Matchmaker

I was fortunate enough to have my dream job straight out of college. While working on the editorial team for my denomination’s youth magazine, we received exciting reactions to our magazine and articles. I got to travel and interview people, and I wrote many articles. During my tenure, I received a variety of manuscripts to review and letters from readers. One young woman, teaching in a remote location, wrote me lengthy, friendly letters on legal pad pages—both sides. And I returned Sally’s letters, happy to have a new distant friend.

My Two Friends

A young man wrote to the whole staff with zany, illustrated, affirming letters, and sent some writing. I met Galen when I spoke at the college where he taught. After a while, my matchmaking brain realized that these two bright, Christian people might enjoy getting to know each other. So I introduced them through the mail.

A few months later, I got the news that Sally was flying to meet Galen, and not too long after that, they were engaged to be married. Then we were invited to their wedding and enjoyed their gratitude and love for each other and us. Several years later, they became next-door neighbors to us when they moved to our town for Galen to attend seminary training. They even watched our toddler son when we raced to the hospital for the birth of our daughter. We have stayed in touch over the ensuing years, visiting this couple a few years ago. 

Hopeless Romantic

Last evening, I talked to Galen about a mutual project. He related that they had just passed an anniversary date when he sent his first letter to Sally 30-plus years ago. Galen thanked me for my part in their meeting. He also was thankful that he acted on my suggestion—perhaps the Holy Spirit gave him a nudge. We both agreed that God could influence matchmakers for His glory.   

Call me a hopeless romantic but my heart was warmed to hear my friend’s thanks. This couple has been actively ministering to take God’s love to others for many years. They seem to still be very much in love with each other too. I am just a small part of their story. 

Maybe because our roommates in college introduced my husband and me on a “blind date,” I have been fascinated with helping others find their match. I know of at least one other couple that found each other because of an article that I wrote about the woman. I certainly tried to be helpful to one family member and at least one of my husband’s friends.

If I had been born into a different culture, being a matchmaker might have become my called or chosen profession. I enjoy helping people find what they need—houses, jobs, resources, pets, restaurants, relatives, mates. At the same time, I realize that there are risks involved in attempting to put strangers together. Matches also end up in unfortunate outcomes. But when it works, it is so rewarding and beautiful. 

Matchmaker With God

God calls us to become matchmakers with Him through the gift of the Holy Spirit, doing the hard work. It means staying close to God and becoming sensitive and aware of those people in need of love, acceptance, friendship, forgiveness, and hope. Maybe just writing letters or emails, inviting someone for lunch, going on a walk, sharing a song or a book is a start. Sometimes that even comes in a future spouse package! Over many years, all those efforts can result in creating our very own “tribe” of like-minded people.  

“Two are better than one because they have a good return for their work. If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!… A cord of three strands is not quickly broken” (Ecclesiastes 4: 9-12).

Questions for personal journaling or group discussion:

1. Do you have any interesting “matchmaker” stories in your family or your experience?
2. Do your friends or family know you well enough to introduce you to someone who might become a good friend, boss, employee, or spouse? Would you trust their ideas? 

If you liked this,  you might also like Tips for Relationships | A Short History of Christian Matchmaking 

Karen Spruill writes from Florida.

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