TWO TREASURES

Which will you choose?

TWO TREASURES

Ezekiel was young enough to believe that every shining thing was worth owning. But what occurred next had him wondering…

Standing in a narrow hall made of polished stone and glass, he gazed at two chests that were in front of him. His elderly grandfather had set him out on a quest.

The two chests looked nearly identical, but distinctly different.

One was beautifully etched with tiny letters and symbols, layered upon one another like the pages of a thousand books.

The other was plain—wooden, worn at the edges, and strangely warm to the touch.

Above them, written in soft light, were the words:

Wisdom.

Knowledge.

Ezekiel frowned.

“Are they not the same?” he whispered.

A Voice- quiet, but not distant—answered him from somewhere behind his own breath.

“Both are treasures.”

He smiled at the words.

He remembered what he had learned somewhere, (probably from his family) but never fully understood:

“…that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, and attaining to all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the knowledge of the mystery of God, both of the Father and of Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”

Both were treasures.

But why, then, did his heart feel restless in their presence?

Was he to choose?

When he reached toward the chest of knowledge, the room shifted.

And he was no longer in the hall.

~~~

Is this a dream?

He thought in dismay as he beheld a city that never seemed to sleep.

Screens glowed like small suns. Voices overlapped. People hurried past one another with eyes fixed forward, their hands full of devices and their mouths full of opinions.

He watched a man argue brilliantly—cutting down another with clever words. The crowd applauded.

He watched a woman rise quickly in influence, not because she spoke truth, but because she spoke what everyone already wanted to hear.

He watched students recite facts perfectly, yet mock kindness as weakness and humility as foolishness.

Their shelves were full.

Their minds were sharp.

Their hearts were thin.

And everywhere Ezekiel looked, people were measuring themselves—by followers, by money, by success, by visibility.

A man brushed past him hurriedly, seeing his confusion, and laughed.

“Knowing is power,” he said. “And power is survival. The survival of the fittest.”

Ezekiel felt the pressure and the weight of living this way.

This was knowledge without a compass.

Then the same quiet voice spoke again:

“This is what the world calls wisdom.”

And suddenly, another line rose in Ezekiel’s memory like a dividing wall:

“And my speech and my preaching were not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power… that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.”

The city shimmered—and fell away.

~~~~

Next he stood beneath an open sky.

The air was completely still. It was as if everything had paused. He could only hear his own breath.

He observed a narrow path curving through a garden.

Not a wild garden—but a carefully tended one. Every branch leaned where it was meant to grow. Light rested gently on leaves as though it had been invited.

At the center stood two trees he recognized.

One drew his eyes immediately to it. Its fruit glowed softly, smooth and perfect. It seemed to promise clarity. Control. Mastery. Answers to every question.

The other tree was quieter. Its beauty was not in its fruit, but in the way its roots disappeared into deep, unseen soil.

Ezekiel’s chest tightened. He held his breath.

He knew this place.

Not because he had read about it.

But because something ancient in his spirit recognized the silence.

He took a step closer.

A Figure stood nearby—not imposing, not dramatic—only steady.

And the Voice spoke again, closer now than before.

“Once, the first man stood here too.”

Ezekiel looked at the glowing fruit.

It did not promise obedience.

It promised independence.

It did not promise life.

It promised certainty.

He whispered, almost afraid of the answer:

“Was it wrong to want to know?”

The Figure did not rebuke him.

“No.”

“But it was wrong to want knowledge without trust.”

“It was wrong to reach for understanding without surrender.”

“It was wrong to take what looked like wisdom—without asking Me to be your counselor.”

Ezekiel felt the truth of it settle in him like rain into dry ground.

He remembered another word his grandfather had often said, one he had heard but rarely practiced:

Wisdom must be asked for.

Not gathered.

Not mastered.

Not taken.

Given.

And suddenly he understood the ache he had felt in the city.

Knowledge had shown people what could be done.

But wisdom would have shown them what should be done.

~~~

The garden faded gently, and Ezekiel found himself back in the hall.

The two chests waited.

He opened the first.

Inside the chest of knowledge were scrolls and images—patterns of the world, laws of nature, strategies, systems, arguments, languages, histories, and discoveries. He felt his mind sharpen just by looking at them.

But when he lifted one scroll, it was heavy.

Not with truth.

With responsibility.

He opened the second chest.

There was no scroll.

No diagram.

No formula.

Only a soft, living light—like breath, like warmth, like presence.

And with it came understanding that did not arrive through thought, but through peace.

The Voice finally spoke his name.

“Ezekiel…”

“Knowledge informs the mind.”

“Wisdom forms the soul.”

And then, like a gentle unveiling, another Scripture unfolded inside him:

“But God has revealed them to us through His Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God.”

He dropped to his knees without knowing why.

And then the truth became clear.

Knowledge can tell you what is true.

Wisdom teaches you how to live inside that truth.

Knowledge can describe God.

Wisdom walks with Him.

Knowledge can impress rulers.

Wisdom listens to the Spirit.

Knowledge can make you powerful.

Wisdom makes you obedient.

He finally dared to ask the question that had followed him since the city, since the garden, since the first moment he had seen the chests.

“Which treasure should I choose?”

The Presence did not hurry him.

Instead, He answered with kindness.

“You were never meant to choose between them.”

This made him wonder.

“Both are hidden in Christ.”

But then came the part that pierced him gently:

“Only one can be activated.”

Ezekiel lifted his face.

“How?”

The answer was almost tender.

“Ask the Holy Spirit to counsel you.”

“Let Him be your Counselor.”

“When you belong to Jesus, knowledge is given…”

“but wisdom must be received.”

And Ezekiel finally began to understand.

The great tragedy of the garden was not the gaining of knowledge.

It was the refusal of counsel.

The great hope of redemption was not the loss of understanding.

It was the return of the Counselor.

So he closed the chest of knowledge carefully.

And he opened his hands.

Not to take.

But to receive.

‭‭Colossians‬ ‭2‬:‭2‬-‭3‬ ‭

‭‭I Corinthians‬ ‭2‬:‭4‬-‭10‬

Two treasures lay at my feet, Lord,

Which one should I seek?

One glints with answers unending,

Words and wonders that speak.

This other hums with quiet life,

A presence thats deep and sweet,

Not measured by the mind’s triumph,

But by our heartbeat.

Knowledge can fill my hands, Oh Lord,

But your wisdom forms my soul;

One informs what is true, O God,

The other makes me alive and whole.

So teach me, Holy Spirit, day by day,

To walk by faith and not by sight,

And so abide

To always walk in your counsel

And so trust Your voice,

Amidst the glamour and noise.

Christ alone, be our wisdom