Cracking the code of wisdom is not about flipping through the pages of a theology textbook. It’s about dancing in the rain of life’s experiences—soaking up every drop. Theology can be a well-structured blueprint, a symphony of ideas woven together. But it’s not wisdom—it’s the orchestra, not the music.
Gathering facts, figures, and theories can feel like an addictive treasure hunt. A frantic search for the golden nugget of truth. But life is not about becoming the richest person in the graveyard of knowledge. There’s no meaning in being the king of an empty kingdom. You can memorize every verse, every proverb, every religious decree—but without the sweet ingredient of goodness, your understanding is just a soup without salt, a story without a soul. Knowledge without goodness is like a library with books, but no light to read them by.
Doing good is like being a gardener in the world’s largest garden, each kind act—a seed planted. Each seed grows into a tree—providing shade, oxygen, and fruits to those in need. But if all we do is gather seeds without planting, we’re just hoarders in a world starving for kindness.
The joy of knowing how smart we are is like a sugar rush—exciting, but fleeting. It’s like standing on the mountain top, feeling the wind in our hair and the sun on our face—but all alone.
Doing good, though, is like inviting others up to that mountain peak—to share in the view, to experience the beauty together. That’s when the world becomes a better place—not just for us, but for all. It’s about turning the spotlight from us onto the world—painting in hues of compassion, understanding, and love.
So, don’t judge your growth by the weight of your knowledge—but by the lightness of your heart. Don’t measure your wisdom in chapters read, but in lives touched. Wisdom is not in the knowing, but in the growing.
Remember, it’s not the ocean of knowledge that matters—but the drops of goodness we add to it. It’s about living the story, not just knowing it.