Like almost every other twenty-something woman in America, most Mondays at 8:00 PM you can find me eating junk food with my girlfriends watching The Bachelor. I had never watched this show until coming to college, and while I do love to make fun of the concept and the melo-dramatic women who star in it, I cannot deny that there is such an entertaining, can’t-take-your-eyes-off-the-screen appeal to this reality show. I am a big fan of reality TV; I have seen every season of Survivor since I was 12, and So You Think You Can Dance is always recorded on my DVR, but The Bachelor is different. When a player gets voted off the island on Survivor, or a dancer gets sent home by the judges on SYTYCD, it is (usually) not a personal attack against the person. In fact, I would argue that more often than not the better players, seen as threats, are sent home earlier in Survivor, and lots of times dancers who are clearly great and valuable people are sent home because SYTYCD is based on dancing ability alone. But with The Bachelor, we’re not talking about winning $1,000,000 or a talent show; we’re talking about pure romantic rejection. You see, romantic love is not something you can study for, practice, or become the “best” at; it is a phenomenon that must be reciprocated by both parties—it simply cannot be forced. Sure, some girls may be better at flirting, have better figures, or wear the perfect clothes, but when it comes down to it, love is not something that can be “achieved.”
I don’t know about y’all, but sometimes my self-confidence plummets when I think to myself how every single young lady on The Bachelor is not only model-gorgeous, but a lot of them also have successful careers. Some girls even had to leave their careers or quit their “dream” jobs to become a contestant. If a drop-dead gorgeous girl with a great career has to go on a game show to find a man, well where does that leave the rest of us? When those malicious whispers of self-doubt creep into my mind, I’ll admit that it can be difficult to see myself as the beautiful daughter of the King that I am. The Song of Solomon, while usually regarded as the romantic and even sexual book of the bible, also paints a delicate picture of God’s immense love for His people. Song of Solomon 4:7 says, “You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.”Ladies, we all want someone calling us “darling” and telling us we are flawless, am I right? But, come on, Jesus….You don’t see any flaws in me? Because I could easily point out about 25 from the top of my head. But this is what is so amazing about God’s love—we absolutely do not deserve it, yet He gives it so freely. God created you, every inch, even that hair that will never stay in place and the stretch marks you try so hard to hide. And if the creator of the universe knit me together in my mother’s womb, who am I to say that I am not good enough?
While watching The Bachelor with my best gal pals, I love to joke about how if I was on the show, I would be the one girl who would refuse to go on dates with the bachelor (even though he is quite good looking). Why, you ask? I desire for whoever I date and one day marry to be completely infatuated with me—not dating (and kissing) 20-some other women simultaneously. Call me crazy, but I’m still holding out for that once-in-a-lifetime, takes-my-breath-away kind of love. Jesus, just like He should be our role model in everything we do, is also our guide on how to love others. Ephesians 5:25 and 28 says, “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her… husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.” This is the love I want. Any man who gives his best attempt to love me like Jesus loved the church—that is the kind of man I want knocking on my door. I believe the women of my generation need to realize that love is not a game, although it does make for an entertaining television show.
Friends, instead of obsessing over if and when we will receive a “rose,” let’s remember that we already have one—a perfect, merciful, thorn-bearing rose. We have Jesus.