I’m 22. Never had a boyfriend. Never held hands with anyone. Never kissed anyone. And I was contented with that… Until he entered my life.

Just two weeks ago, we were complete strangers. I was working at a theatre productions company where we were introduced by the director. I wasn’t supposed to extend my internship; He wasn’t supposed to come to Singapore. Had anything missed its turn, we wouldn’t have met.

Everything aligned.

Everything was perfect.

We connected immediately, on an emotional and mental frequency. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I never thought anyone could fall in love with me and I wasn’t prepared for what came next. When he held my hand, I felt butterflies in my stomach for the first time. When he kissed me, I felt my stomach churn.

He was kind, loving, gentle, understanding, patient and all of those things I had desired in a boyfriend. He was everything I wanted in my significant other.

Except he wasn’t a Christian.

If the Holy Spirit was an alarm, He might as well have been shaking me, yelling at me to draw the line, to get away. I didn’t know what to do. Everything felt right … yet wrong at the same time. I even tried to justify the relationship with thoughts like:

Well, he is open to religion. That makes it okay, right?
I mean, I could perhaps bring him to church? If he likes me enough, he’d change his mind about Jesus, wouldn’t he?
Well, I can’t just tell him that I can’t date him just because he’s a non-believer, right? That’s kind of elitist.

All these thoughts ran through my mind; I was confused and frustrated because I knew the answer. It was a resounding No from God. No matter how many times I prayed, the answer remained the same and I knew that.

What if I can’t find someone like him again?
What if no one else ever likes me?
What if I die alone?

My heart was wavering, tempted to disobey God. And in the midst of my fear and anxiety, Jeremiah 2:13 came to mind: “My people have committed two evils: They have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water.”

Those we build our lives around – the people who are closest to us – are the ones who can either help bring us close to God, or pull us farther away.

The heart that was longing for love and intimacy had found its way into a broken cistern, insistent on finding and making a home out of another person, instead of the One who supplies living waters.

In this guy, I had found a functional saviour. He was a refuge in which I sought comfort, we depended on each other to have our needs met. He was someone who had been hurt and abused in his past and in our shared brokenness, in our conversations, we thought we could save each other, if we trudge through this together.

That realisation snapped me to sobriety. I couldn’t be his salvation, nor he mine. That could only be done by Jesus. It would be incredibly selfish of me to keep him to myself instead of surrendering him to God, who is the One who will restore and love him to wholeness, not me.

He needs to know True Love before he can decide on what love really constitutes.

I don’t wish to keep him to myself, because in no way can I love him the way Jesus can. I am only hindering his salvation by allowing him to continue this relationship with me.

So, in spite everything my heart and mind is influencing me to believe, the truth is this relationship wasn’t going to work out because I can’t save him. I can never be his True Love.

And, despite our commonalities, we believe in completely different things.

If your identity is in Christ alone, then your life will come into conflict with your non-believing girlfriend or boyfriend. As it should. Those we build our lives around – the people who are closest to us – are the ones who can either help bring us close to God, or pull us farther away.

It’s what Paul was referring to when he said in 2 Corinthians 6:14, “Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?”

If your heart is truly, genuinely, passionately in pursuit of Christ, then a non-believer — no matter how wonderful he or she is — will never truly know you. Both of you may connect on an emotional and mental level, but you will never be able to have spiritual intimacy with him.

Worshipping the idea of marriage in place of our Creator places an expectation on that relationship to meet the deepest need in our hearts — which can only be filled by one person: Jesus.

The truth is, God has more for you.

I know that this seems so easy to say, especially when the Facebook timelines are filled with engagements, marriage proposals, and BTO applications. But worshipping the idea of marriage in place of our Creator places an expectation on that relationship to meet the deepest need in our hearts — which can only be filled by one person: Jesus.

In 1 John 3:20 it says, “God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.” Our inability to succeed in giving over our heart’s desires to God is not a surprise to Him. He knows. He cares.

And I know that He takes away good things for our own good.