Sometimes God’s wisdom shows up between a bite of dinner and a burst of pain.

It happened while I was eating dinner. Nothing dramatic—just a quiet evening, a plate of beef zucchini with garlic sauce, and what I think was quinoa (jury’s still out). I was chewing, thinking about God—specifically about wisdom—when I bit the inside of my lip. Hard. The kind of accidental bite that leaves a sting for hours.
Funny how something so small can snap you into the present. One moment, I was deep in thought about divine design and the wonder of how God’s mind works… and the next, I was reminded that even my jaw doesn’t always move in perfect harmony.
But maybe that’s the point.
Even in small disruptions, there’s something to learn—about limits, attention, and the wisdom it takes to navigate a messy, beautiful world.
The Fascination with Wisdom
What draws me so deeply to wisdom isn’t just its usefulness—it’s its origin. Proverbs 8 paints wisdom not as an abstract concept, but as a presence beside God during creation:
“Then I was constantly at his side. I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence.” — Proverbs 8:30 (NIV)
Before mountains, oceans, galaxies, or even time itself—wisdom was already there. Watching. Delighting. Co-creating. That image wrecks me in the best way. Wisdom isn’t something God pulled out of a hat halfway through the story. It was woven into the very beginning.
That’s why I pursue wisdom. Not for control, but for proximity—to be closer to the God who thought up DNA, sunsets, music, and the very molecules in this quinoa-or-couscous.
When Things Don’t Make Sense
And yet… there are moments when wisdom feels hidden.
When God’s choices seem confusing from a human vantage point—like David’s failures, or Solomon’s compromises. Why allow the flawed to rise? Why let consequences echo across generations?
From here, the pieces look scattered. But God is never playing checkers—He’s building something eternal.
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction.” — Proverbs 1:7 (NIV)
We don’t have the full picture. And that’s what humbles me most.
To fear the Lord isn’t to cower—it’s to trust that He sees what we don’t, and to surrender even when the road twists through pain, ambiguity, or silence.
Life as Art
I’ve come to see life itself as a kind of art—imperfect, unfinished, still in progress. Some strokes are bold and brilliant; others feel like mistakes. But God is not done painting.
And somehow, He’s not intimidated by the mess.
He works with it.
“We live in a story that God is writing—and it’s wiser to read than to rewrite it.” — Personal reflection
“God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars.” — Martin Luther
“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” — Thomas Merton
Even when things go wrong—even when dinner ends with a bitten lip and unanswered questions—I believe wisdom is still moving. Softly. Subtly. Inviting me to look again.
Self-Reflection Questions
1. Where have I seen God bring beauty out of something broken in my life?
2. Do I pursue wisdom as a way to feel more in control—or to grow closer to God?
3. Am I open to God’s wisdom even when it disrupts my human logic or comfort?
Final Thoughts
We won’t always understand what God is doing. That’s not a flaw—it’s an invitation.
To wonder.
To trust.
To walk humbly alongside the One whose thoughts are higher than ours… and whose wisdom shaped the stars, the sea, and the soft insides of our lips.
Even if it takes biting my lip mid-meal to remind me I’m not God—I’ll take it. Because even then, wisdom is speaking.
Call to Action
If this post stirred something in you, share it—or take a moment today to reflect on your own “messy middle” moment.
Write about a time when something didn’t make sense, but later revealed unexpected beauty.
You don’t need all the answers to start.
Wisdom often arrives in quiet places—sometimes even over dinner.
© 2025 Amelie Chambord

Leave a comment