For all the complaining I do about Christmas, there is one holiday I love love love. It’s Valentine’s Day. Some of you, I sense, are making the gag gesture right now. Ladies, stop gagging and let’s get something out of the way:

Kay Jewelers is lying to you.

I have yet to meet one woman, (they probably exist but I’ve never met one) who is surprised with diamonds on Valentines Day by her super hot husband as she drinks champagne by candlelight.

You know what happens in the real world? Me neither, but around here, Sam Kirk draws hearts with a Sharpie on an old pizza box, tracing around the grease spots, and wraps it up with orange bailing twine to give to me as a card. If he doesn’t have a pizza box, he uses his Sharpie on case of Corona – beer missing.

And that kind of Valentine is perfect for me, because love looks different all the time and perspective is a good friend.

So let’s get us some of that, shall we?

Now, I recognize mating is a biological imperative, and when you really want to do that but haven’t, Valentines Day can be a hard ass bouncer, rejecting you at the door for reasons he’ll leave you to imagine (and you will). So it’s not surprising February 14th can leave you feeling mopey or less than or unworthy.

But you are none of those things.

Enter Heineken. Watch the vid or what I say next won’t make sense.

Of course, it’s lame that the definition of a hero in 2016 is a guy who turns down another beer – that bar is set fairly low – but listen to the lyrics, which by the way were written in 1986.

He’s got to be strong and he’s got to be sure and he’s got to be fresh from the fight. A streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds yes, but no mention of some dude in a hoodie and Beatz, passed out on the subway.

Before I realized this was an ad for moderate drinking, I got excited about a whole bunch of beautiful women getting up from the bar, grabbing their keys and saying “Hey pal, take your Tinder profile and shove it because I’m worth more than this.”

“Yes!” I thought. “That’s feminism.” That’s what it looks like when women reject the cheap goods they know they’re about to get from some dude who can’t hold his liquor, much less the door.

Now before I get in trouble, let me say, I am a huge fan of men. I love them, especially the good ones who know something about strength and courage and self-mastery and commitment, but it seems they are fewer and further between these days. Add “loves Jesus” to the description and the talent pool dries considerably.

So what’s a smart, Jesus-loving single gal with super high standards for sex and marriage to do with all that? Especially on Valentines Day?

First the bad news:

For better or worse, when it comes to finding a mate, most things are still out of female control. Men are still the team captains, and we’re still lined up on the gym wall. Sure there are exceptions, but the rule dominates: It is theirs to ask, and ours to accept or decline. The problem is, waiting to be picked is a powerless stance – one that’s especially difficult for women who are quite powerful in other areas of their lives.

I think this is deeply motivating fear for a lot of women. It was for me.

Will I get asked? What if I don’t get asked? What’s wrong with me that I haven’t been picked? There’s that Sports Illustrated model, of course she’ll get picked. Look at her abs, maybe I should do situps. Maybe then I’ll get picked.

It’s hardly cut and dried though. Countless women are stoked to be single and they’ll cite dozens of reasons for it. In fact, I was one of them too. My singleness allowed me space and time to travel around the world and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Yet, at a secret level, those questions still dogged me.

So it’s tricky territory. And maybe some of you are scoffing, saying “Hello it’s 2016 not 1950, and dating apps give women all the control in the world.” Do they? Or have they just increased the ease and speed with which people can hook up with strangers and be disappointed by them? Seems Tinder and Hinge have redefined the term “first date” so thoroughly, it’s unrecognizable as a concept, and women have to pretend they don’t care.

But most women I know care a lot, especially about things like respect, trust, mutuality and duration and they’re kind of disgusted with the whole show. Unfortunately, that getting picked thing is a powerful driver and sometimes, smart, strong women settle for deals they secretly know are just wrong for them.

Ladies. Don’t do it. Hold out. Because here’s the good news:

YOU’VE ALREADY BEEN PICKED!

If you choose to accept what Jesus said and did, you already are beloved, chosen, precious and royal. 

But you have to believe it, before you see it, and that’s the hard part. Imagine the deals we’d reject if we could dwell permanently in this spiritual reality, remembering at crucial moments that, in fact, we are worth dying for.

It’s mystical and abstruse and four-dimensional and fathoms deeper than the roses and diamonds kind of love that even the Christian radio stations hum with on Valentines Day.

But when you’ve been filled with the love of God, when you’ve sat long enough with him to be steeped in the fullness of joy, you own something deep and inviolable, and you begin to operate out of that place, like a Queen in her court. Not with pride, with power.

This is a long way of saying my Queens, if you are single on Valentines Day because you’re maintaining a high standard for your life and the people you allow in it…

GO YOU!

Use Valentines Day to celebrate that hard work. Keep rejecting the deals that are beneath you. Get to know the woman God says you are and repeat it a thousand times a day if you must. Then shove every offer you get through that filter, to see what comes out. Make your choices accordingly.

And while you’re at it, go get your girls. Put on your sparkly dresses, red lipstick and favorite shoes, then go celebrate the fact you’re holding out for a hero – one who believes the same thing about you that God does.

Amen.