, God is good, sovereign, mysterious and . . . at work.
This is what I’ve been pondering this month. I’d love to hear from you. What have heard? What conversations with God and others have you had? What would you add to the discussion? We need your input.
I received an email from a young woman who had read Looming Transitions.Janice is a Canadian serving in Laos, but soon to leave as she is moving to France to marry her French fiancé. She wrote so beautifully about the tension singles can feel around marriage. I received permission to share this excerpt.
Dear Amy,
“In this type of lifestyle, my roommate and I spend a lot of time together. We live together, we work together, we go to the market together, we go out visiting people together, we go on walks together, we pray together, we watch movies together, we read each other’s books.
“Before I came to Laos I didn’t know her. However, we found we get along quite well. We have many overlapping interests and can talk about some personal subjects. I feel bad about not being there to help deal with challenges like money requests and electrical system issues. I also know that my leaving means that there will be periods of time where she is alone as the only expat.In the past there have been periods when I was alone in our town for weeks at a time. Despite having locals I was working with and visiting, and despite the fact that I am largely an introvert, I struggled with loneliness. I feel guilty about potentially putting her in the same situation, even though she doesn’t mind being alone here as much as I do.
“Aside from this, is the fact that I am leaving to get married, which is where I feel the worst about the situation. My roommate really desires to be married. She is mid-30s, and has been in Laos for over seven years. So she is older than me, she’s been overseas longer than me, and she has probably been praying for a husband longer than me.
“I know that God does not always do things in ways that seem obviously fair to us, but in this situation I feel the unfairness very deeply myself, and I can only imagine how it might feel from her perspective. In the past, she’s expressed her frustrations to me about how difficult it is to meet men while living here. And then I connected with this man, and now I‘m engaged. Everything about it just seems so unfair. And I know that there are many other single women like her serving overseas, because there are so many more of us than there are single men.
“To be honest, this has been sort of a difficult area in my faith. Before I came to Laos it was a struggle for me personally; knowing that if I stayed overseas a long time, I might not marry. But I felt God leading me to go, and I went anyway. And I learned of so many others in the same boat as me, including my roommate. Now I am stepping out of the boat. I am so grateful to God for bringing my fiancé and me together, and I do not take our relationship for granted. But I find that even now I still feel the pain somehow, though in a different way. And I feel guilty.
“I have found these feelings somewhat difficult to explain to people who haven’t been overseas and aren’t aware of the general situation. I have tried to talk about it with my fiancé. He is quite willing to listen, but I have found that if I get stuck on this topic with him too much, it is not beneficial. I don’t want it to sound like I feel bad that I’m marrying him, because that’s not what I mean to say. Right now some of my joy is buried beneath these other things. I keep hearing about people in Canada and France who are so happy for us. But I feel somehow removed from the happiness. How are you supposed to feel, when you know that what is a blessing in your life is the subject of such deep pain and disappointment to someone you love?
“I’ve seen that my roommate has been having a difficult time with this overthe past few weeks, since some hopes she’d had for a relationship recently fell through. In the past she has been really supportive of me when I’ve gone through difficult times, and I wish I could do or say more. It tears me up inside, to think of her feeling so hurt and disappointed. But I don’t know what to do besides listen, and tell her I’m sorry, and tell her I’m praying for her. And I do pray for her, and when I do, I feel very hopeful for her. I have tried to tell her this, but it’s not very specific, so I don’t really know if it’s helpful.
“I really want to finish well with my roommate. It is painful for me to leave her. I know that our friendship can’t be exactly the same after I leave Laos, but I don’t want to lose it entirely. Since I got engaged four months ago, I’ve tried to tell her that I care about her, that I’ll miss her, that she’s been an important person during my time in Laos, that I hope we can keep in touch, that she’ll be in my prayers, that I wish her well. I hope we can share honestly with each other about how we are feeling, because I wouldn’t want us to have regrets later about things we wish we’d said to each other. But at the same time I know that there are so many deeply personal emotions involved that it can sometimes be difficult to talk about it. During this time I am also going through some of my own transition stress, but I still want to be sensitive to what’s happening around me and be able to express myself to people who are important to me in a way that is honoring to both of us in the long term.”
“Thank you for letting me write to you, Amy. I know this is quite a long email, and I don’t expect a super long response. If you have any thoughts on anything though, I’d be interested in hearing them. Again, I really appreciate your book; it’s been a blessing to me during this season in my life.”
Blessings,
Janice
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What a gift to us, eh? The way Janice expressed all that is going on. Part of me wants to dive in with thoughts and answers. But because of the length, I sense the Holy Spirit saying, Amy and A Life Overseas, sit with this email. Feel how Janice—and others—are pulled in many directions. Next month, you can share your thoughts. But I want you and this community to grow in your ability to bear witness before you seek to solve. We do not have to rush this conversation and move on to the next post or subject. We will circle back next month and keep this conversation going.
So, in the comments, could you let Janice and me know that you will take a month to sit with her words. That will will listen to the Holy Spirit and other singles we know before we jump in to speak. That we see how wonderfully complex this is . . . for all. Will you join me in listening?
I want this to be a letter instead of a normal blog post because, to me, a letter feels more personal. I also started off “Dear Friend” not “Dear Single Friend” because I do not think “single” is the most interesting or defining part of you.
That being said, Christmas was the time I felt my singleness most acutely on the field (that and taxi rides where my marital status was a hot topic!). I love my life and the richness it contains, but like every life, I have God given limitations. Part of being single on the field means being away from family and family traditions you grew up with during holidays.
When I first moved to the field, I was in my late 20s. My teammate was also in her 20s and single, and experiencing her first holiday away from family. We were intentional about decorating our apartments and even biked down to the local flower market and bought the closest thing to a Christmas tree we could find. Still being new to the culture, we made a few faux pas. For instance it turns out that what looked like a festive snow flake hanging from the ceiling elicited a look of horror and the question, “Why do you have death hanging in your home?!”
Oops. Turns out funeral decorations in Asia and American winter decorations are similar. Other than that small blunder, we managed to celebrate in a way that was meaningful to us and helped with the deep longing to be with family.
We were only teammates for two years and then I got a new teammate. Shelley and I were teammates for three years and the Christmas that stands out was the one where our entire building was under renovation. All people were moved out except for the two of us. Because we lived in a construction zone and the pounding only ceased for a 30-minute break in the middle of the day, no one wanted to visit or “do fun Christmas activities.” That year we didn’t have Christmas cookie parties, or students over to sing Christmas carols, or really much of a sense of Christmas.
Instead we climbed over piles of construction trash just to get to our front doors and no running hot water for three months. All on top of a medical situation that would have been draining in normal circumstances. Some Christmases are like that.
Then I moved to Beijing and joined a more stable community. Like other singles, the constant in my story was . . . me. (Of course “and God.” Want to provoke a single person to thoughts of violence? Remind them they always have God. Which they already know, so instead of entering into their loneliness and bearing witness to it, you have just trivialized it.)
By this point I had five Christmases on the field under my belt, but no one in my life that I had actually spent a holiday with. One of the joys of living on the field, whether single or in a family, is sharing your family and cultural traditions with teammates and local friends. We shared traditions, especially during the month of December, but come actual Christmas Day? I never felt we hit our rhythm like we, as a community, did with other holidays.
Christmas Eve in our city had turned into more of a date night, so traffic was awful and if we went to church it meant one less seat was available to a seeker. Generally the singles gathered at an apartment across down on Christmas Eve and play games and watch movies. While I appreciated the gesture, I found the arrangement wasn’t what I wanted to do for Christmas. I know others in my community loved it and I do not want to take anything from their enjoyment.
This is the tricky part of being single, eh? The month of December itself was rich and busy with ministry, but come Christmas Day, it felt like each year there was a negotiating of activities and traditions.
Which, um, seems to be the opposite of what traditions are supposed to do. Instead of rooting me in a bigger story, it was a one day reminder that my own story was more counter-cultural than I usually think.
All of this to say my single friend, I don’t know if this is your first or your seventeenth Christmas on the field. I don’t know if you came from a family that you miss dearly or are relieved to be away from. I don’t know if you feel lonely on Christmas or a part of a family. I do know that any of the above may be part of your story.
We here at A Life Overseas don’t want to rush in with a bunch of suggestions (You probably know them anyways).
Instead:
If you are lonely, we want to sit with you.
If you are able to share the Christmas story for the first time with those who have never heard, we rejoice with you!
If you feel far from your family, we bear witness to the distance.
If you are enjoying festivities be they baking, decorating, holiday music, or any of the other ways, we are grateful for the life that springs forth from you.
As the angel said to the shepherds, “I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.” Good news, for all people. You, too, have a Savior who sees you, right where you are and loves you with a never-ending love.
Not because you are serving Him. Not because you are single. Not because you are willing to suffer for Him. No, He loves you simply because you are.
I know my story is but one of many and I’d love to hear it. What has your experience with Christmas on the field been like? Anything you want to stay the same this year? Or change?
I once was an “expert” single person. After five years in China, I knew how to travel across the world with 100 pounds of luggage, stay in hostels alone, barricade myself on bunk beds at night on 27 hour train rides, and cook for one.
Sometimes it was fun, but often it was lonely.
At 32, I did end up miraculously getting married to a man I wouldn’t have picked at a time I wouldn’t have planned. But that is another story.
Ten years later, I write this to my 26 year old self who had just sold her car and possessions, quit her job, and left all her prospects for marriage to go live in the middle of nowhere (only four foreigners in the entire city and an eight-hour bus ride from an airport) and obey the call of her Jesus.
Dear Younger Self,
I know you are scared of being lonely. The following may not assuage your desire for marriage, but it may help you to see the value of this season on the days when you just want someone to rub your feet and listen to your day.
First of all, because you are single, God is going to meet your needs in very tangible ways. This is hard to accept, but sometimes God purposely leads you into the wilderness. Loneliness can be His means of grace in your life. He has demonstrated this through the heroes of the faith who have gone before you, and in your wilderness, He wants to:
~ Tell you thatHe sees you and wants to give you something to quench your thirst as He did for Hagar (Gen. 16:7-11, 21:17-21).
~ Bring you to the end of your own strength so that you will rely on Him alone to give you the nourishment you need for the journey ahead as He did for Elijah (1 Kg. 19: 4-8).
~ Provide for your very basic needs through His daily provision of manna as He did the Israelites (Exodus 16:1-36).
~ Simplify your priorities when you have been stripped down to only what you really need like John the Baptist (Mat. 3:1).
~ Test your faith in Him as He did Jesus–and then send angels to minister to you in your need (Mat. 4: 1-25).
Married people feel lonely, too, but when you are single, you must rely on God alone to provide for you in your wilderness. Some days you will find yourself face-down in a dusty field, wondering what you’re doing and why you’re doing it–alone. It is those who are the most thirsty who are most ecstatic over the provision of water. God will see you, provide for you, hold you, and strengthen you.
Because you are single you will have the opportunity to go deeper in your relationships more quickly than married people. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have the gift of time. Time to wander the markets, time to accept spontaneous dinner invitations, time to visit new friends at their homes in the countryside, and time to study language. A married person doing marriage well will just not have the time that you have to delve into relationships in your new culture.
You are also more likely to have more satisfying relationships with other singles on your team and in your organization than you would have if you were married.
There will come a day when you will miss the sweet friendships you naturally developed with other women just because you had to share a room with them at your yearly conference or eat meals together because the families on your team were all busy.
Because you are single, you are going to fall in love with Jesus in ways you might not have if you were married. Those times when you are bumping along in a crowd, with families on your team, or eating a delicious meal that you cooked and ate alone, you will feel that twinge of self-pity and longing, yet you will also have a deep sense that Jesus, Immanuel, is there with you. And He knows you to your core.
If you so choose, you will have hours to seek, find, hear His voice, and know Him. You will not only sit at the feet of Jesus, but you will lean on his chest. Yes, you will have guilt that you just binge-watched an entire season of Gilmore Girls instead of spending time with Him, but the minutes you spend in His presence will create a reservoir that you will one day, especially if you do marry, draw from daily.
Finally, because you are single, you will be called (forced?) to come to grips with sacrifice. You feel like the greatest sacrifice you are making in going overseas is surrendering your desire for a husband. Like the article you ran across many years ago entitled “Chastity: Love Wasted on God,” about the woman breaking her jar of precious perfume on Jesus’ feet, you, too, will feel that you have so much love to give that is being “wasted.”
All I can tell you is that the joy, peace and pleasure of Christ Himself that will wash over you as you pour yourself out for your first love will sustain you. And don’t be ashamed when you leave your gift at the altar only to run back and scoop it back into your arms again. He is a loving Father. A kind Father. A forgiving and giving Father.
He does not give His children gifts of rocks or snakes, but only the best gifts are reserved for those He calls His children.
And nothing we give Him is ever—EVER—wasted.
Keep handing your desire over to Him.
Keep walking.
Keep living.
Keep learning.
Keep loving.
Keep growing.
It is not too hard a thing for the Creator of the earth to bring someone into your life if that is His plan. He brought Eve to Adam in his sleep, after all.
And I know that you know this, but if you are not content now in your singleness, you are certainly not going to be content in your marriage. Nothing can fill the true longing in your heart for intimacy like intimacy with Christ.
Not even a man.
In His thirst-quenching, never-changing, always-fulfilling love,
Leslie Verner is a goer who is learning how to stay. A wife, mama of two, former teacher, student of cultures, runner, extrovert (with introvert tendencies) and lover of Jesus. She has her BA in elementary education and MA in intercultural studies. She has traveled all over the world and lived in Northwest China for five years before God U-turned her life and brought her back to the U.S. to get married. She blogs regularly about faith, family and cross-cultural issues at www.scrapingraisins.blogspot.com and recently completed the series 31 Days of Re-Entry.
Rachel B. is a cross-cultural ministry worker and medical professional currently serving in West Africa. With experience in ministry, healthcare, and team life, she is passionate about member care and helping missionaries and ministry leaders remain healthy and resilient as they follow God’s calling. She loves listening to people’s stories and finding practical ways to encourage and care for those serving Christ around the world
Esther Harder manages the Substack 
I began what I thought would be a long career as a single male missionary in 2002. My years of education and preparation got me through many challenges, but when I arrived, I was not ready for the impact of cultural gender roles.
Dave Parker served as a missionary for three years in West Africa, managing a print shop that produced Scripture and literacy materials in a dozen languages. He has also served for ten years in the Communications department of Pioneer Bible Translators and Seed Company. Dave and his wife are the proud servants of their golden retriever, Jenny. He lives in Ft Worth, Texas, with his family and his drums.
Elizabeth Spencer and her husband Greg live in the desert highlands of Northern Ethiopia where Greg manages a clean energy company that manufactures wood-burning cook stoves. Elizabeth buys local because that’s all there is, and she’s an avid cook because it’s the only dining option. She travels with her husband to tiny mountain towns distributing stoves while writing about the grace that has been birthed in her life through loss, rejection, and her own poor choices. Before living in Ethiopia, Elizabeth lived in Malawi for 3 three years working for President Joyce Banda. Elizabeth and Greg met miraculously on overlapping projects in Rwanda almost 4 years ago. You can find her on 
