By: Everest Kim
I turned 21 on February 14—Valentine’s Day. On a day that many people celebrate romantic relationships, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the purpose of dating.
Recently, I had an epiphany regarding one of those concepts I already knew but summarized in a clearer way: In dating, you are not committed to a person; rather, in marriage, you are committed to a person. While there is a level of exclusivity that comes with dating, you are more committed to a process than to a person.
You are committed to the process of discovery, learning and research. You are committed to communicating your findings to your partner. You spend time getting to know this person and finding out whether the two of you are capable of growing together. Is the person you are dating supportive of your goals? Are you willing to support theirs? Are your life visions compatible? What about your core values?
The moment you no longer see them as a potential life partner, you have the responsibility to let them know. You have to be honest, timely—clear communication is crucial. Staying in a relationship just because you fear solitude or the unknown is a terrible disservice to yourself and your partner.
However, you should keep in mind that this process of dating isn’t callous or indifferent. Memories are made, and feelings will inevitably get entangled. When a relationship you care about ends differently than expected, the pain of heartbreak will follow.
The nature of dating is often volatile, and there are so many things we cannot control—nor should we want to, since love is based on freedom. In his book The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis writes:
“There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is hell.”
In light of this, it is imperative that you know your worth, your immovable identity and your purpose. We were never meant to derive our sense of value or identity from other humans—not from our significant other, not from our parents and not from our friends.
When our identity rests soundly in our Creator’s love for us, it gives us the freedom to embrace the vulnerability inherent in the process of dating and in love itself.
It’s okay to be disappointed when things don’t go as planned or as wished for, to be frustrated when we don’t understand. In Christ, we have the freedom to mourn loss in this life while never losing ourselves in the process.