The treasure I keep asking God to uncover

Solomon humbly receives the gift of wisdom, a treasure found by those willing to keep digging.

Every time I walk into a church, I pause at the holy water font. I dip my fingers into the water, face the altar, stand up straight, make the Sign of the Cross, and say a small prayer that has become part of how I enter and leave the church.

Bless me, Father, with your Son, and the Holy Spirit. Come into my heart and fill me with your love and wisdom.

If I am there for a conversation or meeting, I sometimes add one more line.

Lord, I ask for the wisdom you gave Solomon. No more or no less. Guide me through this conversation or meeting.

I have prayed those words so many times that I do not always stop to think about where they came from. This past Sunday, the readings made me reflect on them more.

In the first reading, God appeared to Solomon in a dream and told him to ask for something. Solomon could have asked for a long life, riches, or the life of his enemies. Instead, he admitted that he did not know how to lead the people placed in his care.

He asked, “Give your servant, therefore, an understanding heart to judge your people and to distinguish right from wrong.” (1 Kings 3:9)

That is the wisdom I have been asking for.

Not the wisdom to impress people. Not the wisdom to have every answer. Not even the wisdom to see the whole road ahead. Just an understanding heart that can recognize what is right and the courage to follow it.

No more than Solomon asked.

No less than I need.

There is something humbling about Solomon’s prayer. He was already king, but he did not act as though the title made him ready. He stood before God and admitted that the responsibility was greater than his own ability.

I understand that feeling.

I have spent a long time discerning what God may be asking of me next. I have wondered about the diaconate, about service in the Church, and about how the different parts of my life may fit into a purpose I still cannot fully see. Some days I feel certain that God is leading me somewhere. Other days I wonder whether I have understood any of it correctly.

The temptation in discernment is to ask God to confirm the future I have already pictured. Solomon’s prayer turns that around. He does not ask God to approve his plan. He asks God to shape his heart.

Maybe that is what I need most too.

Not a clear view of everything that comes next. Not a promise of a position or title. Not proof that my hopes are correct. I need the wisdom to know what God is asking of me today, and enough humility to admit when I do not know.

Then, as lector, I stood at the ambo and proclaimed Saint Paul’s words to the Romans.

“We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

I have prayed with that line before, especially the part about being called. But the next words are just as important. Paul says that those God calls are meant “to be conformed to the image of his Son.” (Romans 8:29)

That changes the question.

God’s call is not first about what role I might someday have. It is about whether I am becoming more like Jesus. More willing to serve. More patient when the answer is slow. More obedient when the path is different from what I expected. More humble when I would rather be certain.

That is difficult for me because I want to know where I am going. I want to understand how all the pieces fit together. I want to know whether the desires placed on my heart are pointing toward something real or whether I am holding too tightly to my own plans.

Paul does not promise that I will understand every step. He reminds me that God is still working through all of it. The waiting. The service. The disappointment. The encouragement. Even the uncertainty can be used to shape me into the image of Christ.

That thought followed me into the Gospel and into Father’s homily.

Jesus said, “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field.” (Matthew 13:44)

Father spoke about that treasure as the gift we received in Baptism. God placed His life within us. He claimed us as His children and gave us the Holy Spirit. The treasure is already there, even when we forget its value.

That brought me back to the holy water font.

Every time I touch that water, I am remembering my Baptism. I am remembering that God called me long before I began asking what my future might hold. Before the discernment, before the service, before anyone ever suggested what I might become, I was already His.

The Holy Spirit was already at work within me, and wisdom was among His gifts. At Confirmation, that baptismal grace was strengthened, and I was sealed more firmly with the Spirit to live and witness to the faith.

But a gift can be received and still be neglected.

Father talked about how we sometimes bury the treasure deeper through sin. The treasure does not disappear, but we can pile so much dirt over it that we forget where it is.

I can see how that happens in my own life.

Pride adds another layer of soil. Selfishness adds another. Anger, distraction, fear, and the need to control the outcome can bury the gift deeper until I stop reaching for it. I begin trusting my own judgment more than God’s wisdom. I become so focused on what I want the answer to be that I stop listening for what He is actually saying.

The treasure never loses its value. I simply make it harder to live from.

Maybe humility is what keeps me digging.

Humility brings me back to Confession when sin has covered what God gave me. It brings me back to prayer when my own voice becomes too loud. It helps me admit that receiving a gift does not mean I always use it well.

Solomon had already been chosen as king, but he still needed to ask for wisdom. I have already been baptized and confirmed, but I still need God’s help to uncover and use what He placed within me.

That may be why my prayer at the font matters so much. I am not asking God to send wisdom from somewhere far away. I am asking Him to clear away whatever keeps me from recognizing the gift, listening to His voice, and using it well.

I am also asking for His love because wisdom without love can become cold. Knowing the right thing is not enough if I do not say it with kindness. Recognizing what should be done is not enough if I use that knowledge to make myself look important. God’s wisdom should make me more loving, more patient, and more like Christ.

Maybe that is why those words came together in my prayer long before I understood how they belonged together.

The next time I walk into a church, I will stop at the font again. I will dip my fingers into the water, face the altar, and make the Sign of the Cross.

I will remember the treasure God placed within me at Baptism.

Then I will pray the same prayer.

Bless me, Father, with your Son, and the Holy Spirit. Come into my heart and fill me with your love and wisdom.

The wisdom of Solomon.

No more.

No less.

And enough humility to keep digging.