Key Verse: “The man who finds
a wife finds a treasure, and he receives favor from the Lord.” (v.22)
Big Idea: A good marriage isn’t luck or chemistry—it’s a gift from God that multiplies strength, joy, and grace in a man’s life.
The café had all its windows thrown open to the street, sunlight pouring in like honey. The air smelled of espresso and toasted sourdough. Someone had dragged a speaker onto the sidewalk, and an acoustic guitar hummed through an old Tom Petty song. It felt like the kind of day you forgive people on.
I spotted Solomon at our usual corner table.
“You look lighter,” he said.
“I slept,” I shrugged. “First time all week.”
He smiled knowingly, like that meant more than I’d said.
“Today,” he began, “I want to walk you through a whole section—Proverbs 18:13–24. I speak about listening before answering. About how words can wound or heal. About pride isolating a man. About friendship that sticks closer than a brother.”
He leaned in slightly. The café noise softened in my ears.
“This passage,” he said, “is about relationships. All of them. And how wisdom—or the lack of it—shapes your life through the people you let close.”
He took a sip, then quoted slowly, clearly.
“The man who finds a wife finds a treasure, and he receives favor from the Lord.”
He let it sit there between us like sunlight on the table.
“A treasure?” I said. “That feels… dramatic.”
He laughed gently. “You think I was exaggerating?”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen marriages. “They look like chores and compromise, not buried gold.”
Solomon grinned, but there was gravity behind his eyes.
“Ethan, I wrote those words after living both sides of them. I chased beauty without wisdom. I multiplied wives without multiplying covenant. And I paid for it. I learned the loneliness of a full house.” His voice carried the weight of memory. “But when a man finds a faithful wife—finds, not collects—he discovers something sacred, something special.”
Outside, a woman stepped into the café line. Dark hair pulled back loosely. Yellow sundress catching the light. She scanned the pastry case with the seriousness of someone choosing a future.
My eyes flicked back to Solomon. He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“You’ve been avoiding that possibility,” he said calmly.
“I’m not avoiding,” I said too quickly.
He raised an eyebrow.
He slid his weathered leather notebook onto the table and opened it. Inside were two simple sketches. On one side, a single line. On the other, two braided strands.
“A man alone,” he said, pointing to the single line, “is strong in bursts. But two lives braided together? Strength multiplies. Stability deepens. Joy compounds.”
He tapped the braided sketch. Then he added a third strand, saying, “In one of my later writings I say, ‘A cord of three strands isn’t easily broken.’ Marriage isn’t just two people holding on to each other. It’s two people held together by God.”
“In Hebrew, the word I used for ‘finds’ carries the sense of discovering something of value—like uncovering hidden wealth. And ‘favor from the Lord’—that’s not random luck. That’s divine kindness. God’s smile resting on a union.”
I shifted in my chair. “What if you pick wrong?”
“Then you didn’t listen long enough.”
He gestured toward the earlier verses.
“In this passage, I warn about answering before listening. About pride that isolates. About words that wound. A wise marriage begins long before vows. It begins with humility, discernment, and friendship.”
The woman in yellow reached the counter. She laughed at something the barista said. It was unforced. Warm.
“You see her?” Solomon asked quietly.
I nodded.
“You’re afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Being known. Being needed. Losing control.”
I hated how accurate that felt.
“I’ve arranged my life carefully enough that no one could rearrange it.” I said. “Marriage feels like handing someone the blueprints.”
He leaned back, sunlight tracing the silver in his hair.
“Exactly.”
The café noise seemed to slow. Cups clinked softer. The guitar outside softened into background hum.
“Marriage,” he said, “isn’t about finding someone to be your companion. It’s about covenant partnership—two people walking under God’s design. It reflects Him.”
“Reflects Him how?”
“In faithfulness. In sacrificial love. In joy that costs something.” He paused.
“From the beginning, the Creator said it was not good for man to be alone. That wasn’t weakness. That was design.”
He closed the notebook.
“When I say a wife is a treasure, I don’t mean flawless. I mean life-giving. She sharpens you. Grounds you. Exposes your selfishness. Doubles your laughter. Shares your grief. Builds something that outlasts mood.”
He softened.
“And yes, it’s favor. Not every man receives that gift. So when he does, he should treat it like gold.”
I stared at the table. “What if I’m not ready?”
“No one is fully ready,” he said. “But you can be becoming ready.”
“How?”
“Become the kind of man who listens before speaking. Who controls his tongue. Who values covenant over convenience. Who walks with God so closely that he can recognize the right partner when she appears.”
The woman in yellow took her drink and turned. For a split second, our eyes met. She smiled politely, then headed toward the door.
I felt something shift inside me—not fireworks. Not fantasy. Just possibility.
Solomon watched her leave, then looked back at me.
“You don’t swipe past treasure,” he said gently. “You slow down long enough to recognize it.”
He rested his hands on the table.
“Here’s what I want you to remember: A wife is not an accessory to your life. She is a gift entrusted to you by God. If He grants that gift, receive it with gratitude. Guard it with humility. And build it with wisdom.”
Sunlight filled the space she’d vacated near the door.
And I realized I’d been living like independence was the prize.
Maybe partnership was—and maybe I was finally letting the light in.”
What? Proverbs 18:13–24 teaches that relationships require humility and discernment, and that finding a godly wife is a priceless gift and an expression of God’s favor.
So What? Marriage isn’t random romance—it’s a divine design meant to multiply strength, joy, and spiritual growth. Treating it casually means missing one of God’s richest blessings.
Now What? Instead of asking, “Who should I find?” start asking, “Who am I becoming?” Begin cultivating the character that can recognize and honor treasure when God brings it.
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