It’s a Question of Wisdom: Part Three

Now comes the question of the relationship between pain and wisdom. Consider the perspective that they are linked, two sides of the same coin. Remember how I said wisdom is acquired over time, one day at a time, and one experience at a time. And due to the pleasure-seeking bend of our natures, suffering is one of the only things that cause us to draw back and contemplate our choices.

Now, for argument sakes, let’s not confuse suffering with pain. Suffering can come in many forms: loss, being overlooked for promotion, realizing you have to save before you make a certain purchase…etc. These forms of suffering are as valuable to the development of the character of the man as are the weights and the cardio training is to the Olympian.   But while they represent suffering, they may not truly be pain.

The suffering or pain experienced, if surrendered to the knowledge and wisdom of God, will produce wisdom in the person. The key to this transition is to not confuse the acquisition of information with wisdom. Wisdom, therefore, is not just gathering information and knowledge; it is not even using that information in a productive manner; wisdom ~true wisdom~ is then defined as the proper submission and use of information and knowledge to the will of God.  Think about it.

It’s a Question of Wisdom: Part Two

One of the wisest people I’ve ever known was my great-grandmother, Viola K. Johnson.  She couldn’t read or write, never used a telephone, or drove a car; and I have no memories of her with anything other than silver hair. But Grand-mama was wise. She understood people and the roles they played in the schemes of life. She understood power and the perception of power and the value of hard honest work.

I remember one day in particular when this wisdom rose to the surface; remember what I said about integrating knowledge/information into the life at just that right time. Well here’s an example of one such event. As you know, I was raised in the South in the 60’s. My hometown was a hotbed for of the Civil Rights movement where Klan marches were not uncommon.  On one muggy summer afternoon, this white man was lost in our neighborhood and being a child I was somewhat fascinated that a white man would be in our part of town…that usually just didn’t happen.

On this particular day, I walked out to the man’s car to say hi and to introduce myself as a child of four or five might. This man, who I later came to understand acted out of fear, cursed me and call me a nigger among several other derogatory epitaphs. This made me angry to the point of hot tears streaking my dusty face.  My great-grandmother, who had watched the scene from her rocking chair just inside the front door, called me in and pulled me up on her lap.  After making sure I was comfortable, she began to rock and hum her favorite song, Precious Lord. 

She was waiting for the proper timing.

When a few minutes had passed, she asked me about the experience. I sat up, and looked at her wrinkled face and said, “Mamma white folks are evil.”

She smiled and pulled me back against her bosom and said in response, “No baby, that white man was evil. He was just scared and acted out of his fear.” She went on to tell me, “In your life you will meet some good white folk and some bad white folk, some good black folk and bad black folk.” Then she looked at me and said, “Baby, people’s people. Everywhere you go people’s people.”  Now that was wisdom.

It’s a Question of Wisdom: Part One

Wisdom, as I see it, must have as its foundation truth in order to qualify as true wisdom. There is a marked difference between wisdom and the mere accumulation of knowledge or information, as there is a vast difference between wealth and riches. For instance, if a person had as much as $22,000,000.00 but a debt of $25,000,000.00, then we could not call him rich in spite of his obvious wealth. Compare this to the man with $22,000.00 but a debt of only $18,000.00, who would then be the far richer person? The same is true of wisdom. Some have said that wisdom is the proper use of knowledge. I guess to some degree that is correct; as long as one has the right standard for what proper is and what it is not. Wisdom, therefore, then cannot be separated from its root in Christ. In any persuasion and in any application where one diverges from the pattern of Christ, it cannot be said of him or her that they are wise or are using wisdom. Therefore, as we began to search for the elements of wisdom in a man’s character, we must first see the traits of Christ in him. This person would be one who listens more than he speaks, one who studies and says less than he knows, and one who loves with the purpose of seeing God’s will revealed in another person’s life. However, unlike mere knowledge/information, wisdom cannot be compiled in a cram session but must be acquired over time. Even when one knows what is right, understanding the true integration of the correct knowledge into the life, and proper timing into the life, is where and how wisdom is matured. So the slow acquisition, one day at a time, one incident at a time, being properly compiled and submitted to the revealed will of God, results in the production of wisdom. ...Think about it.

Out of the Two comes One

Part Six: The one thing that is always true of my duel professions is that there are always intersections where the two worlds are poised for conflict. (You know what they say about phrases with the word always in them…they are always false. Smile.) The experience that gives substance to the lie is my working in the jail. Whenever a new inmate arrived, especially when that inmate was charged with a particularly horrible crime, I was challenged to be something different than that which was common around me. Where my fellow deputies might give into a lower impulse…nothing illegal, but still lower than what would be acceptable to the Lord, I would have to forgo that impulse. There was an occasion where on one night an inmate came in and was offensive in almost every way you might think, even to the point of his attacking a fellow deputy. At this point, it was my duty to stop the threat while assisting my fellow officer. The hard part came in having to stop myself. The impulse to give into anger, to become the punisher rather than the administer of justice. Conflict. The question of how to institute the higher law of grace and mercy where doing things “the normal way” would not be questioned. On most of these occasions this conflict did not register with anyone else, for the battle was solely within myself. Do I apply that control-hold for that one extra heartbeat; do I ignore that inmate’s reasonable request just because of what he’s done or who he might be? These are the battles I fought and still fight. But then again, in reality, it is the battle we all fight: Will we do the right thing when it is time for the right thing to be done? Conflict….Just saying.

Out of the Two comes One

Part Five: One of the more common questions I’m asked is how do I blend my two worlds into one. The question is generally posed as if there really did exist a separation between the spiritual and the secular; as if I could be one person at work and another at home and church. It became one of my constant goals to be congruent— to have my words and actions agree with my testimony. This brings to mind a day on which I failed. One crisp Saturday morning the shift progressed as usual. I was working in the medical ward. In this ward there was a particular block where those inmates with contagious diseases were housed separate from other sick inmates. On this particular day there was one inmate, who being rather obstinate, provoked me to wrath. [Smile] In police-talk we call this heinous crime Contempt of Cop, and in most jurisdictions, it is considered a serious felony. Well, after being repeatedly disrespected, disobeyed, and challenged—yes, I lost my temper. I stalked out of the control booth and stormed up to the inmate’s cell and snatched open the door. At this point I challenged the man to the fight he had been begging me for all morning. But, like with most inmates, once the door opened, his glass-courage evaporated. Glass-courage is that courage an inmate has when he is locked safely behind the cell door glass. When I walked into his cell and stood over him, I could see the fear in his eyes and only then—once the eyes of all the other inmates and the nursing staff and the other deputy—did I mention I had been telling this deputy about the love of Jesus? --Back to the story.-- I finally heard my partner calling me over the intercom and reminding me that this inmate was not worth my job. Then the truth of the matter settled over me. I had put my testimony on the line. It seemed the Lord was always using the situations of my day to teach me about Him and about myself. The question now, as it was then, is am I listening. ...Just saying.

Out of the Two comes One

Part Four: When asked what stands out about wearing the badge while living in the light of the empty tomb, what comes to my mind is an event that taught me more about the nature of grace than all the lectures I’ve heard on the subject combined. It was early in the shift. I can’t remember what season, but I think it might have been summer— either way it was Southern Cal and all the days are beautiful. Two days prior to this, I had received a novel as a gift and discovered it to be one of those that I just could not put down. On the morning in question, I brought the book with me to read on my breaks. And as fate would have it, or in the case the plan adn mind of God, during the morning roll, it fell to me to run the count on the first floor in booking. While making this round, I came across a single male inmate sitting in a cell designated for at least 20 persons. When I opened the cell to confirm this inmate’s identity, I saw that he was reading a copy of “the” novel. No, not the one I’d written, but the one I was reading at the time. During this early stage in my career, I was still enamored with my shiny new badge and I couldn’t see how anyone of “those people”— those inmates, could have anything in common with me. Time stopped. I stalked to where the inmate sat reading a tattered copy of “the” novel and snatched it from his hands. Fear washed over the young man’s face as his color drained. He went rigid on the stone bench. “Where did you get this?” I demanded. The inmate stuttered, “I-I-I found it on the floor. I didn’t mean to do nothing wrong, sir. I’m sorry. You can have it. I don’t want no trouble.” With that, he stretched both palms toward me as if to push me away. In the breath of that moment, I realized the truth of the statement, “Except for the grace of God, there go I.” In the blazing light of this new revalation, I just stood there, studying the fear on the man’s face, shocked at the anger in my voice and displayed on my face. I stopped. I prayed. I repented. Then I gave the book back and apologized. I left that cell a humbled man. The point? The only difference between us and “those people” is God….Just saying.

Out of the Two comes One

Part Three: I remember when I was a child we lived right up the hill from a ditch…The ditch. My grandmother always told me to stay away from that ditch, or I would fall in. Well, being the full-blooded American youth growing up in the 1960’s South, you might well imagine that I took that admonishment to heart. Well, it was not so different from when I began my career in law enforcement and continuing my walk with the Lord. As an ordained minister, I was always aware of my reputation: What we call a testimony in the church, and the effect it would have if I failed. The key was to not play around the edges of trouble. There were many times when I had to walk that thin line of not giving into the impulse of anger or just plain dislike, but I knew I was being watched; watched by not only my fellow officers and staff, but watched by the Lord. This reminds me of one morning in particular. My oldest son was two years old, and I had just kissed both him and my wife good-bye for the day. I made my way to briefing, and as I sat there, the duty sergeant gave us the details of our day’s assignments. Mine? I was tasked with watching an inmate that had been booked in overnight and was currently on suicide watch. What was so hard about that you might ask? Well, this particular inmate had killed his two-year-old nephew after molesting him and then partially decapitating the small body and hiding him in a trash bag. As the sergeant gave me instructions to watch this man, to guard him, to make sure he didn’t kill himself, I wonder aloud, “Why should I stop him?” Immediately I knew I was wrong. The sergeant stopped, looked up and said to me, “Because you are one of the few people here that I can trust to do it.” As the team filed out, I sat there for a moment and talked to the Lord about it. I made my peace with the fact that I was not to be his judge, but rather his jailer. I was not to be his jury, but rather his guard. I had looked down and found that I had been standing near the edge of that “ditch.” This is what it was like to work in the jail and walk with the Lord. At times, I did it quite well and soared over trials. At other times, I had to fight through…and sometimes I failed. But then again it’s kind like Grand-Ma said, “If you play around the edge of that ditch, you gonna fall in.” I did. You want to know something else? Ditch mud really stinks….Just saying.