When I was in my late 20s and single, I was afraid I was idolizing marriage, and I had reason to be. I knew marriage was a healthy, God-given desire. But I oftentimes found myself obsessing over it, anguishing over the wait before I met “the one,” and inordinately discouraged when another hopeful romance turned out to be nothing.
It reminded me of my obsessive attempts to be successful in law school — the exclusive attention I paid to my studies, my lack of involvement in church, and my utter devastation when I didn’t get the grade I wanted in one of my classes.
Come to think of it, it also reminded me of my church involvement in my early 20s. I was feverishly devoted to the nondenominational church I attended, to the point that I assumed most other churches were apostate. My coworkers’ disapproval of my church offended me far too easily, and the approval of the pastoral staff meant far too much to me.
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