I’ve always dreamed of finding the big love. It’s probably why I’m still single. I’ve been waiting for the kind of love that makes people do crazy things, like move across the country or give up their trust fund. The kind of love worth dying for and living for and that cannot be contained.
The idea of the big love is really, really sexy these days. The notion that there is a man or woman out there who was created just for you—your soulmate. Someone who will complete you. And finish your sentences for you. And understand your deepest thoughts just by looking at you.
The message in our Western culture is that everyone needs, even deserves, this kind of big love. This is the love that will unleash our true selves and make us unstoppable.
Grown men have bought into it enough to justify their affairs. “You don’t understand,” he explains to his brokenhearted wife, “I’ve fallen so madly in love. I can’t help myself. I have to keep seeing her or I’ll die.” We have created a world where this kind of love justifies all wrongs and is the highest good. We have changed our sexuality for this kind of love. We have justified disintegrating our families in order to pursue this big and unstoppable love.
I sat on the floor of a tent in a Syrian refugee camp recently. My hostess was a woman around forty-five although she looked sixty. Every so often someone popped into the main room of the tent to huddle around the heater. She told me her story. She told me that she had been married at fifteen. She’d had eight kids by the time she was twenty-eight, besides her three miscarriages. Her oldest three were now married—all of them in arranged marriages by the time they had turned sixteen. After fleeing Syria a few years ago, they had landed in Lebanon and settled in the very tent we were sipping tea in. They were used to it by now. I asked her how many people lived in this tent. She needed a minute to count— fifteen, she answered, plus or minus three. “How did you meet your husband?” I probed. She chuckled. “My parents set it up. I met him on our wedding day.” I notice one of her daughters hiding a smile. “How old are you?” I ask. “Fifteen,” she answers shyly. “Do you want to be married?” I press. “Actually, I’m engaged. To my second cousin,” she informs me proudly. “Are you in love with him?” I can’t help the question. She looks at me with a question in her eyes. She has no idea what I mean.
Here in America, we’ve been told the lie that unless we meet our big love, we will never be happy. And that when we do, it’s worth losing everything for the sake of pursuing this love. But I’m looking at this beautiful Syrian refugee teenager and I wonder what to say.
How could I explain to a bride of fifteen stuck in a culture where she has no voice and no rights and no education and no money and no respect that unless she finds the big love she will never be happy? To her, a meal on the table each evening is happiness. A tent that doesn’t leak is happiness.
I don’t tell her about the big sexy Hollywood love that she will never meet.
Instead, I tell her about Jesus and the great big love He has for her.
There is a love that translates across the world. It’s a love that refuses to break families apart. A love that frees. A love that heals. A love that sees. A love that stays.
When I finish, I notice that she has tears in her eyes.
She tells me that she’s spent her whole life dreaming of finding a big love like this.
If you’re longing for healing, freedom, and deeper intimacy with God this summer, Don’t Tell Anyone You’re Reading This is the perfect summer companion! Whether you're a man, a woman, or a parent, this book is a must-read for anyone seeking to navigate the complexities of sexuality and shame in today's world.
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