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Here, in the heart of Oxford, where tradition clings like ivy to ancient walls and the air hums with the echoes of centuries past, we find ourselves drawn to one of life’s most enduring questions: what is the highest position or qualification one can attain within the realms of education or the hallowed halls of a university?

There was a time when a high school qualification was enough to secure a stable and prosperous life. Then, the bar was raised—you needed a degree. Now, it seems a master’s or even a doctorate is the new benchmark for success.

I remember working in Germany, where it felt like every second person I met held a doctorate. At the bank where I worked, we even had PhDs manning the helpdesk. It was striking to see people with such advanced qualifications in roles that, decades earlier, would have required far less formal education.

Yet, despite this abundance of credentials, I’ve noticed something unsettling: more and more people seem lost, overwhelmed, and unfulfilled. They’ve pursued education to the “nth degree,” chasing titles and accolades, but these achievements often fail to provide the sense of purpose or satisfaction they imagined they would.

I recall a sobering example not far from the centre of Frankfurt—a homeless man, living on the street, who held multiple doctorates and spoke several languages fluently. Despite his immense intellectual achievements, he, too, was lost, disconnected, and adrift in a world that seemed to place ever-increasing value on qualifications but little on the soul.

Part of the problem is that higher qualifications are becoming increasingly specialised. While this specialisation allows us to know more and more about less and less, it also means we risk losing sight of the bigger picture. Each discipline delves deeper into its niche, often isolated from other fields, resulting in a fragmented understanding of the world. The holistic view—that essential perspective that ties disparate pieces together and makes sense of the whole—is becoming increasingly rare.

We’ve gained expertise (information) but lost integration (understanding). We know how to solve complex problems within narrow frameworks but often fail to see how they connect to broader human and societal needs. Without the ability to link ideas, weave narratives, and understand the larger context, knowledge becomes like scattered puzzle pieces with no unifying image.

It begs the question: Have we mistaken knowledge for wisdom? Have we traded depth for breadth, or purpose for prestige? As we specialise further and further, are we forgetting what it means to be human—to connect, to see life holistically, and to seek truth that transcends the boundaries of disciplines?

In a world saturated with credentials, perhaps the answer lies not in accumulating more, but in seeking something deeper—a wisdom that cannot be measured by degrees or diplomas, a wisdom that connects, integrates, and sees beyond the minutiae. Perhaps we must relearn how to tie things together, how to embrace a wholeness that modern education often neglects. After all, what good is knowing everything about one corner of the universe if we’ve forgotten how it all fits together?

At first glance, we might point to those adorned with doctorates or those occupying exalted roles such as dean, chancellor, or president. Yet the truth is far simpler—and infinitely more profound. The highest position one can ever achieve is that of a student, coupled with the wisdom to recognise it as such.

Am I a philosopher? Perhaps not—unless philosophy truly means what its name declares: being a lover of wisdom. But then we must ask, who or what is this wisdom that we profess to love?

Titles and degrees, for all their merit, are but fleeting adornments—tests that wisdom uses to bore us, strip us of our pride, and wear down our illusions of mastery. They lead us, if we are fortunate, to the ultimate surrender: the admission, “Truly, I know nothing.” Only then am I open to learn.

Our thirst for knowing, it turns out, is not for more knowledge that leaves us perpetually empty, ever searching but never fulfilled. As Jesus so powerfully speaks in John 4:13-14,

“Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

This yearning within us is not for the endless pursuit of facts or fleeting wisdom, but for something far deeper—a living water that quenches the soul, something only He can give. It is a thirst not for mere information but for the profound, unshakeable truth that flows from the very heart of God.

We seek answers, yet those answers never seem enough. We consume knowledge yet remain parched. But Jesus offers us something entirely different: a wellspring that does not run dry, a truth that satisfies the deepest longing of our hearts. Only in Him, the source of all wisdom, can our souls find rest, and only through His living water can our thirst be truly quenched.

This surrender invites us to abandon the barren fruit of the tree of knowledge, which has left so many parched and withered, and instead feast on the life-giving fruit of the Tree of lIfe Himself—the source of all wisdom and renewal. It is in this surrender that our hearts are softened, our vision cleared, and our souls made whole.

This means that His evaluation is perfectly honest and true, like the steadfast love of a good woman, the untamed power of a horse at full gallop, or the disciplined unity of an army marching to the command of its leader.

The Socratic Paradox, the Johari Window, and even the Dunning-Kruger Effect all whisper the same humbling truth: the more we think we know, the more we are confronted by the vast and endless ocean of what remains unknown. This paradox cuts deeper than we might realise: the more our knowledge grows, the more ignorant we are in fact becoming, whether we recognise it or not. Each new discovery does not merely expand the horizons of what we understand; it expands the infinite unknown that surrounds it. Far from mastery, every step forward reveals how much further we have to go.

These revelations do not bolster our pride; they unravel it, drawing us to our knees and compelling us to see ourselves as we truly are: beginners, forever novices in the face of infinite wisdom.

To truly know requires more than intellectual humility. It requires that we lay down all we think we know and open ourselves to the One who knows all. For wisdom is not a mere abstraction; it is a person: God Himself. Scripture declares in Proverbs 9:10, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.” To know wisdom is to know God, for He is its essence and source (1 Corinthians 1:30: “Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God…”).

It is only in knowing the One who is wisdom that we can be fully known. And isn’t that the silent longing beneath all our striving for knowledge? Beneath every pursuit, every effort to understand, lies the ache to be truly seen, truly understood. Only when we realise that we are fully known—because the One who knows all knows us—can we comprehend the depth of love that transforms. To know that we are seen, not just in our moments of strength but in our deepest failures; to know that despite all the reasons we might offer for being unworthy, the One who knows all sees our entirety and loves us still—this is the foundation of all true knowledge.

As Richard Foster reminds us in Celebration of Discipline, “When it comes to God, we will always be beginners.” And yet, it is in embracing this eternal beginner’s heart, in yielding ourselves to the One who is infinite wisdom, that we achieve what we desire most: to know infinity and to be infinitely known.

To know God, who is wisdom, is to rest in the truth that we are loved beyond all measure, despite our frailty. In this light, the highest position we can ever hope to attain is not that of master, scholar, or teacher, but of student—eyes wide, ears attentive, and hearts open to the transcendent. For only those who bow low in humility will rise to the heights of wisdom, and only those who love wisdom, in its truest form, will find the infinite knowledge and love they have sought all along.

Ultimately, the journey of the student always circles back to the very beginning—the beginning that exists beyond knowledge itself, before there was even anything to be known. In that beginning, there is only God—the source from which we all arise and to whom we will ultimately return.Recognising this truth—that at the core of our seeking, much like Heraclitus, we are all searching for the Divine Logos. This is the first step toward the essence of true wisdom.

Rather than fixating on the fleeting details of a world in constant flux, we are invited to turn back to the source, to drink deeply from the well of all understanding. We may not call it the Logos, for it eludes our ability to name it fully. Instead, we feel it—something simpler yet profoundly deeper—a feeling we call “home.” Follow that feeling, and you will arrive exactly where you are meant to be—in the divine embrace of your Heavenly Father.

Why do we possess such an overwhelming urge, such a deep and unrelenting thirst for knowledge? What is it that we believe we will receive from it? Beneath the surface of this ceaseless pursuit lies something far more profound than mere curiosity. This drive we feel—this compulsion to gather facts, to absorb information, to understand the world around us—stems from something far deeper, a yearning not just for understanding but for salvation itself.

In truth, the incessant urge to acquire information, so often mistaken for knowledge, is the human soul’s desperate attempt to save itself. At the core of this quest is a longing to mend the fractures of our existence, to restore what has been lost, to bridge the vast chasm between the world we inhabit and the world we were once promised. We search for answers not just to questions, but to our very being. We seek understanding not as a way to merely enrich our intellect, but to ease the pain of a world that is, at its core, broken and fallen.

In short, we are searching for paradise.

Similar to Adam and Eve, standing in the Garden of Eden, knowing that all was right and whole, we long for that original connection, that state of completeness. We strive to reclaim what has been lost through our separation from the divine, searching desperately for the path that will lead us home.

And yet, in this search, we do not always find what we expect. We acquire more information, more facts, more details, but still the thirst remains while paradise remains ever more elusive. We may find ourselves surrounded by knowledge and yet feel emptier than ever. Why? Because, in the end, knowledge—purely as an accumulation of data—cannot heal the deeper wounds of the soul. It cannot restore us to that perfect, pre-fall state. It cannot return us to Eden.

In a very real sense, the pursuit of knowledge in this broken world becomes the ultimate “fig leaf,” an attempt to shield ourselves from the harsh realities of our existence. Just as the fig leaf covered Adam and Eve’s nakedness after their fall, so too does our constant search for answers act as a cover for the deeper crises of our existence. We wrap ourselves in information in an attempt to protect ourselves from the vulnerability, the fear, and the grief of living in a world marked by suffering and imperfection.

What’s more, the fragile ego—our sense of self that feels so easily threatened—seeks to construct a map of the world. This map, built from knowledge and facts, gives the ego a sense of control, a semblance of certainty in an uncertain world. It tells us, “If I can understand this, I can master it.” If we can chart the world in a way that makes sense, perhaps we can avoid its dangers, predict its challenges, and, in some way, shield ourselves from its chaos. In this, the ego seeks comfort, the illusion of safety, and a way to navigate life’s complexities.

And yet, in this pursuit, we may find that what we are truly searching for is not simply knowledge, but something far more elusive—something that transcends the intellect, something that can only be found in the heart. What we seek, deep down, is not a way to protect ourselves from life’s crises, but a way to face them with courage, with grace, and with hope. We are, in essence, seeking the divine peace, the restoration, the redemption that can only come from a relationship with the One who transcends all knowledge, all understanding.

In our relentless pursuit of knowledge, there is a deeper, more archetypal force at play—one that is rooted in the unconscious longing for wholeness. The ego, fragile and fragmented, seeks to map the world, to construct a system of understanding that offers a semblance of control in a chaotic existence. Yet, as Jung would argue, this intellectual pursuit, while necessary, cannot satisfy the soul’s deepest yearnings. Beneath the layers of acquired facts and learned truths lies the shadow—the parts of ourselves we resist and deny. The shadow, that which we cannot bear to confront, often holds the key to our transformation. In the search for knowledge, we are not merely trying to understand the external world, but are seeking a way to reconcile the fractured parts of our own inner world. To truly return to paradise, to heal the wounds of existence, we must acknowledge and integrate these hidden aspects of ourselves. The map the ego creates is incomplete without this reckoning with the shadow, for it is in embracing both light and darkness that we come to know the true Self. Our quest for knowledge, then, is not just a desire for information but a sacred journey toward wholeness, a path that requires the courage to confront the unconscious forces that drive us and the wisdom to accept that true salvation comes from within.

So, as we continue to search, to learn, to seek answers, let us remember: it is not the acquisition of knowledge that will heal us, but the wisdom to recognise what knowledge cannot offer. True restoration, true salvation, comes not from an accumulation of facts, but from the realisation that we are already known, already loved, and already held by the One who can heal all wounds and restore all things. Only in that divine embrace will we find the true answers to our deepest questions.

Thus, the secret to truly knowing is not found in acquiring more knowledge but, counter-intuitively, in laying down what we think we already know. Jesus states this clearly in Matthew 11:25,

“Jesus said, I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children.”

Contrary to the wisdom of the world and in the radical truth of Christ, we discover that the way up is actually down, and the way down is the way up, so we are called to embrace the humility of not leaning on our own understanding. Proverbs 3:5 reminds us to,

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.”

This divine paradox shakes the very foundations of how we view power, success, and greatness. The world teaches us to climb, to ascend, to reach the pinnacle at all costs. But Jesus, in His unshakeable humility, shows us that true greatness lies in surrender, in service, and in the humble act of lowering ourselves.

1. Jesus’ Wisdom Beyond Words:

John 7:15 (KJV):

“The Jews therefore marveled, saying, How is it that this man has learning, when he has never studied?”

In this verse, the religious leaders and scholars of the time are astonished by Jesus’ profound understanding of the Scriptures and His remarkable wisdom. They are baffled because, by their standards, Jesus was an uneducated man—He had not studied under the great rabbis of the day. Yet, His words carried an authority and depth that surpassed even the most learned of scholars. Matthew Henry comments that this reveals the source of Jesus’ wisdom: He did not rely on formal education but spoke from divine revelation. His wisdom was not learned in the schools of men but was the wisdom of God Himself, incarnate in human form. Jesus’ words did not come from study alone but from a deep, personal relationship with the Father.

2. The Disciples: Unlearned Yet Recognised for Their Wisdom:

Acts 4:13 (KJV):

“Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and realised that they were unlearned and ignorant men, they marveled; and they took knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus.”

The same amazement and recognition of divine wisdom are evident in the disciples. Despite their lack of formal education, Peter and John are recognised for their courage, authority, and wisdom. The religious leaders marvel at their boldness and discern that their understanding comes not from worldly knowledge but from their relationship with Jesus. Matthew Henry notes that the disciples, through their time with Jesus, were filled with the Holy Spirit and imparted with divine wisdom. It was not the disciples’ own intellect that stood out, but the mark of having been with Jesus—the transformative power of His presence.

3. The Nature of True Wisdom:

1 Corinthians 2:9-10 (KJV):

“But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. But God has revealed them unto us by his Spirit: for the Spirit search all things, even, the deep things of God.”

Paul speaks of a wisdom that is hidden from human eyes and ears, a wisdom that transcends the limitations of human understanding. Matthew Henry explains that this divine wisdom is revealed to us by the Holy Spirit, and it is not something that can be acquired through intellectual effort or study. It is a gift, freely given to those who love God and walk in communion with Him. Just as the disciples received this revelation through their relationship with Jesus, so too do we, through the Holy Spirit, come to understand the deep things of God.

4. The Transformative Power of Being with Jesus:

Luke 24:45 (KJV):

“Then He opened their understanding, that they might understand the scriptures.”

In this passage, after His resurrection, Jesus opens the minds of His disciples to understand the Scriptures in a new and profound way. Matthew Henry notes that this was not a mere intellectual exercise; it was a work of divine grace. Jesus, through His presence, revealed the true meaning of the Scriptures to them, showing them how all the prophecies pointed to Him. This moment of revelation demonstrates the power of being with Jesus—when we draw near to Him, our understanding is opened, and we are able to see the deeper truths of God’s Word.

The amazement of both the Jews and the disciples points to a profound truth: true wisdom does not come from human study or intellect but from an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ. In John 7:15, the Jews marvel at Jesus’ understanding despite His lack of formal education, while in Acts 4:13, the disciples are recognised for their wisdom because they had been with Jesus. As Matthew Henry notes, “The best education comes not from the world’s schools, but from the Spirit of God, through fellowship with Christ.” Jesus’ wisdom was divine, not of this world, and it is this same wisdom that transformed the lives of His disciples. True wisdom is not found in books or academic learning, but in the revelation of God through the Holy Spirit, which comes through our relationship with Jesus. In His presence, our eyes are opened, and we come to understand the deep things of God—wisdom that transcends all human knowledge.

In Matthew 23:12, He tells us,

“Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

The kingdom of God is upside down, for in His eyes, those who bow low are raised high, and those who humble themselves are honoured in ways the world could never understand. To be truly elevated in His kingdom is to lay down our pride, our ambitions, and our self-reliance, and to embrace the way of humility, of becoming nothing, so that He might become everything in us.

As British missionary William Carey puts it,

The great thing is not so much to have learned a great deal, but to have learned how to pray.”

5. ALways learning, Never Understanding

The Apostle Paul’s visit to Athens, as recorded in Acts 17, is a profound reflection on humanity’s perpetual pursuit of knowledge and understanding. Athens, the cradle of Western civilisation, was renowned for its philosophical inquiry and intellectual fervour. Yet Paul observed a glaring paradox: despite their insatiable appetite for ideas, the Athenians remained adrift in their search for ultimate truth. Paul recounts his experience in Acts 17:19-21:

“And they took him and brought him to the Areopagus, saying, May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? For you bring some strange things to our ears. We wish to know therefore what these things mean. Now all the Athenians and the foreigners who lived there would spend their time in nothing except telling or hearing something new.”

The Areopagus was a hub of intellectual debate, a place where thinkers dissected the philosophies of the day. They were captivated by novelty and the allure of fresh ideas. Yet, Paul saw their endless discussions for what they were: an unending loop of curiosity that failed to lead them to the life-changing truth of God.

Jesus’ Warning to the Scholars of His Time

This insatiable quest for knowledge wasn’t limited to Athens. Jesus, during His earthly ministry, addressed a similar issue among the scholars and theologians of His day. In John 5:39-40, He delivered a pointed critique:

“You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life.”

The religious leaders of Jesus’ time were experts in the Scriptures, yet their expertise became a barrier to encountering the very God the Scriptures pointed to. They had reduced their relationship with God to an intellectual exercise, missing the transformative relationship He offered through Christ.

The Parallel Between Athens and Today

Our modern world, much like ancient Athens, is dominated by the relentless pursuit of information. From 24-hour news cycles to endless social media scrolls, we are surrounded by opportunities to know more, hear more, and debate more. Yet, this glut of information often leaves us feeling as empty as the Athenians who spent their days chasing new ideas without ever finding meaning.

Even within the church, it’s possible to fall into the trap Jesus warned about. We can become so consumed with studying the Bible as an academic text that we miss its central purpose: to draw us into a relationship with God. Like the Athenians and the Pharisees, we risk mistaking knowledge for intimacy, facts for faith, and theology for transformation.

Beyond Knowledge: The Call to Relationship

Paul’s message to the Athenians was a call to move beyond their endless quest for new ideas and into the life-changing truth of the Gospel. He pointed them to the “unknown god” they had been worshiping in ignorance and revealed Him as the one true God who desires a relationship with His creation.

Similarly, Jesus invites us to move beyond the surface of intellectual understanding into the depths of relational knowing. The Scriptures are not an end in themselves; they are a signpost pointing to Him. It is not enough to know about God – we must know Him.

As we reflect on the examples of Athens and the religious leaders of Jesus’ time, let us examine our own hearts. Are we seeking life in the accumulation of knowledge, or are we allowing that knowledge to lead us to the One who is life itself?

You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life. (John 5:39-40)

Thus, the wisdom of Christ defies our expectations, inviting us to find strength in weakness, power in surrender, and life in death. The way up is down, and in that downward journey, we find ourselves lifted to heights beyond anything the world can offer. It is only through this surrender, this humility, that we open ourselves to the fullness of wisdom that transcends all human understanding.

In the words of A.W. Tozer,

“Faith is the gaze of a soul upon a saving God.”

In the end, everything can be distilled into this timeless truth:

“In life, it’s not what you know that truly matters, but who you know.”

What we can be certain of is that temporary answers will never satisfy eternal questions.

PRAYER OF DEVOTION

A Prayer for True Wisdom

Lord,
With hearts burning for truth, we come before You, weary of the distractions that pull us in every direction. We confess that so often, we chase after the fleeting details of a world in constant motion, believing that the more we know, the more we are whole. But today, we hear the call to something deeper, something truer.

Lord, open our eyes to see that true wisdom does not come from the accumulation of knowledge but from the surrender of our limited understanding. Teach us to lay down the false certainties we hold and to come before You with open hands, ready to receive the fullness of Your wisdom. We long not for more information but for the transformation that comes only from drinking deeply from the well of Your truth.

You are the Logos—the Divine Word, the Creator of all things, the very essence of wisdom. We are not merely searching for answers; we are searching for You. Let our hearts be consumed with a hunger for Your presence, for Your understanding, for the love that transcends everything we think we know.

Let us be like Heraclitus, who saw that in the deepest longing of our souls, we are all yearning for You, the Source of all wisdom. May our journey lead us home—to You, the One who has always known us and who, in Your love, reveals all truth.

We surrender ourselves to You now, for only in You can we find what we have been searching for. May we rest in Your wisdom and be forever changed by Your love.

In Your name,
Amen.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

1. What am I truly seeking in my pursuit of knowledge, and how can I turn my focus from fleeting distractions to the Source of all wisdom?
2. How might I surrender my need to control my understanding and open myself to learning from a deeper, more divine truth?
3. In what ways have I been chasing after temporary answers, and how can I begin to seek the timeless wisdom that comes only from God?
4. What would it look like for me to lay down my pride in what I think I know and embrace the humility of a true student before the Divine Logos?
5. How can I cultivate a deeper connection to the Divine, allowing my heart to be filled not with information, but with the transformative love and wisdom that only God can provide?