🌿 She Who Was There Before the Beginning: Walking the Wisdom Path of Proverbs 8
Sometimes a reading finds you.
It doesn’t arrive with trumpets or thunder. It doesn’t demand belief or insist on understanding. It simply speaks—and something deep within begins to stir. Not in the mind, exactly. Not just in the heart. But in that quiet, spacious place within that recognises truth long before it can be named.
That was my experience with Proverbs 8.
I was asked—last minute—to read the Old Testament passage at a church service. No time to prepare. No time to anticipate. Just breath, page, voice. And as I began to read, something ancient and familiar awakened.
Not a memory, exactly. But a recognition. Like hearing the voice of someone I once knew… and still love.
Wisdom at the Crossroads
“Does not Wisdom call out? Does not Understanding raise her voice?” (Proverbs 8:1)
The voice of Wisdom isn’t cloistered or hidden away in sacred chambers. She calls from the heights, from the crossroads, from the gates of the city. She positions herself where lives intersect, where choices are made, where paths diverge.
She doesn’t whisper only in monasteries or speak solely in ancient tongues. She is fluent in the everyday. In your language. In your pace. In the rhythm of your breath, in the hush between thoughts.
And all she asks is this: Will you listen?
The Wisdom that Dances with Creation
“The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago… I was beside him, like a master worker, and I was daily his delight…” (Proverbs 8:22, 30)
There’s something astonishing here.
Wisdom is not an afterthought. Not a tool to be wielded. She is foundational. Present before the beginning. Dancing at the edges of existence. Rejoicing in the shaping of sea and sky, of hills and rivers, of soil and starlight.
She delights. In the world. In humanity. In you.
Pause for a moment. Let that settle.
Before there were commandments, before there were creeds, before there were institutions and ideologies and all the noise of history—there was Wisdom. Watching, playing, rejoicing. And somewhere deep inside you, you already know her. You always have.
The Echo of a Forgotten Companion
There was a time, years ago, when I walked what some might call a different path. I didn’t know it then, but I was already following Wisdom. In forests and firelight, in poetry and stillness, I sought the sacred within the world rather than above it. That path had many names. One of them was Druidry.
It was not rebellion. It was reverence. It taught me to listen to silence, to honour the seasons, and to seek truth not only in books but in birdsong, breath, and belonging.
And when I read Proverbs 8 aloud that morning, it was as if that same voice I once followed through groves and glens had returned—not to pull me backward, but to say, I was with you there too.
Wisdom is not bound by borders. She doesn’t wear only one name. She is the voice beneath all sacred listening. And sometimes, when you least expect it, she returns.
Listening as Sacred Practice
You don’t need to seek Wisdom in mountaintop visions or dramatic revelation. Most often, she arrives gently. In the breath you forgot you were holding. In the stillness after prayer. In the moment when you stop trying to fix, explain, or achieve—and simply begin to notice.
Wisdom may not shout above your distractions. But she waits. Always. At the edge of your attention.
So perhaps today, the invitation is simple:
Slow down. Breathe. And listen.
Not for an answer. But for a presence.
A Voice That Delights in You
One of the most moving lines in Proverbs 8 is easily missed:
“…rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race.” (v.31)
Wisdom delights in the world.
Not in its perfection. Not in its performance. In its being.
This is not a divine presence who merely tolerates your existence. This is one who delights in you. Who has seen every stumbling step, every unfinished thought, every whispered hope—and rejoices, not in spite of these things, but within them.
Let that truth ripple through your soul.
There is something within you worth delighting in. Always has been. Always will be.
When You Feel Far Away
There are times when Wisdom feels distant. When the world is loud, when your heart is heavy, when the road feels long and uncertain.
If that’s where you are right now, hear this:
You haven’t lost the path. You haven’t failed the sacred. You haven’t wandered too far.
The voice of Wisdom still calls.
Not to scold. But to remind you that even here—especially here—you are not alone.
A Prayer for the Wisdom Path
You might like to pause now. Let these words guide your heart inward. Read them slowly. Not to rush toward meaning, but to rest within it.
She who was there before the beginning… Teach me to listen with more than ears.
Call to me from the crossroads of my day— the washing up, the traffic, the restless thoughts— and help me hear the sacred there too.
Remind me that I do not need to become someone else to walk the path of Wisdom. I need only become still enough to hear it unfolding in me.
A breath at a time. A step at a time. A life that listens.
Amen.
Practicing the Way of Wisdom
You may be wondering how to bring this into your life—not as an idea, but as a way of being. Here are a few invitations. They are not rules. Just doorways. Choose one. Or simply let them rest in the back of your heart, ready when you are.
🌿 1. Watch for the Threshold Moments
Begin to notice the spaces between things—between tasks, between thoughts, between breaths. These are the places Wisdom often dwells.
🔥 2. Let Beauty Be Your Teacher
When something stirs awe or joy in you—linger there. Let it speak. Don’t rush to define it. Let your soul receive what words cannot hold.
🌙 3. Read Proverbs 8 Aloud
Find a quiet moment. Let your own voice carry the words. Hear them as if Wisdom were speaking through you. Because maybe She is.
🌊 4. Ask Questions Without Demanding Answers
Let your prayer today be a wondering, not a pleading. Something like, What might I be invited to notice here? Let curiosity be sacred.
🍂 5. Trust the Slow Unfolding
Wisdom isn’t always immediate. But She is always moving. Even when you cannot see the fruit, trust the root is growing.
A Final Whisper
There is an old rhythm beneath the noise of the world.
A deep song that we are always, in some way, being drawn back to.
It is not the song of certainty, of systems, or of status. It is the song of Wisdom. The voice that calls from the edge of your understanding and says, Come. Listen. Delight. Trust.
Ancient Whispers 
Leave a comment