Two Kinds of Wisdom

When my kids were still in the toddler stage, my husband and I were on the "cradle roll" at church where every few Sundays, it was our turn to spend the whole Sunday morning in the nursery wing and take care of the young children that parents brought back to us for care.

We had cribs, diapers, toys, rockers, swings, snacks, all the elements usually needed to create happy children, and most of the time, we were able to make it through the two and a half hours of church and Sunday school with those happy children, who were occasionally sleeping children, snacking children, and playing children. 

But every now and then, a parent brought in a child who refused to let them go. Most of you who've been parents know what I'm talking about -- it's that heart-wrenching disentanglement as you hand off your kid to the sitter or the nursery worker or the person in charge, and then you sneak out when your child isn't looking, and you huddle around the corner as you listen to your poor kid's ear-piercing shrieks as soon as they discover you're gone.

Some of y'all had kids who adjusted right away to "playtime" in the church nursery. Others (my husband and I) spent most of our Sundays in the nursery for years because of this separation anxiety.

Anyway, I'm getting off-point. One Sunday, it was our turn to be in the nursery, and we had an attachment-issue child come in. The parent stayed for a while before sneaking out, taking a church pager with them in case of emergencies, and I dedicated myself to helping this poor crying child to make it through the next couple of hours. We rocked, I sang, I danced, I made funny faces and strange noises I've never before heard myself make. I pulled out the magical snack puffs, half of which ended up sticking to the child's tear-soaked cheeks. 

It took a while, but the kid eventually calmed down. Now and then, she'd get teary, and we'd start all my tactics over again: new distraction, new toy, new song, new dance, new strange noises. :) She clung to me; I'd become her temporary security, her port in the storm. In Mommy's absence, she wanted me. I was the only one who would do.

I thought: We can do this. She's going to make it. (It's amazing how you lose sight of the end goal -- the fact that church nursery doesn't last for eternity, but only a couple of hours -- when you've got a distressed child). 

There was victory the moment the child squirmed off my hip and decided to pick up a toy without my help. There was another small victory when the child held the toy up for my inspection and we played with it together. We were becoming buddies. I was the proud babysitter. 

My husband couldn't come near her, or any other nursery worker. It was she and I, a team, two peas in a pod, Thelma and Louise, Lucy and Ethel...

And then the parent returned. Church was over, and it was time to go home. The kid flew right past me with a shriek of delight...

And I was relegated to "stranger and alien" once again. I no longer mattered; the real deal was there, and the sit-in substitute was no longer needed.

Obviously, I'm being tongue-in-cheek here, but this scenario was what came to mind when I was reading James 3:13-18 this morning. James starts out by asking: "Who is wise and understanding among you? Let him show it by his good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom."

First things first: James asks a question. What happens when someone asks a question? You expect an answer, right? As a teacher, when I ask my class a question, I love to see raised hands; it makes it feel like there's actually brain-growth happening. The moment any person dreads who has ever spoken in front of a crowd is that moment of no engagement. Have you ever been in a setting where a stand-up comedian tells a joke to a silent audience?

I have. It's horrible. The poor man. There were a couple of sympathy laughs, but you could just see the man almost melt in front of our eyes.

Okay, so we've established that if James is asking a question, he's expecting an answer. "Who is wise and understanding among you?" 

Pressure's on. Raise your hand --

James interrupts: "Let him show it by his good life, by deeds done in humility that comes from wisdom."

In other words: Stop talking and start walking. Stop saying what is good, wise, fruitful, and start showing us those things.

Then James sets up a contrast in these few verses between two specific kinds of wisdom: Earthly wisdom and heavenly wisdom.

If I were a teacher (hey!), I'd set up a T-chart and have my students fill it in: "Class, what's earthly wisdom? Who can give me some adjectives? James?"

James says: "But if you harbor bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast about it or deny the truth. Such 'wisdom' does not come from heaven, but is earthly, unspiritual, of the devil. For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice" (James 3:14-16).

"Thank you, James," you say, and you turn and write on one side of the T-chart: 'earthly wisdom, unspiritual wisdom, wisdom from the devil.'"

"All right, class; that's one kind of 'wisdom.' What goes on the other side of the T-chart? What is heavenly wisdom?" 

James doesn't sit still; he's bouncing in his seat. You sigh. "Yes, James?"

"But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure." Without fault. Without scar.

"Great, th--"

"Then peace-loving."

"Yes, that's a good--"

"Considerate."

"Certainly, you've got--"

"Submissive."

"I can see that, so--"

"Full of mercy and good fruit."

"Both of those--"

"Impartial."

"Impartiality is import--"

"Sincere."

You sigh. "Is that it, James?" 

James smiles. "Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness."

You turn and add to the other side of the T-chart: "Pure (you underline it, because it's 'first of all'), then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial, sincere."

Stepping back, you eye the chart. Somehow, there's still something missing. It seems pretty all-encompassing, right? On one side, you've got "wisdom" that comes from sin. The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us that this type of wisdom is "meaningless, a chasing after the wind." 

"Then I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and folly, but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind. For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief" (Ecclesiastes 1:17-18).

In other words, nothing on that first side of the chart we filled in is going to satisfy the deepest longings of our hearts. Ever tried to chase wind? Besides being unable to see where it's going, there's no substance to it. No amount of reaching, scooping, grabbing, or trying will bring that wind into your grasp.

But even the other side of the chart seems to be missing something. You've got all the elements of Godly wisdom; they're listed right there, and they're each important -- even essential -- to have for wisdom's sake... but what's the missing factor?

1 Corinthians 1:23-24 says: "...But we [the apostles] preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, [we preach] Christ the Power of God and the Wisdom of God."

Jesus Christ IS the Wisdom of God.

So here's the thing: we can chase all day after wisdom. We can chase earthly 'wisdom' (which is unspiritual and of the devil, says James as he points to the T-chart to which he just contributed), or we can chase heavenly wisdom. 

But both sides of that T-chart are outgrowths of the person, the being behind the elements. 

If you get the flu, you exhibit stuffy nose, cough, fever. The stuffy nose, the cough, and the fever are not the flu; they're symptoms of the flu. 

If you start dating, you might end up with flowers, chocolates, or thoughtful gifts showing up in your life. The flowers, chocolates, and thoughtful gifts are great -- but they're symptoms of this relationship that you've begun; they're not the relationship itself (unless it's chocolate; you can have a relationship with chocolate). ;)

Similarly: the one side of that T-chart points to the person behind it (in this case, the devil). The other side of the T-chart points to the other Person behind it (in this case, Christ -- Who is the power of God and He is the Wisdom of God).

Breaking it down: If we have Christ, we have wisdom, because He is wisdom.

It's not enough to find wisdom; we lean toward that wisdom with longing. Paul says: "Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards... but God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things -- and the things that are not -- to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him."

A King born in a manger in a stable in rickety Bethlehem instead of a palace in the capital city? A Rabbi who ate with tax collectors and sinners? A Healer who touched the demon-possessed and the lepers and made them whole and clean? A Teacher who told a woman caught in adultery that her sins were forgiven? 

He chose the foolish things of this world to shame the 'wise,' because He is wisdom. "It is because of Him that you are in Christ Jesus, Who has become for us Wisdom from God."

You know, it takes a mind willing to be turned inside-out and upside-down to accept this Wisdom. He's the author of the upside-down Kingdom. It's unsettling in some ways, but if that's the case, Lord -- unsettle me!

A.W. Tozer said something that struck home for me today: "The Bible is not an end in itself, but a means to bring men to an intimate and satisfying knowledge of God, that they may enter into Him, that they may delight in His Presence, may taste and know the inner sweetness of the very God Himself in the core and center of their hearts."

Y'all, I love the Scriptures, not because I love reading old passages that have been around for centuries, but because the Scriptures are an arrow that points to Christ, that tells the Story of God, His love, His redemption, and how He touches sinners lost in the depths of blindness, and pulls them into His eternal light.

John 1:1 says: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." The Word is not a set of 66 books. The Word is Jesus Christ, about Whom those 66 books are written. And that's why I so love the Scriptures, because they allow me to sit at Jesus' feet and learn Him, learn His wisdom.

Psalm 63:8 says: "My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me." The ASV says: "My soul follows hard after You; Your right hand upholds me." 

In that reciprocal relationship, where my soul clings to Jesus, and Jesus' right hand upholds me, where we sit at Jesus' feet and worship Him and learn from Him and follow hard after Him, He turns around and holds us up, sustains us, encourages us, and loves us.

What is wisdom? Wisdom is the One Who is on the other side of that relationship. Out of Him comes all the symptoms on the one side of that chart that James gives us.

So don't pursue purity for the sake of purity or peace for the sake of peace. Don't seek out submissiveness or mercy or good fruit or consideration or impartiality or sincerity for the sake of themselves. Look for the Person behind them. All else will follow.

My toddler friend looked past me and saw her parent, and boy, did she ever follow hard after Mommy. Once she was in her mother's arms, all the world was right again. No more tears. All the toys in the world to show off. 

She was exactly where she was supposed to be, and out of that, everything else fell into place.