My Own

“Drink waters out of thine own cistern, and running waters out of thine own well. Let thy fountains be dispersed abroad, and rivers of waters in the streets.” (Pr 5:15-16 AV)

Solomon is speaking to his sons regarding their satisfaction with the wife of their youth.  He speaks with much experience.  Having one thousand wives and two thousand concubines, Solomon of all people could attest to the pleasure and blessing of having only one.  The comparison is to the strange woman.  Or, the woman who plays the harlot.  This theme often repeats itself in the book of Proverbs.  Some equate this to a metaphor of godly wisdom versus worldly or ungodly advice.  I don’t go that far.  To do so is to minimize the efficacy of each proverb.  In particular, those that deal with faithfulness in marriage and limiting oneself to only one life partner!  Rather than dwell on that point, let me muse on how blessed I have been with the wife of my youth.  There is one particular word in the two verses above. It appears twice.  That word is ‘own’.   A remarkable word.  One with promise, hope, and blessing.  One that brings fluttering to the heart, security to the soul, and gratitude toward the LORD who met your need.

Last night, my wife and I went to a dinner theatre.  We sat with church members less than half our age.  What a delight.  As we sat and enjoyed a meal, I was impressed with how blessed I am.  Next to me sat my wife of 37 years.  That may seem like a long time, but not so.  When building a life together with the love of your life, those years seem to pass quickly.  I have also found the cliché to be true that states love gets better as you age.  This is so true.  Gone is the pretense and ambition that comes with youth.  The children are all grown and out of the house.  Ministry is becoming easier with age.  When my dearest comes home from work, we enjoy supper together, watch a show or two, and then settle in for the night.  We talk.  A LOT!  What was true 37 years ago is still true today.  As we walked down the avenue that runs parallel to the Toronto Science Museum on our way to the subway stop, I was struck with how secure and permanent marriage was.  I was struck by how perfectly content and whole I felt.  That feeling has never changed.  The older I get the more I realize just how perfect our match was, and still is.

We saw Fiddler on the Roof.  Being partly of Jewish descent, there is something about this production that hits me.  A major theme of this play is the changing tradition of matchmaking.  The practice of matchmaking is where a widow of the town matches people for marriage.  The father of the prospective bride makes a deal with the groom or groom's father to finalize the marriage.  The bride has little or no say in the matter.  This causes mismatched marriages.  Marriages are arranged strictly on a pragmatic basis.  Compatibility, values, goals, etc are of no consequence.  Therefore, to say two people were a perfect match may happen.  But it may just as well not happen.  One of the musical pieces is a result of the eldest daughter being granted permission and blessing from her father to marry her childhood sweetheart rather than an elderly butcher.  The line that segways onto the piece is the perspective groom's comparison of a glove and a hand.  As the glove and hand are a perfect fit, so too are these two young people.  That is how I feel about my wife and I!  We are a perfect fit!  I cannot imagine anyone else at my side.  She is so remarkable.  There are no words!  Therefore, to enjoy my wife is to enjoy my own wife.  Not a woman who could be any man’s wife.  Rather, my own wife.  Designed from eternity to be my comfort, support, helper, and friend, God knew what He was doing.  He still does!  Praise be to His name!