Proverbs 9:10 – Today’s Verse for April 13, 2025 Sunday

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the holy is understanding.“
— Proverbs 9:10 KJV

Reflection on Today's Verse

Let’s be honest—“fear” doesn’t exactly sound like the gateway to wisdom. But this kind of fear isn’t about hiding or trembling. It’s about awe. It’s standing in front of God’s greatness and realizing we are very small—and very loved.

Wisdom doesn’t start with books or brains. It starts when we admit we’re not in charge. When we stop pretending we’ve got it all figured out and look up instead of around. That’s where it begins—knowing God, respecting His holiness, and realizing grace is not earned, but given.

Understanding isn’t just knowing facts about God. It’s knowing Him. And once that happens, everything else starts to make sense—even the parts that don’t.

Personal Prayer

Lord, You are holy, wise, and far beyond my understanding—yet You invite me close. Help me to fear You rightly—not with dread, but with deep respect and wonder. Teach my heart to see You as You are: mighty, merciful, and full of grace.

I confess, I chase knowledge everywhere but forget that true wisdom starts with You. Pull me back. Quiet the noise. Show me how to live with reverence, not arrogance. Fill me with the kind of understanding that doesn’t puff up, but bows low.

Make my life reflect Your wisdom—not to impress, but to honor You. Teach me to walk in step with Your truth, one surrendered step at a time. Amen. (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12)

Author

Alona
Alona Smith writes like she sketches—quick strokes, bold colors, no eraser. She ran a small-town art studio before VerseForTheDay invited her to swap charcoal for chapters, yet paint still flecks her keyboard. Dawn finds her barefoot on the porch, swirling watercolors across a travel Bible, letting sunrise seep into the margins. Neighbors wave as she bikes to the farmers’ market, basket rattling with sunflowers and Psalms scribbled on kraft-paper price tags.Alona trusts that Scripture behaves like clay: press your palms in, and a vessel appears where empty air once lived. Afternoon workshops with foster teens prove the point; they mold hope into coffee mugs, then watch steam carry it forward.Diplomas? Only framed sketches of hands lifted in worship. Awards? A dog-eared gratitude list taped to her fridge. Open her reflections when cynicism scratches—she’ll slide a brush into your grip and show you light hiding in the smear of everyday color.