BubbleBabble

My dear friend,

I want to be honest with you.

Lately, I’ve been feeling lonely again. It’s the kind of loneliness that creeps in quietly—especially at night—when the world feels still but my thoughts get loud. Sometimes I see couples laughing together, holding hands, posting pictures of their “perfect” love, and a soft ache starts to grow in my chest. I whisper to myself, I want that too.

But here’s the truth: saying that out loud isn’t weakness. It’s release. I’ve learned that when we bring our thoughts into the light, the enemy loses his grip on them. So this letter is me laying my thoughts before God—and sharing them with you—because I don’t want those lies to live in secret corners of my heart anymore.

A few weeks ago, I came across a testimony online that changed how I saw my season. It was a girl who shared how she once believed marriage would fill her emptiness, only to realize that no human could satisfy a heart meant for God. She said, “When our source of love is in the hands of imperfect people (all humans are imperfect), we will also have a broken and insecure heart.”

Those words pierced something deep in me.

She also shared an accompanying podcast titled “What It Means to Be the Bride of Christ.” As I listened, I began to understand what God has been teaching me all along—that before I belong to anyone else, I must first belong to Him.

When Loneliness Becomes Longing

I’ll admit it, friend—there are nights I still feel jealous. When I see people in relationships, a part of me wonders what’s wrong with me. I imagine how safe it must feel to have someone always beside you, someone to call, someone to text goodnight.

But I’ve realized something about loneliness: it exposes where our hearts have placed their trust. It reveals who—or what—we believe will finally make us complete.

In my case, it was people. I thought companionship would fix the ache, that if I found “the right person,” the quiet would stop echoing. But the ache didn’t come from lack of people; it came from forgetting who fills me.

Psalm 73 spoke to me in such a deep and personal way. It begins with David honestly confessing his envy toward those who seemed to prosper around him:

³ For I envied the proud
    when I saw them prosper despite their wickedness.
⁴ They seem to live such painless lives;
    their bodies are so healthy and strong.
⁵ They don’t have troubles like other people;
    they’re not plagued with problems like everyone else.
⁶ They wear pride like a jeweled necklace
    and clothe themselves with cruelty.
⁷ These fat cats have everything
    their hearts could ever wish for!

But as the psalm unfolds, his heart shifts, and it ends with this quiet realization:

²¹ Then I realized that my heart was bitter,
    and I was all torn up inside.
²² I was so foolish and ignorant—
    I must have seemed like a senseless animal to you.
²³ Yet I still belong to you;
    you hold my right hand.
²⁴ You guide me with your counsel,
    leading me to a glorious destiny.
²⁵ Whom have I in heaven but you?
    I desire you more than anything on earth.
²⁶ My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,
    but God remains the strength of my heart;
    he is mine forever.

This Psalm reminded me that even in moments of envy, bitterness, or longing, God’s conviction brings us to make a choice to see the Truth. Every desire to be seen, loved, and chosen was never meant to be fulfilled by people first—it was designed to be satisfied by Him.

Because when we try to fill a God-sized space with human affection, it never holds.

Loneliness, then, isn’t punishment; it’s an invitation—a holy redirection from a God who isn’t withholding love, but teaching us where to find it.

The Bridegroom Who Pursues

The Bible often describes God’s love like that of a husband who pursues His bride. He is not distant or indifferent. He is faithful, jealous in the holiest way—a love that refuses to let us settle for less than Him.

Hosea 2 captures it perfectly:

¹⁹ I will make you my wife forever,
    showing you righteousness and justice,
    unfailing love and compassion.
²⁰ I will be faithful to you and make you mine,
    and you will finally know me as the Lord.

This isn’t poetic exaggeration; it’s covenant language. God doesn’t pursue us to control us—He pursues us to restore us. Before we are anyone else’s, we are His.

It’s made me rethink love itself. Marriage, as beautiful as it is, isn’t the ultimate goal—it’s a gift, but more, it’s a mirror. Earthly marriage reflects a heavenly relationship already in motion: the soul and its Creator, the bride and her Bridegroom.

And just like any marriage requires faithfulness, our walk with God does too. Before we can love another person rightly, we must first be whole in Him. Because if we skip that step, we end up bringing our insecurity and anxiety into someone else’s arms, asking them to fix what only God can heal.

Becoming Whole in Christ

I wish I could tell you that once I understood this, I stopped struggling—but that wouldn’t be true.

Wholeness doesn’t happen in a moment. It’s a process, one surrender at a time. I’ve had to let go over and over again—the longing for attention, the fear of not being heard or seen, the lie that love means constant reassurance.

Some days I do well. Some nights I trip again. But every time I fall, grace catches me.

Ephesians 5 paints a tender picture of Christ’s love for His church—the ultimate Bride:

²⁵ For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her ²⁶ to make her holy and clean, washed by the cleansing of God’s word.²⁷ He did this to present her to himself as a glorious church without a spot or wrinkle or any other blemish. Instead, she will be holy and without fault.

That’s what it means to become whole in Christ. It’s not about perfection; it’s about purification. It’s letting Him wash over the messy parts of our hearts with His Word until we start to see ourselves through His eyes.

Christ’s love doesn’t just hold us—it heals us.
It doesn’t just claim us—it cleanses us.

And when you begin to realize that, the idea of “being alone” starts to lose its sting. Because you’re never really alone when you belong to Someone who never stops choosing you.

The Beauty of Being Pursued

While listening to that podcast, the speaker talked about how Song of Songs isn’t just a love story between two people—it’s a picture of God’s intimacy with His people. I’d never seen it that way before.

There’s a verse from Song of Songs 6 that says,

² My lover has gone down to his garden,
    to his spice beds,
to browse in the gardens
    and gather the lilies.
³ I am my lover’s, and my lover is mine.
    He browses among the lilies.

That line felt like a love letter from heaven. I used to think love was all about finding someone who would chase after me. But now I realize—I’ve been pursued my whole life by a Love that never gave up.

Living as His Bride

Friend, this truth has been very slowly (slower than I’d like to admit) rewriting my heart.

Being the Bride of Christ doesn’t mean we never get lonely again—it means that when we do, we know where to turn. It means our security isn’t built on attention or approval, but on belonging.

Isaiah 54 says,

⁵ For your Creator will be your husband;
    the Lord of Heaven’s Armies is his name!
He is your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel,
    the God of all the earth.

That verse once sounded strange to me, but now it feels like home.

Because to be His bride is to be loved with a love that doesn’t fade when you fail. It’s to wake up each morning knowing you’re chosen, and to rest each night knowing you’re safe.

It’s to let Him fill every empty space so that when love finally does come—in friendships, in marriage, in family—you’re giving from overflow, not emptiness.

This season of singleness, though painful at times, is sacred. It’s where I’m learning to become whole. I still stumble. I still cry. But when I do, I hear a whisper: “And yet You still call me Yours.”

And I’m learning to believe it.

A Prayer of the Bride

Lord, thank You for choosing
us long before we ever looked for You.
Teach us what it means to be Your bride—
faithful, patient, and full of love.
When our hearts wander toward earthly
affection, draw us back to You.

Heal the parts of us that still
crave validation from the world.
Make us whole in Your presence,
until we can love others
the way You first loved us.

Help us to wait well,
to love deeply, and
to rest securely in the
covenant You’ve made with us.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

So, friend, if you’re in a season of longing like me, maybe this is your gentle reminder too—before we become someone’s, we already are Someone’s.

We are the Bride of Christ—pursued, chosen, and perfectly loved.
You’re not alone. I’m still trying to learn this too.

With love,