Point Man

Guys talk a lot about making points with their ladies.

We exchange ideas on how to do it, confide about gifts we’ve just bought them, or recount situations where we got it right and made them happy, then shout “Points!” as we high five or fist-bump each other. We’re delighted (and I mean, little-boy-gleaming-eyes-puppy-dog delighted) when we score points with the wife. It means so much to us, knowing we said or did the right thing. So we cheer each other on when it happens, strutting with swelled chests and big grins, ridiculously pleased with ourselves because we pleased her.

The cynic would call this manipulation; the actions of creeps who just want to get their egos stroked and sweet-talk their wives into accommodating them. And for sure, there are guys who fit that description. But I’ve really come to think our need to score points with our life partner is much more than that.

Paul reminded the Ephesians that no one hates his own flesh, and that since the wife is bone of her man’s bones and flesh of his flesh, it makes little sense to do anything but cherish her. (Ephesians 5:29) Yes, the husband is called to love sacrificially, going to the cross for his bride as Christ did for His, considering her welfare far and above his own. This is a husband’s Biblically spelled out job description, one any man should think through before taking the plunge. Marriage is, in that sense, about her, not you. If that’s not acceptable, please stay single.

But then again, despite the sacrifices involved, it’s not all sacrificial. On the contrary, it’s paradoxically gratifying. Loving her as Christ loved the Church demands knowing her needs, then spending a lifetime looking for creative, effective ways to fulfill them, that’s true. But we not only find peace of mind when we obey God by loving Her sacrificially; we also find deep, vibrant satisfaction.

It’s as though when we get it right with her, we’re discovering, then meeting, a primal need of our own. We’re wired with a craving to know we’re making our woman happy. We rejoice in that alone, not whatever benefit we might get from her gratitude, because it means so much to us knowing we’ve done something meaningful for her. God built in us a hunger to please the spouse we’ve won, making His command to love her full throttle into a call to do what will, in the end, make us awfully glad as well.

No wonder we’re so deflated when our wives are mad, bored, depressed, whatever. When they’re out of sorts we become like sad dogs, heads hung in grief because their master’s upset, and nothing will comfort them until he’s better. So we nuzzle our unhappy wife, whining and whimpering for her to feel good so we can be happy again. It’s weirdly beautiful, this marriage thing, reducing us to such levels of dependency then shooting us back up to ecstasy when it all comes together, making it one heck of a ride.

So I’m fine being a point man, wanting to score with his wife by knowing he’s pleased her. I accept the need to do so as a lifelong fact, and a joyful one at that. Because feeling all I do for her, then reflecting on how that’s just a fragment of what He feels for me, ups my confidence in Him, big-time, a living lesson on what life in Him is all about.

As a boy, I learned He loved me. As an aging husband, by loving her, I’m learning more about how He loves me. And the difference, big, crucial and profound, is wonderful to consider.