Sometimes it’s those who’ve strayed furthest from Eden who have the greatest wisdom to share. They can see all the forks on the road they missed. And with their remaining days, they set up road signs so that those who follow after them avoid the same pitfalls.
I hear it in Solomon’s voice when I read Proverbs. Like an old man, with his share of regrets, wanting better for his children.
“I’ve been down that way and it holds nothing but heartache. Avoid it. I’m telling you.”
The sorrow in their eyes, the tone in their speech and the deep sigh speak for themselves. They’ve paid dearly for that wisdom. But it won’t be in vain if they can pass it on.
But, if there are profitable lessons from those furthest from Eden, there are equally good lessons from those closest to it.
It’s just wisdom of a different kind.
They come from little feet pattering around the washroom, catching you up on the hilarious events of the day before jumping into the running bath. They come from those who are still young enough to be naked and unashamed.
There was no end to the amusing things that happened on the playground that day, for which you are now too old to fully appreciate, until they drop a most unexpected proverb in your lap. And when I hear those kernels of wisdom, it’s as though Eden itself were speaking.
There was a time when our little one didn’t want to be in Sunday school on his own. I sat with him and minded my own business. A six-year-old boy in class took a pause from playing and stared up at me,
“You look like a guy from a movie I just saw.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“He was the bad guy.”
No ill will, no malice, just matter-of-fact.
There is wisdom there.
I always assume I’m the hero of the story. I imagine myself as the protagonist, the one helping others. In the movie, I’m not the one in need, and certainly not the villain. In the gospel story, I’m not the little dead girl who needs resurrecting or the leper asking for mercy. I’d never imagine myself as Saul, grinding his hot teeth on his way to Damascus or as Herod looking for parlour tricks from his detainee.
But, I’m not the hero.
There is another.
I wouldn’t have considered that thought, were it not for this little voice. This wisdom which, in my ears, sounds pure and rings true.
We can give them the wisdom of Solomon and say, “Avoid that road.” The little child waiting for the bath to fill would give us another wisdom. One that says truthfully (naked) and without malice (unashamed),
“You look like the one who needs saving.”
Those who still walk this earth naked and
unashamed must still speak wisdom of a place
like that.
I can give them the wisdom of Solomon. They will gift me with the wisdom of Eden.
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