Life is God's classroom: Receiving & sharing wisdom

“I’d love your advice on something.”
“Thank you so much for your wise words.”
“You really challenged and spoke to me through that.”

How sweetly words like these settle in our souls - meeting our longing for recognition, our need for validation, our desire to know that what we say matters.

Our words do matter. They make a difference.

And beyond that - we are sought out. Someone has chosen us. It’s my words, my advice, my experience that another person wants.

I only wish those words came from my children! But of course, they don’t. My eldest has just started secondary school, and she’s learning to navigate her worlds colliding; friends from church, primary school, new friends now all in one place, new teachers with new expectations, and above all, mountains of homework. She’s feeling her place as a student keenly, and with it, the frustration of constantly being taught — at school in every lesson, and at home in every “lesson” from Mummy. Naturally, her will pushes back, longing to have a voice of its own - to be the expert for once, to be listened to and heard.

Don’t we all crave that? Even after our school days are long behind us. It often feels safer to be the teacher than the pupil, the preacher rather than the listener. We prepare, plan, and deliver, often with little dialogue in return. Isn’t that what we’re called to do — give advice, pass on wisdom, share from our experience?

And so, we cherish those affirming words. They flutter around our hearts, soothing us with a gentle satisfaction. Sincere gratitude and affirmation can indeed bless and build up the humble - but they also carry the power to puff up the proud.

So, how do we receive such words? How do we respond to the opportunities the Lord gives us to speak wisdom, to teach, to counsel? Because He does (give us such opportunities) - again and again, in His grace and mercy.

In our marriages (whether opinions are asked for or not!), in our parenting, friendships, Bible studies, sermons, ministries, and workplaces - wherever we are - every day we speak words to others. Many of them are words of counsel.

But how should we receive this calling?

We often resonate with Moses’ reluctance: “Not me - send someone else.” We feel our own inadequacy, our weaknesses, our stumbling speech. We know what it’s like to hide our struggles behind a Sunday smile, to walk into church after a morning of family chaos, hoping to appear at least somewhat composed.

So do we avoid these moments? Do we shy away from speaking, afraid of pride or of being exposed as “inexpert” - still struggling ourselves? How can I give marriage advice when mine feels fragile? How can I speak God’s truth when I so often fail to live it? How can I teach in Christ’s school when I feel I’ve barely left the nursery?

Jane Austen captures this tension beautifully in Persuasion. Anne Elliot, weary with her own trials, is called upon to encourage another in patience and endurance. Afterward, she reflects: “When the evening was over, Anne could not be amused at the idea of her coming to Lyme, to preach patience and resignation to a young man whom she had never seen before; nor could she help fearing, on more serious reflection, she had been eloquent on a point in which her own conduct would ill bear examination.”

Anne recognises the danger of hypocrisy - realising only after speaking that she, too, needs the lesson she’s just taught. And isn’t that often our story too? How often do we find ourselves preaching what we most need to hear, teaching lessons we ourselves are still learning?

But this is the beauty of God’s kingdom. In Christ’s school, with the Spirit as our counsellor and with the wisdom of Christ as our anchor and aim, God graciously teaches us as we teach others. He shows us that we are always both pupil and teacher - ever learning, ever growing.

In His kindness, He places us in positions of “expert” precisely so we will remember our dependence on Him - so that our hearts stay humble, aware of our ongoing need for grace. And as we stumble through applying the very truths we proclaim, He steadies us. He never falls.

This is His school, not ours. He is the Head, the Teacher, the model Pupil. His righteousness has already qualified us. His Spirit works in us to grow, to learn and relearn, to mature - through His wise, all-knowing, personally-tailored lessons.

Life itself is His classroom. In relationship with God, through Christ, we are safe, surrounded and secure at all times. His presence is sufficient for every challenge, new risk, new "topic" and "subject" of our lives.

As we seek to be students in the school of Christ, let us take hold of the promise that He does not stumble or fall. His kingdom is one of continual learning - in both the lessons we receive and the lessons we pass on.