“I hope he is filthy rich”. “I hope she is a Christian”. “I hope they are attractive”.
Rich is too low a standard.
Christian is too low a standard.
Attractive is too low a standard.
You can be rich and selfish.
I have sat across dinner tables with rich.
Daddy’s money.
Mummy’s money.
Generational money.
Rich does not mean hardworking.
Rich does not mean disciplined.
Rich does not mean self-made.
Rich certainly does not mean generous.
Some of the most generous people I have ever met have not been rich.
And when I say generous, I do not just mean paying for the first few dates.
I mean generous with time.
Generous with patience.
Generous with forgiveness.
Generous with encouragement.
Generous with attention.
Generous with sacrifice.
But yes, also generous with their money.
If wealth is your standard, you are aiming low.
Because money can be inherited and earned. Generosity cannot.
You can be Christian and unfaithful.
In fact, most of the divorces I personally know of have involved Christians who couldn’t keep their vows.
The label did not stop betrayal.
The church attendance did not prevent infidelity.
Christian does not equal committed.
Christian does not equal faithful.
Christian does not equal emotionally mature.
They might know all the songs.
They might be singing them on a Sunday.
They might even be leading worship on stage.
But what is their relationship with lust?
What is their obedience like when no one is watching?
Do they honour God privately, or just perform publicly?
There is a difference between professing faith and practising obedience.
Between quoting Scripture and submitting to it.
Between platform Christianity and private integrity.
Do not confuse a label with a lifestyle. The bar has been set so low that “he goes to church” has become the pinnacle of discernment. As if attendance equals transformation. As if quoting Scripture means someone lives it. “Christian” is not the standard. Christ-like is.
You can be attractive and unstable.
Attractive and insecure.
Attractive and lazy.
Most of the boys I thought were ‘attractive’ at school, college, university, if I am honest, are no longer attractive to me. Attraction fades.
The face of your prime is not necessarily the face you will age with, despite however many attempts are made to preserve it. Time humbles everyone.
Plastic surgery cannot manufacture character.
Filters cannot fabricate discipline.
Healthy habits, discipline and self-control are the real deciders of whether you age like fine wine or age like milk.
You can be objectively beautiful and instantly unattractive the moment you open your mouth.
Disrespect is disfiguring.
Entitlement is ugly.
Arrogance erases attraction faster than time ever could.
No amount of make-up can mask a foul mouth.
No gym membership can sculpt integrity.
No good lighting can soften cruelty.
You can have perfect skin and a polluted spirit.
You can have symmetry and zero self-control.
Character either amplifies attraction or annihilates it.
If your standards for a husband or a wife do not eliminate the majority, then your standards are too low.
And whilst you are busy entertaining Mr Definitely Not Right or Mrs Absolutely Not Right because you are lonely, and hey, I have been there, no judgement, ask yourself something harder.
Are you generous?
Are you disciplined?
Are you healthy?
Are you faithful in private?
Are you addressing your trust issues before they sabotage something good?
Are you healing your insecurity before it demands constant reassurance?
Are you confronting your avoidance before it destroys communication?
Are you cultivating the character you require?
We all have work to do. Single or not.
It is delusional to believe a miserable relationship outranks a peaceful single life. If your greatest fear is being single, you will tolerate things that should terrify you more. Some people would rather share a bed and lose their dignity than sleep alone and keep it. If your standard is “at least I’m not single,” you have already lost.
The divorce rate hovers around fifty per cent.
Nobody walks down the aisle planning to get divorced.
Whilst there are always situations where deception was deliberate and hidden circumstances, no amount of discernment could have uncovered.
I would be bold enough to say that in many of those marriages that end, there were signs.
Patterns. Red flags. Character inconsistencies.
Misalignment that was ignored in the name of love, wealth, chemistry or loneliness.
And here is the irony.
We will spend twenty hours learning to drive before taking a one-hour test.
We revise theory. We practise manoeuvres.
We prepare seriously for something that might cost us a few thousand pounds if we get it wrong.
Yet we rush into a lifelong covenant with less preparation than a driving licence.
We invest more into wedding aesthetics than relationship architecture.
More into the proposal than the process.
More into compatibility quizzes than character formation.
If you are serious about marriage, prepare for it.
Talk about money, conflict, sex, trauma, family, expectations and faith.
Do not just hope it will work.
Build something that can.
If you are in a relationship and serious about it, invest properly.
Do a pre-marriage course. Have hard conversations. Get counsel. Preparation is not unromantic.
It is mature. Already married? Then do a marriage course – keep your relationship alive.
For most of my life, I heard it.
“Your standards are too high.”
And now it’s, “You and Julian are so well suited.”
“You’re clearly made for each other.”
And I always find that slightly amusing.
Because the relationship they are now applauding is the very one that would never have existed if either of us had compromised our standards.
It would not be as healthy as it is if we had both lowered the bar to avoid loneliness.
It would not be as steady as it is if we had ignored misalignment for the sake of chemistry.
It would not be as peaceful as it is if we had accepted behaviour from each other that we did not respect.
The same standards people once called “too high” are the reason this relationship works. If there is one area of life you should not compromise in, it is this one.
Do you know what I have always found quietly revealing?
The people who told me my standards were too high were rarely single or divorced. They were already in relationships. Already chosen. Already committed.
And more often than not, they were not defending love. They were defending their own compromises.
Because when you refuse to settle, it does something uncomfortable.
It suggests there was another option.
It implies that what they accepted was not inevitable, but chosen.
And your conviction becomes a mirror.
Sometimes people do not tell you your standards are too high because they believe you are unrealistic.
They say it because your clarity unsettles the places where they negotiated with less than they deserved.
But your refusal to lower the bar is not an attack on their choices.
It is simply an ownership of yours.
And that discomfort?
It does not belong to you.
The Harmony Edit 