Courtship, Heartbreak, and Self – Discovery

Psalm 34:18 – The Message  

If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there. If you’re kicked in the gut, He’ll help you catch your breath.

Ending a Christian relationship can bring a unique kind of pain. You’re not just losing someone you loved; you’re losing a future you prayed for. You may feel confused about what you thought God was saying. Seeing them across the sanctuary every Sunday can be awkward. You might question if you misheard God or if everything was a mistake, and that can be difficult to face.

Then there’s the church. Friends get caught in the middle. You think about the commitments you made together. Serving on thesame team or in a small group becomes uncomfortable and painful. Many people pull back from church after a breakup. It’s not that their faith is gone; rather, being close feels too painful. They might sit in the back or skip small group meetings. Every decision gets filtered through a desire to avoid more pain.

This isn’t weakness; this is what heartbreak does.

Christian communities often discuss how relationships should begin: discernment, purpose, God’s will. However, we rarely talk about what happens when a God-honoring relationship still ends. We don’t know how to deal with that kind of failure, so we say things like “God is protecting you from the wrong person” or “His timing is perfect.” While that may be true, it doesn’t erase your current feelings.

Let’s be clear: a failed relationship does not make you a failure. Read that again. 

Just because a relationship ends doesn’t mean you’re broken, unworthy, or incapable of love. It means something didn’t work, and that’s just information, not condemnation. Each ended relationship reveals something about you, how you love, and where you need to grow. If you’re willing to look at it honestly, those insights can become opportunities. 

Not to criticize yourself, but to improve. To fix what can be fixed. To grow where you’ve felt stuck. To understand yourself better than when everything seemed fine.

It’s normal to find it harder to worship, pray, or show up when your heart feels shattered. God isn’t keeping score of your attendance or measuring your usefulness. Your worth doesn’t diminish because you need time to heal. Mutual friends might feel the tension. People may pick sides unintentionally. The body of Christ is meant to bear burdens together, but sometimes the burden is simply awkwardness, which is tougher to address than other types of need. The point is, do not leave the presence of God, no matter what!

A breakup can force you to confront questions you might have been avoiding: Who am I when I’m not trying to be what someone else needs? What do I want, apart from what attracts others? What does my relationship with God look like when it’s not about finding or keeping a partner? These are uncomfortable questions, but also sacred ones.

Most Christians wonder, “How do I know if someone is the right person for me?” We pray, make lists, seek advice, and look for peace, confirmation, or signs. While that can be useful, it may distract us from a more fundamental question: Who am I?

Not “Who should I be to attract the right person?” but honestly, who am I right now? What do I value? What are my relationship patterns? Where do I compromise myself? Where am I healthy, and where do I still need to grow? What wounds do I carry that affect how I love?

This isn’t selfish. This is taking care of yourself. You can’t give what you don’t have. You can’t build a healthy partnership without knowing your own foundation. You can’t discern well if you operate from an incomplete sense of self.

The search for the “right person” often becomes about finding someone who completes us, fills our gaps, and makes us whole. But two incomplete people can’t create one whole relationship. They create a complicated mix where both expect the other to do the work only they can do for themselves.

Here’s what I’ve learned from my experience: Become a whole person. Not perfect, but whole. Know your strengths and weaknesses, your triggers and joys, your calling and limits. Face your brokenness and allow God to heal it, not through another person, but through His presence.

When you know who you are, the question changes from “Are they the right person?” to “Does this relationship allow me to be fully myself while encouraging my growth? Does it honor who God made me to be while challenging me where I’ve settled for less?” You can only answer that if you know yourself first.

None of this implies your pain was meaningless. If you allow it, heartbreak can be one of the most profound teachers you’ll ever have. It teaches you about your ability to love and grieve. It shows your patterns: Do you lose yourself in relationships? Avoid vulnerability? Demand perfection from others because you demand it from yourself? Settle for less because you don’t believe you deserve more? The end of a relationship can reveal these patterns and give you a chance to see them clearly and change them.

This is crucial: a relationship’s failure doesn’t mean you’ve failed as a person. It exposes what needs your attention. Maybe you discovered you don’t know how to handle conflict. Maybe you realized you’re afraid of being alone, so you cling too tightly. Perhaps you’ve been choosing partners who can’t meet you where you are. None of that makes you flawed; it makes you human. Now you know, and now you can do something about it.

When you take what broke and let God use it to build something stronger in you, better boundaries, healthier communication, deeper self-awareness, genuine confidence, you don’t just heal. You become a better version of yourself. Not because the relationship failed, but because you didn’t waste the lesson it offered.

It deepens your reliance on God. Not in a vague way, but in the reality of needing Him to help you through today, this week, the next time you see them at church, the loneliness, the questions, and the ache that seems endless. That kind of reliance doesn’t weaken faith; it matures it.

It also prepares you for healthier love. The lessons learned from what went wrong create a foundation for what could go right. You learn what you need, what you won’t accept, and what true love looks like versus infatuation, codependency, or fear pretending to be love. You learn you can survive losing someone you thought you couldn’t live without. In that survival, you find strength and clarity that were previously missing.

So, where do you go from here?

Firstly, give yourself permission to grieve and heal. Don’t spiritualize it away. Don’t rush to “God’s timing” before you’ve allowed yourself to feel the loss. You are not helping anyone but yourself.

Secondly, resist the urge to fill the emptiness right away; whether with another relationship, frantic busyness, or bitterness. Sit with that emptiness. Let it teach you. Allow God to meet you there.

Thirdly, do the work of self-discovery. Have honest conversations with trusted friends who will tell you the truth. Consider taking a break from ‘finding the one’ altogether to discover who you are when you’re not seeking someone else’s approval.

Lastly, return to your community, but on your terms. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. However, don’t let pain isolate you from the body of Christ. Find people and spaces where you can be honest and heal without putting on a brave face you don’t feel.

Remember this: your story isn’t over. This chapter has ended, but the book continues. God isn’t done writing. The person you’re becoming through this journey is worth becoming, whether or not you find another relationship.

I will emphasise this – the goal isn’t just to find the right person. It’s to become the right person: someone who understands themselves, does their work, and can love from wholeness instead of need.

When you meet someone from that place, the question changes entirely. It’s no longer “Is this the one?” It becomes “Does this relationship honor who we both are and who we are becoming? Does it reflect Christ’s love – sacrificial, honest, and life-giving?” You can only answer that if you know who you are first.

The breaking was real. The pain was real. The loss was real. But so is the growth. So is the healing. So is the version of you that emerges from this season; stronger, clearer, and more fully yourself than before.

That version of you is worth discovering. And that journey of discovery is worthwhile, even when it’s painful.

Stay Blessed.