Don’t Blame Me (Hannah’s Version)

I wrote a single ladies’ anthem for all the “good girls”. Because who doesn’t need a psalm of lament set to a Taylor Swift tune? Check it out on YouTube! Below I explain the thoughts behind it.

Lately I’ve been feeling burdened by the experiences of myself and some of my single friends who want to marry. There is so much more behind the question “Why am I still single?” than people realize.

You’re not crazy

The song starts “Don’t blame me / call me boy crazy”. According to psychologist Erik Erikson, questions about intimacy and isolation are the core question for the developmental stage of early adulthood. What Christian single women are to do is also a serious sociological question. One source claims there are 25 million more women than men in the American church, but it feels like the church has not reckoned with what it will require to support single people to live out the teachings of Jesus in our broken world. Instead it remains a personal problem for us to figure out on our own. Hence, “Don’t blame me, blame society.”

It’s bad theology

In Christian circles, many people believe that God works everything out for our happiness in the end. There can be a sense that we deserve blessings for “doing the right thing”. I wanted to validate people who feel like they have done everything they were “supposed to do” – whether staying pure, going to therapy, or online dating – and are hitting a wall. At that point, more advice on how to fix the situation can feel like a subtle rejoinder that they wouldn’t be single if they had done something more / different, and yet it can feel like you’re doing everything you know how. I wanted to convey this sense of frustration.

The wisdom of Proverbs suggests that generally speaking, good deeds are rewarded, but Job pushes back, reminding people that spiritual warfare is another cause of suffering. While ultimately – in an eternal time frame – the faithful will be rewarded, an over-realized eschatology can lead to assumptions that a person with unanswered prayers isn’t doing enough themselves about the situation – hence the “don’t blame me”.

Laments often call on God to be faithful to his covenant promises, but we don’t have any promises specifically promising us the American dream. Instead, Christ calls us to “take up your cross and follow me”. His promise is that anyone who leaves behind family to follow him will be rewarded with a hundred times more – as well as persecution. An alternate chorus that didn’t make it into the song highlights this tension:

Don’t blame me, it’s bad theology
To start with grace and finish with works
Lord save me from throwing out the baby
‘Cause I didn’t follow you for the perks

I tried to avoid the weird “Jesus is my boyfriend” vibes, because you definitely can love Jesus and a husband, but there is still a sense that choosing Christ may mean not choosing certain relationships. “It’s worth losing to get abundant life” names the ambiguous loss that so often accompanies disappointments. While it’s not concrete, losing an imagined future is still a loss that is worth grieving.

Demons in the desert I fight

“There’s demons in the desert I fight” references Jesus, who was tempted by the devil in the wilderness, as well as the Desert Fathers and Mothers, early Christian ascetics who set the stage for monasticism. Single people who cling to Christ today are likewise strangely countercultural. We are fighting off the temptation to sin, the fallen world that has left us in a mess, the failings of others, the flesh’s desires, and the grief of the many “-isms” in our world.

Some of the “demons” we fight are legalism and sexism. We followed the advice of purity culture only to now be deemed prudish virgins and sometimes have bodily trauma (see Sheila Wray Gregoire‘s work on this). We toughened up to protect ourselves from harassment only to be called intimidating. We pursued our dreams and callings with excellence only to find that strong women are not desirable.

We also have a front row seat to the demons our brothers are struggling against. Go on enough dates, and you’ll hear about them fighting pressure to succeed, disillusionment with church, cynicism, substance use, shame around sexuality, pornography, past failed relationships or marriages, or isolation and lack of community. “Must I be perfect to be loved?” and “We’re all humans who want respect” are compassionate lines that include men in the audience, recognizing ways they’ve been dehumanized too.

Another demon many people face in dating is prejudice. When it comes to dating apps, black women and Asian men have the lowest success rates. I think this is partially because our culture’s portrayals have emasculated Asian men and equated beauty with light skin, and, for those wanting to date within their race, perhaps partially because of femicide and mass incarceration. While it didn’t seem like my place to speak for others and include all this in the song, this was part of the burden that inspired the lament.

Hope in Lament

This isn’t trivial stuff. As we face down real societal ills, “Why am I still single?” quickly becomes a question of theodicy – is God good in the midst of pain or disappointment? At a recent event, after a speaker mentioned the power of lament, someone said, “I hear that’s why Taylor Swift is popular, because she voices lament well.” She speaks to my target audience, so the idea for this song was born!

Lament is a godly response that brings our pain and questions to God. It helps us acknowledge the depths but takes us through them and out the other side to a more solid hope. In case you’re inspired to write your own lament, the structure of a lament psalm often includes:

1. Address and introductory cry: Identify the Lord as the person to whom the Psalm is addressed.
2. Complaint or Lament : Articulate the problem and ask the Lord for help.
3. Confession of Trust: Verbalize your trust in the Lord.
4. Prayer for Deliverance: Request deliverance, or God’s intervention in the problem.
5. Praise: Offer praise and thanksgiving to God for God’s many blessings.

I chose “Don’t Blame Me” because Taylor Swift’s chorus already mentions “Lord save me”, and a lament needs an address to God! The original song is about romance being an addictive drug, so appropriating it highlighted the contrast between Christian singleness and the powerful societal messages that single people are up against.

The first section on purity culture asked essentially, “Have I kept my heart pure in vain?” a question answered in the lament of Psalm 73, which also mentions a different “slippery slope” than we are used to. This inspired some of the hopeful portions of the song:

² But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;
    I had nearly lost my foothold.
³ For I envied the arrogant
    when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
¹³ Surely in vain I have kept my heart pure
    and have washed my hands in innocence…
²³ Yet I am always with you;
    you hold me by my right hand…
²⁵ Whom have I in heaven but you?
    And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
²⁶ My flesh and my heart may fail,
    but God is the strength of my heart
    and my portion forever.

May this be the hope that we cling to – that God is good and he’ll never leave us nor forsake us.