Sunday, September 20, 2026

Today, wisdom is obedience that creates distance.

My son, pay attention to my wisdom. Turn your ear to my understanding, that you may maintain discretion, that your lips may preserve knowledge. For the lips of an adulteress drip honey. Her mouth is smoother than oil, but in the end she is as bitter as wormwood, and as sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death. Her steps lead straight to Sheol. She gives no thought to the way of life. Her ways are crooked, and she doesn’t know it. Now therefore, my sons, listen to me. Don’t depart from the words of my mouth. Remove your way far from her. Don’t come near the door of her house,
Proverbs 5:1–8

The command to move far from seductive danger asks a personal question: where are you still choosing to stand? Wisdom notices what desire edits out. Honey coats the mouth; the end is bitter. Smooth words can hide a sharpened path, and crooked steps can feel reasonable while you take them.

Your condition may be more deliberate than helpless. You already know the danger, but you treat nearness as control. You trust a false refuge: the belief that good intentions can guard you while you linger at the door. That is not discretion. It is permission wearing respectable clothing. The warning names a road that descends toward death, not a harmless experiment.

Christ does not bless your proximity. At the cross, he bears the guilt of the steps you should have refused, so confession can leave the crooked path. By his indwelling Spirit, he gives wisdom a bodily obedience: close the screen, end the exchange, change the route, tell the truth. Wisdom does not merely name the blade; it moves your feet away from its sweetness. What boundary will you obey before the smooth voice asks for more?

Wisdom does not merely name the blade; it moves your feet away from its sweetness.
Prayer

Lord Jesus, forgive my false confidence and make your wisdom strong enough in me to leave seductive danger.