Wisdom Won't Just "Happen"
We have a plan for everything—why not Wisdom?
I stood on the side of the freeway, about to cry.
At the time, I was at hour—I don’t know—eight or nine of a full Ironman. I began the day with a brisk 2.4 mile swim, and now I sat at mile 70 of the 112-mile bike course. Luckily, I only had to cap it all off with a marathon.
So far, every mile of the race felt like a fight. I had been dealing with an upper respiratory virus the month prior, and even though I completed my antibiotics a few days before the race, I still wasn’t at 100%. The swim didn’t go well, and to make matters worse, the wind on the bike course nearly turned me into a kite. The average wind going into Houston was close to 26 MPH, with gusts up to 35 MPH.
I managed the headwind decent enough, but the gusts became almost unbearable on the unprotected freeway overpasses. There were moments when all I could do was push my weight into the bike and pray. And not like a LOL “Jesus to take the wheel” prayer, but the “I seriously feel scared” prayer.
And the crying part. The last leg of the course brought me up and down two especially high overpasses. On the first one, I nearly wiped out. My front tire rattled back and forth as I rode down the hill, the wind laughing the entire time. When I reached the top of the second overpass, I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled over and leaned my bike against the concrete barrier. I put my head in my hands and fought back tears. “Why did I do this?” Over the last three hours, I rode by crash after crash—starring deeply into bloody faces, arms and legs. One rider looked like he had broken his collarbone. “That could be me.”
After a few moments of existential crisis, I eventually collected my thoughts. “You’ve ridden in wind before,” I whispered.
Then, a newfound courage bubbled over into a roar.
“YOU JUST GOTTA BELIEVE!”
I hopped on my bike and rode the hurricane to glory. It wasn’t pretty, but I finished the race after 15+ hours.
You might be wondering why I’m telling you all this—other than me getting a chance to let everyone know, yet again, that I am an Ironman. My point here is that the only reason I was able to finish is because I prepared for hardship. I did what almost everyone does when they train for an Ironman—or any other large goal—I found a training plan. I followed that training plan, and I put in the work. I relied on my previous experience to carry me through the difficult times (and the tears). Nothing fancy or life-changing—I’m actually below average for my age group—just work.
Wisdom Takes Work
Most of us want to be wise, but think that it will just “happen” on its own. We believe that if we just live long enough, we will somehow end up making wise choices most of the time. We literally would not expect these types of results for any other area of life—whether it be financially, learning to play an instrument, or finishing an Ironman—and yet we are foolish enough to think Wisdom grows outside of any plan or intentionality.
In fact, I’m willing to guess that if everyone reading this ranked their “wisdom ability” in terms of percentile, most of us would put ourselves in the top 70% or above. Most people (if my assumption is true) think they’re above average, but everyone can’t be above average! It’s not mathematically possible!
I recently read about a study where people were asked to rate their driving skills. Surprisingly, 99 percent of car drivers believed they were “more competent than the average.”1 Once again, not mathematically possible!
Most of us seem to think we’re better off than we are.
We need to train ourselves in Wisdom, and that requires work. Intentional work. We need it. It won’t occur on its own.
I love this quote from Timothy Keller:
Because wisdom comes not through acquisition of knowledge but through long experience and reflection, it takes years to produce. What happens, then, if suddenly you come to a crisis that demands great discernment and self-control? If you haven't learned the hard-won habits of wisdom—of resting in Christ when other comforts are removed, of discerning choices among the bad, the good, and the best—you cannot suddenly develop them overnight, any more than you can get ready for the Olympics overnight.2
This is why, in Proverbs 1, Wisdom says:
Then they will call on me, but I will not answer;
They will seek me diligently but will not find me (1:28, NASB)
If we don’t take time to prepare now, we’ll be stuck on an overpass, unable to move.
Consistent Training
Anyone can be a genius, if they pick just one specific subject and study it diligently just 15 minutes each day.
The above quote is attributed to Albert Einstein, and I rather like the premise.3 If we studied one subject for a little bit every day, before long we would become, if not a genius, at the least proficient in it. (As opposed to someone who reads part of an article on a topic and thinks they’re an expert.)
Imagine what our life would look like if we pursued godly Wisdom everyday? If, like someone training for a race, we put together a plan and really worked on it.
What will you do to grow in Wisdom? I’m currently working through this question on a personal level, and will be offering resources on this Substack. For now, one of the best ways to get started is by learning more about Wisdom and what Wisdom looks like in day-to-day life. I’ve put together a list of recommended resources (that I’ll be updating regularly). Find something on the list and dig in!
This Substack is free. If you like what you read, one of the best ways to support me is to subscribe to my posts and share this post on social media or with a friend. I’m excited to go on this journey with you.
David Robson, The Intelligence Trap: Why Smart People Make Dumb Mistakes (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2019), 113. The participants in the poll were from WEIRD countries (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic). People living in Asian countries seemed to have a more honest assessment of their skills.
Timothy and Kathy Keller, God’s Wisdom for Navigating Life: A Year of Daily Devotions in the Book of Proverbs (New York: Viking, 2017), 21.
I’ve been unable to hunt down the source of the quote, but the idea stands.
I love the picture in Proverbs of going and sitting at Wisdom’s feet to learn. She’s always there, ready, and delighted to teach. But who will get up and go to her?