There are moments in ministry when I deeply appreciate being single. Last year during VBS prep, I remember staying at church incredibly late one night. It was the Sunday of VBS week and I was fixing some mistakes with the take-home sheets. It was the one thing my team and I didn’t finish that day after church. While they headed home to their families, I stayed. Nobody forced me to, and to be honest, I could have fixed it in the morning. But I could fix it that night, so I did. This wasn’t the first time I had stayed late at church.
That’s one of the unique things about singleness in ministry. There’s often a flexibility that married people or those with dependents don’t have. My schedule is more open. I can stay late. I can jump in when needed. I can give time and energy in ways that might be harder in another season of life.
Sometimes I really love that. I love being able to serve freely. I love pouring into children’s ministry. I love saying yes when there’s a need. I call it time freedom, and I love time freedom (9-5 is not for this girl).
But there’s another side to it, too. Whether or not I stay late at church, I always walk alone to my car, and drive home alone. There are moments when that reality feels heavier than usual. Like after long ministry days, braving the dark by myself. Like on holidays, watching families in color coordinating clothes pile into minivans. Like on random Sundays when everyone else is figuring out where to get lunch together. It’s not often I get invited to eat out.
Singleness in the church can feel strange sometimes because it carries both beauty and difficulty at the same time. There is freedom, but there can also be isolation. There is flexibility, but sometimes there’s an unspoken expectation that because I’m single, I’ll always be available.
I think most people don’t mean harm by it, and for every awkward or horror story we hear about how churches handle singleness, there are a lot more churches who are trying their best to care for people of all seasons well. I do believe and choose to hope there’s more good than bad, but the bad is always louder so we hear it more often. But even with all the good, singles can quietly become the ones who stay the latest, fill the gaps, carry extra flexibility, and then return home to empty spaces afterwards.
I don’t want to write this as a complaint. The truth is, God has been faithful to me in this single season. He’s given me meaningful friendships, a church family, and a calling to a ministry I love. He gave me purpose, joy, and growth. He taught me to depend on Him. He taught me to be resilient no matter how other people comment on my singleness. God taught me that a full life and a meaningful life are not always the same thing as a married life (and I say that with acknowledgement that I don’t always feel it).
I think, sometimes, the church unintentionally treats singleness like a waiting room as if real life starts later. But the Bible never talks about singles that way. Paul the Apostle spoke about singleness as something that could create unique opportunities for devotion and service to God.
That doesn’t erase the hard parts, and it doesn’t mean loneliness magically disappears. It does remind me that this season is not lesser. Single life is real life. Single people have meaningful callings. Singleness is a place where God is present and working.
I don’t have to minimize either side of singleness. I can acknowledge the beauty and the difficulty at the same time. I’m not the only person sitting in church holding both realities at the once. It’s a holy tension where God is with us every step of the way.