The Checklist I Didn’t Sign Up For

I think it was about two years ago, or maybe last summer—I’m not quite sure—but I was sitting outside the church in the overflow section on the balcony. I really loved this church, but I always felt a little out of place because the crowd was mainly families.

I know that wasn’t really true. There weren’t just families there, but for the most part, dang, did I feel like an outsider. And I know I made myself feel that way; no one else did.

This is really where I started thinking in my heart: What are we doing for the women who find a spouse later in life, or maybe don’t find one at all?

I think that not only society, but often church culture, hands us a checklist for our lives: Go to college. Find a career you love. Find a spouse. Get married. Buy a home. Raise God-loving kids. Retire at 65. 

And you’ll love your life, and you’ll be blessed, sanctified, and fulfilled.

And that’s so true for many people. I’m not dogging on that at all if that’s your path. I think it’s incredibly beautiful, and I hope to have that one day. But I also don’t think that has to be the end goal for everyone.

None of us are living the same life, yet it feels like we’re all supposed to have the same checklist. And I’m not great at math, but that doesn’t add up to me.

I can imagine how amazing—and still hard—it is to have a spouse, a career, kids, and everything else life gives us. We need people by our side, but I don’t think marriage is the only way to have a beautiful life. I’m just tired of most people, including my own brain, thinking there’s only one way to do life.

There’s not.

We’re all called differently. Some are called to marriage. Some to careers. Some to motherhood or fatherhood. Some to ministry. Some travel the world. Some stay right where they are.

We need to stop acting like our callings—and our checklists—are the same.

They’re not.

I’ll be honest: sometimes I’m not sure if I want marriage or children anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking down on either one, and I never will. It truly is such a beautiful blessing. But I’m not sure it’s what I want anymore, even though it’s something I’ve always wanted deep down.

And I’ve had to ask myself: Is it that I don’t want it, or am I scared to admit I still do?

Even if I do, there’s no timeline attached to it.

I’ve met amazing women who didn’t have kids until their late 30s or early 40s, and I think that’s beautiful. I’m just tired of us pushing ourselves into unnecessary boxes: Do this by 25. Do that by 30. Have all your kids by 35.

We see this comparison trap throughout the Bible, too. Rachel compared herself to Leah and became consumed by the fact that Leah was having children while she wasn't. Sarah grew tired of waiting and tried to take matters into her own hands. Hannah was deeply grieved as she watched another woman have the children she desperately wanted. Martha looked at Mary and thought, Why isn't she doing what I'm doing? And even Peter looked at John and asked Jesus, “What about him?” Jesus' response was simple: “What is that to you? You follow me.”

I think that's something we all need to hear sometimes.

What is that to you?

What someone else's life looks like is not necessarily a picture of what God is asking you to do. Their timeline isn't your timeline. Their marriage isn't your marriage. Their children, career, calling, success, or lack of those things aren't evidence that you're behind.

Comparison can make us feel like we're late when God may simply be leading us somewhere different.

And maybe that’s part of why this has been so difficult for me. When I stop looking sideways at everyone else’s lives and actually sit with God and ask what I want, I realize I don’t have a neat answer. I feel multiple things at once.

I desire to be loved. I desire to be a mom one day. I can picture the beauty of having a family and sharing life with someone. But I’m equally scared of it. I’m scared of what it would require of me, scared of losing the life I’ve built, scared of choosing wrong, and honestly, sometimes scared that I want it simply because I’ve been told my whole life that I’m supposed to want it.

And that’s where I’ve been wrestling.

I don’t want to miss out on something because I’m afraid of it. But I also don’t want to chase something because I’m afraid of missing out. There’s a difference. I don’t want comparison to make decisions for me. I don’t want fear to make decisions for me either. I want God to.

The hard part is, you don’t really know what God’s plan is until you take the steps. And I’ll be the first to admit my own hypocrisy here—desiring all of this one day, then chasing the next milestone thinking, Once I do this, I can finally rest, and feeling let down when it doesn’t satisfy the way I hoped.

It’s the same with careers, spouses, kids, or anything else. If we’re chasing fulfillment anywhere but God, we’ll never actually be satisfied. Our identity shouldn’t be in who chooses us here on earth—whether we’re married, whether we have kids, whether we have a successful career, whether we write books, whatever it is.

All of it shapes us, but none of it should define us. Laying down the fact that I’ve looked for fulfillment in other things besides Jesus is something I need to repent of. And I do believe God created good things for us to find real joy and fulfillment in. Marriage is good. Children are good. Careers can be good. Community is good. The things we create and the work we do can be good.

But when those things outweigh our relationship with Him, everything gets off balance.

Sometimes people point to the verse about it not being good for man to be alone, or the part about a spouse leaving family to become one with their spouse. And yes, I believe those things are true. I just don’t believe marriage is part of everyone’s story. It’s not good to be alone—so yes, have a spouse if that’s your path. But also build a community that rallies behind you when you need it. We need people. We need friendship. We need family. We need people who know us, love us, challenge us, pray for us, and show up when life gets hard. Marriage is one beautiful expression of that kind of relationship. But it isn’t the only one.

I’ve rambled for a while now, but I hope you can see where I’m coming from. We don’t all have the same lives or callings, so why would we all have the same checklist? Let’s throw them away.

It’s good to have a plan. It’s good to prepare. I’m Type A—I know I need a checklist to see it all laid out. But let’s not get so caught up in what everyone else’s checklist looks like that we forget to ask God for our own.

Or maybe He’d just rip the checklist up entirely and say,

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

What would it be like to believe our worth isn’t tied to a checklist?

To ask honestly:

What does God want for me? What do I want for myself that’s aligned with His Word? Versus what has culture, or the people around me, told me I want?

I’m not sure.

And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe I don’t need to have the whole thing figured out right now. Maybe I just need to keep taking the next step, trusting that God can lead me even when I can’t see the whole path. I don’t want fear to keep me from something God may have for me. But I also don’t want the fear of missing out to make me chase something He hasn’t asked me to pursue. I want to be able to hold both possibilities with open hands.

So I’m throwing the worldly checklist away.