[If] thou losest courage in the day of trouble, thy strength is small.
Trouble takes a measurement. Give way on the bad day, and the collapse itself shows how much strength was there — and where it had been coming from.
Trouble does not create the problem; it shows it. One writer reads the verse as a test of how far the heart trusts the Lord:
"If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small" (verse 10). The hour of trial is the hour which brings the test. When adversity brings despondency, and even worse, complaining, it is evidence that the heart does not fully trust the Lord.
The verse assumes the day will come. One writer asks whether anyone could escape suffering in a world like this:
Sadly, how few of us can bear adversity! "If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small." And yet can we, would we, escape suffering in a world like this? In one form or another, at one time or another, it must come.
One writer starts with the person who has no faith, then turns to Peter walking on the water toward Jesus:
A day of trouble naturally alarms and bewilders anyone who does not have faith and hope in God. Even the believer was distressed. Christ's word had given him courage to join his Master on the sea, but when he saw how strong the wind was, he was afraid and began to sink. Had he looked off to Jesus, his strength had been great, for there only it lay. Little faith is little strength. Jesus is the same to us whatever the sea or the wind; and Peter apart from looking to Jesus would have sunk equally on the smoothest sea without a puff of wind.
So the verse is not a scolding for being weak. It asks which strength you were leaning on:
Of course, if we trust our own strength, we will find it small indeed. But if we have found our strength in the Lord, we shall have no lack. As Paul says, "I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Phil. 4:13). But we are not to use that strength selfishly. Rather, there are those who, in their weakness, are being taken away to death (v. 11). If we have the strength of the Lord, we ought to use it for such victims.
Verse 11 calls for the rescue of people being taken away to death. One writer weighs that against using strength on ourselves:
To use strength for ourselves has no worth. But to rescue those in danger of unjust death — from any source, public or private — is fitting for a righteous soul. It is a duty that does not depend on friendship or on any claim of being a neighbour. The Samaritan was the Lord's answer to the lawyer's question, Who is my neighbour? Without the least thought of justifying himself, he became neighbour to the sufferer who needed his help.
In Jesus' story, the Samaritan was a traveller who stopped for a wounded stranger after two religious men had walked past.
If fainting is the danger, what guards against it? One writer names two things that keep joy from draining away:
Is trouble sometimes the reason our joy fades? "If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small." Let us consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself. This will give us patient endurance, and it will not decrease our joy. Closely connected with this is persevering in prayer. Joy and endurance really are dependent things — they depend on communion with the Lord. It is good for us not to let this slip, for a little carelessness here can have dreadful results.
- Signal. Trouble does not make you weak — it reports what strength was already there. Despondency and complaining show a heart not fully trusting the Lord.
- Storm. Few of us bear adversity well, yet in a world like this it must come, in one form or another, at one time or another. No one is exempt.
- Source. "Little faith is little strength." Peter sank because he looked at the wind. He would have sunk on a calm sea just the same. Strength lay only in looking to Jesus.
- Supply. Our own strength proves small indeed; strength found in the Lord has no lack — "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
- Spending. Strength used for ourselves is worth nothing. It proves itself when we rescue people being taken away to death — a duty owed even to strangers, as the Samaritan showed.
Deliver them that are taken forth unto death, and withdraw not from them that stagger to slaughter.
This verse turns courage into a specific demand: take hold of the people who are on their way to death. Commentators treat it as a test of what our strength is for, and they close off the excuse that we did not know.
One writer asks where our strength comes from, and what it is meant to be spent on.
Of course, if we trust our own strength, we will find it small indeed. But if we have found our strength in the Lord, we will lack nothing. As Paul says, "I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Phil. 4:13). But that strength is not to be used selfishly. Instead, there are those who, in their weakness, are "being taken away to death" (v. 11). If we have the strength of the Lord, we ought to use it for such victims.
The verse names no relationship — no friend, no countryman. One commentator shows how far the duty reaches, and how the Lord answered a man who asked who counts as his neighbour.
Using strength for ourselves has no worth. But rescuing those who are in danger of an unjust death, from whatever source, public or private, is fitting for a righteous soul. It is a duty independent of either friendship or neighbourly claim. The Samaritan was the Lord's answer to the lawyer's question, Who is my neighbour? He never tried to justify himself. He became a neighbour to the man who needed his help.
Verse 12 answers our defence before we make it. We will say we did not realise.
Suppose we ignore the needs of those in trouble, using the excuse that we did not know their condition (v. 12). Let us consider that God knows exactly whether this is true. Mere excuses will have no weight with Him. We cannot expect to escape the results of not caring for the needs of others. God will render to each according to his deeds.
The same writer points to two men who once tried that excuse:
The priest and the Levite said of the man lying half dead on the other side of the road, "We did not know." It was no use: the LORD considered it.
The same writer looks past the command to what moves a person to obey it.
Being sure that He keeps your soul sets His knowledge of everything before your heart. We may believe this is what moved the Samaritan to mercy. With it comes the certainty that He renders to each man according to his work.
Another writer asks what real separation from evil looks like. His test is the neighbour we walk past.
True separation from evil is Christ-likeness. It moves about among our fellow men, but it is of an altogether different spirit from that of this world, with other motives, desires and ambitions… What about our brother who lives in our street, in our neighbourhood? We have often seen him, but we have never done anything to show our love to him. Will it do at the judgment seat to say he was not "of us," so we were justified in ignoring him? … If our excuse is, "Oh, he is all wrong," this only makes our own case worse, because the need was all the greater.
One more writer takes the rescue further, to those who die in their sins:
Ought we not to be more alive to the awful condition and destiny of those who die in their sins? Are we doing all we might to rescue our fellow men from the danger hanging over them? Is it right to fold our arms and say, with chilling indifference, "God will save the elect, we can do nothing"? We believe it to be simply heartless cruelty to souls.
- Strength given — real strength comes from the Lord. He gives it to spend on people in danger, not on ourselves.
- Rescue owed — the duty does not rest on friendship or on any claim of neighbourhood. The Samaritan became a neighbour by meeting the need in front of him.
- Excuse refused — say "we did not know," and God still knows exactly whether that is true.
- Motive supplied — the God who sees everything is the God who keeps your soul. That conviction moved the Samaritan to mercy.
- Reckoning coming — God renders to each according to his work. Folded arms and the plea "he was not one of us" will not clear us.
If thou sayest, Behold, we knew it not, will not he that weigheth the hearts consider it? And he that preserveth thy soul, he knoweth it; and he rendereth to man according to his work.
Proverbs 24:12 answers an excuse before the speaker finishes making it. Someone has failed to rescue a person heading for death, and the defence is ignorance. The verse replies with two questions about who really knows the heart.
The same test appears again and again in Proverbs. One writer lines this verse up with another that says the same.
Whatever the lips profess, "as he thinks in his heart so he is." "Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but the LORD weighs the heart" (Prov. 21:2). "Does not He who weighs the heart perceive it?" (Prov. 24:12).
One writer connects this weighing to words of Peter, and finds comfort in them.
Self-justification suits the natural man but the Lord tests all hearts. How well it is to remember in all our conduct that truth, so comforting to the believer, expressed by Peter, "You know all things."
One writer hears this excuse in a story Jesus told about a priest and a Levite — two temple men who walked past a wounded traveller.
The priest and the Levite spoke in vain about the man lying half dead on the other side of the road. They said, "We did not know it." But the Lord considered it.
The excuse fails because the One who hears it can check it.
Suppose we ignore the needs of those in trouble. Our excuse may be that we did not know their condition (v. 12). But God knows exactly whether this is true, and excuses will have no weight with Him. We cannot expect to avoid the consequences of a lack of care for the needs of others: God will render to each according to his deeds.
There is a difference between not knowing and not wanting to know, and we are quick to confuse the two in our own favour.
We believe we very often plead ignorance, when indifference would be the truer term to use. This is very sad. Our God, in His infinite goodness, has made full provision even for sins of ignorance. But that is no reason to shelter ourselves behind the plea of ignorance. Plenty of information is within our reach, if we only had the energy to use it.
The verse does not say who the person in danger is. One writer says no relationship is needed to make rescue a duty.
To use strength for ourselves has no worth. But it fits a righteous soul to rescue those who face an unjust death, whatever its source, public or private. This duty does not depend on friendship or on any claim of being a neighbour. The Samaritan was the Lord's answer to the lawyer's question, Who is my neighbour? Without the least thought of justifying himself, he becomes neighbour to the sufferer who needed his help.
The excuses we reach for tend to be about who the person is rather than what they need.
We are bound to show love to him — how have we done it? We have every reason to be humbled to the dust, because we have not been a neighbour to our brother. And if our excuse is, "Oh, he is all wrong," that only makes our own case worse. His need was all the greater.
The verse also calls God the keeper of your soul. One writer sees mercy growing out of that thought.
Being sure that He preserves your soul brings His knowledge of everything before the heart. We may believe this is what moved the Samaritan to mercy. Beside it stands the certainty that He repays each person according to his work.
The same duty reaches people who face a danger beyond the body.
Should not the thought of this make us more solemn, more earnest, more real in our dealing with our fellow men? Ought we not to be more alive to the awful condition and destiny of those who die in their sins? Are we doing all we might to rescue our fellows from impending danger?
- Weighed — God does not only see what we do. He weighs the heart, so our motive is already on the scales.
- Excused — "We did not know" was the plea of the priest and the Levite. God knows exactly whether it is true.
- Indifferent — we often say we did not know when the honest word is that we did not care. The facts were within reach.
- Neighboured — the duty stands whether or not the person is a friend, a relative, or one of us. The more wrong he is, the greater his need.
- Rendered — the God who keeps your soul knows all. He repays each person according to his work. That certainty moves mercy.
Eat honey, my son, for it is good; and a honeycomb is sweet to thy taste
A father tells his son to enjoy honey. The taste is real, but it also pictures what wisdom is to the soul, and it asks whether we still hunger for what God calls good.
Before it pictures anything, the verse approves something God made. One writer keeps that plain sense first, and reads God's generosity in it:
Honey is a good thing in nature, where God made all things good. He did not begrudge the honeycomb, sweet to the taste, in a land flowing with milk and honey. He took pleasure in providing good things freely for man, though He knew man would abuse them all.
One writer starts from Canaan, the land God promised His people. He finds two kinds of food there, and warns that the second has a limit the first does not:
The call to eat honey because it is good reminds us that Canaan was a land of milk and honey. Milk speaks of the basic truths of the Word of God. Honey stands for the ministry of the Word by believers. His Word is itself "sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb." It is sweeter than the sweetest ministry of the Word by any believer. But we should gladly receive this too, though not to excess...
The same writer looks at how honey is made, and finds a picture of the church in it:
Honey is gathered by all the worker bees for the benefit of the whole hive. How precious a picture of the unity of the church of God, each individual working for the blessing of all... But we must realise that all human ministry has its limits. We cannot live only on what others gather. However deeply we enjoy the ministry of a man of God, we must be careful not to soak ourselves in his thoughts. We must get to the Word of God ourselves. Scripture itself will never make us sick, though man's thoughts about it may.
The verse is only half of a pair. The next line moves the same taste inward, from the mouth to the soul. Kelly will not let honey be the highest sweetness:
But what is wisdom to your soul? The communications of Jehovah are sweeter still, says Psalm 19. If you have so found it, "there will be a future, and your hope will not be cut off." Whoever does the will of God abides forever.
Another writer explains why the taste matters. Head knowledge on its own does not profit us:
The knowledge of wisdom must be sweet to the soul in this way, or it brings no profit. The mind may acquire it, but it is the heart that enjoys it... for the affections must be guided and governed by the understanding.
The command is not "study honey" but "eat" it. That exposes something about us, because a sweet thing means nothing to a person who is already full:
To experience the sweetness of honey you have to taste it! "One who is full loathes honey, but to one who is hungry everything bitter is sweet" (Prov. 27:7). When our hearts are full with other things, with worldly things, then we have no appetite for the Word. It is a good thing when we are hungry enough to accept every bitter thing our God and Father puts in front of us. This is what comes from reading and taking in the Word of God. It makes us easy to shape in His hands, and willing to do His will, which is always good and acceptable and perfect.
The enjoyment comes with a limit. Darby ties this to the ordinary kindnesses God gives along the way:
Honey is pleasant and good in its place sometimes. The Lord does refresh us with outward mercies, kind things, the friendship of fellow believers, but with caution as to how we use them. "If you have found honey, eat only enough for you, lest you have your fill of it and vomit it." Too much even here does exactly that.
- Gift. The honey is good in itself. God took pleasure in providing it, though He knew man would abuse His gifts.
- Picture. Honey stands for what believers share with each other from the Word. It feeds us, but it never replaces Scripture itself.
- Sweeter. What honey is to the mouth, wisdom is to the soul. God's own words to us are sweeter still.
- Hunger. You only know the sweetness by tasting it. A heart already full of worldly things has no appetite left.
- Result. Honey is eaten by measure and soon gone. Wisdom, once found, leaves a future and a hope that is never cut off.
so consider wisdom for thy soul; if thou hast found it, there shall be a result, and thine expectation shall not be cut off.
The line just before this one spoke of honey, sweet to the taste; here the picture turns to something better — wisdom known by the soul. Finding it secures a future and a hope that cannot be cut off, but what does it mean to know wisdom like that?
The honey in the previous line is not a criticism. It belongs to the good world God made and freely gave.
Honey is naturally a good thing, in a world where God made all things good. He did not begrudge the honeycomb, sweet to the taste, in a land flowing with milk and honey. He had pleasure in providing good things freely for man, though He knew man would abuse them all.
The comparison then moves up a level. What honey is to the mouth, wisdom is to the soul — and God's own words outdo both.
But what is wisdom to your soul? The communications of Jehovah are sweeter still, says Psalm 19. If you have so found it, "there shall be a result, and your expectation shall not be cut off." Whoever does the will of God abides forever.
Kelly reads "there shall be a result" where the ESV has "there will be a future." The sense is the same: what you find comes to something in the end.
The verse does not say wisdom will be knowledge to your mind. It says to your soul, and that word choice carries weight.
The knowledge of wisdom must be sweet to the soul in this way, if it is to profit. The mind may acquire it, but the heart is what enjoys it. So we can well understand why it is not good for a soul to be without knowledge: the understanding must guide and govern the affections.
Facts held only in the head do not do this work. Taste asks you to swallow and enjoy, not just inspect.
Honey pictures more than sweetness. Commentators read it as a picture of one believer's teaching feeding another. That teaching is real food, but it has a limit.
Honey symbolises the ministry of the Word by believers. His Word is itself "sweeter than honey and drippings of the honeycomb." It is sweeter than the sweetest ministry of the Word by any believer. But we should gladly receive that ministry too, though not to excess... Verse 14 shows, however, that good ministry may help to give the knowledge of wisdom. When wisdom is found, it gives a bright outlook, with no fear that one's hope will be cut off.
The verse holds out a reward. But the search it describes is not a calculation. We want wisdom for what it is.
But there is another point, and it applies to all hearts. It is loving wisdom for its own sake, and seeking it with diligence of heart. That means real delight in God's wisdom itself, and a sense of duty to live it out... But in the earthly government of God it brings its reward... But there is more than this — riches that do not perish, and righteousness that the heart delights in as its treasure.
Notice the order: love comes first, reward after. And that reward outlasts anything earthly.
Commentators link the wisdom of Proverbs to a Person. That changes what "if you find it" means.
We will certainly respond gladly to the words "Blessed is the one who finds wisdom, and the one who gets understanding," if we remember that wisdom is personified in Christ, and also that "Christ Jesus … became for us wisdom from God."
The same promise appears earlier in Proverbs. There it goes with a day-long fear of the Lord, and with a warning not to envy those who prosper.
But let no believer's heart envy sinners. Whatever they look like, they stand on slippery ground, and destruction comes on them in a moment. To be in the fear of Jehovah all the day is the true, safe, and happy place. "For surely there is a future," and the saint's "hope will not be cut off." "Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised."
- Taste — Honey is good, and God gave it gladly. But wisdom is what the soul tastes, and God's own words are sweeter still.
- Soul, not just mind — Wisdom must be sweet to the soul to do you good. Knowledge that stops at the head never reaches this promise.
- Fed by others — Teaching from other believers is honey, and it can help you gain wisdom. It never replaces the Word itself, which stands above all ministry.
- Loved first — We seek wisdom for its own sake, out of delight in it. The reward follows, and it includes riches that never perish.
- A hope secured — Wisdom found brings a future and a hope no one can cut off. So do not envy those who prosper. Stay in the fear of the Lord all day, and hold your confidence to the end.
Lay not wait, O wicked [man], against the dwelling of the righteous; lay not waste his resting-place.
This verse speaks to the wicked man himself and warns him off the home of a righteous neighbour. The reason comes in the next line: not that the house is well guarded, but that the man inside keeps getting up again.
The verse does not advise the righteous on home security. It confronts the person planning the raid, and it covers both the quiet plot and the open attack.
The next is a warning to a wicked man to beware of craft or violence against the house of the righteous. Does not Jehovah see?
Lying in wait takes patience. Why would a man spend that effort on a neighbour's house?
The wicked man is now warned how foolish it is to lie in wait against the dwelling of the righteous (v. 15), hoping to gain plunder from him. "For the righteous falls seven times and rises again" (v. 16). At first the wicked may think his evil plans have succeeded. But in the end he will find himself defeated, often by sudden disaster.
Another proverb sets the solid-looking house of the wicked against the frail tent of the upright. The outcome is the opposite of what appearances promise.
In verse 11 it is not "the heart" but "the house" which may rise aloft from deep foundations. But the wicked dwell there, and no security can be for them or theirs in the moral government of God. It shall be overthrown, though the fear of God would not hasten the moment. On the other hand, how exposed to wind and rain is "the tent of the upright"! Yet the unseen hand protects, and it shall flourish.
That is the logic of the warning. The attacker is not up against a household. He is up against the One who guards it.
The next verse gives the reason, and it is a surprising one. The righteous man is not the man who never falls. He is the man who falls and gets up again.
It is true that the righteous may fall again and again — "seven times" — yet he rises again. Look on the one hand at David; on the other at Shimei, Ahithophel, Absalom, and Joab.
Kelly puts one name on the side of the man who falls and rises. The other four stand for the fall that has no recovery.
Read in its setting, the verse belongs to a run of sayings about how the righteous man is to treat those who oppose him — and later Scripture raises the standard higher still.
The Lord takes care of the righteous. He may be overcome by misfortune seven times, yet he will rise again. It is different with the wicked when he falls into trouble. Even so, there must be no rejoicing over the fall of an enemy, and no gladness when he stumbles. This displeases the Lord. The command of the New Testament is higher still: "Love your enemies"; "Repay no one evil for evil"; "overcome evil with good."
Commentators also apply the promise of rising again to the believer's own falls, not only to attacks from outside. So where is the line between a stumble and a deliberate turning away?
It is not slipping, or being "caught in any transgression." It is not even what Peter did, when in an hour of self-confidence he gave way to pressure from outside and denied his Lord. As grievous and dreadful as that sin was, it was not deliberate. The will of the renewed man shrank in horror from such dishonour to his Lord. One look from the Lord Jesus brought that poor, self-confident man back to Him, brokenhearted. This is always what happens where divine life is in the soul. "The righteous falls seven times and rises again."
The picture behind that promise is a house built on rock.
A disciple who wants to be faithful to the Lord and obey His word — that is the wise man in the parable — can fail too. He will not be spared trials either. Some events will shake the life of even the strongest believer to its very foundation. But he knows that his house is built on solid rock and will not fall.
- Addressed. The verse speaks to the wrongdoer, not to the victim. It bans the secret plot and the open attack alike.
- Motive. The ambush aims at plunder. The plotter may think he has won, and then meet sudden disaster.
- Protected. The upright man's tent looks open to wind and rain, but an unseen hand guards it. The grand house of the wicked comes down.
- Resilient. The righteous man falls seven times and gets up again. That rising is the mark of divine life in the soul.
- Higher. The Lord takes care of the righteous, so there is no gladness at an enemy's fall. The New Testament goes further: love your enemies, and overcome evil with good.
For the righteous falleth seven times, and riseth up again; but the wicked stumble into disaster.
Proverbs 24:16 answers a man who is plotting against a righteous neighbour's home. It does not deny that good people go down; it draws the line between a fall you get up from and a collapse you don't.
The line is not a general saying dropped in at random. It gives the reason for the warning just before it. That warning tells an attacker to keep away from the righteous man's home.
The verse now warns the wicked man how foolish it is to lie in wait outside the home of the righteous (v. 15), hoping to rob him. "For the righteous falls seven times and rises again" (v. 16). At first the wicked may think his evil plans have worked. In the end he will find himself defeated, often by sudden disaster.
The contrast is not between one who falls and one who doesn't. Both go down. What separates them is whether they come back up. One writer names men from Israel's history on each side.
The righteous may fall again and again — "seven times" — yet he rises each time. The wicked stumble into disaster. Look on the one hand at David; at Shimei, Ahithophel, Absalom, and Joab on the other.
Some of the falling here is pressure from outside — suffering that strikes a person down. One writer treats that humbling as the very thing that lets a servant's light out.
In order for the light to shine more brightly, the vessel must be humbled... "struck down, but not destroyed." This was deep suffering to the flesh, but as Proverbs tells us, a righteous man may fall seven times, and rise up again (Prov. 24:16).
Another writer sets the same point beside the story of the house built on rock. Shaking will come; the foundation settles the outcome.
A disciple wanting to be faithful to the Lord and obey His word — that is the wise man in our parable — can fail too. Nor will he be spared trials. Events will come that shake even the strongest believer's life to its foundation. But he knows his house stands on solid rock and will not fall.
Other falls are real sin. One writer uses this proverb to mark off failure from deliberate, settled rebellion — and points to Peter, who denied his Lord and still came back.
Wilful sin is not slipping, or being caught in a fault. It is not even giving way to outside pressure in an hour of self-confidence, as Peter did when he denied his Lord. Grievous and dreadful as this sin was, it was not wilful... one look from the Lord Jesus brought the poor, self-confident one back to Him, brokenhearted. So it always is where divine life is in the soul. "The righteous falls seven times and rises again."
The rising is not the fallen man's own resilience. One writer traces it to grace, which works on a different principle from the consequences a man reaps.
Some would tell us that if a man falls, he can never recover his position; and no doubt, under government, we must reap as we sow. But grace is another thing altogether. Government drove Adam out of Eden and never put him back, but grace promised the woman's offspring who would win. Government kept Moses out of the promised land, but grace led him up the mountain to see it. Government sent a perpetual sword on David's house, but grace made the son of Bathsheba the wisest and wealthiest of Israel's kings.
Grace does not just return a person to where he stood before. Where the self-judgment is thorough, the man ends up somewhere he had never been.
He loves to bring the one who has failed, once restored, into a better condition than he had ever known before. Witness Simon Peter at the end of the Gospels and the beginning of the Acts... Where self-judgment is thorough, where a person sides with God against his own sin, it always brings him into a depth of God's grace he never had before — as deep as the repentance goes.
- Fall. The righteous go down — "seven times" — through both hardship and personal failure. A record of falls is not proof that someone is not righteous.
- Rise. Getting back up is the distinguishing mark. Where divine life is in the soul, a return follows the fall, as it did for Peter.
- Grace lifts. Consequences follow sin under God's government, but grace works on another principle — Adam, Moses and David all show it.
- Deeper after. Restoration is not a return to the old level; thorough self-judgment brings a person into a depth of grace he never had before.
- The other man. The wicked also falls, but into disaster with no recovery — which is why plotting against a righteous man's house is folly.
Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth, and let not thy heart be glad when he stumbleth;
Chapter 24 has just said that a righteous man may fall and rise again, while the wicked stumble into ruin. Then the warning turns. It moves from the one who falls to the one who is watching. The question this verse forces is not what your enemy deserves, but what your heart does the moment he gets it.
The proverb just before this one warns the wicked man who lies in wait for the righteous. Only then does the subject shift to the onlooker's pleasure.
A wicked man is warned not to lie in wait for the righteous man. If the righteous man falls, he will surely rise, while his enemy stumbles into ruin. And no one should rejoice at the fall even of an adversary, in case the LORD sees it — and He does not see for nothing.
The verse bans two things: the outward rejoicing and the inward gladness. The second half is where it bites. A heart can celebrate in silence, and the LORD still sees it.
How selfish and base to rejoice in the fall of an enemy! It may please the subtle enemy and the flesh too. But do not let your heart be glad that he stumbles. If you do, the LORD will surely see it and be displeased, and turn His anger away from him. And to whom? Let your conscience answer.
Verse 18 supplies the reason: the LORD sees it, it displeases Him, and He turns His anger away from your enemy. The fall of an opponent may spare you real trouble. That is not what this verse tests.
Yet the believer is told not to rejoice when his enemy falls, though this might relieve the believer of much harm (v. 17). Indeed, when anyone falls, we ought to be sorry for him, and pray that his fall might result in turning him to the Lord. But the Lord takes full account of our attitude (v. 18). If our hearts are set on thinking or acting selfishly, we can expect to suffer the consequences.
Job once said the same about himself: he never rejoiced when ruin came on the man who hated him. Commenting on that line, Kelly notes how small and familiar the temptation is.
"If I have rejoiced at the ruin of him who hated me, or exulted when evil overtook him" — a very common snare for people. They have a little pleasure when their adversaries come to grief, or are troubled.
If gladness is wrong, something has to take its place. Leslie Grant names two responses to another person's fall, and the reason behind them.
When we see judgment fall on anyone, our attitude should be sorrow for the person and honest judgment of ourselves. Only the grace of God preserves us from the judgment we deserve.
Saul hunted David for years. When Saul died, David sang a lament, not a victory song. The striking thing is what the song leaves out.
The lament of David over Saul reveals a spirit whose absence in us may well humble us. There is not one hidden word in it that suggests triumph over a fallen enemy. There is not one expression of selfish satisfaction at his rescue from Saul's persecution. David passes over the cruel injustice he had suffered from Saul for years, and all his many personal wrongs.
This proverb stops the wrong feeling. The New Testament goes further and asks for the right one.
Still there must be no rejoicing over the fall of the enemy, no gladness when he stumbles. This displeases the Lord. Higher still is the command of the New Testament: "Love your enemies… Repay no one evil for evil… overcome evil with good."
- The fall. Your enemy's fall may spare you real harm. That never makes the gladness right.
- The heart. The command reaches past the celebration to the private pleasure. Quiet satisfaction at an enemy's trouble is a very common snare.
- The sight. The LORD sees it, weighs the attitude, and is displeased.
- The turn. His anger moves off your enemy — and Kelly leaves your conscience to answer where it goes instead.
- The replacement. Sorrow for the person. Prayer that his fall turns him to the Lord. Honest self-judgment, because only grace has kept you from the same judgment.
lest Jehovah see it, and it be evil in his sight, and he turn away his anger from him.
Verse 17 warns us not to gloat when an enemy falls. Verse 18 gives the reason, and it is unsettling: the Lord sees how we feel, and He can turn His anger away from the one who fell. The question is not what we say out loud. It is what our heart does when someone who hurt us goes down.
The proverb goes past what we do to what we feel. It also names where that feeling comes from.
How selfish and base to rejoice in the fall of an enemy! It may please the subtle enemy and the flesh too. But do not let your heart be glad that he stumbles. If it is, the Lord will surely see and be displeased, and He will turn away His anger from him. And to whom? Let your conscience answer.
That last question is the sting of the verse. If the Lord turns His anger away from the one who fell, where does it go?
Our gladness offends Him because He does not share it.
Judgment is not His delight. "As I live, declares the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways, for why will you die, O house of Israel?"
The fall of an enemy may bring real relief. That does not make our response harmless.
Yet the proverb tells the believer not to rejoice when his enemy falls, even though that fall might spare him much harm (v. 17). Indeed, when anyone falls, we ought to be sorry for him, and pray that his fall might result in turning him to the Lord. But the Lord takes full account of our attitude (v. 18), and if our hearts lean toward selfish thoughts or acts, we can expect to suffer the consequences.
If gladness is the wrong response, what is the right one?
Gloating over the defeat of enemies is disgusting. When we see judgment fall on anyone, our attitude should be sorrow for the person and honest judgment of ourselves. Only the grace of God keeps us from the judgment we deserve.
A grudge does not have to be spoken to be fed. It can be nursed inside for years.
To go to war against our enemies; to watch for them to stumble; to wait for our chance to pour out what we have been nursing inside; to exaggerate their failures, so they receive double for their sins; to be glad inside when we think they have been paid back in their own coin — all of this indulges a spirit completely against the mind of the Lord in this passage. It is against the whole spirit of Christianity. The right to clear the innocent and to punish the guilty belongs to the Lord alone.
This proverb only forbids gladness. The New Testament asks for something more than restraint.
Yet there must be no rejoicing over the fall of the enemy, nor gladness when he stumbles. This displeases the Lord. Still higher is the command of the New Testament, "Love your enemies… Repay no one evil for evil… overcome evil with good."
Saul's death cleared David's path to the throne. David did not treat it as good news.
Still, David's godliness was real, and so were the generous feelings it produced. He did not pretend to feel for Saul's misfortunes and then seize the kingdom without regret as soon as Saul had ceased to exist. David's heart truly melted when he heard that Saul was dead… Whatever Saul's misfortunes, he was the king of Israel to David. Whatever his faults, he was an unfortunate king.
- Turn one — the heart. The proverb aims at the gladness inside us, not just the celebration we show. That gladness pleases the flesh.
- Turn two — God's eye. He is displeased because judgment is not His delight. He wants the wicked to turn and live.
- Turn three — the anger. If God's anger turns away from the one who fell, our conscience must answer where it goes instead.
- Turn four — the mirror. Seeing anyone fall should bring sorrow for them and an honest look at ourselves. Only grace keeps us from the judgment we deserve.
- Turn five — higher ground. Not gloating is only the floor. Loving enemies and overcoming evil with good is the standard. David mourning Saul shows it can be done.