Wisdom Through Humility
There is no limit to what people will do to chase wisdom. We spend billions on education. We read self-help books. We follow influencers who promise to unlock the secret to a better life. But no matter how much we learn, how much we achieve, or how much we figure out, the world is just as broken as it’s always been. People still make crazy, disastrous choices. Relationships still fall apart. Pain still comes out of nowhere and leaves us asking why.
But real wisdom doesn’t begin with a new book, a fresh strategy, or a better plan. It begins with humility. It begins with the recognition that we are not self-made but God-made, that we are not in control but completely dependent, that we don’t define our purpose but receive it from the One who made us. That’s where Psalm 119:73-80 takes us.
True wisdom begins with knowing our Creator. (73)
Everything in life hinges on one question: Who made you? Everything you believe and how you live hinges on that one most consequential belief. If you believe you’re self-made, then you’ll believe you’re self-sufficient. You’ll think wisdom comes from experience, education, or self-discovery. But if you believe God made you, then everything changes. Wisdom isn’t something you manufacture—it’s something you receive.
“Your hands have made and fashioned me; give me understanding that I may learn your commandments.” (Psalm 119:73)
You are not an accident. You are not a random collection of cells. You are not just the product of genetics and circumstances. You were crafted by the hands of God. The word fashioned isn’t just about being created—it’s about being shaped with intention. It carries the meaning of building with purpose, like laying the foundation first in a building project. It’s calculated and purposeful. You are not mass-produced. You are not an afterthought. You were designed by a Creator who formed you with purpose.[1]
But here’s a sometimes difficult truth for us that flows from that reality: if God made you, then God defines you. You don’t get to decide what’s right and wrong. You don’t get to redefine morality based on your feelings. You don’t get to create your own purpose apart from God. That’s one of the problems with the world today. Everyone wants to decide their own truth. Everyone wants to live as if they belong to themselves. But Scripture says, “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’” (Psalm 14:1) Foolishness isn’t just denying God’s existence—it’s living like He doesn’t matter.
Romans 1 shows us what happens when people reject their Creator. Paul says God has made Himself evident through creation. His power, His divine nature—it’s all clearly seen. But instead of honoring God, people suppress the truth. They exchange His glory for idols, replace truth with lies, worship what’s been made instead of the One who made it. And what does God do? He gives them over. He lets them chase after what they think will satisfy, only to find it leaves them empty.
And this is where so many people live—chasing meaning but never finding it. Searching for wisdom but rejecting its very source. But real wisdom doesn’t come from looking within—it comes from looking up. That’s why the psalmist prays, “Give me understanding that I may learn Your commandments.” The Hebrew concept of understanding goes beyond mere intellectual knowledge; it encompasses a deep, intuitive grasp of God's will and the ability to apply it in daily life. This is crucial. Knowing the Creator leads to knowing His will. The psalmist doesn’t just acknowledge that God made him—he asks for wisdom to live in accordance with that truth. Because if God formed you, then He knows what’s best for you. If He designed you, then He alone can define you. Wisdom isn’t just about knowing facts. It’s about aligning your life with the One who made you. Even when it’s difficult.
God is faithful amidst our afflictions. (74-75)
Nobody wakes up in the morning and says, “Lord, I hope today is full of difficulty, pain, and loss.” And yet, if you’ve been following Jesus for any length of time, you know that suffering is unavoidable. You will be tested. You will walk through trials. You will experience loss. The question isn’t if suffering will come—the question is how you will respond when it does come.
The psalmist makes a radical statement here: “I know, O Lord, that your rules are righteous, and that in faithfulness you have afflicted me.” (Psalm 119:75). That sounds insane to most people. In faithfulness, God afflicts us? How is suffering an act of faithfulness? We tend to think of affliction as God’s abandonment, not His goodness. But the psalmist sees it differently. He doesn’t accuse God of injustice. He doesn’t say, “Why would a good God let this happen?” He says, “God, I trust that even this pain is under Your righteous, faithful rule.”
This is the testing ground of faith. It’s easy to say God is good when life is easy. It’s easy to declare His faithfulness when everything is going the way we planned. But what happens when it all falls apart? What happens when the job is lost, when the diagnosis is bad, when the betrayal cuts deep? Do you still trust Him? The psalmist did. He knew that if suffering was in his life, then God had purpose in it. It’s as Elisabeth Elliot said, “Suffering is never for nothing.”
But let’s be real—when we’re in the middle of it, we don’t feel like suffering is producing anything good. We feel like it’s breaking us, not refining us. And that’s why we need to step back and ask, “What if God’s greatest act of faithfulness isn’t removing suffering, but using it?” Because here’s the reality: God would be less faithful if He didn’t allow certain afflictions.
Here are some ways God’s Word shows us He is faithful amidst affliction:
Discipline for our sanctification (Hebrews 12:6)
If God didn’t discipline us, He wouldn’t be a loving Father—He would be neglectful. A good parent doesn’t let their child run into traffic just because they want to. If God ignored our sin and let us drift, it would mean He didn’t care about our holiness or our eternity.
Trials that deepen our dependence (2 Corinthians 1:8-9)
If God never allowed trials, He would be setting us up for failure. We would live under the illusion that we are strong enough on our own, only to collapse when life inevitably exposes our weakness. Without trials, we would never realize that He is our refuge and strength (Psalm 46:1).
Delayed answers to prayer (Psalm 27:14)
If God gave us everything instantly, He would be spoiling us, not loving us. Giving a child every demand without teaching patience and discernment would ruin them. If God answered all our prayers immediately, we would pursue fleeting desires rather than lasting joy in Him.
Persecution for righteousness’ sake (Matthew 5:10-12)
If God shielded us from opposition, He would be raising weak, untested disciples. Soldiers who never train for battle will collapse in war. If our faith was never tested, we would never know whether we truly treasure Jesus or just the benefits of Christianity.
Stripping away idols (Jonah 2:8)
If God let us keep our idols, He would be allowing us to settle for something that will destroy us. A doctor who refuses to remove a deadly tumor isn’t merciful—he’s cruel. God takes away what we falsely rely on, because idols always fail us, but He never will (Psalm 16:4).
Physical suffering and weakness (2 Corinthians 12:7-10)
If God never allowed weakness, He would be allowing pride to destroy us. Paul’s thorn in the flesh was painful, but without it, he might have grown self-reliant. If suffering drives us to God, then it is mercy, not cruelty.
Seasons of spiritual dryness (Psalm 42:1-3)
If God never let us experience His absence, we would take His presence for granted. When everything feels easy, we forget our need for Him. But in the silence, we learn to seek Him with desperation—and those who seek Him will find Him (Jeremiah 29:13).
Breaking our pride (James 4:6)
If God didn’t humble us, He would be allowing us to live in delusion. Pride blinds us to our need for Him. If God left us in our arrogance, we would walk headfirst into destruction, thinking we were in control. By humbling us, He saves us.
Allowing failure to shape us (Luke 22:31-32)
If God never let us fail, He would be leaving us unprepared for the weight of real faith. Peter’s denial was painful, but without it, he would have remained self-assured and ineffective. If God never let us stumble, we would never learn that our faith is not about our strength, but His.
Testing our obedience in suffering (Exodus 16:4)
If God never tested us, He would be leaving our faith fragile and unproven. A faith that is never tested is a faith that won’t last. If God only gave us ease, we would never develop endurance. But because He tests us, we can emerge from suffering refined like gold.
God’s love is our greatest comfort. (76-77)
When we’re afflicted, even if it’s at the hand of God, our perspective changes when we remember the depths of God’s love for us, as Hebrews 12:6 says, “For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives.” The psalmist’s prayer isn’t, “God, make it stop.” He doesn’t say, “God, take this pain away.” Instead, he says, “Let your steadfast love comfort me according to your promise to your servant.” (Psalm 119:76). He’s not asking for escape. He’s asking for presence.
We tend to see comfort as relief—an end to suffering, a change in circumstances, a quick fix to make everything feel better. But the psalmist knows something we often forget: God’s love isn’t proven by the absence of suffering but by His presence in it.
This word for steadfast love is hesed. It’s one of the richest words in all of Scripture. It’s not just affection, and it’s not just kindness—it’s a covenant love. It’s God saying, “I will never leave you. I will never forsake you. No matter how dark it gets, I am yours and you are mine.” That’s what the psalmist is clinging to. He isn’t asking for a sentimental feeling. He’s asking to be held by unshakeable love.
And then he says, “Let your mercy come to me, that I may live; for your law is my delight.” (Psalm 119:77). Even in suffering, he’s still clinging to God’s Word. Think about that. Affliction didn’t drive him from God’s Word—it drove him to it. That’s the opposite of what most of us do. When life gets hard, we pull away. We distract ourselves. We look for anything that will numb the pain. It’s like getting hit by a truck and deciding the best way to deal with the pain is to just take a nap and hope it goes away.
But real comfort isn’t found in numbing the pain—it’s found in knowing the One who holds you through it. That’s what the psalmist is after. He delights in God’s Word because God’s Word is true. His promises don’t shift with circumstances. His character doesn’t change when life gets hard. His love is steadfast, immovable, unwavering. And if we really believe that, then like the psalmist, we can say, “Your law is my delight.” Not because life is easy. But because we know that even when life feels as if it is breaking, God’s love never will. So you have no need to rely on yourself.
Pride gets you nowhere. (78)
Pride is sneaky. It doesn’t just show up in loud, arrogant people who make everything about themselves. It’s not just the guy at work who always thinks he’s right or the friend who never apologizes. Pride hides in each one of us too. It’s in the way we nurse offenses. It’s in how we replay conversations in our heads, making ourselves the hero and them the villain. It’s in our obsession with proving we’re right, even if it means losing our peace.
The psalmist writes, “Let the insolent [prideful] be put to shame, because they have wronged me with falsehood; as for me, I will meditate on your precepts.” (Psalm 119:78). He’s been lied about. People have slandered him. And let’s be real, most of us wouldn’t have responded this way. We would have gone straight to damage control. We would’ve told our side of the story, made sure everyone knew the truth. But the psalmist doesn’t do that. Instead of obsessing over the falsehoods, he meditates on God’s truth. He doesn’t fight back with slander—he fights back, internally, with Scripture.
That sounds great in theory, but let’s be honest, when someone spreads lies about you, your first reaction isn’t usually, “Wow, I should really meditate on God’s precepts.” No, you start drafting a text. You start imagining a confrontation where, somehow, you have perfect recall of every detail and completely destroy them with the facts. And I don’t know if you’ve ever won an argument in your mind and then tried it in real life, it doesn’t go the same way. It’s like when you plan out the perfect speech before going to confront someone, and then you get there and immediately forget how words work. You just stand there like, “Well…you…uh…You too!”
The thing about pride is that it always makes us think we’re justified. It convinces us we have to defend ourselves, that if we don’t speak up, we’ll lose. But that’s a lie. Pride makes you fight battles God never asked you to fight. It keeps you restless. It keeps you bitter. And it’s exhausting.
But the psalmist is showing us another way. He trusts that God sees everything, that God is the one who upholds the truth. I love what Psalm 37:13 says: “The Lord laughs at the wicked, for He sees that His day is coming.” That verse should humble us and comfort us at the same time. First, because it means no one is getting away with anything. But second, because we all have pride in us too. If we’re not careful, we’ll spend our lives pointing out the arrogance in others while completely ignoring the arrogance in ourselves.
That’s the hard part. We love calling out pride when we see it in someone else. But do we recognize it in us? Are we quick to defend ourselves but slow to repent? Do we hold on to bitterness and call it “just making sure justice is done”? Do we assume we’re always right, or are we willing to be corrected?
The psalmist’s response is clear, and it’s this: let God handle it. The humble will endure because they’re not holding up their own lives—God is holding them up. If you’re struggling with this, just picture God laughing at the proud. That’s in the Bible. He sees their schemes, their lies, their self-importance, and He’s not pacing the throne room stressed out. He’s not looking at the angels like, “Guys, I did not see that coming.” No. He laughs. Because He knows exactly how this ends. So maybe, just maybe, we don’t have to be so worried either.
A heart shaped by God’s Word will stand firm. (79-80)
Your heart is not neutral. It is either being shaped by the truth of God or by the lies of the world. There is no middle ground. The psalmist prays, “Let those who fear you turn to me, that they may know your testimonies.” (Psalm 119:79). He doesn’t just want to obey God for his own sake—he wants to lead others into that same obedience. His faithfulness isn’t just about him. It’s about his influence.
That should stop us in our tracks. Because whether we realize it or not, we are always leading people somewhere. People are watching how we live. If they followed us, would they be drawn to God’s Word, or would they just see someone who fits comfortably into the culture? Would they see conviction or compromise?
The psalmist follows that prayer with another: “May my heart be blameless in your statutes, that I may not be put to shame.” (Psalm 119:80). A blameless heart isn’t about being sinless—it’s about being fully devoted to God. It’s about integrity. About living in such a way that when people look at our lives, they don’t see hypocrisy, they see holiness. Proverbs 4:23 says, “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” What we allow into our hearts will determine the kind of life we live. If we fill ourselves with God’s Word, we will stand firm. If we let the world fill our hearts, we will collapse under weight.
So ask yourself: If people followed you, where would they end up? Would they see a life built on God’s truth? Would they see joy in obedience? Or would they see someone who blends in so well with the world that they’d never even know you belonged to Christ?
Jesus is the wise path.
The psalmist’s prayer for understanding, comfort, and steadfast love finds its ultimate fulfillment in Jesus. He’s not just the wise path—He is wisdom itself. “All things were made through Him” (John 1:3). The hands that formed you in your mother’s womb are the same hands that stretched out on a cross to redeem you. The wisdom of God is not found in philosophy or human effort—it is found in a person. Jesus.
Jesus suffered faithfully, trusting the Father’s plan. “He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8). The psalmist endured affliction, but Jesus bore the full weight of God’s wrath for our sin. He didn’t just suffer—He suffered in our place. And because He did, He is now our ultimate comfort. “The God of all comfort… comforts us in all our affliction” (2 Corinthians 1:3).
This is why humility is the beginning of wisdom. The proud reject Christ, thinking they can make it on their own. But Jesus says, “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted” (Luke 14:11). The gospel demands humility because it tells us the truth: We cannot save ourselves. We cannot fix ourselves. We need Jesus.
Jesus is the only one who can make our hearts blameless. “Christ Jesus… became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption” (1 Corinthians 1:30). The psalmist longed for a blameless heart, but the gospel tells us that only Jesus can truly give us one. His death washes away our sin. His resurrection gives us new life. His righteousness is imputed to us so that we stand before God justified.
So, true wisdom begins not with self-reliance, but with surrender—to the Creator, to His plan, and to His Word. To the Savior. If you have never placed your trust in Christ, today is the day. Turn from self-reliance. Stop trying to fix what only He can heal. Surrender your life to Jesus—because wisdom is not found in what you do, but in whom you trust.
Cling to Christ. He is your wisdom, your portion, your peace, and your only salvation.
