Proverbs 21:19-29

Verse 9 again, stronger: better the empty desert than a home full of contention and temper. The bitterest poison can be mixed into the sweetest cup earth offers — two people made one flesh, but not joined to the Lord. (And in fairness, the misery runs both directions: a man may escape a scolding wife more easily than a woman can escape a brutal, tyrannizing husband.) A quarrelsome home is its own wilderness, with none of the wilderness's quiet.

The wise man's house holds reserves — treasure and oil, something laid by for need and for generous hospitality; the fool runs through everything and keeps nothing. Godliness is no desert; it tends to provide and to store. (We are to give alms of all we possess, but we are not called to give away all we possess — the wise steward keeps something to steward.) The grandest treasure in any house, prince's or pauper's, is the Book of God on the shelf and in the heart.

Chase righteousness and mercy and you will find more than you chased — life, righteousness, and honour, pressed down and running over. Note the word follow: this is the Christian's standard — "not as though I had already attained... but I follow after" (Philippians 3:12) — an eager pursuit, like a hunter who will not quit the trail. But guard the verse from the merit-mongers: this following is not for the sake of the reward, and the reward it finds is not wages earned but a reward of grace, infinitely above our faint and sinful efforts. It is in the strength of Christ that we follow at all: His righteousness is the ground of our hope, His grace the fountain of our supply. Pursue hard; rest wholly.

One wise man can take a fortress that a whole army holds, because he knows the single point where its strength can be broken. Wisdom beats brute force — and the lesson for the weak believer is sweet: your very sense of weakness drives you to lean wholly on God, and so the heavenly city is scaled not by the strong but by the dependent. The weakest believer is victorious through the blood of the Lamb.

Guard your mouth and you guard your life from a world of trouble — most of our worst troubles, including a wounded conscience and self-accusation, walk in through unguarded lips. This is more than mere restraint; it is consecration — keep the tongue for God's service. Let prudence and the fear of God stand like two sentinels at the door of your lips; the tongue needs more than a double bridle.

Here is almost a dictionary definition of the scorner — proud, haughty, dealing in arrogant rage, the man who sets himself above God and truth and is, at bottom, simply mad with pride. And note: God Himself hangs the name on him. The proud man, hunting for praise, earns instead the very label "proud" that he cannot stand to hear — and we must never separate the name God gives from the doom God attaches to it. Pharaoh, Sennacherib, Haman all wore the name and met the doom.

The sluggard is killed by his own desires — and notice the irony: it is not that he wants nothing, but that he wants and will not work, so the craving itself becomes a kind of slow self-murder. If he could work with his tongue and his feet, he would be industrious; but he hates the labor of his hands. The warning reaches the man who keeps wishing he were a Christian and never acts on it: a desire for grace is not grace, and dead desires are deadly desires. Beware the sluggard's prayer — the wish that never moves the hands.

The covetous man spends his whole day longing for more and grasping at it; the righteous man does the opposite — he gives, and gives freely, without grudging. The good man does not even want to eat alone the morsel his own sweat earned. Two souls, two appetites: one forever pulling in, one freely pouring out, and only one of them is ever satisfied.

Here is the back guardrail, matching verse 3. A wicked man's religious offering is already an abomination to God — and how much more disgusting when he brings it as a deliberate cover, performing worship to mask the sin he means to keep. A divine institution itself becomes an abomination when used this way (remember Cain). The lesson is the order of the gospel: make the tree good first, and then the fruit — men must not wait until they "feel in a better frame" to come, but come to be made new; and nothing under heaven is more detestable than gilding vice with professions of religion. (Even so, the door of prayer remains the wicked man's one refuge — let him come, but come to be changed, not to bargain.)

The liar's testimony perishes — a lie has no feet to stand on — but the man who actually heard, who speaks only what he truly knows, speaks with a word that endures. A man can be a false witness simply by carelessly repeating what he never verified, claiming more certainty than his evidence warrants even when he happens to be right. Lying lips last a moment; the lip of truth is established forever — as it is in the One who is "the faithful and true witness" (Revelation 3:14).

The wicked man brazens it out — he hardens his face, putting on a front of defiance, full of devices to harden himself (comparing himself to worse men, presuming on more time). The upright man does the opposite: he does not harden his face, he examines his way — he proves where he is walking and corrects his course, fearful to take a single step alone. A hardened face is the fearful banner of a hardened heart; and to the man who orders his way aright, God will show His salvation.