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Feather and Ink
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Author Rebecca Britt, Oregon
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Where Is God’s
Wisdom Hiding?
I
am an avid photographer. A camera is seldom out of my hand and it generates
wildwood walks I would otherwise not take. Zooming off on a ‘photo op’ drive is
a common occurrence. I’ve lain in a ditch, in the dark, (my sister aiding and
abetting with a flashlight) to get just the right night shot of a flower. I am
not averse to crawling under bushes, braving mosquitoes for the perfect swamp
shot, hanging over waterfalls, and incurring the ire of my children. They’re
getting a bit fed up with my ‘in your face’ cameo shots.
If
the eye is the window of the soul (paraphrased from Matthew 6:22), it is
reasonable to conclude that what we view influences our hearts. According to
Psalms 104:24 and 136:5, all creation was made by the
wisdom of God. When I see the work of His fingers, Psalm 8:3, and train my eyes
upon His word, I see His wisdom. Oh what marvelous wonders He engraves upon my
heart.
Though I perceive language as an art form, the pen my brush and verbiage my
paint, these tools of my craft are merely one of the means our Heavenly Father
employs to impart wisdom. As His thoughts toward us can not be numbered, Psalm
40:5, so the facets of His character and wisdom are equally innumerable. It’s
only sensible that His methods line up with an infinity impossible to
calculate. An interesting oxymoron; only God can do the sensibly impossible.
Prior to and during a womens’ retreat, I had been diligently bleating my
devotions, asking God for wisdom. After all, James 1:5 told me to. However, I
was not prepared for the particular lesson He was putting up on the chalkboard
in my head.
One of the dear ladies in our gathering has an extreme sensitivity to all
scented products. Even my organic, homemade lotion would cause a severe
reaction, forcing her to leave the room. At the time of the retreat, she was
backpacking a portable oxygen tank.
Since it’s my habit to slather that lotion from head to foot, I kept my
distance the first evening of the retreat. Mary (an alias) seemed to suffer no
ill effects. However, the next morning, rationalizing that I’d keep my distance
again, I proceeded to smear my ‘organic wonder lotion’ on with a trowel.
“Uh-oh,” I thought to myself. “I need to pray for Mary’s healing.”
Presuming this was a genuine nudge from the Holy Spirit, down on my knees I
went. I even asked God to forgive me for using the lotion, although there was
no way I was going to repeat my morning ablutions with another shower to wash
it off. I’d miss breakfast if I did that.
Prayer done, the scent of frying bacon - hopefully overshadowing the scent of
my lotion - is a siren’s song to my nose. No sooner do I reach the kitchen,
than Mary makes a bee-line for the door, fighting for air. I blithely play
social butterfly with a plate full of breakfast goodies. Mary won’t be eating.
The retreat curriculum includes solitary time for devotions, sight-seeing, et
al. The Holy Spirit was strongly manifesting throughout the teaching and prayer
sessions. Therefore, it seemed good to use my ‘quiet time’ for continued
pursuit of wisdom. Intending to read James’ epistle from beginning to end, the
brakes came on at 4:2&3. Father God didn’t pull any punches as He pointed
out my motivations when praying for Mary. He’d answered my prayer for wisdom;
one of the more painful facets.
That evening, at our last fellowship, James’ epistle walked me through a tearful
confession. Bondages were broken and the balm of loving forgiveness healed
hearts wounded by offence.
Wisdom cloaked with
humility is more beautiful than anything seen through the lens of a camera. A
broken and contrite heart, God will not despise. What a lovely position from which to ask wisdom of God,
who gives to all men liberally, and upbraids not. (James 1:5 - paraphrased)
Sharing this lesson in
wisdom has reminded to examine my heart more diligently when I pray. My
bleating has become less demanding. I think there might be a few chicken bones
lodged in the wool.
I pray you are blessed by
the rainbow pic. My daughter and I saw this in a clear sky. Thank God, I had my
camera. Doesn’t He have a beautiful smile?
Your sister in Christ,
Rebecca Britt,
Feather
and Ink
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