Those who find me find life

The other day I was having a baseball discussion with the 7-year-old grandson, Gavin. Though I do not in any way think I know everything there is to know about the game, I have accumulated quite a bit, truthfully.

Apparently, though, I haven't accumulated more than Gavin, who told me he knew everything he needed to know about baseball. "My told me," he said. Must have been quite the long conversation. So, at the mellow age of 7, Gavin is done learning about the game, about cutoffs, hitting, run downs, etc.

He is filled with wisdom.

Or something...

We had a gathering of birthdays yesterday. Four birthdays -- in oder -- are captured and distributed as if they so much flotsam on the side if the river. They floated up, landed on the side of the river. Land 'ho. Land, 'ho. Land, ho, ho and a bottle of fun.

Honest. Ho, ho, hohoho. Up and out into the day.

Oh, but that they could move like that in, uh, read life, swooping and bouncing and, er taking off like real life. But birthdays are like ice cubes ... They come, they freeze for a moment, they melt away like a crashing wave. Then they are gone. Sinners and saints alike, gone.

I thought briefly last night about how old I seem to be getting. Older, more like the ultimate villain in Ghostbusters (Stay Fresh Marshmellow man) -- softer, baggier, bigger, and I would love to say filled with much more wisdom but that would not be accurate.

Soloman describes it this way: "Doesn't Wisdom cry out and Understanding shout? ... I cry out to you people; my voice goes out to all of humanity. Understand skill, you who are naive. Take this to heart, you folks. Listen, for I speak things that are correct; from my lips comes what is right. ... Take my instruction rather than silver, knowledge rather than choice gold. Wisdom is better than pearls; nothing is more delightful than she."    

It seems to me that what should be a constant is the older we get, the wiser we get. I suspect that is not true for most of us, if any of us.

Soloman described his path this way: "The Lord created me at the beginning of his way; before his deeds long in the past. ... Now, children listen to me; Happy are those who keep to my ways! Listen to instruction, and be wise; don't avoid it. Happy are those who listen to me, watching daily at my doors, watching at my doorposts. Those who find me find life; they gain favor from the Lord. Those who offend me injure themselves; all those who hate me love death."

If I was to describe anything about what the path from drunken sinner to humbled, recovering sinner, it would be those words -- "Those who find me find life."

I am particularly happy when I see persons who understand that with great wisdom comes great brokenness. I am healed only of my inability to  trust a God who heals. I could not heal myself, fix myself, love myself. When I accepted that, I turned to he who could. I was healed of myself. That is the wisdom that I have accumulated.

He saves. He heals. He loves. He is a raggamuffin. As am I.