He worked freely for over 5 years...just to marry his wife

What if I told you to name your price? As in, what if you could set the number of hours you’d work in order to earn your current salary for the year? The ball is completely in your court. What would you say? 

Can’t settle on a dollar amount?

What if instead, I asked, how many hours would you work for a year’s worth of groceries? Or for tuition? Or for a TV, car, or house? 

Weird question? It’s get weirder. 

What if I said, how many hours would you work...to marry the spouse of your dreams? 

Genesis 29 shows us that a man named Jacob was given this very proposition. 

Jacob fell in love (maybe lust lol) immediately after laying eyes on his first cousin, Rachel, while he was on the run from his brother who was trying to kill him (the Bible is quite entertaining). After a month of staying with Rachel’s parents during his journey, Rachel’s father, Laban, told Jacob the following: 

 “15 “Because you are my relative, should you therefore serve me for nothing? Tell me, what should your wages be?” 

Note carefully what Jacob says in response: 

18 Jacob was in love with Rachel and said, “I’ll work for you seven years in return for your younger daughter Rachel.”

Laban didn’t demand Jacob to work seven years for his daughter. Laban didn’t even request it. Jacob VOLUNTARILY chose to work for seven years. The terms and conditions were set by Jacob.

Why would he do this? 

I believe it’s because, in Jacob’s eyes, seven years of labor was the worth of making Rachel his future bride.

To Jacob, Rachel was worthy of seven years of free labor. 

Gosh, this may sound preposterous to some, but I actually think this is absolutely beautiful.

I’m quite the romantic and love love stories in the Bible. I could read Songs of Solomon every night. I could read Francine Rivers’ books and blush every time. Therefore, you’d think I’d smile when reading stories like Jacob’s. 

But this time when reading his story, I became a bit confused, then disheartened. In the midst of reading Genesis 29, the reality set in for me that Jacob’s actions would appear so rare in our day and age.

Jacob saw the worth of his bride and voluntarily named his wages—gladly working for what she was worth. 

You have to understand. I live in a culture today that values doing as little as possible to get as much worth as possible...whether it be a tangible item, an experience, or in many cases, a relationship. We call this “working smarter” because who wants to work harder? 

There are some appropriate places for this mindset, I can’t lie. 

But what happens when this type of thinking removes our ability to accurately evaluate things in our lives that were never meant to be cheapened by efficiency assessments, cost-benefit analyses, and returns on investment estimates?

What if we realized the immeasurable value of certain things in our life and worked heartily simply in accordance with what it meant to us? 

For instance, what is your personal assessment for the value of your marriage?

What about your relationship with your child, parents, or friends?

How much worth is the health of your body, the Lord’s temple, to you?

How much do you honestly value your time? 

All I’m saying is this: If some of these things are of great worth to you, do your actions, priorities, and work reflect it? 

Rachel was worth seven years of work in the eyes of Jacob. And Jacob considered those seven years as if they were merely days because of his love for Rachel. 

20 So Jacob served seven years to get Rachel, but they seemed like only a few days to him because of his love for her.

I imagine he didn’t complain about the amount of time nor work that he was putting in to marry her. His work reflected her worth to him. 

PonderedThought: Next time you find yourself complaining about how long or hard you’re having to work on something, whether it’s your marriage, relationships, health, job, a degree, etc—ask yourself, “how much value do I place this?” If you value it greatly, do the work cheerfully, don’t cut any corners, and stop complaining. If certain things are not of much value to you, reprioritize your life so that other things that are of greater value receive your greater attention and energy. 

That day I tried to feed a man in need...

I glanced at the clock on my Macbook. 4:00 PM on the dot. After reaching for the keys on my desk, I turned to grab my bag behind my office chair. My feet preceded my thoughts as I headed straight through the classroom door. After a full day of teaching, I was free to focus on my evening plans.

But that line of thought, which was in the direction towards the comforts of my couch, was halted when I realized that I was hungry. Such hunger pangs couldn’t wait for a 30-minute commute home. Of course, it didn’t help that I was PMSing, which ultimately led me to make the final decision to splurge on some unhealthy treats. So coming to a logical conclusion, I drove off my school’s parking lot and headed straight to Jewel-Osco, a well-known grocery store in Chicago.

Once parked, I stepped out of my car and freely left my colossal winter coat in the back seat. There was a surprisingly warm break in the streak of cold weather.

Walking towards the front door entrance of the grocery store,  I noticed a man sitting outside the sliding electric doors. He was asking incoming patrons for any spare coins or cash. I had neither.

Cautiously coming  up to him, I said with a little base in my voice, so as to  be heard over the very brisk Chicago winds, “I can get you something to eat.”

Huh?” he replied.  

“I can get you something to eat inside... if you want?”

“Oh okay... Yeah... yeah,” he said.

The man sat and waited for me outside the store. For whatever reason, I felt an unexpected surge of excitement once I walked inside. I wanted to get him something really good.

Hot broccoli cheddar soup or chicken tortilla soup? The choices the choices.

“Hi,” I said to a complete stranger, who proceeded in scooping some soup into his paper bowel.

“Is this soup good.. or is it just okay?“ I asked the man while giving a conspicuous look, demanding the utmost honesty.

After hearing his feedback, I made my final decision and poured the broccoli cheddar into my container.

I really hope he isn’t lactose intolerant.

Then I headed to the bakery section to grab some bread. I envisioned this older man dipping this bread into his hot soup and having it melt in his mouth.

Okay. Let me stop before I get ahead of myself. I’m all set. Actually, wait... who eats without getting something to drink?

Before I knew it, I almost forgot my reasoning for coming into the store in the first place. I said “almost” right? Because to be honest, the idea of eating some quality dark chocolate had been on the back of my mind all day. My hunger was just the perfect excuse to go out and buy it.

I scurried to the check out line and prayed that the gentleman hadn’t thought that I’d forgotten about him. By this time, I’d been inside the store well over 30 minutes.

Bags in hand, I walked out and saw the man in my periphery, seated in a different location along the perimeter of the store.

Excitement quickened my steps.

“Here you go,” I said while proudly  extending the brown paper bag towards him, replete with eating utensils and napkins.

“What's this?” he asked.  

“It’s some soup and…”

What I thought would be a grateful exchange, turned sour very quickly. The man began cursing and stating words not worth mentioning. From the little I gathered, this man didn’t approve of the bag being too bulky.

I snatched my hand away and walked towards my car with his food still gripped tightly around my fingers.

If you’re beginning to feel sorry for me and think I’m a saint and he a jerk, eh thank you, but keep reading.

I prayed in frustration:

Unbelievable God. I mean really. I thought this was something that You wanted for me to do. I thought...well maybe next time. Actually, I’m not done talking. It’s like, he just wasn’t thankful. Man Lord, I can’t believe that though. Here I was trying to make sure that this man could eat and that he had a nice meal.  Father, I got sourdough bread. I didn’t just get regular bread...but I got sour…dough.

By the time I reached my car, my spirit was light after rehearsing to the Lord my frustration. The situation actually became comical the more I thought about it.

While driving away, I called my girlfriend and rehashed to her the story. We laughed and went on to discuss different topics. But once I hung up with her, the imagery of this man’s look of grimace and disgust remained etched in my mind. I kept replaying the situation over and over again. And so I began praying for him.

And that’s when the Lord interrupted my thoughts.

The Lord began to remind me of all the detailed thought I executed when deciding this man’s meal.

From wanting to make sure his soup tasted good, to choosing the perfect bread, to carefully pondering a drink to wash down both, to ensuring that this man had all the right eating utensils and napkins, to desperately hoping that this man had waited patiently for me outside.

All this thought. All this time. All my inner excitement to give him what I’d prepared. And for him to complain about the bag being too bulky. I was frustrated. And honestly, even though he was a stranger, I felt hurt.

Remember this, Jessica?  I felt the Holy Spirit pressing in on my feeling. But I didn’t understand why.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. The thought came out of nowhere, but I knew the Lord was speaking directly to me.

Every time you compare your husband to someone else. Every time you complain to me about what he’s not doing, what he doesn’t have etc., you’re telling me that the gift that I’ve carefully assembled, treasured, and equipped to handle you… is not enough. Consider how much thought and perfection I’ve placed in handing you over to your husband and your husband to you for your possession. Stop comparing. Stop complaining. And thank me for him. His gifts, his talents, his personality, and even his flaws... are meant for you.

I held no anticipation that the Lord would use this strange man to show me myself.

This man was me. God showed me that I was him.

Every time I complain about my husband. Every time I pray to God to make my husband more this or that–prayers stated with nothing to do with God’s glory, the advancement of God’s kingdom, nor growth in my husbands spiritual vitality for the benefit of our family. But selfish prayers uttered with the only motivation to benefit me. When I do this, I’m basically waving my finger at God saying ,“What You have given me is not enough!”  

Whereas I walked away from that incident saying to myself “Ungrateful, ungrateful, ungrateful…” I do the same and often mask it as a prayer request.

The day I tried to feed a man in need, I walked away with a changed perspective.

PonderedThought: Maybe you aren’t married, or perhaps you can’t relate because you and your spouse are simply perfect. But if you can relate, stop selfishly complaining in your head against your spouse. Because when you do, you may be hurting the very heart of God by implicitly saying, “what You gave me wasn’t  good enough.” Instead, pray fervently for him or her. For God loves your spouse just as much as He loves you. Ponder on that thought.

(Blog post describes a memory experienced years ago, and yet still reflected upon due to its received revelation.)

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I Never Knew the Purpose of Chinaware...Until I Met You

The Pastor said we women aren’t “lesser than” but like delicate fine chinaware—to be handled with care and gentleness. No matter how hard I attempt to put up the exterior shell, his words ring true when I'm with you.

I don't like that, in the middle of night, you can simply touch the arch of my back and instantly cause my heart to beat with more ease. Or that when I'm out in public, I easily put up my guard, but when you show up, I just as easily become less aware of my surroundings. Or that when I desperately attempt to be upset, you have a way of melting away the coldness that was intended for payback. Or that when I try to act more put-together than I am, you have a way of coming alongside and quietly protecting the vulnerabilities no one else sees.

You have an effect on me, no matter the exterior shell I wish to put up. 

Husbands, continue to treat your wives like fine chinaware, because whether we like it or not—you have an effect on us. Thus the opposite can ring true.

Don't raise your voice at her when you’re angered. Don't treat her with contempt when you grow weary. Don't ignore her when she's in need of a hug. Don't look at your phone when she’s pouring out her heart about something subjectively labeled insignificant. Don't grow insensitive when you see her tears—again. Don't stop letting her know of her true value. When you do, she may not react readily, but inwardly she feels what it’s like to be placed in the hands of the one who never read her instructions : "handle with care."

Yeah, I don't like that you have that effect on me, because no matter how hard I try to put up the exterior, I kid myself...knowing that I was neither made to be handled nor dealt with like tupperware. I'm unashamed to say that I'm gentle and need to be carefully handled. 

But be cautious in not misconstruing the message of my words. For I live in a culture in which the prevailing soundbites to be "stronger" are gravely misappropriated. Be strong? That we are. Like fine chinaware, we women test the hands of those whom we allow to handle us. You see...we can’t last in the hands of someone who is weak, clumsy, irresponsible, or unfocused. I'd argue that a husband's strength is reflected in the lack of brokenness, hopelessness, and weariness, revealed in the eyes of his wife. 

Be strong? That we are. Be wise? Welp, that's another blog post...

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