By Sally Jo

There are some days I still have to remind myself that singleness isn’t something to apologize for. That it’s not the B-side to marriage’s hit single. That it’s not a waiting room I sit in until God finally decides I’ve “earned” something more.

Because that’s how it can feel, can’t it?

When the wedding invitations keep coming. When the church sermon series always ends with “and one day, when you’re married…” When your loneliness echoes louder than the words in your Bible reading plan. It’s easy to believe that singleness is just an absence, a vacancy, a deficiency.

But the longer I’ve walked this road, the more convinced I’ve become: singleness isn’t a life stage to endure. It’s a sacred space where joy grows in ways marriage can’t always contain.

Don’t get me wrong—there are days it aches. I feel the weight of unchosen solitude. I feel the sting of unanswered questions, the longing for touch, the craving for someone to know me fully and still stay.

But singleness has also introduced me to a kind of freedom that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.

It’s the freedom to say yes to people at 11pm because no one’s waiting for you to come home. It’s the freedom to linger with God without being pulled in ten directions. It’s the capacity to give yourself away in a hundred small ways that might not make headlines but quietly echo eternity.

It’s a joy that sneaks up on you—not always loud, but deeply real.

I’ve laughed with friends around dinner tables that felt like glimpses of heaven. I’ve traveled across the world. I’ve spent weekends sleeping in a friend’s guest room because they were injured and needed help around the house—because singleness made me available in ways I wouldn’t otherwise be.

And in all of that, I’ve found this strange and stunning truth: Jesus isn’t just enough—He’s better.

He doesn’t just fill the space that marriage might have occupied. He enlarges it. He makes room for a joy that isn’t dependent on a plus-one.

This isn’t about pretending singleness is easy. It’s about refusing to believe it’s second-best. Because Scripture doesn’t treat singleness like a problem to be solved—it treats it like a gift to be stewarded (1 Corinthians 7).

That’s not a platitude. It’s a promise. That in a world obsessed with coupling up, there is a deep, defiant joy in belonging wholly to Christ.

So to my fellow singles—especially those of us walking this path with convictions that cost us something—know this: your life is not on hold. Your joy is not on layaway. And your singleness is not a consolation prize. It’s a calling. It’s a witness. And yes—it’s a gift.

Even when it’s hard, even when it’s lonely, even when the ache comes back again—there’s still joy here. Deep joy. Real joy. Resurrection-shaped joy.

Because Christ is here. And He is enough.