The joy of a match made in heaven

What little girl doesn’t dream of one day meeting her prince? Of a joyful wedding celebration, a beautiful dress and all your family and friends celebrating with you.  It’s somehow wired into all of us. And as with all desires and dreams they whisper in testament to the myth of a greater story and a greater love that is calling our name.

I’m not sure at which point that dream got interrupted. Perhaps it was the embarrassing moments of rejection as a teenager – when you realise (or perhaps even get told) “he’s just not that into you.” And the first seed of doubt is sown “am I loveable?” Perhaps that seed was planted long beforehand – you’re only worthy of love when you do good. You need to earn my love. A parent or mentor or someone that you held in high esteem inflicted that first wound. And we harden our hearts in self-protection. I toughened up. I made a silent vow that I’d never let on that I was romantically interested in anyone. I would keep men at a safe distance and hopefully my knight in shining armour would be brave enough to break down my defenses.

God’s love can melt our hearts. But sometimes it’s only a drop at a time. My twenties were good – I was career-focused and confidently independent. My thirties were different. Suddenly there weren’t so many single friends anymore. Friends’ time is taken up with babies and husbands and schools and family holidays. They feel sorry for you, constantly trying to set you up with a suitable match. And that sense of shame, and the questioning of self-worth intensifies. It always amazes me how many times I would get asked ‘why are you still single?’ As if there should be some very obvious explanation. Too fussy? Too busy? Too old? Too critical?

Eventually you pluck up the courage for the blind dates – the ones where rather than love at first sight, you know it’s-not-gonna-work-at-first-sight. Like the car mechanic sitting across the rose-petal strewn dinner table with an open neck shirt, hairy chest and shiny chains. Not even the prophetic word spoken over him that he would one day be a millionaire helped the cause. You just know. Or the divorcee with four kids, the oldest of whom was out the house already. He’d gone from cradle and nappies to adulting with his daughter and I just couldn’t relate. And of course with each failed introduction, hope wanes.

You steel yourself for the hard conversations. Like the family lunch where the well-meaning host racks his brain to think of anyone he knows who is your age and still single – and can only come up with the guy who lives down the road: “He has a deformed hand.. but his brain is still ok…” He sees the look on my face and quickly apologises “Sorry, I’m just speaking as I think!”

I realised that the odds were stacked against me. I was 35 years old. Statistically, what were the chances of meeting a single man of a similar age, who loved God, didn’t have lots of baggage, had some common interests, and who could love me? Well, I thought maybe one or two in 50 million considering the population of South Africa, let alone the globe.

But God is bigger than statistics. I was not going to put my life on hold, believing I could not find meaning and purpose without a husband. I decided to live the fullest possible in this season of singleness and to help others to do the same. We started a ‘Women of Purpose’ group. I took myself for weekends away – just me and Jesus spending quality time together.  I shared my thoughts and feelings with God about this whole single thing and my desire for marriage. I determined never to covet God’s plan for another person’s life – just to pursue His plan for mine. He never promised me a husband but I was comforted and encouraged.

In the meantime I had also been challenged about making myself more available. I probably lived as if had an invisible sign on my forehead for potential suitors “Do not approach. You will regret it.” My friend Karryn told me about her ‘Go fetch’ theory. She told me plainly: “Guys are dof. They can’t sense things. They need some sort of signal as they’ll only make a move if they think they’ll get a positive response.” She explained that if you want to be noticed you need to “throw a bone” the guy’s way and give the unspoken instruction “Go fetch“. They can either grab the opportunity (woohoo!) or let it go, and you’ve lost nothing. 

My opportunity finally came. It was Missions Sunday at church. I was at the Central Asia table. I looked across the room towards Mozambique. There he was – this tall, dark and handsome man with a beautiful smile. “He’s gorgeous!” I thought. My next thought was “He’s probably married”. But as I observed I couldn’t detect any hangers on… It was time for me to go and show some interest in “Mozambique”.

I wandered over casually to the table, hoping that my intention was not painfully obvious. I met a lady who had just been on the Mozambique mission trip. “And this is our driver”, she said, introducing me to the tall dark and handsome man next to her.

His name was Markus.

He smiled. We talked. And talked. In fact we were the last ones in the room that Sunday. He was a German South-African. He lived up the road.

“Do you think God has called you into missions?”, I asked. “No, I think he wants me to find a wife first.” Awkward moment. I could hardly blurt out “pick me!”

I walked away with a strange impression that I had just met my future husband, but quickly put the thought behind me as my analysis took over. He hadn’t even asked me on a date yet. I wrote my name on the Mozambique missionary’s list to receive prayer updates – in the hopes he’d pick up my email address (cheeky, I know). But no email came.

A week or two passed and I saw him at church. I tested the ‘Go fetch’ theory again and told myself to just be friendly. “Would you like to join a few of us for coffee after church?” I asked. Safety in numbers.

“No thanks” was the answer I wasn’t expecting. He made some excuse about family out from Germany. But before I walked away with my popped balloon he quickly asked if I could put him on the prayer list for the Central Asian missionaries. “Sure!” I said as I wrote down his email.

“Ok Lord, this is my last attempt”, I thought, as I sat down to write him an email telling him I’d added him to the list. I decided to add a ‘have a great day!” greeting at the end in German. Google Translate spat out “Haben Sie ein Große Tag!”  That’s a big day. We laughed months later.

BOOM. He replied. And the rest is history as they say. Being a shy, introverted guy Markus felt safe behind his computer and suddenly there was all sorts of chatter over email. It was so much fun! He tried to get to know me a little and showered me with questions. Then he questioned whether he wasn’t being too intrusive. He felt like a cat with nine lives and I would count down the lives he had left every time he asked for more information. Finally his lives were running out and he asked how he could get more… well of course I knew! They couldn’t be claimed but only bestowed… if he took me for a coffee. A decent coffee would earn more lives. And so the first date was birthed. Go fetch had worked!

When I saw him again at the coffee shop he somehow didn’t look as good as the first time we met. Was it because he was dressed more casually or perhaps it was the fear of something becoming more real? But we talked and talked again. He told me he loved rugby. It was the day of the Currie Cup final and he was missing it since I had asked to meet in the afternoon. “Don’t worry”, he said, “some things are more important than rugby.” As we enjoyed each other’s company a massive highveld  thunderstorm broke out replete with thunder and lighting. We left as it settled only to witness the most beautiful rainbow arching across the sky in front of us. I felt somehow that God was smiling on all of this.

Perhaps it was one or two dates later when Markus came clean. “There’s something I need to tell you. But I don’t want to freak you out or anything…” Gosh there are so many options that could follow after that sentence. I didn’t want to second-guess. He proceeded to tell me that he had seen me at church about a year before we met. I always sat in the front, he sat at the back and ducked out quickly at the end of each service. There I was, hands raised high in worship and he noticed me. He started looking out for me. But he was too shy to say hello or orchestrate an introduction. So he prayed. Not that God would make me love him, but that he could just get an opportunity to meet me. Imagine this patient man who waited until a whole year later I walked up to the Mozambique table looking for an introduction.

Was I freaked out? Quite the opposite. This beautiful romance had been brewing for a year under the watchful eye of our heavenly Father until his cupid shot that arrow into my heart on the 28^th September 2008. I couldn’t have been more gobsmacked. That this man had been so patient. And prayerful. He was so gentle and kind and all the things that I had been longing for and not known. And that the Lord had somehow answered those prayers that had been offered up on so many occasions – and exceeded anything I had hoped for. I just loved being with him. Melting hearts… I love you’s. The first kiss. Late nights talking and tired work mornings. A cat darting across our path in keeping with the nine life theme… He talked of his intentions of marriage on the third or fourth date. How attractive it is to meet a man who knows what he wants!

We designed the engagement ring. Then my patience was tested as this patient, (and, I thought, somewhat slow-moving) man kept me in suspense before popping the question. On the 3^rd June 2009 my friend Lynne called. She had dreamed that Markus and I got engaged and all the angels were having a party in heaven! Totally unaware of Lynne’s dream, Markus asked me to marry him that evening. But when he heard of it, his heart was warmed. What a confirmation.

We were married on the 15^th December 2009. I was 36 and he was 40. Kept for each other until this day. A longing fulfilled is sweet to the soul. What a joyful celebration it was! I could not have been more excited walking down the aisle in white to meet my husband and be joined in holy covenant – promising to love each other till death parts us. Our wedding photograph is framed with the words from Psalm 118 written beneath “The Lord has done this and it is marvellous in our eyes.”

It’s easy to just bask in the glory of a beautiful romance. But in the days and years ahead I had to be reminded, that as miraculous as our meeting was, this dream-come-true was not the end goal. This undeserved gift was not what life was all about – only a beautiful experience and transition along the journey. Yet it whispered in testament to the myth of a greater story and a greater love that is calling us. Of the bridegroom who will one day come to meet his bride in shining white. Of Jesus coming to finally rescue his people and bring them back into the real and loving presence of our heavenly Father. No more tears, no more pain, just celebration. That is the truth that all joyous weddings point to. Markus is no doubt a gift from above and I have spent much time revelling in that gift. But I am reminded to go beyond the gift to giver – to enjoying God himself. For He is my true match made in heaven.

“The ecstasy and rapture were only those of a soul which took pleasure in the gift, instead of rejecting it, and going on to God beyond his gift.” Brother Lawrence, The Practice of the Presence of God