I know I have to trust God with my future, whether it includes a husband or not.  I know God's plans for me are good.  I know it's a fallen world and the huge number of fantastic single women around who don't seem to be finding husbands is quite possibly a symptom of this.

But how do I continue to go to church when I feel bitter, jealous, and down on myself all the time?  How do I continue when I feel anxious that I'm not in the “in crowd” (it's like being back at early high school!), that I'm not being invited to parties where I might possibly meet someone, and that I’m not getting to meet anyone half decent? (Followed by the positively self-destructive thought that if I met them they wouldn't want to know me, anyway.) My friends say I am funny, witty and kind. What am I doing wrong? And how do I live now? How do I maintain hope? I know my bitterness, jealousy of others, backbiting (even to myself) about the people who do not include others and are selective in who they want to know (even though I think they are in the wrong) is wrong, and sinful.  But I cannot pretend it’s not happening, and I am finding it such a burden to keep going to church week after week under the weight of all this stuff.

I want to be obedient to God, I want to walk in His will for me, but I’m afraid I’ll never meet a Christian man, never get married, and that somehow I’ve failed to qualify for marriage.  The sense of rejection is a huge burden that I feel is distorting my approach to church, other people and God.  I compare myself to others who are thinner, prettier, more talented, more caring, more Godly, know their Bibles better – why wouldn't any man choose someone else?

ANSWER:  As I read your letter, I had a picture in my mind of someone about to drown. Periodically, you surface with expressions of faith toward God, but most of the time you are fighting to survive the waves that are swamping you. You are physically and emotionally exhausted and need someone to pull you to safety.

So I am going to throw you some lifelines. I hope you can catch them and really hold on, because I believe they are the truths that you need right now. You don’t have to trust me to be able to pull you up, though. These lifelines are anchored in the Rock, and He will carry you through the fiercest storm.

First, let me assure you that I hear you and can empathize. Many others have pulled me from the same storms, so you are hearing from a fellow survivor who has been tempted in all of the same ways. Please don’t mistake any candor for condemnation!

Let’s review your letter paragraph by paragraph, beginning with what you said about your church. I am sure that those who are organizing church services by demographics are trying to create helpful contexts, but I am not convinced that segregating the Body like this is the best way to build a local church. We need to have relationships across many seasons of life. Now, in saying this, I’m only offering an observation. I am not challenging your pastors’ decisions because I don’t know all their reasons for organizing like this. Nor am I saying that ministries serving different demographics within a church are not needed. But when the congregation does not congregate to worship God but instead segregates, it creates a common temptation to put ourselves at the center of worship and push God to the perimeter. I think you are experiencing this at present.