I needed to see at least one angel.

Hier is een vloeiende, natuurlijke en warm verhalende Engelse vertaling die de humor, kwetsbaarheid en spirituele ondertoon van je tekst bewaart:

Agur once marveled at “the way of a man with a young woman” (Proverbs 30). In 2005, it was a young woman who found herself marveling instead.

Against my will, my gratitude, and my longing, I had waved her off so she could attend a Bible school in Sweden. A friend had told me, “Benaiah, if you dare to let her go and she comes back to you, she’s yours forever. But if she falls for some handsome Swedish guy over there, she was never yours to begin with.” Some truths you don’t want to hear, but I knew he was right.

I visited her regularly. Deep down, we both knew we wanted a future together. But how do you really know? I come from a divorced family, and as a result I always said, “Before I get married, I need to see at least one angel!” Now, love and a healthy dose of hormones had already softened some of my demands, but I was looking for certainty about something very specific.

For thirteen years I had deliberately followed the path on which God was leading me. It turned out to be a winding, unpredictable road sometimes a bit rough as well. So, I thought, my bride would at least need to be able to hear God’s voice for herself. If only to prevent future bickering about route changes… To confirm this, I came up with a test. We would both ask God for a Bible verse. And at our next meeting, it would have to be the same one.

The fact that Mirjam didn’t even blink at this proposal clearly violating every dating protocol already said a lot. Still, I traveled to Uppsala for Christmas feeling a bit nervous. This time with a ring in my pocket and her father’s blessing.

She sensed what was coming as we trudged through the snow toward the cathedral. Outside it was -15°C. Inside it was warm. Avoiding the glances of the few visitors, we shyly found a bench in the back. Privacy broken only by apostles in stained glass. It was romance with a touch of reverence. I hadn’t come for God (though I was definitely on a mission). Yet it became a holy moment when Mirjam said that God had given her a song: Psalm 40:1–3   “I waited patiently for the Lord… He heard me… He set my feet upon a rock and established my steps…” Exactly what I had written down as well.

Grateful, I looked upward an unavoidable effect of such a Gothic church and suddenly burst out laughing. Mir followed my gaze to the window. There, in a carnival of colors, was not an apostle but the angel Gabriel. Our Father certainly knew how to make a point. It was clear: we would soon be returning to church again.