When Spying Is a Spiritual Gift—and My Husband Has It

Divine Reconnaissance

The Bible is surprisingly full of spies—and not the James Bond kind. Sometimes, espionage was actually part of God’s game plan. Takes Numbers 13, for instance, where God told Moses to send men to spy out the land of Canaan. This wasn’t a covert op gone rogue. It was a divine reconnaissance mission. And in Joshua 2:1, Joshua sent two men as spies, saying, “Go, view the land, especially Jericho.” In other words, “Sneak around and try not to get caught.”

However, not all spying had God’s stamp of approval. In Luke 20:20, the religious leaders had their own version of the secret service—not to gather intel, but to trap Jesus.  “Keeping a close eye on him, they sent spies, who pretended to be sincere. They hoped to catch Jesus in something he said, so that they might hand him over to the power and authority of the governor.”

Domestic Surveillance

In my own house, Luke 8:17 comes to mind. “For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light.”

It’s a funny thing about marriage—you think the biggest hurdles will be communication, finances, or perhaps leaving the toilet seat up. What you don’t anticipate is the full surveillance state your spouse might install—voluntarily, of course, with the noble intentions of “keeping everything under control.” I can’t sneak anything past Hubby—not that I deliberately try, except during holidays. But in this day and age of real-time bank notifications and GPS alerts, even a well-intentioned secret feels like a mission doomed to fail. Hubby monitors every credit card transaction and, in the olden days, checks written. Ordering anything online guarantees there will be no surprise—birthday, Christmas, and anniversary presents are all known by Hubby before they even leave the warehouse.

So today, when I stopped by Hubby’s office, and he announced, “I see you ordered that medication for Younger Son,” I could only claim guilty as charged. Well, sort of. It wasn’t exactly a secret, so technically, I wasn’t guilty. As Hubby was fully aware, I had been searching for medication for Younger Son’s foot rot that he apparently contracted during basic training. Still, there’s something unnerving about my every keystroke being tracked. It’s not like I’m trying to slip illegal drugs past Hubby’s nose.

“I saw we got something from FedEx,” he continued.

“Yes, the ink cartridges YOU ordered.” Thank goodness it wasn’t contraband chocolate that I didn’t want him to know about. Otherwise, he’d expect me to share.

“And something from the IRS in the mail.”

“Another notice that our refund is being delayed.” At this point, I was starting to feel like Big Brother had some competition.

Even the Truck Spies on Me

And as if his computer wasn’t enough of a snitch, Hubby casually asked, “Were you in the truck for something?”

Mind you, the truck is sitting in the driveway, a good five miles from his office, so there’s no way he could have seen me.

“Yes, I had to get my sunglasses.”

“I had an alert on my phone that the driver’s door was opened,” he said.

Yikes! So even Hubby’s TRUCK tattles on my moves? This constant surveillance by inanimate objects is rather creepy. It’s not that I’m up to anything I don’t want Hubby to know about—I’m far too boring for that—but still, knowing that every movement and transaction is tracked feels like living with a private investigator who moonlights as a pastor. No wonder he ends up writing his sermon on Saturday nights; he’s too busy tracking things on his computer and phone during the week to get any work done when he’s at work.

It’s not just me, either. When Younger Son got his cell phone, Hubby immediately installed a tracker on it.

“So we can always know where he is,” he explained, in the same tone someone might use when discussing national security.

I suppose there’s something to be said about living in the age of constant digital chaperoning. Every teen now comes with GPS.

I, for one, am thankful this kind of surveillance didn’t exist when I was a teenager. Enough said.

Hubby calls it “staying on top of things.” I call it full-time espionage ministry. Either way, one thing’s for sure. Someone is always watching. Especially if I’m eating chocolate.