I like the idea of Ye Olde Dayes. In my imagination it’s always a balmy English summer and there’s long flowing gowns to go meandering through the cloisters in. It’s a nice life, a calm life, a peaceful life.
In the Middle Ages, entering a convent was an option for a woman seeking safety, and seeking freedom. We tend to think of it as a punishment for wayward aristocratic daughters. In reality, a convent could be a place of retreat and learning and service to God, which many women genuinely sought.
When I separated, I wanted to hide from the world. I wanted some kind of “convent” (except for Protestants and with kids). I wanted a peaceful life where I could retreat from a world that was cruel and cold and harsh. I desperately wanted an escape to a place of safety and calm. Except I didn’t want a nunnery for any devotional reasons. It was for me, and my convenience, not for God or his glory.
But there was something in the concept that I kept returning to. Separation is a lonely business. You have to work out how to do life all over again. You have to work out how to think, how to be. And yet at the same time, be completely consistent and solid for your kids.
I’ve talked before about my decision to remain single (you can read the start of my thought process here). The question I needed to answer for myself was how am I going to be single? How am I going to live this life in direct relation to God? Me? Separated, divorced, alone, struggling in the world?
The answer came to me in my Bible reading one day. I was in the book of Ruth (I know – what a cliche!). Ruth, a foreigner and an outsider, alone in a strange world, is noticed by Boaz. When Boaz shows her kindness, she says to him “why have I found such favour in your eyes that you notice me – a foreigner?” (Ruth 2:10).
And that was it. That was how I felt about God. He had showed me unbelievable kindness in that time – a clear and palpable kindness at a time when I had nothing. And I couldn’t quite believe that he would treat me with such compassion and abundance. What Ruth said to Boaz, is what my heart was saying to God.
That right there is what helped me to start working out how to do life with a God as my Boaz, my kinsman redeemer, my husband.
The first thing I did was to buy rings for my marriage finger. Nothing expensive – a symbol of what and who I was committing to. The top one represents the blood of Christ. The middle one is the wheat of the field where Ruth spoke to Boaz. The bottom one is because it was pretty (because that is also ok).
I stepped up my devotional activity. I increased my prayer times. I became more consistent with my reading of Christian history and biography. This becomes a basis for focusing outwards, being a Christian in the world, witnessing through word and deed. I’m still looking for ways to grow in this new existence, writing and reaching more people. The focus of my singleness though, and how I use my time, is not escape, it is God. I am single for him, I am married to him.
Don’t think for a minute that I am saying that I am nailing it. I still have down times, crazy times, busy times – nothing is a constant state. It is up and down, good and bad and somewhere in between (mostly in between).
But I know that God is my husband. This is how God styled himself in the Old Testament to bring comfort and confidence to his people. In Isaiah, God speaks words of comfort to his exiled people. He will bring them home, he says. He will bring them provision and safety and strength. “Do not be afraid; you will not be put to shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood. For your maker is your husband – the Lord almighty is his name – the Holy One of Israel is your redeemer.” (Isaiah 54:4-5)
Again, as with Ruth, God speaks words to outsiders who he will bring home into a familial relationship with him. And not just any familial relationship. A spouse. A spouse who protects and provides, who strengthens and encourages.
God is my Boaz, my kinsman redeemer, my Lord, my treasure. My “convent” is in the world. I can still retreat and learn and serve, but among my community. I want my community to be able to see and understand my decision. I want to talk about my relationship with God, how he saved me, how I found favour with him, how he noticed me, a foreigner.