The Art of Being Wise

The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook. – William James

Modern cars; don’t you just love them?

Driving home the other night I needed to dim the lights on my dashboard but found myself looking everywhere for something that would do the job, but I couldn’t find it. I pulled over and grabbed the owner’s manual for some help, but it was a thousand pages of gobble-dee-gook and an index that has never heard of such a thing as a dash board dimmer switch (or any other term I could think of in the middle of the night).

It turns out that a little plunger on the dash that does other things (and which I have used regularly to do those “other things”) also serves as the instrument panel’s Light Adjustment device. Next to it was a symbol I had always assumed to be a small gear (it looks like a circle surrounded with teeth) is actually supposed to be a light bulb (radiating light). Ah, now it makes sense!

Most of us know most of what we need to know in order to hop in a car and drive off the lot, but there are times it would be wise to sit down with the owner’s manual and peruse it just for those little things we don’t need often – but when we do, it is nice to know where to find them.

Life and faith are a lot like that. Most of us know what we need to know by the time we get out of kindergarten (as one book happily puts it), and yet there are times it would be wise to sit down with our owner’s manual to read up on ideas and stories that make living lovingly and faithfully a more likely outcome.

It all starts (and ends, I suspect) with Attitude. Our attitude colors almost all of what we see. If we are fearful of the future, then we will curl ourselves up into a fetal position and try to protect anything and everything we’ve got. The Bible tells a number of stories of people thrown into prison for one reason or another (generally around matters of faith, and not so much for crimes of stealing or killing or such what-not), but instead of crying in their beer or bemoaning their predicaments, we find them dimming their fear and gazing “out” at a future that may be bright instead.

One lad (Joseph) became the savior of those who sold him into slavery; three prayed quietly and were delivered from both hungry lions and a fiery furnace; yet another couple of fellows sang psalms and songs and, when an earthquake broke open their prison, they not only chose NOT to escape, but stopped their jailor from committing suicide!

These are not unusual stories. They are tales of people who are not afraid of their world; people who are not afraid for their future. They do not look to swords, assault weapons, or armies to deliver them; instead, they look only to the generous hand of God that has delivered countless generations in times of trial, and trust he will deliver them from the “valley of the shadow” as well.

I have lived in fear and I have lived in faith and of the two, I find faith far preferable. In faith I can be me. In faith we can be we; in faith we can find love, strength, and comfort. In faith, I can overlook things that scare me and find people and things that give me life and hope when I travel through the valley of despair.

In faith, I seek out the ninety-nine things that are good, and dim that one thing which may irritate me. I focus on the silver lining and dim the cloud. I do what I can now, and dim down what I cannot control – like the past or the present.

In faith, I choose to live and will dim down and overlook all that does not promote peace, growth, or hope. Dimming the trouble lights, you see, helps me see better what my headlights are shining on in this, our valley.