Here's the question worth sitting with: OpenAI's value rose by roughly $400 billion in eight months — so what changed? The researchers didn't double. The technology didn't transform overnight. What moved was the crowd's confidence, the intensity of the bidding. That tells us something about what kind of number a valuation actually is: it measures what people expect and compete for, not what has been proven. The company's worth, in the market's eyes, is a function of whoever is holding the checkbook this season.
That gap between price and value isn't a tech-industry oddity. It's the water most of us swim in. We estimate our own worth by salary, by followers, by the approval of whoever happens to be evaluating us this month — and the number changes with the crowd. Scripture treats wisdom, at its core, as the capacity to tell those two kinds of numbers apart: to distinguish what dazzles from what endures, and to know that some things are precious precisely because no one can bid on them. A valuation can nearly double in eight months. Your worth before God was never up for negotiation in the first place.
To be fair, a trillion-dollar price tag doesn't prove the technology hollow any more than it proves the investors wise — excitement about new tools isn't a sin, and discernment cuts both ways. But the deeper question reaches past Silicon Valley: which measuring stick have we quietly let someone else hold? A practice worth trying this week — name one thing whose value to you has nothing to do with its price, and let that be the number you carry into the day. Being valued by the crowd and being valuable, it turns out, are not the same sentence.