Dear Single Me - Love Won’t Save You, But This Might

Wisdom for the love you want. Lessons from the love I’ve lived."

Dear Single Me,

You think you’re ready for marriage. You love God, you serve at church, and you know how to exegete “husbands, love your wives” like Paul himself sent you a personal DM. But let me tell you something—you’re walking into this thing blind.

Nope, that’s actually being too kind. You’re walking into a war with no armor.

I know, it sounds extreme. And I know you don’t believe me. I didn’t either.

I thought because we were “equally yoked” and both loved Jesus, we’d somehow skip over the struggles other couples went through. I thought that as long as we prayed together and stayed faithful, everything would just work.

I was wrong.

And I paid for it. We paid for it.

The Warning Sign I Ignored

I remember watching this married couple, so in sync it was almost effortless. He knew how to calm her without silencing her. She knew how to challenge him without belittling him. They fought fair. They understood each other.

They had what I thought only two deeply spiritual people could have.

But they weren’t even saved.

And I dismissed them.

Because in my mind, what did they really know about love? They didn’t have Jesus, so of course they were missing something. I shrugged off what I saw, convinced that they were the ones who didn’t have it figured out.

Fast forward to marriage, and suddenly I wasn’t so sure anymore.

The Breaking Point I Didn’t See Coming

See, nobody tells you that love won’t always feel like love.

Nobody tells you that two people, both on fire for God, can still deeply wound each other. That prayer doesn’t erase bad habits. That being equally yoked doesn’t mean you’re equally skilled at navigating conflict, frustration, and the slow, silent erosion of connection.

And then one day, you realize—we have a problem. A big one.

Not an “I’m leaving you” problem, but a “this tension is thick, and if we don’t fix it, it’s going to become something we can’t take back” kind of problem.

I loved her. She loved me. But love wasn’t enough.

Because when she told me she didn’t feel heard, I got defensive.
When I felt misunderstood, I shut down.
When she needed me to show up in a way I wasn’t equipped to, I fumbled.

And over time, little cracks formed.

Small, barely noticeable at first.
A few too many tense silences.
A few too many nights where we were in the same bed but miles apart.
A few too many “I’m fine” responses that really meant “I don’t have the energy to keep explaining this to you.”

We weren’t falling out of love—we were getting exhausted.

And exhaustion is dangerous. Because exhaustion makes you stop trying. And when you stop trying, love doesn’t just sit there, waiting. It decays.

I wish I could tell you I saw it coming. That I was wise enough to recognize the signs and pivot before things got hard.

But I didn’t. I had to learn after the damage had already begun.

And do you know what’s worse than learning something late?

Realizing you could’ve saved yourself so much pain if you had just listened sooner.

The Shift Came Too Late

That shift—the one that should’ve happened before marriage—didn’t come until I was standing in the wreckage of my own assumptions.

I had to unlearn the idea that faith alone would make me a good husband.
I had to face the fact that I was emotionally immature in ways I never realized.
I had to accept that “God will work it out” wasn’t an excuse to ignore the work I needed to do.

And if I could go back, I’d grab you by the shoulders and say this:

You. Are. Not. Ready.

Not because you don’t love God. Not because you aren’t sincere.

But because you haven’t built the skills that marriage demands.

Marriage will expose you. It will bring out every weakness, every selfish instinct, every unhealed wound. And when that moment comes, it won’t matter how many Bible verses you can quote. What will matter is whether or not you actually know how to love someone in a way that doesn’t leave them bleeding.

So stop waiting and start working.
Because love isn’t just about who you marry. It’s about who you become.

And trust me—you don’t want to learn this the hard way.

Stay humble,

Future You (12 years wiser, humbled, still learning)

"Dear Single Self" is a reflective series offering wisdom, hard-earned lessons, and spiritual insights from my 12 years of marriage. It’s a love letter to my younger self—and to every single person navigating Christian dating with hope, faith, and a desire for connection.