Day 1. I prayed for wisdom. God sent me a race track filled with hurdles. Then He said, "run." The first day didn't go very well. My leg clipped the first hurdle and I hit the ground hard. No more hurdles today, I thought while limping home with two bloody knees and a bruised ego.
Day 2. I repeated my request for wisdom. Before I could blink, I was back on the race track in a sea of hurdles. The same voice roared like a lion. "Run!" I responded like an obedient Forrest Gump and sped right into the first hurdle, bouncing around like those dummies they use when crash testing new automobiles. Stupid is as stupid does, I thought while staring at Heaven from underneath the menacing hurdle. Final score after day two -- hurdles 2, fool 0.
Day 3. No more prayers for wisdom. I was done with hurdles. That's when I discovered wisdom is not just about hurdles -- it's more like a decathlon. Long story short, I spent the next three decades long jumping dangerous ravines, pole vaulting over challenges, and spearing troubles with my javelin. I became a master of hurdles, my new best friend. The scar on my right knee cap is my daily reminder wisdom is not cheap.
Today. I feel like Tom Hanks in Cast Away. I'm ready to leave the island, no longer a prisoner of my own foolishness. For those brave souls who pray for wisdom, I offer one word of advice -- Run!
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