Reaching Out on Valentine's Day
- Carolyn McCulley Author & Contributing Writer
- 2005 7 Feb
These days, we’ve hardly gotten Christmas cleaned up and put away before stores are festooned in red and pink.
The build-up for Valentine’s Day — or “National Singles Awareness Day” as a friend coined it — is a solid three to four weeks of diamond ads, rose peddlers, heart-shaped candy, and photos everywhere of smiling couples gazing at each other in rapt, adoring attention. When you’re single and unattached, it’s hard to go anywhere and not be reminded that you aren’t part of this national love fest.
One year, I left my local shopping mall with a heavy, gray blob of self-pity bobbing behind me. As I got into my car, I looked across the street to the looming assisted-living center. The facility is attractive, and blends in with the surrounding neighborhood — but suddenly it caught my attention. I wondered how many people there might not receive anything on Valentine’s Day, either. With that thought, I heard a small pop in my soul and felt a sudden release of extra weight. The gray blob of self-pity had dissipated.
A few weeks later, a group of friends and I were standing in one of the reception rooms of this assisted-living center. We were a small army importing a party. We had brought in fine china, linens, candles, tea, and dessert to host a Valentine’s tea for some of the residents. The men in my care-group (the term my church uses for our small groups) typically would do something nice for the ladies around this time, a mass Valentine’s Day activity. But this year we decided to turn our focus outward. One of the women in my care-group — Joanie — visited this home regularly to see her grandmother. So my care-group decided to make Joanie’s grandmother the guest of honor for Valentine’s Day, and invite her friends to join us.
As our guests arrived, we seated them at small tables with different members of our group. The conversation at each table soon grew animated as my friends asked open-ended questions to become acquainted with our guests — “What’s your earliest Valentine’s Day memory?” “What was your most memorable Valentine’s Day?” “What’s one piece of advice you would give young adults now about this holiday?” And so on. In some cases, those questions led to conversations about the gospel and our church. At the end, we prayed for our guests and thanked them for coming.
The evening passed remarkably fast, leaving fond memories and dirty dishes. As we cleaned up, we agreed this was one of our best Valentine’s Days. By turning our attention from ourselves, we became vessels to demonstrate the love of God in a practical way to others. There was nothing particularly heroic about this event. We didn’t solve the problems of the world. We simply gave away a small amount of time and material resources to surprise and delight others.
A Call to Change Focus
Let’s be honest: one great temptation of singleness is an unrelenting self-focus. We need to be reminded to look outside of our circumstances and ourselves. I chose this Valentine’s Day story for that specific reason, even though it’s not a remarkable story of outreach or investment. In fact, it’s rather ordinary. But it strikes at the heart of a common temptation, don’t you think? If Valentine’s Day is hard because we think everyone else is out celebrating their romances (which isn’t as common among married couples as we’d like to speculate), then we can turn our gaze inward and start pondering that gray blob of self-pity. We translate singleness into loneliness.
When those temptations come, those are grace moments. That’s when we need to literally, out loud, ask for God’s grace to respond differently. In those moments, I have a mental picture of our Father peering intensely at us with a big encouraging smile — the way that parents do as a child is just starting to walk: “Come on, come on — you can do it! Ask Me for the power to respond differently. Take the next step. Hold out your hand and ask Me for help.” Our Father is ready and willing to give us all we need to step out. His outpouring of grace is not dependent on our requests, but it’s a wonderful exercise to ask Him.
To encounter loneliness through the eyes of faith is to see opportunities to minister love. Grace translates singleness into outreach. There are plenty of people on Valentine’s Day or other holidays, parties or weddings — single and married — who need someone to carry God’s love to them. With this perspective, let’s resolve when we next feel lonely or awkward, to use those emotions to remind us that others nearby may be feeling the same way. As Proverbs 31:20 says about the woman of noble character: “She opens her hand to the poor and reaches out her hands to the needy.” There are three spiritual benefits to serving the poor and needy around us: 1) it glorifies God and blesses others, 2) it builds our local churches, and 3) it’s a great antidote to self-pity.
This is also a convicting verse because we can’t overlook its importance in our witness to a watching world. James 2:14-20 (ESV) is point-blank about the implications of faith without good works:
What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead. But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I will show you my faith by my works. You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe — and shudder! Do you want to be shown, you foolish person, that faith apart from works is useless?
When the early church was faithful to the Scriptural mandate to give generously to those in need, unbelievers were drawn to them. Concluding a section about the church’s giving, Acts 5:14 says, “And more than ever believers were added to the Lord, multitudes of both men and women.” May this be true in our own churches! As author and professor Donald Whitney writes: “The goal of each of us should be to serve in the church in such a way that it is stronger because we are there.”
More importantly, when we care for the poor and needy, we are serving Christ Himself. This is the lesson Jesus taught his disciples on the Mount of Olives (Matthew 25:34-40):
Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’
What a sweet commendation from the One who gives us the grace and ability to do these righteous acts in His name! May the promise of such words from our Savior make us known as disciples like Dorcas, a woman commended as being “full of good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:36).
Carolyn McCulley is a freelance writer who is active in the singles ministry of her church, Covenant Life Church. She also works for Sovereign Grace Ministries as the media specialist. This column is part of a series adapted for Crosswalk from "Did I Kiss Marriage Goodbye? Trusting God with a Hope Deferred" (Crossway, 2004) by Carolyn McCulley © 2004. (Used by permission of Crossway Books, a division of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, IL 60187, www.gnpcb.org.) The book is addressed to single women, but male readers are still welcome to learn more about their sisters in Christ. For more information or to send feedback, visit her website at www.carolynmcculley.com.