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« Has It Been That Long? | Main | For the Witness »
Thursday
May222014

Listen for Wisdom (From Proverbs 8)

The hour grows late.

The dark veil falls.

Silence pierces the comfort. Shall I regard the begging questions or heed the ache? Nay. Everyman - of humanity’s breath - am I, and pride is my tether. Though to what it is anchored, why inquire? Is not life about exploring the many relative possibilities to answer its riddle?

Why struggle, then?!

Why bother?

Why attempt..?

Why live...?

Is everything nominal - simply descriptions of the existential passages in our lives?

Nothing actual?

Nothing prescriptive?

Suffering is real, and life is overwhelmed with it - that much is certain. Or is it? If everything is merely provisions for the abstract, so is pain.

Then who is speaking?

What is my identity?

Everyman — a spark of the divine... an illusion....or a composition of cause and effects entwined in flesh asking for purpose...


A commotion outside... safety in sound... distraction displacing contemplation...

With no sleep to be had regardless, I opened my window to see who deserved the appreciation of my attention. A woman, most flamboyant in both presentation and proclamation, walked back and forth while shouting to all who would give her ear - the many. Lust - I knew her well and, on occasion, entertained her company. I had forgotten that it was her hour. Still, she was louder than usual as if there were reason for a more forceful call.

There, up the way, a modestly dressed lady approached. Could she be the reason? I heard someone call her Wisdom, though he said that it has been a while since they had spoken. My attention returned, and I saw the lady as she halted at a crossroads placing a foot at each of the two streets - one upon Mind and the other upon Heart - and began her soft monologue. If you listened, every word resonated:

“Why do you listen to nonsense?

What relief is there in delusion?

How does one hope for the eternal by self-promotion or paragoning the flaw?”

I, as many around, peering through their shaded platforms, took offense. Who is she to speak such judgment against my life? Lust presented our case, rallying our collective defenses.

“My dear lovers, do not worry with the outdated rants of a proselytizing prude. Could she possibly understand you as intimate as I or as you know yourselves? Dismiss the questions, and worry not of their implications. Your life is your own, and you alone know how to live it. Does not pragmatism assure you of this?”

“Something that works or appears to do so outside of what is intended for it does not then constitute truth,” responded Wisdom before any of us could express agreement. “Practicality must align with purpose, otherwise you are seeking moral ambiguity and not righteousness.”

“Neither does moral snobbery,” retorted Lust to the affirmation of all who numbered among her support. “Your intolerance is of the highest affront to your ‘so-called’ love. What I offer is true freedom and you... enslavement to conditions.”

Surely, Wisdom would yield. What objection could she provide that would not break under the weight of Lust’s charge? It is over, and many others concluded similarly, punctuated by the sounds of crowd dispersal, departing footsteps, and ovation at the accomplishment. Even Lust had turned her back in satisfaction.

As I reached to close my window, I felt Wisdom’s eyes fall upon me.

“I am your sister, but you reject me!

You ask to live yet follow death!

I love you; still, you listen to flattery!

Do you not feel the arrow?

Even now, the snare tightens within her seduction.

You are not her friend. You are her victim, and your debt is your very life.”

“I want to be free,” whispered someone. I realized at once those words were my own.

“Freedom lies not in the capacity to yield to a fallen nature, but to act contrary to it - to speak... to do... to live rightly despite all circumstances, conditions, reasons, or temptations to do otherwise!” She rose to the hearing of all once more.

“How?”

“In order to be free, you must be righteous.

In order to be righteous, you must live in truth and love selflessly - that love being unconditional.

In order to live in truth and love unconditionally, you must reflect the character and nature of the Living God - the only one capable of doing this.

To reflect Him, you must be sanctified.

To be sanctified, you must be redeemed.

Therefore, freedom necessitates redemption and not release from moral restraint.”

“What is redemption?” I asked more boldly.

“Enlightenment!” one shouted out.

“A life defined by good deeds!” called another.

“Achieving love and peace through relationship!” many returned.

“Evolving into a superior being.” Arguments broke out.

“..Redemption.... righteousness... more conditions... more stipulations,” replied Lust as she rejoined the debate. “Of your truth... from what God that no one can confirm?”

“The One you deny. The One you fight. The One you hate. Confirmation is within the hearts of men if they would but read what is etched upon their hearts,” Wisdom answered. “In coherence of truth itself that is not simply my own but fragments that reflect what was and is testified at creation... at sacrifice unto salvation. Timeless revelation written in Scripture and evidenced in existence that lay purposely contrary to everything you are or will accept because holiness is not what you love, harlot. You see yourself as brazen in refusing His love for you. And, that is a condition? If faith is a condition, then what do you call that to which you have bound yourself? Your wiles... your rebellion... your sin...” Wisdom turned back to me. “...your silence... your ache of loneliness... your asking for purpose when feeling meaninglessness...”

Lust attempted another barrage, but a voice in my heart drowned out her attack: “See and believe,” it said as a light encompassed the intersection before me. No... not an intersection... a cross. “Wisdom, be my sister,” I cried. She filled my sight, and I saw He who knows me as I was both in His eye at the formation of this world and the Forgiving Act. “...understanding, my intimate friend,” continued I, falling to my knees as the veil was torn, the tether-cut, and rejoicing replaced the silence. My identity... my purpose came into fulfillment upon my prayer: “Christ... be my Lord.”

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Reader Comments (1)

It is amazing how much something can affect you.

Sometimes it can even be something written by a friend.

Sometimes it can even be many months before it is read -- before its impact takes place.

Sometimes, God has His own timing for things that we would dismiss after mere moments or days.

May others who read this be as blessed as I.

Wed, October 1, 2014 | Registered CommenterCraig Gilley, Technical Director

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