If I’ve mentioned this before, I apologize. Sometimes we need to repeat things, even to ourselves.
The other day, I stopped to talk to a patient. We chatted briefly, but I knew that she didn’t need to be entertaining visitors. I asked her what she would like me to ask God for on her behalf.
“Discernment,” she said. “For both of us.”
I smiled. I mentioned that James talks about asking God for wisdom. And then I prayed for her and her husband.
I start to walk out and then I stopped.
“When we ask for wisdom,” I said, “sometimes it comes as an idea that we have never had before.”
She looked at me.
“We think and think. We talk and talk. We explore all kinds of options and worries and choices and alternatives and uncertainties. And then we ask God for wisdom. And a thought comes to mind that we never had before, a solution or a direction or a sense of peace. We might be tempted to ignore it or to wait for some big flashy light in the sky. But wisdom is almost never a big flashy light in the sky. It’s almost always a word of clarity that makes sense from down the stream of time, but wasn’t evident upstream.”
I walked out of her room.
I have no idea how her story is turning out, what the discernment sounds like. I am confident that God will give her wisdom because she has asked for it.
But you and I don’t need to know her story. We need wisdom for our own stories. And what is true for her is true for us. The insight from God often comes as a quiet thought that we never had before asking him, but makes complete sense now.
First published October 2017.