“They want me to be a fool.”
That’s the thought that echoed through my mind as I sat in the pews of the church where I’d grown up. Week after week, I was told to trust without question, to believe without thinking, to obey without discernment. Blind faith, they called it. But I couldn’t ignore the dissonance: the very scriptures the people and teachers around me held sacred called for wisdom. Proverbs 4:7 declares, “Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting, get understanding.” Yet, it seemed I was being asked to reject wisdom in the name of faith.
That contradiction eventually became unbearable, and I made the difficult decision to leave the church altogether—not just my church, but the religion that singled itself out as “God’s church.” It wasn’t because I’d lost my faith in God—far from it. In fact, my decision was born out of a deepening faith in God, a belief that He calls us to seek wisdom, to grow, and to reflect. What I had lost, however, was my faith in a system that conflated ignorance with piety. I couldn’t continue down a path that demanded foolishness over discernment.
In my heart, I knew God did not want me to live blindly. Disregarding wisdom, I came to believe, was not a sign of faithfulness but an act of disobedience to God. Scripture is clear on this: God values the pursuit of wisdom and understanding. Proverbs 2:10-11 says, “For wisdom will enter your heart, and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul. Discretion will protect you, and understanding will guard you.” Yet, I was being asked to disregard these truths, to surrender my mind in favor of unquestioning compliance.
Leaving wasn’t easy. It meant walking away from a community, a culture, and a way of life I’d known since birth. But it also meant stepping into a deeper relationship with God, one where I could honor His call to live wisely and authentically. My faith, I realized, didn’t depend on the church—it depended on my willingness to seek truth, to reflect, and to grow closer to God through the pursuit of wisdom.
Stepping away from Christianity as I had known it didn’t mean stepping away from Christ. Instead, it meant embracing an eclectic, Christ-conscious, very personal faith that honored God’s call to pursue wisdom and reject surface-level living. The “organization” I left had confused blind faith with spiritual maturity, often shouting hellfire and damnation at those who didn’t conform. But I couldn’t reconcile that version of faith with the God I was coming to know—a God of wisdom, compassion, and complexity.
Wisdom: A Divine Mandate
Wisdom isn’t an innate trait or an effortless gift; it must be sought, understood, digested, and lived. The poetic notion that “wisdom is written on our hearts” oversimplifies a deeply challenging process. Even scripture suggests that wisdom must be actively pursued. In Proverbs 2:4-6, we are instructed to seek wisdom “as silver” and search for it “as hidden treasures.” It is through this seeking that “the Lord gives wisdom; from His mouth come knowledge and understanding.”
True wisdom requires effort, nuance, and an openness to complexity—qualities that stand in stark contrast to the black-and-white thinking often promoted in the church. Many people cling to simple answers because they provide comfort. But life is rarely simple. Most truths are layered, and wisdom lies in exploring those layers—sitting with uncertainty, embracing contradictions, and aligning our actions with the lessons we uncover.
For example, throughout my life, I’ve often been complimented on my level of empathy. But the truth is, my understanding of emotional intelligence didn’t come naturally—it wasn’t some innate trait or effortless gift. Instead, it was forged in what my father used to call “the crucible of life.” Sickness, death, and grief were my teachers, each experience chiseling away at my assumptions and forcing me to engage deeply with the lessons they offered.
These experiences didn’t just teach me abstract principles about compassion or resilience; they demanded that I live those lessons to truly understand them. It wasn’t enough to acknowledge suffering from a distance—I had to sit with it, wrestle with its weight, and allow it to change me. Wisdom, in this way, is not static. It evolves as we integrate our experiences, reflect on them, and allow them to shape who we are.
Emotional intelligence—like wisdom itself—is dynamic. It grows through lived experience, through trial and reflection. And while the church I left often emphasized platitudes about love and kindness, it rarely prepared believers for the hard work of transforming life’s challenges into true understanding. Yet scripture reflects this dynamic nature of wisdom. Proverbs 19:20 says, “Listen to advice and accept discipline, and at the end you will be counted among the wise.” Wisdom requires that we actively engage with life, learn from its struggles, and embody its lessons.
The Church’s Misguided Approach to Wisdom
The version of Christianity I left conflated wisdom with blind faith, teaching believers to rely on pastors and doctrines rather than on their God-given ability to think critically and seek understanding. 1 Thessalonians 5:21 tells us to “test everything; hold fast what is good.” Yet, the church often discourages this type of discernment, equating it with rebellion. This creates a dangerous system of spiritual dependence, where believers are taught to obey without question rather than engage deeply with God’s word.
But wisdom, as God intended, is deeply tied to discernment, understanding, and spiritual maturity. These gifts are not only available but expected of us. 1 Corinthians 12:10 lists discernment as a gift of the Spirit, emphasizing its importance in navigating the complexities of faith and life. James 1:5 reminds us, “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” This implies that wisdom is a gift that must be actively sought—a gift God is eager to bestow, but only on those willing to engage with the process.
The Interplay of Wisdom, Solitude, and Radical Acceptance
One of the most profound lessons I’ve learned since leaving the church is the role of solitude in cultivating wisdom. Wisdom requires paying close attention to the world around us, allowing ourselves the time and space to process it fully. Solitude offers that space—a sacred pause where life’s layers become visible.
People often ask me how I seem to “just know” things, as if it’s a supernatural gift. But the truth is simpler: I’ve learned to pay attention. Through observation, reflection, and a willingness to embrace life’s messiness, I’ve cultivated an awareness that feels intuitive but is rooted in deliberate effort. Some might call this a gift of the Spirit, and perhaps it is. But I believe it’s a capacity we all have—one that requires stillness, reflection, and the courage to sit with complexity.
Solitude is not an escape but a space for transformation. It’s where I’ve digested the lessons life has handed me, turning them into something meaningful. This practice of radical acceptance—acknowledging life as it is rather than as we wish it to be—has been essential in my pursuit of wisdom. Radical acceptance doesn’t demand agreement or approval of everything that happens, but it does demand that we let go of denial and engage fully with reality.
Faith and Wisdom: Complementary, Not Opposed
The church I left often treated faith and wisdom as though they were in conflict, but true faith and wisdom are deeply complementary. Faith gives us the courage to trust in a bigger picture, even when life feels chaotic. Wisdom grounds us in reality, equipping us to navigate life’s complexities with clarity and grace.
Consider the story of Solomon, who prayed for wisdom above all else. God honored his request, granting him extraordinary insight. Yet later in life, Solomon faltered. His pride led him away from wisdom, and he relied on his own understanding rather than continuing to seek God’s guidance. His downfall is a reminder that wisdom is not a one-time gift; it is a lifelong pursuit.
True faith invites questions, encourages exploration, and challenges us to grow. It is not blind obedience but a trust in God’s ability to lead us through the process of discovery. Modern Christianity often discourages doubt, but doubt is not the enemy of faith; it is a necessary part of seeking wisdom. Proverbs 9:10 teaches, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” but fear in this context refers to reverence and awe—a posture that inspires curiosity and deep thinking, not passive compliance.
Living Wisdom: A Lifelong Practice
The heart of wisdom is not simply in knowing but in living. It requires humility, a willingness to let go of beliefs that no longer serve us, and an openness to growth. Wisdom evolves as we do, and it demands that we remain teachable.
One of my greatest teachers, Master Roshi, taught me that wisdom is a journey, not a destination. His teachings still guide me, reminding me that the pursuit of wisdom requires patience, reflection, and the courage to wrestle with life’s hardest questions.
This willingness to sit with uncertainty, to embrace nuance, and to live what we’ve learned is what separates wisdom from mere knowledge. It is not enough to know—we must embody what we know, turning lessons into action and insight into transformation.
Leaving the church was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made, but it was also the most liberating. It allowed me to reject foolishness in faith and begin the lifelong pursuit of wisdom. Wisdom doesn’t come from blind obedience or unquestioning faith; it comes from radical acceptance, thoughtful reflection, and a willingness to embrace complexity.
For those still in the church—or those who, like me, have stepped away—I offer this encouragement: Seek wisdom. Question boldly. Embrace the contradictions and messiness of life. Faith and wisdom aren’t at odds; they are partners on the journey of spiritual growth. And that journey is where the beauty of life truly lies.
The Twin Tree Project 