By now, surely my readers know my sob story: I was cheated on by the love of my life, who was hooking up with girls on Tinder because he and I were not having sex. It has been eight months since I found out and broke up with him, yet I still have been unable to get over it.

I largely attribute my difficulties with overcoming it to prayers that I have sent up and conversations that I have had with God, which have led me to believe that this story is not over. God has been calling me to patience during a time of growth for both myself and my ex-boyfriend. The cost of that patience, however, is great and heavy.

The other day, I was having an honest conversation with God, and I asked Him for the hundredth time to allow my heart to move on from my ex. I don't want to love him anymore. He damaged me, shattering my trust and my self-worth in the process, and I've been trying to put the pieces back together. My heart, in these eight months, has only grown fonder of this stupid boy. I have hated myself because of this and blamed my weak resolve for its inability to designate him as awful and just move on.

In the past, I have had no problem with the idea of moving on and not looking back. I am the kind that easily walks away when burned. There is no redemption for those who betray me. That's not to say I don't forgive them when they ask for it, but I am by no means foolish enough to ever let them close to me again. Friends who have burned me in the past have no chance of restoration, as I have burned all bridges of trust that we formerly shared. In the words of Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, "My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."

For months now, I've been angry about and uncertain as to why my heart treats my ex-boyfriend any differently. He hurt me worse than anyone else has before. It's not like we had a multi-year relationship that made him hard to release. We had months. He cheated. I want to be done. I'm supposed to be done.

Up until about a month ago, I had been pleading with God non-stop to allow my heart to move on. I was scared that I was lingering in my love for my ex out of a lack of strength to completely eradicate him from my heart. I doubted everything God had formerly shared with me, and was convinced it was all in my head--it sounded like God, and the Bible backed His voice up, but maybe it was just me. It had to be just me.

I had been praying for freedom from my ex for a while when I was suddenly overcome by a breathtaking fear that gripped me to the core--paralyzing me. For a moment, I sat in silence, eyes wide open as the vise of terror continued to close in on me, and then I felt God step in and shatter it. Just like that, I was freed. In that moment, I heard God very clearly, in a rush of words to my spirit that instantly delivered peace.

"Do not think for a minute that the forgiveness in your heart comes from anyone except from Me. I have kept your heart here."

The answer struck me, but did not completely eradicate my hesitation. A couple of weeks later, I was imploring the Lord to force my heart to move on if I was keeping it stagnant because of my own desires and selfish gain. I was absolutely petrified of more pain at the hand of this situation; if there was any chance that my heart was hanging on because of my own motivations, I wanted it done. I wanted to cut this boy out, and I wanted him gone forever. But when I asked God to deliver me from the situation, His answer was different, but even more comforting than the last one: "Do not think that you can take from Me what is Mine. I am keeping your heart here."

My answer was then very clear: I was not stuck here because of a foolish, pithy heart. I was here because God had led me here, and He was keeping my heart where He wanted it to be, just as I had asked of Him. He claimed my heart as His own, and even I could not take it back. This wasn't the first time He had done such a thing.

When my ex and I first started talking last year, I was incredibly aware of how dangerous he was. The fear deep within me told me to run away as fast as I could. When I approached God, asking Him to take the boy away and to rescue me from something that could be dangerous, God's response was clear: "Strong women raise up and stand behind strong men. You need to step up to the plate, and look to Esther and Ruth for your example." He then pointed me to Esther 4:14, listed below:

"For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place and you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not attained royalty for such a time as this?"

When we broke up, and I asked God why, pleading with Him to remove my heart from this boy, because my feelings for him were resurrecting and I wanted to be done with him, God repeated that same message. My calling then became clear, despite how many times I bucked it: I was meant to stay in this. For how long, I didn't know. I still don't know.

During this waiting period, God has been charging me with a difficult task: Loving the unlovables. He's done this in a wide variety of ways, and I have not enjoyed it. He has girls tripping across my path who have cheated on their boyfriends and are hooking up on Tinder, just like my ex was. God even called me to show love to the girl my ex cheated on me with.

Granted, she didn't know he had a girlfriend, and she ended all association with him when she found out. Still, loving her was hard. I am a person who is naturally predisposed to anger, so putting that aside for the sake of loving a person who was involved in the greatest pain of my life was foreign to and difficult for me. She was kind, and worthy of love. My heart, however, was reluctant to give it.

Another girl, who cheated on her boyfriend, shared her story with me over the summer. In that moment, I had a choice: condemn her, or share the love of Christ with her. I don't want to pretend this was a choice that I made. I am neither noble nor brave enough to relinquish anger for the sake of love.

I opened my heart to God and asked Him to speak through me. He did, and the look on this girl's face when I told her the story of love and forgiveness that God had poured into my heart was enough to banish the deepest pain in my heart, if only for a moment. It was like she was seeing through new eyes.

"I promise you," she whispered to me, "that he hates himself. Because I hate myself, too."

The third girl was the breaking point for me. She messaged me with a story of how she was hooking up with guys on Tinder, and how it's a phase she's just going through. I could tell by her messages that she felt guilty about her actions, but spent a lot of time justifying them; I think the justification made her feel better about what she was doing.

I didn't know what to say when I read her messages and tried to come across encouraging and loving, rather than judgmental. How could I judge her? I was the one who dated a guy who did similarly, and I was burned by the perception that it was a figment of his past that he had moved beyond. When we stopped talking for the night, I turned to my brother and cracked a joke about how God keeps forcing me to love people who have committed this grievance I formerly considered unforgivable.

"If I ever hear the word 'Tinder' again, it will be too soon," I teased, with a laugh that quickly turned into a sob. I started crying, and I didn't even know where it came from. "I'm so tired of being called to love the unlovables," I tearfully admitted. "I'm so tired of being reminded of what happened to me. I don't understand why I can't just move past all of this. Why won't God just leave me alone?"

My brother, like my father, is a man of few words. When he does speak, wisdom resonates from his every word. "Christina," he said, "I don't know why these things happen. I do know that we have the opportunity to share a story from them. I was screwed in my college baseball career by a coach who wouldn't play me, and I still don't understand why God would allow that to happen to me. I have the opportunity, though, to help kids who are going through something similar –– and in my own coaching, I get to make sure that I don't ever treat any kid the way I was treated."

I guess what he meant was, we go through crap so we can help those stuck in it. Even if those stuck in it are creating the crap themselves. Even if we get stuck in their crap, too.

If Jesus died on the cross, shouldering all of my sin and crap, can't I go through a little bit of it, too, for the sake of furthering His message?

I'm trying, and that's the best I can do.

As Christians, we have a choice: We can love our enemies, and pray for those who persecute us, or we can live in a bitterness and anger that harms no one but ourselves. Every one of us has unlovables--people who readily commit the grievances we count as most disgusting. If you think about it that way, though, you're someone's unlovable, too. I can be disgustingly judgmental and critical of others. I guarantee there are hundreds of thousands of people who would consider someone like me completely unlovable. I'm trying to work past my hang-ups, and I desperately hope that people will look past them--because, just like with every other hurting person in the world, there are things about me that are beautiful, even despite my most awful qualities.

There are things about every one of those girls that are beautiful, too. There are things about my ex that are beautiful. There are things about everyone that are worthy of love; even if the only thing worthy about them is that Jesus called them so. I'm going to do my best to love all the unlovables, even if it means loving those who hurt me most. My best is all I've got, but I'll give it all.

I'll do anything for the sake of furthering Jesus' love. I was the unlovable that He changed. Maybe He can use me to change other unlovables, too.