It was after they brought him before the experts and asked him all those questions, after they approved the final draft of at least twenty, after they put those three letters behind his name-PhD. It was after all of that that he said it…
That the more and more he learned, the more and more he knew that he didn’t know that much after all.
We read this month in Jeremiah and James and John and I can’t believe I just read this all just last year.
Why don’t I remember this story line?
What did I do with this lesson?
Why haven’t I been living under these words that I underlined?
How in the world can we think we know it all when knowing just a little more reminds us that there is so much more to know?
He surprises me sometimes. That man with the three letters behind his name. He gave me a ring and his last name and a promise of ’till death parts us’ and we’ve met eyes at least twenty times a day for more than seven years. But there are still surprises. His waters run deep and I’m a fool to think there is any less of him to dive into today than any day before.
Am I not a fool to think there’s little more to know about God today? Is it not ridiculous to pass up my Bible in exchange for a moment on email or a cup of coffee or another work task? Do I see the madness in searching through screens instead of searching for Him? Of looking to created things before looking to the Creator?
‘Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’ Jeremiah 33:3
This is the person who deserves a degree, the one who knows that knowing God comes in degrees, the one who knows they’ll never know everything about a God who owns everything. This is the person who’s smart, the one who knows that only God is really smart. This is the person who’s got something to say, the one who’s called on God and heard His words first.
Oh Lord, save me from my know-it-all self. It’s only the humble, searching heart that welcomes You.
Save me from the arrogance of assembling my day without reading your instructions, of piecing the cardboard and plywood and screws together instead of asking You, the Master, to come and do it and let me watch.
Never let me forget that I’m an apprentice, a servant, a doorkeeper, a disciple.
Save me from the desire to know it all and do it all and be it all on my own. And let me instead desire to be owned by You, known by You.
Let this be all I know, that I’m no know-it-all, but You are; that I can know nothing but You and still know all that I need to.