Stopped in my tracks imagining what this looks like. Purity. Words without lies. Feel as though you have no one you can trust? Wonder who loves you enough to continually speak what is true, peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy?
Wisdom that is from above.
For where envy and self-seeking exist confusion and every evil thing is there.
We’re born in blood that really only craves what it doesn’t have. Slaves to our own desires. Honestly, I’ve not thought this a big thing—wanting what I don’t have, feeding my natural impulses. And why would I? Does the world around me deny itself anything? But here’s the thing—this wisdom does not descend from above—but is earthy, sensual, demonic.
These aren’t easy words. But they’re pure. And if we’re wanting what’s true, what is freeing, we’ve got to go higher than what we see.
“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.”