“Good Things Never Die.” Lessons on Singleness from Shawshank Prison

“Hope is a good thing. Maybe the best of things. And good things never die.” 

Have you ever seen the movie “Shawshank Redemption”? The character Andy Dufrene is captivating: a man who was wrongfully convicted of a murder, sentenced to life in a prison that is designed to break any man who calls it home, and yet finds a way to beat the odds and escape its corruption. However, as wonderful of a redemption as Andy experiences, this story is less about him and more about his friend—the narrator—Ellis Boyd “Red” Redding. During his time in Shawshank, Red had been weathered by life in Shawshank to the point that he had surrendered all hope. Andy, being an unmovable beacon of hope, teaches him that even in the vilest of places, hope is something that no one can take from you.

Andy Dufrene possesses aspiring character qualities: being thrown into the rigors of life, clinging to hope in the face of doubt, all while keeping his wits about him. Who doesn’t want to have hope like Andy? Yet, when life circumstances feel bleak, so many of us find ourselves loosening our grasp on hope all too easily; over time, Red’s apathy seems to make sense. There are other, “better” things worth our time and energy rather than hope. This is known all too well in the context of modern dating, marriage, singleness, particularly in light of cultural exaltation of career over family, with marriages subsequently happening later in life. Generally, the older a single person gets, the more discouraged they become when it comes to the possibility of marriage.

Being in my mid-30s and having spent all of my adult life as a single person, I can relate to this experience all too well. Just like others who are single, I look at my life and see so many good things: a growing career, good education, faithful friends, physical health, a thriving church family. But there has remained a glaring, unfulfilled desire: marriage and family. If I allow it, singleness can weigh on me to the point of grief. So much grief, that the light of hope dims, and I begin to ask the glaring question: Should I just give up on trying for a marriage and family? If I answer ‘yes’ to this question, I am left with grief. Whereas if I answer ‘no,’ I can experience relief from this feeling of hopelessness.

That idea—relief—is the danger that can mutilate a hope deferred. Sometimes we want the numbing of the pain more than we want to endure the current situation for the glory of what may come later. Consider the environment of Shawshank Prison: there is little to no hope, and this is made known to Andy immediately upon his arrival. Red himself delivers the famous line: “Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane.” In a particular season or context of life, it can feel that hope is burdensome rather than life-giving.

I have had many conversations with friends who have given up hope in marriage due to circumstances or disappointments. But if rightly ordered hope is a desirable thing (Rom 5:3-4; 1 Cor 13; Heb 11:1) should we ever seek relief?  In a season of prolonged hope, it is easy to misunderstand hope as something that we will ourselves rather than something that God instills in us (Ps 118:8-9; Jer 17:5-7; Rom 8:24). I have a family friend who is in her late 50s who has been single her whole life, but when she talks about her singleness, she is beaming with hope in Christ. This is not a disillusioned hope, but one that is open to whatever God may have for her for the remainder of her life, may it be singleness or marriage. She is someone that has never sought relief at the expense of hope, and her confidence in Christ is an example of a season of singleness well-lived.

Proverbs 13:12 reads: “A hope deferred makes the heart sick; but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” The Hebrew word for “to make sick”—chalah—can also be understood as “to be grieved” or “to be weakened.” In our western context, we associate sickness as something to be treated and eradicated, which misses the application of this Proverb. The author here is not intending that hope deferred is to be eradicated like an illness, but in light of the human condition, it points us to a greater fulfillment found in the “tree of life.” The same tree that is a sign of eternal communion with God and man in Genesis 2:9, and the same tree depicted in Revelation 22:2 yielding leaves that are “for the healing of the nations.” Therefore, we should not seek to discard hope just because it weighs heavily upon us; we have a greater promise that has been made available to us from beginning to end.

When we attempt to escape seasons of suffering, we are displacing hope for the sake of relief. In other words, we are choosing the temporal over the eternal; a pseudo-relief over an opportunity to cultivate Christlike virtues. Whether 19 or 39 years old, I have seen friends rush into marriage because they desire relief from the challenges of singleness more than the joys and responsibilities that come with marriage. In the face of such a commitment, those who marry for relief in the short-term experience a weightier grief in the long-term, with many of these marriages ending for the same reasons they began—seeking relief from a difficult season.

Shawshank Redemption can teach us a lot about singleness. You have Shawshank Prison, a place designed to submit its inhabitants to surrender any sense of hope. You have Red, a man who experienced a resurrection of hope at the hand of his friend Andy. And you have Andy Dufrene, a man sentenced to life in Shawshank but held onto hope the entire duration of his time as its resident. Singleness can seem like a season that is designed to squeeze hope out of you and perhaps you have surrendered to the season because of the seemingly hopeless conditions—like Red. But if singleness leaves you feeling like Red, cling to hope. Maybe it will not come into your hand, or even in this life, but as Andy taught us: “Hope is a good thing. Maybe the best of things. And good things never die.”