By: JUBILEE! Minister Rev. Candace Chellew-Hodge
When he established the heavens, I was there,
when he drew a circle on the face of the deep,
when he made firm the skies above,
when he established the fountains of the deep,
when he assigned to the sea its limit,
so that the waters might not transgress his command,
when he marked out the foundations of the earth,
then I was beside him, like a master worker;
and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before her always,
rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race.
When we find ourselves singing sorrow songs in our lives we would do well to remember this song of wisdom sung in this ancient proverb. Wisdom isn’t some Johnny-come-lately to the party of creation, she – yes, SHE, wisdom is always feminine – was there when the big bang party went down.
When God established the heavens, she was there. When God made the oceans, she was there, when God created the sky and the waters and the very foundations of this blue boat we call home – wisdom was in on it. What’s more, wisdom is something God takes delight in – and not just now and then, but always. But the really wonderful news is that the Holy delights in the human race.
How often do we delight in the human race? Not very often, I would guess. We’re too busy tearing each other down, gossiping about one another, finding reasons to hate and disparage one another than we are about taking delight in one another.
But, wisdom knows, the fastest way out of singing a sorrow song, is to delight – get downright giddy about everything – and everyone – around you – the heavens, the oceans, the mountains, the trees, the birds, the air you breath. Take delight in the brother, the sister, the stranger, the friend, the lover, and most especially the enemy. Delight is where wisdom resides, because when we look around at this awesome creation that God has plopped us down in the middle of, we can’t help but see the creative power of wisdom all around us.
The true wisdom of creation is its beauty, but often the most beautiful thing is nature is not the perfect flower or the rightly proportioned tree. Usually, the most beautiful things in this world are wounded – the gnarly roots of ancient tree, the green shoots emerging from the charred ground of a forest destroyed by fire, the craggy side of a mountain assailed for millennia by wind and rain.
The wounded people around us too, they should be a source of delight – because none of us has escaped this life without being wounded. People like you to think they’re perfect and they’ll pay for perfect teeth, perfect hair, a perfect body, a perfect house and career, but nobody gets out to this world without sorrow. Truly wise people can see beyond the façade of perfection and take delight in even the most wounded human being – seeing them with eyes of love and not pity, hatred or disdain.
This is the beauty of wisdom – it comes not from our perfection, but from our woundedness, from our battle scars – from our willingness to take our war weary souls down to the river to pray for healing and restoration and simply ask: Good Lord show me the way.