The Wisdom of Wisdom, Part II

The Wisdom of Wisdom

Part II

Wisdom Is Meant to Be Shared

One phrase echoes through the Book of Proverbs more than almost any other:

“My son…”

Again and again Solomon begins his instruction with those two simple words.

“My son, pay attention to my wisdom…”

“My son, keep your father’s commands…”

“My son, fear the Lord…”

The repetition is striking.

Proverbs is not simply a collection of wise sayings. It is a conversation between generations.

Wisdom, by its very nature, is meant to be passed along.

That gives these verses a double audience.

Certainly they speak to the young. Every generation needs older voices to help them navigate the joys and pitfalls of life. The wise young person is eager to learn from those who have walked the road before them.

But I have come to believe these verses speak just as powerfully to those of us who are older.

They ask us an uncomfortable question.

What wisdom are we passing on?

Growing older is not simply about accumulating birthdays. It is about accumulating perspective. Every success, every disappointment, every mistake, every answered prayer, every season of grief becomes part of a treasury that God intends us to share.

Modern culture often celebrates youth while quietly pushing the elderly toward the margins. The Bible does exactly the opposite. Throughout Scripture, gray hair is frequently described as a crown of honor—not because age automatically makes us wise, but because a lifetime of walking with God can produce wisdom worth sharing.

Not long ago I read an interesting article entitled Living Near Your Grandmother Has Evolutionary Benefits.

The researchers were wrestling with a fascinating question.

According to evolutionary theory, why do human beings continue living long after their childbearing years? If survival and reproduction are life’s primary goals, why has nature preserved grandparents?

Their conclusion was intriguing.

When grandmothers live near their daughters, families often flourish. Mothers receive practical help, children benefit from experienced guidance, and, statistically speaking, families tend to be healthier and larger.

Scientists had discovered something the Book of Proverbs had been teaching for nearly three thousand years.

Older generations matter.

They matter not simply because they provide assistance, but because they provide wisdom.

I would like to think the same is true for grandfathers.

Connie has found her own beautiful way of putting Proverbs into practice.

For several years she has taken each of our granddaughters on what she calls an “Excellent Adventure.”

Usually the trip happens around the age of twelve—just before the teenage years begin, while Grandma is still considered interesting and perhaps even a little wise.

Each granddaughter spends several days alone with her.

They visit New York City together.

They wander through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, discovering masterpieces they have never seen before. They visit the 9/11 Memorial and learn that history is more than dates in a textbook—it is made up of real people whose lives were forever changed. They walk through Central Park, stand atop One World Observatory, attend a Broadway play, and, perhaps most importantly, spend hours simply talking.

The girls probably don’t realize what is happening at the time.

They think they are taking a wonderful trip with Grandma.

Years later they begin to understand.

Connie is not merely showing them New York.

She is teaching them how to see the world.

That, it seems to me, is wisdom.

Wisdom is not information.

It is perspective.

It is helping someone else see life through older, more experienced eyes.

Eventually our younger grandchildren begin asking,

“When do I get to go?”

That question makes me smile.

The adventure has become a family tradition, but it is really something much deeper.

It is Proverbs in action.

Every grandparent can do something similar.

The destination may not be New York.

It may be a fishing trip, working together in a garden, building a birdhouse, baking bread, repairing an old engine, or simply sitting on a porch talking as the evening grows dark.

The setting matters less than the relationship.

Wisdom is passed from one life to another.

The Hebrew word translated wisdom is chokmah.

It is a wonderfully rich word.

We often think of wisdom as intellectual ability, but the Hebrews thought much more broadly. A skilled craftsman could possess chokmah. The artisans who designed the High Priest’s garments were said to have been filled with the “spirit of wisdom.” Their wisdom was displayed not through speeches or books but through the work of their hands.

Among the ancient Jews, manual labor was deeply respected. In fact, tradition says that when a famous rabbi entered a room, people would rise in honor. Craftsmen, however, were not expected to stop their work because faithful labor itself was considered honorable.

That insight has stayed with me.

Wisdom is not confined to classrooms.

It is found in workshops.

In kitchens.

On farms.

In hospitals.

In mission fields.

Around dinner tables.

In faithful marriages.

It is learned by watching someone patiently repair what is broken, comfort the hurting, keep a promise, or quietly do the next right thing.

Christianity inherited this wonderfully practical understanding of wisdom.

The goal has never been merely to produce educated people.

It has been to produce people who know how to live.

Perhaps that is why Solomon speaks so often to “my son.”

He knows that books alone cannot shape a life.

Wisdom must be seen before it can be understood.

It must be lived before it can be taught.

And when it is faithfully passed from one generation to the next, its influence extends far beyond anything we can measure.

That may be one of God’s greatest gifts to those of us who have grown older.

We cannot relive our youth.

But we can help prepare someone else for theirs.