Key Verse: “If you need wisdom, ask our generous God,
and he will give it to you. He will not rebuke you for asking.” (James 1:5)
The bell over the café door chimed the same way it had on Day 1, when I first met the stranger at the table. Same hum of espresso machines. Same worn wood tables. Same sunlight stretching across the floor like it was reaching for something.
But I wasn’t the same.
Solomon sat in the corner, silver-streaked hair tied back, linen sleeves rolled, his weathered leather notebook resting beneath his hand. That faint cedar scent still cut through the coffee.
“Ethan,” he said, smiling. “Day 90.”
I slid into the seat across from him. “Feels kinda strange.”
“It should,” he said. “If you’ve been paying attention.”
He opened the notebook. One word filled the page this time: “Show.”
“An Apostle of Jesus, named James, captured what I spent my life trying to teach,” he said. “‘If you are wise and understand God’s ways, show it by living an honorable life, doing good works with the humility that comes from wisdom.’”
“So wisdom shows up,” I said slowly, “or it’s not really there.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
Then he studied me. “Do you remember?”
The word unlocked something.
Not a flood—just flashes.
A park bench. His pen sketching a heart with gates. Guard what gets in.
A dusty fork in a trail. One path right, the other easy.
A sharp word I couldn’t take back.
The day I pushed him, argued, almost walked. “Then stay,” he said calmly.
A quiet warning in a dim corner—about paths that look harmless until they aren’t.
Coins in my hand. My grip tight. “Do you trust God,” he asked, “or just your ability to hold on?”
Faces surfaced with the memories.
Gideon, restless.
Sandra, carrying more than she admitted.
Maya, asking the questions I was afraid to say out loud.
Aaron, trying to rebuild after everything fell apart.
And his people—Silas steady, Elior thoughtful, Azariah strong, Amos observant, Lemuel whose words still echoed.
Then a moment I almost missed: me leaning in, actually listening. Not fixing. Just present.
The flashes faded. The café returned.
Solomon watched me like he’d walked through every memory with me again.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I remember.”
“Good,” he said. “Then you’re ready for this.”
He leaned forward. “There are two kinds of wisdom. One driven by envy and selfish ambition—always proving, always pushing. It leads to disorder. You’ve seen it.”
A couple nearby sat in tight silence, tension thick between them.
I nodded.
“But the wisdom from God?” he continued. “It’s pure. Peace-loving. Gentle. Willing to yield. Full of mercy. It produces a harvest of righteousness.”
I let that settle. “That doesn’t come naturally.”
“No,” he said. “It comes from surrender.”
I exhaled. “Still not my favorite word.”
He chuckled, “I know.”
I looked down at the notebook again. Beneath Show, another word had appeared: “Ask.”
“That’s where this leads,” he said… As James 1:5 reminds us, “If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and He will give it to you. He won’t shame you for asking.”
Something settled deep in me—steady, grounding.
Solomon closed the notebook and looked at me with quiet authority.
“Before we part ways, five lessons I’ve tried to press into you:
1. Reverence for God is the foundation of wisdom. Everything begins with your posture before the Creator.
2. Your character determines your destiny. Who you are shapes your future more than what happens to you.
3. Your words carry life and death. Master your tongue, and you master your world.
4. Choose your relationships carefully. They will make or break you.
5. Wisdom is practical, daily, and learnable. It’s a lifelong apprenticeship, not a one-time download.
“You don’t graduate from needing wisdom,” he said. “You grow into depending on it. And God gives it freely.”
I swallowed. “So this is just the start.”
“Exactly.”
He rose and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Ask, and keep asking. Choose the wisdom that brings peace, not pride. Let your life prove what you’ve learned. And stay close to Him. That’s where wisdom lives.”
My chest tightened—but with clarity, not fear.
He bowed his head.
“Heavenly Father, give Ethan wisdom that is pure, peaceable, full of mercy. Guard his steps. Shape his life. Draw him close to You. Amen.”
He pulled me into a firm embrace—cedar, leather, steadiness.
Then he stepped back, nodded once, and walked toward the door.
The bell chimed again. And he was gone.
I sat for a long time, letting his words settle.
Not the end. The beginning.
What? True wisdom is shown through humility, peace, and mercy—not just knowledge.
So What? Wisdom that steadies your life comes from God and must be lived daily.
Now What? Before your next decision, pause and pray: “God, give me Your wisdom right now.” Then choose the path of peace, not pride.
No comments:
Post a Comment