By Lance Rowe

Wisdom cries aloud in the street, she raises her voice in the markets" (Proverbs 1:20).

In a little country called Self, there is a state called Pride, and in that state exists a city called Yourtown that resides by a river once clear but now long polluted by the waste of industrial greed and decay.

The city streets are filthy, and litter blows listlessly in the breeze as automobiles of various size, appearance and function noisily drive by. The once-grand luster of the facades of the buildings that line the streets are blackened and dulled from the industrial smog and the exhaust of the millions of cars that have passed by over the years.

At the intersection of Yourchurch Avenue and Theworld Boulevard, the faces of the pedestrians are hollow and expressionless as they walk past a woman clad in simple apparel, but whose countenance is absolutely radiant with beauty. She is obviously not a citizen of the city. What a contrast is to be seen between the busy multitude scurrying along like so many cockroaches with no purpose or destination other than to find a morsel of food wherewith they may continue their miserable existence, and the stately splendor of this one who lifts her voice in the street for any who would hear. The radiance of her countenance keeps most of the cockroaches at a distance, but a few stop to hear what she has to say.

Across the intersection, a short way down the Avenue is a group continually gossiping about the appearance and behavior of the ones down the street who were in actuality no different than they. One gestures back at the woman at the corner and scoffs at her making a spectacle of herself. "Does she actually think that anyone will listen to her?"

Walking down the Boulevard are a group of rich and calloused industrialists passing by the beggars and turning deaf ears to their cries for help while they listen to each other's flattery and bestow favors on one another in the hopes that they might receive recognition for their deed.

And then there are the beggars themselves, groveling to outdo one another in an attempt to get the attention of the one who might, perchance have mercy on them. And so life goes in the Town of Self. As long as the gossip is fresh, the finances are good, and the possibility of getting another fix from what little change could be collected on the Boulevard, everyone is content to leave everything just the way it is. Yet there is this woman and her continual presence at the intersection that disrupts the normal course of life for all who pass her way.

Her voice trembles with compassion and emotion as she cries, "How much longer will you continue in this foolishness? How much longer will you mock and reject the knowledge of your Creator?"

As she pleads with the bustling throng, a group of scantily clad women gather around her, their faces marred with sores and lined with the depths of sin that their hastily applied makeup could no longer hide. Their voices are hoarse from years of nicotine addiction and other abuses, as they shout "Who do you think you are to judge us, oh Miss Goody Two Shoes?" They cackle with glee as one of the mockers obscenely gyrates in front of her, in an attempt to distract the few who were intently beholding her and listening to her speech.

Despite their mockery, she continues to call out to any who would hear; "Flee from this city that has you captive to your sin and blinds you to the Truth of the Word of God! Follow me, and I will bring you to a place of knowledge and freedom where the streets are never littered by the careless actions of many, where the buildings have retained their luster and the river flows clean and pure."

Upon hearing her exhortation to leave the city, those few who had been intently listening now turn away, shaking their heads and scoffing at such an idea. "Flee from the city, indeed! Captive and blind? Why the nerve of this woman, to infer that there is a place better than what we have known!"

Through her words, the loiterers on the Avenue are given more fuel for their gossip "High and lofty ideals! We are content on our Avenue, and need no foreign woman tell us otherwise!" The rich men on the Boulevard who hear her, scoff and sneer at the thought of such a fairy tale city. The beggars distance themselves from her presence, and the gyrating mockers increase their foolishness to distract any who might hear.

In that little country called Self, in that State called Pride, in that dirty little place called Yourtown with its river polluted by greed and corruption, there is still a voice to be heard by any who will step aside away from all the distraction.

The woman's name is Wisdom. Daily she bids them to leave the blighted country and to become citizens of another. Some hear and respond. Most don't.

Rev 22:1 And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.
2 In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.
3 And there shall be no more curse: but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him:
4 And they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads.
5 And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever.





Lance Rowe






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