An unschooled man who knows how to meditate upon the Lord has

“An unschooled man who knows how to meditate upon the Lord has learned far more than the man with the highest education who does not know how to meditate.” — Thus spoke Charles Stanley, a shepherd of souls and a teacher of spiritual wisdom. In this saying lies a truth as ancient as the mountains: that the wisdom of the spirit surpasses the knowledge of the mind, and that communion with the Divine awakens a light no worldly education can grant. For while the scholar may know the paths of the stars, only the one who meditates upon the Lord knows the path to his own heart.

To meditate upon the Lord is to dwell in the silence of reverence, to listen not with the ear but with the soul. It is the art of turning inward — not to escape the world, but to discover the eternal presence that animates it. The unschooled man, untrained in the sciences and philosophies of men, yet anchored in divine contemplation, possesses a wisdom the learned often overlook. His understanding is not of the intellect but of the heart, not built upon books but upon the living experience of faith. Charles Stanley, a man of deep devotion, understood that spiritual insight is not measured by scholarship, but by intimacy with God.

Throughout the ages, this truth has echoed in many forms. King David, though once a shepherd boy without formal learning, became the poet of the Psalms — verses that have guided countless souls toward the divine. He was not taught by sages, yet in his solitude beneath the stars, he learned to commune with the Almighty. His meditations became songs of trust, repentance, and praise — wisdom born not of scrolls, but of silence before God. In contrast, King Saul, though powerful and learned, fell into despair because he could not hear the still, small voice of the Spirit. Thus, the one who meditates with humility gains more understanding than the one who studies without devotion.

True education without spiritual grounding can become like a house without foundation — full of brilliance yet hollow, majestic yet fragile. The mind may be filled with knowledge, but without divine guidance, it lacks direction. The man who meditates upon the Lord, however simple his learning, is never lost. For his compass is eternal; his heart is tuned to the wisdom that shaped creation. When he acts, he acts with discernment. When he speaks, his words carry peace. For he has touched the source of all truth — not through intellect, but through presence.

Consider also Mother Teresa, who had little in the way of formal education. Yet through her constant communion with God, she learned the deepest mysteries of love and compassion. Her meditations upon the Lord were not spent in luxury, but among the poor, the dying, the forgotten. The power of her work did not come from worldly knowledge, but from divine wisdom born of stillness, prayer, and humility. The learned men of her time wrote theories about service; she embodied it. Such is the difference between knowing about God and knowing God.

Charles Stanley’s words call us back to the ancient truth that the heart’s understanding surpasses the intellect’s pride. To meditate upon the Lord is to sit in the classroom of eternity, where the lessons are not written in ink, but in spirit. This meditation does not reject learning — it sanctifies it. When the scholar bends his intellect before God, his learning becomes illumination. When the humble man contemplates the Divine, his simplicity becomes wisdom. For the light of Heaven cannot enter a heart closed by arrogance, but it fills the soul that kneels in wonder.

So, my child, if you would be truly wise, seek not only the teachings of men, but the presence of the Eternal. Study, yes — for knowledge is a gift — but do not mistake it for wisdom. Before you read, pray. Before you speak, listen. Before you act, meditate. Sit in silence each day, if only for a few moments, and let your thoughts rest upon the Lord. In that stillness, you will find clarity beyond logic, peace beyond reasoning, and guidance that surpasses all instruction.

For in the end, as Stanley taught, it is not the size of one’s education, but the depth of one’s communion with God that defines true learning. The scholar may fill libraries, but the humble believer fills his soul. And when the final lesson of life is given, it will not be the learned who are greatest, but the ones who have listened longest in the quiet of their hearts — those who have meditated upon the Lord, and in doing so, have found the wisdom that never fades.