I think one of the greatest fears we carry when it comes to love is the fear of choosing the wrong person. We date. We get to know someone. We spend months learning their personality, their values, their heart, their flaws, their dreams and their faith. At first, everything feels exciting because there is nothing to lose yet. You are simply getting to know each other. But then, somewhere along the way, things begin to become serious. Feelings deepen. Intentions become clearer. Conversations about the future begin to happen. And suddenly, the questions begin. Is he the one? Is this really what God wants for me? What if I am making a mistake? What if there is someone better? What if I marry the wrong person?

We can become so consumed with the fear of making the wrong choice that we forget something fundamental: we are not choosing a spouse without God. Sometimes we talk about relationships as though God gives us one perfect person somewhere in the world and our entire destiny depends on whether we somehow manage to find them. As though there is one person with our name written on them, and if we accidentally date the wrong person for too long, we have somehow ruined God’s plan for our lives. But is that really how we understand the God we say we trust?

The Holy Spirit lives in us. God has given us His Word. He gives us wisdom. He gives us discernment. He gives us peace. He speaks, redirects, convicts, confirms and closes doors. He is not standing at a distance watching us desperately try to solve the mystery of “Who is my person?” while hoping we somehow get it right. We are His children. And perhaps one of the things we need to recover in dating is trust. Trust that God is capable of leading us. Trust that if something is wrong, He is capable of showing us. Trust that if we are moving in a direction He does not want for us, He is capable of interrupting us. Trust that obedience will matter more than our ability to perfectly predict the future.

Because the goal of dating should not be to become so terrified of choosing the wrong person that we analyse every text, every feeling, every disagreement and every uncertainty as though we are trying to decode a divine secret. The goal should be to walk with God while getting to know another person. There is a difference between discernment and anxiety. Discernment asks, “What is true? What fruit is this relationship producing? Does this person love God? Do our values align? Is there character here? Is there wisdom in continuing?” Anxiety asks, “What if I get this wrong?” Discernment observes. Anxiety spirals. Discernment can wait. Anxiety demands certainty immediately. And sometimes, what we call “waiting on God” is actually our inability to trust Him with the decision.

We want God to give us a guarantee before we take another step. “God, tell me with absolute certainty that this is the person.” But perhaps God is inviting us into something deeper than certainty. Trust. Because marriage is not a decision you make knowing everything about a person. You make a decision based on what you have come to know, the character you have observed, the counsel you have received, the wisdom God has given you and the direction of the Holy Spirit—and then you continue choosing each other.

There will always be things you do not know. You cannot know exactly who someone will become five, ten or twenty years from now. You cannot predict every challenge you will face together. You cannot guarantee that there will never be conflict, disappointment or seasons of uncertainty. So if your peace depends on having a perfect guarantee that you have chosen the “right” person, you may never have peace. At some point, you have to trust the God who knows what you cannot see.

And this does not mean that every person we desire is automatically God’s choice for us. Nor does it mean we should ignore red flags, compromise convictions or call something “God’s will” simply because we really want it. God can lead us through a relationship and still require us to walk away from it. God can reveal someone’s character before we marry them. God can convict us. God can close a door. And we can also disobey. That is an important part of the conversation. Sometimes people do choose relationships that God was warning them against, not because God abandoned them, but because they chose their desire over His direction. We cannot call every wrong decision “God’s plan” when we ignored His instruction.

But neither should we live terrified that one imperfect decision will permanently place us outside the will of God. There is grace in following Him. There is grace when we realise we were wrong. There is grace when a relationship ends. There is grace when God redirects us. And there is grace in learning how to love wisely.

Maybe we need to stop asking, “What if I choose the wrong person?” and start asking better questions. “Am I listening to God? Am I being honest about what I see? Am I ignoring something because I am afraid to lose this person? Is this relationship producing good fruit? Can I see character, humility, integrity and a willingness to grow? Are we moving in the same direction? Do the people who love me and know me well see what I see? Can I surrender this relationship to God, even if His answer is not the one I want?”

Because that last question might be the most important one. Can you give God permission to say no? If you cannot, then perhaps the issue is not that you don’t know whether the person is right. Perhaps the issue is that you have already decided what you want and are asking God to approve it.

Dating should not be an attempt to manipulate God into giving us the relationship we desire. It should be an opportunity to discover whether the person we desire is someone we can faithfully build a life with under God’s direction. And perhaps we need to remember that God is not trying to trick us. He is not waiting for us to make one wrong move so that He can say, “Well, you chose badly. Now figure it out.” He is a Father. He is present. He is faithful. And He has not left us without guidance.

So yes, take relationships seriously. Pray. Seek counsel. Pay attention to character. Ask difficult questions. Do not ignore red flags. Do not romanticise potential. Do not call chemistry confirmation. Do not use “God told me” to excuse what God has clearly warned you against. But after you have done all of that, trust Him.

Because love was not your idea before it was God’s. The desire to know someone, to be known, to build a home, to give yourself to another person in covenant and to experience companionship is not something God accidentally allowed into your heart. He created us for relationship. And if He is the God who placed the desire there, surely He is also capable of shepherding us as we pursue it.

We don’t need to live paralysed by the possibility of choosing wrong. We need to become people who know the voice of God, love Him enough to obey Him and trust Him enough to follow wherever He leads. Because perhaps the greatest security in choosing a partner isn’t knowing with absolute certainty that “this is the one.” Perhaps it is knowing:

“I am walking with the One who knows.”

Marriage is one of God’s greatest acts of creation. It is far more than a ceremony, a legal contract, or two people deciding to spend their lives together. It is the beginning of something entirely new. When God joins a man and a woman in marriage, He is not simply adding another relationship to their lives; He is creating a new family. Two people, each carrying their own history, upbringing, traditions, strengths, weaknesses, and experiences, are brought together to build a life that neither could have created alone. This is why marriage is not simply about finding the right person. It is about becoming the right partner and embracing the new identity God is forming through the covenant.

Many people spend months or even years preparing for a wedding, yet very little time preparing for the transition that marriage requires. They carefully choose venues, flowers, attire, and guest lists, but often overlook the inner work that must happen for a marriage to flourish. Marriage requires more than love. It requires a shift in loyalty, identity, responsibility, and perspective. It calls two people to leave what has been familiar in order to build something entirely new together.

This principle is introduced in the very beginning of the bible. Genesis 2:24 says, “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.” It is fascinating that God established this principle before there were generations of parents to leave. Adam and Eve had no earthly father or mother, yet God was laying down a timeless blueprint that would govern every marriage throughout history. The order is intentional and cannot be ignored: leave, cleave, then become one. God never reverses that order because each step prepares the way for the next.

When Scripture speaks about leaving, it is not suggesting abandonment or dishonor. It is not a call to distance yourself emotionally from your parents or to stop valuing the sacrifices they made to raise you. The command to honor your father and mother remains throughout life. What changes is not the presence of honor but the direction of your primary loyalty. Before marriage, your parents are your primary earthly authority and often your greatest influence. After marriage, your spouse becomes your primary human relationship. Honor continues, but dependence must gradually give way to maturity.

Many people assume leaving is about moving out of their parents’ home, but leaving is far more emotional than geographical. Someone can live in another country and still remain emotionally dependent on their parents, while another person may live next door and maintain healthy boundaries. Leaving is about allowing your marriage to become the place where decisions are made, where loyalty is rooted, and where your deepest commitment lies. It is about understanding that while your parents will always have a place in your heart, they are no longer the people with whom you are building your future.

One of the greatest challenges in this transition is learning to separate your own voice from the voices that shaped you growing up. Every child is influenced by parents, grandparents, relatives, culture, traditions, and community. These voices shape our understanding of love, conflict, money, communication, discipline, faith, and relationships. They become so familiar that we often mistake them for our own convictions. Without realizing it, we may constantly ask ourselves what our mother would think, whether our father would approve, or whether something is right simply because it has always been done that way. While there is wisdom in learning from those who raised us, there is also a point where maturity requires us to seek God’s wisdom personally and learn to discern for ourselves.

Marriage invites us into that maturity. It asks us to stop living solely from inherited beliefs and begin building convictions together with our spouse. Parents may offer valuable counsel, but they are no longer responsible for directing every decision. God designed marriage so that a husband and wife would seek Him together, pray together, make decisions together, and carry the responsibility for those decisions together. Advice can be welcomed without surrendering the authority God has entrusted to the marriage itself.

When leaving does not truly happen, marriages often experience tensions that are difficult to identify. Sometimes a husband continues placing his mother’s opinions above his wife’s feelings. Sometimes a wife still seeks her father’s approval before making decisions with her husband. Sometimes every disagreement becomes a family discussion before the couple has spoken honestly to one another. Financial choices, parenting decisions, holidays, and even private conflicts become heavily influenced by people outside the marriage. Over time, this communicates a painful message to a spouse: “You are not my first priority.” A husband or wife who continually feels second to parents, siblings, or extended family will eventually struggle to feel secure within the relationship.

Leaving, however, is only half of God’s design. After leaving comes cleaving. The Hebrew word translated as “hold fast” or “cleave” carries the beautiful picture of clinging closely, remaining firmly attached, and refusing to let go. It describes an intentional commitment that goes beyond simply sharing a home. Cleaving means choosing one another repeatedly through every season of life. It means becoming emotionally available, protecting one another’s hearts, creating safety, building trust, forgiving generously, and continually pursuing unity. Oneness is not something that automatically appears because vows were exchanged. It grows through thousands of daily decisions to remain connected.

This is why some couples find themselves living like roommates rather than partners. They share responsibilities but not intimacy. They coordinate schedules but rarely share their hearts. They discuss bills, children, and obligations, yet seldom invest in knowing each other deeply. Emotional distance often develops not because love has disappeared but because intentional attachment has been neglected. Cleaving is the ongoing work of moving toward one another even when life becomes busy, stressful, or painful.

Marriage also requires leaving behind familiarity. Every family develops its own culture over time. Some families communicate openly, while others avoid difficult conversations. Some express affection freely, while others struggle to communicate emotions. Some manage money carefully, while others live impulsively. Some have healthy conflict resolution, while others rely on silence, anger, or control. None of us enters marriage as a blank page. We all bring habits, expectations, and assumptions learned in our family of origin. Yet God’s design is not for one spouse to recreate their childhood home within the marriage. Instead, husband and wife are invited to prayerfully decide together what they will carry forward and what they will leave behind. Some traditions deserve to be preserved, while others need to end so healthier patterns can begin.

Learning to leave what is familiar can feel uncomfortable because familiarity often feels safe, even when it is unhealthy. There is comfort in doing what we have always known. Yet growth often requires releasing what is comfortable in order to embrace what is better. Sometimes that means challenging unhealthy patterns that have existed for generations. Sometimes it means learning new ways of communicating, resolving conflict, managing finances, or expressing love. These changes are not acts of rebellion against our families but acts of stewardship toward the family God is helping us build.

Healthy boundaries become essential in this process. Boundaries are often misunderstood as rejection, yet they are actually expressions of love and protection. A healthy marriage learns to make major decisions together before seeking outside opinions. It protects the dignity of the spouse in conversations with relatives. It resolves conflicts privately whenever possible and seeks counsel wisely rather than allowing extended family to become participants in every disagreement. Healthy boundaries communicate that the marriage covenant is sacred and worthy of protection.

The phrase “they shall become one flesh” captures the beauty of everything God intended. Becoming one is not limited to physical intimacy. It involves emotional unity, spiritual partnership, shared purpose, financial stewardship, mutual trust, and growing together in every area of life. It is a lifelong journey of two individuals becoming increasingly united while still retaining the uniqueness God created within each of them. This kind of oneness cannot flourish where loyalty remains divided or where emotional attachment is neglected. It is the natural fruit of leaving well and cleaving faithfully.

Leaving and cleaving are rarely completed in a single day. They unfold over years through conversations, forgiveness, growth, and countless choices that place the marriage first. There will be moments when old habits resurface, when familiar voices become loud again, and when the comfort of old patterns tempts us to retreat. Yet God continually invites husbands and wives back to His original design. He calls them to honor their families without being governed by them, to love their parents without depending on them, and to build a home where their spouse feels fully seen, deeply valued, and unquestionably chosen.

Marriage was never meant to erase the family you came from. Those relationships remain valuable and worthy of honor. But marriage does require that a new family becomes your primary earthly responsibility. When you leave with honor and cleave with intention, you create the environment where genuine oneness can grow. That is God’s wisdom from the very beginning; a wisdom that continues to guide marriages today. It reminds us that love is not only about choosing someone to spend your life with, but also about having the courage to leave what is familiar so that, together, you can build something entirely new.

Mine is a brain that can’t stop wandering. I have lacked a way to tame my thoughts. When you have a void, it’s obvious to try filling it with all things and see if they fit. But when they don’t, you become wholly frustrated, you feel lost, you feel forgotten, you feel like the world is ending. You feel like you are drowning, and there’s no one to hold your hand. No one to save you.

Is this how everyone feels when they walk this life alone? Is this what it’s like when we try to do things on our own, forgetting the One who writes our stories? Or when we chase after things that were never meant to sustain us? I don’t like the feeling. I never did. But maybe that’s where life meets us, at the crossroads of longing and learning.

(I am just picking you guys up from where I left you here Walks and Seasons of Life – remember?)

Seated here, I realize how much life has unfolded since my last words found you. The girl who once wrote about seasons changing now understands that they don’t always shift on schedule. That sometimes, winter lingers, and sometimes, what looks like spring is only a brief pause before another storm.

Earlier this year, I took a bold step and joined Shujaa, an apprenticeship program that runs for the whole of this year. In the months since, I have confronted the rawest parts of myself; my past, my choices, my identity. I have had to unlearn things I once held dear and relearn the truth about who I am. Not who the world told me I should be, but who I have always been in Christ.

For the longest time, I sought love in all the wrong places. I chased validation, thinking it would fill the hollow spaces within me. But love, real, unshakable love; was never meant to be found in mere human hands. It was always in the One who formed me, the One who calls me His.

I have made mistakes. I have been bruised by my own decisions and by the expectations of a world that never really sees the heart. But in these wounds, I have found grace. I have learned that my identity is not something I need to strive for, it is something I already possess. I am a beloved daughter, a royal citizen with a Kingdom vision, a sage learning wisdom, a warrior on a mission, and a friend in the community. My task is not to create myself, but to activate who I already am.

The journey has not been easy. Healing never is. But I am no longer walking in circles, trying to force pieces into a puzzle they were never meant for. I am walking with the One who goes before me, beside me, and within me. And He – He is greater than anything in this world.

So, here I am. Back with a bang. Not because I have everything figured out, but because I finally know where to anchor myself. The seasons have changed, but this time, I am not merely surviving them: I am becoming through them.

The sun will rise and we will try again.