By Jeff Scoggins

“When the Counselor comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who goes out from the Father, he will testify about me.” —John 15:26

It’s early morning and I watch the sun rise over the hills, burning away patches of fog trapped in low-lying areas. With the wise old man’s permission I sit nearby to observe. He sits as usual in his rocking chair on the porch of his ancient, sturdy cabin. The soft breeze moves his long, wispy beard, which precisely matches the grey of the log walls behind him. A lazy hound dog lies beside him, her chin resting on her paws.

The wise old man has sat in this spot for as long as anyone can remember, not because he has nothing to do but because he has so much to do. He is the most respected and loved counselor in the region, even the country. People travel far to seek his advice and his blessing on every subject imaginable. But usually they come to discuss one subject in particular: love and marriage. Not only is this subject a primary concern for “his children,” as the old man calls everyone, it is also clearly his favorite counseling subject.

The reason that advice on love and marriage is in such demand is because marriages here are still arranged. Indeed they are arranged far in advance of the child’s birth, and in most cases the couple will not physically meet until their wedding day.

Communication between the bride and groom-to-be is encouraged so that ideally they will fall in love before the wedding. But communication with someone you have never met presents obvious obstacles.

This is why people prize the counsel of the wise old man. To watch him in action is beautiful to anyone with the ability to appreciate complicated simplicity, direct tact, and tough compassion.

For the old counselor each day is at the same time typical and different. The questions and problems presented to him usually begin the same and always end the same, but the path he takes is different for each person. I had once considered codifying the old man’s instruction, but I now see that would be impossible. Asked why he answers the same question in different ways he replies simply, “My children are different.”

Most conversations begin like this: The old man asks how he can help. The young person says that she is trying to get to know her fiancé and is struggling. The old man asks what she is currently doing, and this is where the conversation varies as the old man asks questions designed to penetrate to the heart of the problem, which seems always to be heart problem.

The sun is still low over the hills when his first visitor of the day walks into the cabin clearing. It’s a young lady. She sits before the old man and tells him that her fiancé is an artist and that she enjoys viewing his art. A few questions draw out of her the fact the she is quite particular about which of his art she will view. Finally, the old man delivers his verdict. “In your fiancé’s art you seek not your fiancé, you seek beauty. You avoid his works that seem to you to be ugly or uncomfortable. Seek him in all of his works. To be sure you will encounter beauty, but do not seek it. Seek him.”

Next a young man sits before the counselor and explains that his bride-to-be is a best-selling author. He endeavors to know her by reading. Again, the old man’s questions penetrate to the heart of the problem and causes the young man to realize that he reads what others say about his future wife far more than he reads what she has written. “You do not seek to know her, you seek information about her. Seek her.”

To another (whose situation to me seems identical to the last) the counselor delivers different advice. “Although you read primarily the writings of your future husband you do not seek him. You seek knowledge. Seek him.”

The counselor’s advice to the fiancé of a musician: “In his music you seek emotion. Seek him.”

Advice to another: “You seek personal faithfulness and discipline. Seek her.”

To another: “You seek the impossible and the unnecessary because you seek to deserve him. Serve and do, but in doing seek him.”

To another: “In defending her you do not seek her glory but your own. Do not defend her. Seek her.”

To another: “You seek to be heard. Seek him.”

To another: “You seek benefits, not relationship. Seek her.”

At the end of the day I asked the old man, “Is the answer always seek him or seek her?”

“It is,” replied the old man.

“With that knowledge,” I replied, “Can I also be a wise counselor?”

“Indeed,” he replied, “so long as your purpose is not to be a counselor.”

“What should my purpose be,” I asked.

He replied, “Have you already forgotten the answer?”