God & Women: Chapters 2 & 3
Deconstructing the Christian Caste System
Chapter Two
Fried Egg Sandwich
“My wife was upset because I would not allow her to get her nails done, but, you see, Adam was in charge. The man has the rule over his wife. If a man wakes up at 3 a.m. hungry for a fried egg sandwich, then she has to get up and make it for him….” –Anonymous Pastor
I was not sympathetic with what I was hearing from the man behind the pulpit. But as the speaker shared his views on what he believed represented a biblical marriage relationship, my heart did go out to his wife.
He unapologetically ruled supreme in their home, deciding the smallest details of their daily lives, even as to whether or not his wife could have her nails done on a given day. There was no question about her submission. And because she meekly submitted to his bullying, he was pleased to present her as a splendid example of biblical womanhood. Even so, I was convinced that describing her as, “scared to death of him,” would have come closer to the truth.
When this man’s wife was awakened from peaceful slumber in the middle of the night and forced out of bed to cook that egg and make that sandwich, did she get up willingly, or did she feel like the live-in-body-servant her husband obviously believed she was? Did she lovingly prepare that sandwich while enjoying a few companionable moments with her spouse? Or was she resentful (and rightfully so!) at having her sleep disturbed to cater to her inconsiderate husband’s middle-of-the-night craving?
When he received that sandwich, did he eat it with relish and the satisfaction of believing that all was as it should be in his world? Would it have bothered him to know that his wife may not have shared his sentiments? And if she felt resentful and ill-used at having her rest disturbed, would it have been Christ-like of him to have blithely enjoyed that snack without giving a second thought to her feelings?
While recognizing and appreciating God-given differences between the sexes, this book explores the biblicality of assigning rigid gender roles to men and women—roles claimed to pertain to this life as well as the next.
Chapter Three
Twelve Dollar Tuna
I was hungry and waiting for a plane, so despite exorbitant airport prices, I decided to buy something to eat. That little something turned out to be a prepackaged tuna sandwich that came to a whopping total of $12! Now, $12 for a sandwich is not unusual by today’s standards, but this was in 2003, when $12 for a sandwich was considered outrageous.
Although I was appalled at what I had to pay for that sandwich, I had to admit it was the best tuna sandwich I’d ever tasted. So, I noted the ingredients (remember, it came prepackaged, so it had an ingredient list) and added a new recipe, Twelve Dollar Tuna, to my personal cookbook. It was an instant hit at home, and my husband started taking twelve-dollar tuna for lunch on a regular basis.
He and I enjoyed a relaxed and peaceful life together. We were compatible and in agreement about most things. In the early days of our marriage, one thing that could have been a major issue was my job. I held a corporate position that required extensive travel, and I was typically gone a few weeks every month. My husband knew this would be the case when he encouraged me to accept the job offer only one week after our wedding.
I did not apply for this job; I was recruited for it, and we both felt, though we had no idea why, that it was God’s will for me to accept the offer. I now know why and am grateful that we were obedient to the Spirit of the Lord in that.
We both held full-time jobs, and though my husband had no problem with cooking and cleaning, whether I was on the road or not, when I was not traveling, I cooked most of our meals. But one thing he insisted on was making his own lunches, even when I was at home.
I was more than willing to make them for him, but he wouldn’t hear of it, as he usually got up for work around 3 a.m. and I did not get up with him at that time of the morning.
Things changed quite a bit at our house after those early days when we both worked outside the home. I began working from home, while my husband still began his day in the middle of night. Some days I got up with him; we enjoyed spending time together, even if it was in the middle of the night. But I was often sleeping when he got up, and, by mutual agreement, that worked for us.
The introduction of twelve-dollar tuna into our lives caused a slight bump in the road, which, thankfully, we quickly ironed out and found that it helped to clarify our thinking on the fried egg sandwich issue at the same time. We had discussed the fried egg sandwich scenario and agreed that not only was it not for us, but we believed it was wrong as well.
My husband loved my twelve-dollar tuna and, for a while, took it for lunch at least once a week. It was my special gift to him—although he did not know that at first.
At this point some will think, “A tuna sandwich, that’s no special gift! That is just preparing your husband’s lunch and sending food he likes to work with him.” But I disagree. And my husband said he disagrees as well. You see, he likes all kinds of food, but, for his lunches, he has a preference for sandwiches. He is quite happy with bologna sandwiches, ham sandwiches, turkey sandwiches, and chicken sandwiches, along with an occasional order of taquitos from the convenience store for variety. He is not difficult to please when it comes to food, and my twelve-dollar tuna particularly pleased him; and that made me feel good.
Well, it turned out, my easy to please independent husband, who had always insisted on making his own lunches, did not have a clue as to how to make twelve-dollar tuna (it had several ingredients), and he was not the least bit interested in learning how. He had often watched me make it in the middle of the night and knew it required a bit more preparation than your average tuna sandwich. Although he enjoyed the sandwiches, and this is important, he did not require me to make them for him. I made them because I wanted to. It was a personal thing. I knew he loved them, and it was one of those little things I enjoyed doing for him. However, he wasn’t aware that making twelve-dollar tuna in the middle of the night for his lunches was a special labor of love for me . . . until the day I thought he was requiring it of me.
Late one night, forgetting the next day was usually a twelve-dollar tuna day, I forgot to make it and dragged my weary-self off to bed around midnight. When the alarm went off at 2 a.m., I had been asleep for under two hours. I may have briefly awakened when the alarm went off but had no intention of getting up.
By mutual agreement, due to our different work schedules, if I was still sleeping when he woke up, he just got up and went to work. We would see each other later.
This particular morning, though, he had no idea that I had been asleep for less than two hours. All he saw was that I appeared to be awake when the alarm went off. He must have woken up hungry and, it being twelve-dollar tuna day, sweetly asked if I was going to get up and make it for him. It was so out of character for him to ask me to get out of bed in the middle of the night to prepare food for him, that I should have realized he believed I was wide awake. But I was groggy, and my answer was a less than Christ-like, “Are you kidding?”
Later that morning I felt bad about forgetting to make his twelve-dollar tuna before I went to bed, as well as for my poor attitude—even if it had been 2 a.m.! When I asked him about it later, he told me he had not taken anything at all for lunch that day.
Then the guilt set in, and I worked myself into quite a lather imagining that he had gone lunch-less just to spite me. A ridiculous idea that would have been entirely out of character for him, and I knew that, but my conscience was killing me over him going hungry because of me. So, I accused him of being manipulative and trying to control me through guilt. I was furious that he did not respect our mutual agreement to keep different sleep/wake schedules when necessary, and that he would stoop so low as to go without lunch in order to manipulate me. I declared that I would get up in the middle of the night and make twelve-dollar tuna sandwiches from then on, only it would no longer be a labor of love but rather an act of compliance. I told him that, in the future, his twelve-dollar tuna would be nothing more than fried egg sandwiches.
If that declaration had been allowed to stand, not only would twelve-dollar tuna have been turned into fried egg sandwiches, but our uniquely balanced, completely voluntary, love relationship would have changed as well, on both sides, and neither of us wanted that.
He patiently explained [what I should have known all along] that he honestly believed I had been wide awake, as I frequently was, when he got up. On more than one occasion he had watched me cheerfully making Twelve Dollar Tuna at 3 a.m., and he, having no idea what time I had actually gone to bed on the night in question, thought this was just another one of those early mornings I would be up with him. He had gone without lunch that day, not to spite me but because it had been a particularly busy day at work, and he had not had time to stop for taquitos, which, since he had not carried his lunch that day, he had planned to do,
I was ashamed of my terrible attitude and begged his forgiveness. He forgave me and assured me that he could never enjoy a bite of twelve-dollar tuna if it was, in reality, a fried egg sandwich.
When a husband demands compliance—even the appearance of cheerful and joyful compliance—from his wife, twelve-dollar tuna is turned into a fried egg sandwich, and something has gone seriously awry in that marriage. The mystical, Heavenly, completely voluntary, love union that represents that of Christ and His Church, at that point, completely ceases to be and is replaced by an earthly compliance that should be as abhorrent to any husband as it is to Christ.
Our God compels us to do nothing and certainly is not interested in mere compliance. If that was the case, He would have created a world full of automatons. But He did not. From us—from both his daughters and his sons—he wants only twelve-dollar tuna, … and he will spew fried egg sandwiches out of His mouth.
Jocelyn Andersen writes and speaks on a variety of topics. Her work has been featured in magazines, newspapers, radio, and television. She has written several non-fiction books and is currently working on her first novel.
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