Wondering About Worth

I once dreamed that my wife Renee was auctioning me off on e-Bay. Without the courtesy of any notice, mind you, so I had the double indignity of learning that I was on the market, and that my seller hadn’t even bothered to tell me.

In my dream I was wandering through a mile-long Kinkos/Fed Ex location and, for some reason, decided to check my e-mail on one of their computers. There I found a response that was meant to go to Renee, but wound up in my in-box by accident, inquiring about the qualities of the husband she’d put up for bidding – Did he cook? Was he in shape? Had he had all his shots?

Surely a joke, I told myself out loud, then my favorite actor Russell Crowe, who was moonlighting as a Kinkos assistant, slapped my shoulder and said, “No joke. I wrote the ad copy myself.”

“Why?” I wailed.

“She’s bored. It happens. Don’t whine.”

I wasn’t about to take an actor’s word for it, so I clicked onto e-Bay and there I was, listed as a household item and marked down 30% as used, which I thought was in very poor taste.

The offers weren’t pouring in, I noticed, so I decided to spice the resume up a bit. Heck, if my wife was dumping me, I might as well see that she gets a good deal. I added ballroom dancing, sexual stamina, high sensitivity and woodcarving to the product description. Everybody lies on e-Bay. Then I waited, opting to sleep at Kinkos, which I figured would force Renee to call my cell begging me to come home because she missed me so. I checked my messages every hour; nada. By the next business day, the bidding had peaked at $2.37, so I decided to drive home and tell her she’d get more takers if she listed the brown suitcases we never use.

Then I woke up, understandably rattled. Over coffee I asked Renee if she’d ever sell me.

“What would you bring in?” she asked, looking me over with fresh interest.

“$2.37 was the top price in the dream.”

“Hmm – that’s enough for a small lattee.”

“You’re stepping on an insecure man who needs reassuring.”

She leveled her big brown eyes at me and smiled. “I love you, Joseph. I’d never auction you on e-Bay. Way too much trouble. When I’m ready to pack you off I’ll call Salvation Army and go for a tax deduction. OK?”

I am so very alone. So I was left pondering my value as a husband, something I think any married man considers at some point. Exactly what do I offer, and how do I judge my effectiveness in the most important role I have? Three answers leap out.

First, I’m to love her, and my love has to be sacrificial:

“Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the Church.” (Ephesians 5:25)

My worth as a husband is determined largely by my willingness to die to myself and love when it doesn’t come naturally.

Second, I’m to provide:

“For if a man provide not for his own house he has denied the faith and is worse than an infidel.” (I Timothy 5:8)

My worth as a husband is largely determined by my willingness to do what’s necessary to see that her needs are met, materially, emotionally, physically, spiritually. I’m a provider.

Third, I’m to lead:

“For if a man knows not how to lead his own house, how shall he take care of the house of God?” (I Timothy 3:5)

My worth as a husband is largely determined by my willingness to take the lead and assume responsibility for the direction my household is taking.

That’s a straightforward but huge job description, one I know I can’t fulfill, though I have to, and there’s a quandary driving me to prayer. And that’s when, more than ever, I sensed God speaking to my heart this morning:

I entrusted My daughter to you, and you’ll answer for the way you’ve loved her, provided for her, and headed her family. I loved her first, having created and redeemed her, then commissioned you with the solemn responsibility to represent My love and provision to her in every possible way. It’s a simple and impossible job description, one you’ll never fulfill unless you’re abiding, trusting, obeying.

How wisely the plan unfolds! The highest earthly responsibility I have forces me to know and love Him, returning me to the first and great commandment. It all goes back to love, and it goes back perfectly.

“And”, I reminded God, “I really do bring a few extras to the table.”

“Such as?”

“Ballroom dancing and sexual stamina. Did you see my list?”

“Verily”, He said. “In your dreams.”