Talking to a friend, and processing a situation in her life. Tough one. Lots of nuances of desire.
“Let’s pray for wisdom,” I suggest.
“Not sure I want it,” she replies cautiously, in a moment of raw honesty.
And in that reply I see the history of my own heart.
Kind of knowing what is right in my gut, but not really liking the implications. When I say I want wisdom, I usually mean I want to know the future. I want specific information that will lead to my own settled happiness. But God’s version of wisdom is not as neat.
If the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, the aversion to acquiring it is certainly the beginning of something else.
a walk in my welly boots 