We know a lot about our hobbies. We choose something that feels like play to us, something we do just for the delight of it, and the hours we spend doing it fly by. We work hard at this play, striving to become a better swimmer or cyclist, a better cook or painter, to master something new. 

And we know a lot about our families. It doesn't take long for a new parent to crack the code of a baby's cries: which one means hunger, which a wet diaper, which means honest-to-God pain. Let us live together long enough and we can read each other like a book. 

How do we get to know the things we know? By caring enough about them to spend the time it takes to learn them.

Oh, I see what Jesus means! He's not contrasting worldly knowledge with spiritual knowledge to its disadvantage; he's merely pointing out that we will learn those things we consider important, and will remain ignorant of the ones we don't care much about. 

So where is the spiritual meaning of your days, in your hierarchy of important things? Is the conversation with God in your life a thing you've made it your business to learn about by spending time at it? It's a relationship, after all, and any relationship requires frequent checking in. People who love each other need to talk to each other. We who want to learn the love of God won't do so if we never show up. We won't be punished for it; it's not that kind of a relationship. We'll just learn about other things instead. 

How to show up? Sit quietly and listen. Read the words of somebody whose spirituality you respect. Play music that lifts your soul. And ask: Show me yourself. Starting here, starting now, I will be watching for you.