The Architect of the Tides

I, wisdom, dwell together with prudence; I possess knowledge and discretion … The Lord brought me forth as the first of his works, before his deeds of old … before he made the world or its fields or any of the dust of the earth … rejoicing in his whole world and delighting in mankind. Proverbs 8:12, 22, 26, 31

Master Francisco’s shipyard smelled of sea salt, wood, and eternity. Francisco, a man whose wrinkles seemed to map all the seas he had never sailed, spent his days in a slow, deliberate dance, transforming oak planks into the skeleton of a new fishing boat.

His only constant visitor was Toni, an eight-year-old boy with eyes full of whys. Toni was not interested in toys; he was interested in the order of things.

“Master Francisco,” Toni asked one day, as he watched the old craftsman fit a rib with millimeter precision. “Why does the boat float?”

Francisco did not stop his work.

“Because I designed it to, my little one. I know the weight of the wood, the strength of the water. I follow a plan. If I just put the pieces together any which way, it would sink.”

The boy was silent for a moment, processing.

“Is that why clouds float and rocks sink?” he asked.

Francisco smiled. He loved that boy’s mind.

“Exactly. God, the Great Builder, also had a plan. He established the heavens with an understanding we can only imagine. Everything in its proper place.”

Toni pointed to the sea, which was breaking rhythmically on the beach just a few meters away.

“And the sea? Why does it stop there? Why doesn’t it just keep going and swallow everything?”

Francisco put down his hammer and sat on a wooden stool, inviting the boy to sit beside him.

“Ah, that’s one of my favorite parts of the story,” the old man said. “When God designed the world, Wisdom was with Him. Like an architect, a master craftsman. She was there when He made the clouds firm above and established the fountains of the deep. And it was she who said to the sea: ‘You shall go no farther than this. Here is where your proud waves halt.’”

He spoke not like one reciting dogma, but like one sharing the secret of a great work of art.

“Wisdom is not just a bunch of rules, Toni. She is the balance. She is the design. She is the reason the world is not chaos. She delighted in the Builder’s presence, and their joy was so great that it overflowed and created everything we see.”

Toni looked at his own small hands, then at Francisco’s calloused ones.

“So, when you build the boat, are you using a little bit of that same Wisdom?”

Francisco’s eyes sparkled. The boy had understood.

“Yes, my son. That’s exactly it. Every time a carpenter chooses the right wood, every time a farmer plants in the right season, every time a mother teaches her child to be kind… we are all using a fragment of that same Architect who rejoiced with the Creator at the beginning of time. And our greatest delight,” he said, ruffling Toni’s hair, “is to see sons, like you, learning to admire her.”

Toni did not understand all the words, but he understood the feeling. He looked at the boat’s skeleton, at the sea, at the clouds. And, for the first time, he did not just see things. He saw a design. A magnificent plan, from the smallest shell on the sand to the largest star in the sky. And at the heart of that design, he felt the presence of an ancient joy, the same joy he now felt beside the old boat builder.

(Made with AI)

This story is part of my book Everyday Wisdom

https://books2read.com/u/3knogL

Seeking Acknowledgment

We want to be recognized,

We desire to be applauded,

We long to be noticed,

We want to be valued.

 

We fight for something to happen,

We battle to get people’s acknowledgment.

We dream about that amazing occasion,

On which we will have a great reputation.

 

These wishes are natural,

Everybody wants to feel special,

To feel there is a purpose in what is done,

To feel that we are the best ones.

 

However, it seems we are invisible,

It seems we are contemptible.

Nobody gives us a piece of attention,

Nobody shows any consideration.

 

All that is done seems vainly,

This sensation is heartbreaking.

We did our best in everything,

And we only receive apathy.

The pain blinds our comprehension,

We forget who is seeing our actions.

We forget for whom we are working,

It is not for a simple human being.

 

We are working to the Lord,

He sees us with immeasurable value.

Even if nobody gives us attention,

God applauds our dedication.

 

God is a witness to all we did,

He comprehends our feelings.

The Father gives us strength to continue,

And many more things, we will execute.

 

We must calm ourselves and rest,

We know who waits our best.

Let us do our best effort to the Lord,

He will pour out upon us His abundant favor.

This poem is part of the book Words of Faith.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/meLvPr

One Right Life

The Christian needs to be virtuous,

Doing everything right and avoiding evils.

All right things, he must do,

Then, the testimony about him will be good.

 

The people will look at him and say:

In him, God’s qualities, I can see,

He acts differently in his life,

He does not deceive, pervert, or lie.

 

The Christian’s life will be seen by everyone,

They will see a good heart in that person,

One person who carries too many beliefs,

And they do not walk with the deceivers.

 

The people will see how life is,

One life that has a Bible basis.

They are not let led by external things,

They are not contaminated with wrongdoings.

They will always have a good testimony.

This poem is part of the book Christian Poetry Volume IV.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/bpMr16

The Voice at the Crossroads

Does not wisdom call out? Does not understanding raise her voice? … for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her. Proverbs 8:1,11

Laís stood at a crossroads, but not on a real street. It was a silent crossroads, in the middle of the kitchen of her luxurious house, as she prepared breakfast for her husband, Rubens. On one side was the path of security: a life of material comfort, social status, and the stability that Rubens offered her. On the other was an uncertain path, shrouded in mist, that promised only one thing: her own soul back.

Rubens was not a monster. He was worse. He was a master of subtle manipulation. His criticisms came disguised as “care,” his control as “protection.”

“Are you really going to wear that, my love? It doesn’t flatter you,” he would say, undermining her confidence. “Let me handle the finances. You don’t have the head for it,” he would insist, keeping her in a state of childlike dependence.

The voice of wisdom, however, was calling out. It did not shout; it whispered.

It called from the “high places” of her memory: the recollection of the strong, independent woman she was before she married, the competent professional who had given up her career at his request.

It stood “on the pathways” during her trips to the bookstore, where her eyes were drawn to books on relationships and self-esteem. She would flip through them secretly, feeling a mixture of shame and recognition.

It was “at the city gates” in the voice of her sister, who would tell her on the phone: “Laís, this isn’t normal. Love doesn’t diminish; it doesn’t imprison.”

And it cried out “at the doors” in the worried gazes of her few friends, whom Rubens had subtly pushed out of her life.

But the voice of fear shouted louder. The fear of uncertainty, of not being able to support herself, of being judged by society, of being alone. The silver and gold of the lifestyle Rubens provided seemed more valuable than the instruction her soul longed for.

The breaking point came on a Tuesday night. Rubens had organized a dinner for a potential client. Laís spent the entire day preparing everything. During dinner, she dared to disagree with one of Rubens’s political viewpoints. It was a mild, polite disagreement.

Later, after the guest had left, Rubens’s fury came, cold and cutting.

“You humiliated me,” he said, his voice low. “You made me look like a fool in front of an important man. Who do you think you are to have an opinion?”

That night, Laís did not sleep. His words echoed in her mind. She realized, with a painful clarity, that he did not love her. He possessed her. And the price of her security was her silence, her identity.

The next morning, in the kitchen, as the aroma of coffee mixed with the scent of her anguish, she found herself at the final crossroads. The voice of wisdom was calling out louder than ever, no longer as a whisper, but as a warning cry.

She looked at the luxury car in the garage, at the expensive furniture, at the gold on her finger. And, for the first time, she saw them for what they were: weights, not prizes.

She took off her apron. She went to the bedroom, took a small suitcase, and packed only the essentials. She left the diamond ring on the bed. As she walked out the front door, she felt a paralyzing terror, but also a rush of fresh air, as if she were emerging from a place underwater.

The path ahead of her was unknown. She had no job, no home, no plan. But she had herself. And she had chosen. She had chosen instruction over silver, knowledge over gold. She had chosen wisdom. And although she did not know where she was going, for the first time in many years, she felt that she was, finally, on the right path.

(Made with AI)

This story is part of my book Everyday Wisdom

https://books2read.com/u/3knogL

Asking for Wisdom

Lord, one thing, I will ask for you,

It is something that will help me to follow you.

Something that will help me every day,

Lord God, wisdom, it is what I ask you.

 

From the Lord comes all understanding,

His wisdom does not add any pain.

To have your wisdom will bring happy times,

To have your wisdom will give me a new life.

 

May the Lord give me good discernment,

Helping me to make decisions at all moments.

Then, I will always choose the best option,

Then, I will have no regrets about my decision.

 

I can help other people if I have wisdom,

I will give good advice to any person,

May my mouth say what comes from the Lord,

Then the person will hear a loving word.

 

With wisdom, I will not walk in other ways,

For any other path, I will not deviate.

May in my life, the Lord always can be,

For more wisdom, He can give me.

This poem is part of the book Christian Poetry Volume IV.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/bpMr16

Regression

Some current churches are experiencing a regression,

Many are turning to ancient customs of Judaism.

They add Jewish practices to the teachings of Christianity.

They are walking contrary to what Jesus taught,

They do not live according to the new covenant that Christ proclaimed.

Many of them turn to the worship of the Ark of the Covenant,

They think that by venerating it, their prayer will be more efficient.

Other symbols have also been inserted in the middle of the altar,

They are mystical objects that the “Christian” should use and admire.

In many Christian churches, it is even possible to find a shofar.

The churches that have these practices are very backward,

They stopped in the time of the Law and follow those words.

It seems that they have not yet heard the Gospel of the Lord,

They do not know the Gospel of Christ, which is liberating,

The Gospel of Christ was against oppressive traditionalism.

Christ came to Earth to make a new covenant with the people,

To all who believe in Him, Jesus showed his renewal.

Jesus showed that loving God is more than just a tradition,

Loving the Lord is something that goes from the spirit to the heart, a mission.

This poem is part of the book Christian Poetry Volume VI.

See the book:

https://books2read.com/u/4EBjBl

The Apple of the Eye

My son, keep my words and store up my commands within you. Keep my commands and you will live; guard my teachings as the apple of your eye. Do not let your heart turn to her ways or stray into her paths. 6Many are the victims she has brought down; her slain are a mighty throng. Her house is a highway to the grave, leading down to the chambers of death. Proverbs 7:1-2, 25-27

Alex lived a well-ordered life, like the clean code he took so much pride in writing. An IT professional, married to Lilian, father of a young girl, his routine was a stable system of work, family, and church service. The commandment of faithfulness was not a burden to him; it was a principle, the “apple of his eye,” something to be protected instinctively.

Simone entered his life in the most unlikely of places: on the committee for a volunteer project to develop a humanitarian aid app. She was the project manager, dedicated, efficient, and with an impressive ability to make everyone feel special. Especially Alex.

“Alex, your logic is brilliant,” she would say in meetings, and he would feel a warmth of recognition that went beyond the professional. She began to contact him outside of work hours with “urgent questions” about the project, which invariably drifted into more personal conversations.

She was a subtle huntress. She shared stories of her “loneliness” amidst success, creating a narrative in which he, the good and stable man, was the only one who understood her. She was never vulgar; her seduction was a perfume, not an assault. She would praise Lilian, his wife, which completely disarmed Alex. “You two have something so precious. Take good care of her.” The irony was the bait.

Alex began to rationalize. “It is for the project. I am just being a good colleague, a good Christian.” But he started hiding the conversations from Lilian. He started waiting for the notification with her name on it. He was allowing a stranger to get too close to the “apple of his eye.”

The trip to implement the app in a remote community was the perfect setting for the kill. During the day, they worked side by side, surrounded by poverty and need, which created a false sense of shared purpose. At night, the team would gather at the small hotel, exhausted.

On one of these nights, Simone called him out to the balcony. “I need some advice,” she said, her voice low, the moon illuminating the vulnerability on her face. She spoke of an “abusive ex-boyfriend,” painting a picture of fragility that awakened Alex’s protective instinct. He felt like the hero of her story.

“You’re such a good man, Alex,” she whispered, moving closer. “So safe.”

At that moment, all the alarms his conscience had been sounding for weeks were silenced by vanity. He was no longer the logical programmer. He was the fool who, flattered, forgot the danger.

What happened next was not an explosion of passion, but a silent, shameful surrender. It was as if he were watching a stranger in his own body.

The next morning, reality hit him with the force of a physical blow. Simone was different. The vulnerability had vanished, replaced by a casual, almost cold, familiarity. She treated him like a colleague, nothing more. There was no drama, no promises, no guilt. Just a silence that accused him.

He looked at himself and saw himself with a horrifying clarity. He had not been her hero; he had been just an item checked off a list, a conquest. The hunt was over.

He was the ox going to the slaughter.

The flight back was torture. Every mile that brought him closer to home was another step toward the life he had set on fire. As he walked into his living room, the smell of his home, his daughter’s drawing pinned to the fridge, the photo of his wedding in the picture frame—everything that was once his source of peace was now his sentence.

Lilian greeted him with a hug. And in that embrace, he fell apart. The guilt broke him.

He did not know if his marriage would survive. He did not know how he would rebuild the trust he had pulverized. He only knew that, in a moment of foolish vanity, he had let the hunter get too close. He had not kept his commandments, had not protected the apple of his eye. And now, like the bird flying into the snare, he was trapped, not knowing that it would cost him his life. The life that he, so carefully, had built.

(Made with AI)

This story is part of my book Everyday Wisdom

https://books2read.com/u/3knogL