I went by the field of a sluggard, and by the vineyard of a man void of understanding;
Two pieces of ground catch a traveller's eye. One belongs to a lazy man, the other to a man with no sense. Both tell the same story about their owners, and the story ends in poverty. How does ruin arrive when a man commits no dramatic sin?
The owner never speaks. His land speaks for him, and what it says earns him pity and blame together.
The slothful man deserves pity as well as blame. He might be admirable in this way or that, but his field and his vineyard announce his fault and foreshadow his ruin. Thorns and nettles hold the field where good grain should be waving, and the wall is so broken down that it invites harmful men and animals in. Is this not a plain lesson to anyone who looks at it with even a little attention? It is no example to follow, but a serious warning. The outward shows what is inward. The heedless man lives to sleep his life away. He may be innocent of strong drink, of sensual pleasure, or of wasteful company. His laziness ensures his ruin.
No one robbed this man. He owned good land. His failure lies in what he never did, at the season when it needed doing.
The sluggard is a contemptible character. Because of laziness, he would not look after his field — for he did have a field... This watchful passer-by must have seen the sluggard's field in summer, while the thorns and nettles were growing strongly. That was a poor outlook for its owner as harvest drew near. His neighbour's field looked very different. A fine crop of grain covered its face... The lazy man had missed his season. In winter he should have been up and ploughing his field, so that the frost and cold winds could break up and soften the clods and prepare a good seed bed. When he should have been rooting out the nettles and thorns, he had been folding his hands to sleep.
The chain of loss is simple. Each step fails because he skipped the one before it.
It was cold, and he would not plough. Because he did not plough, he could not sow. And because he did not sow, he had nothing to reap but thorns and nettles, which were only fit for burning.
Each detail of the ruined plot carries a spiritual meaning, and the wall matters as much as the weeds.
Here we see "thorns," the sign of God's displeasure, instead of the "trees of His own planting." We see "nettles" instead of fruitful branches. And "the stone wall" of separation, once so firm and solid, is now "broken down." So evil company is easily found inside, and the wall no longer shuts out evil intruders. All of this comes from spiritual laziness.
The same walk goes past a person's habits, not just his land. There the neglect shows up in small daily choices.
I went to the house of young Mr. Slothful. There his Bible lay completely hidden under a pile of other books. Thick dust had covered its back and sides. His regular habits of daily prayer were quite broken down... Young Mr. Slothful had been indulging himself. A little more sleep in the mornings. A little slackening off in his duties. A little more self-comfort in everything. And now spiritual poverty has come on him like a robber... First he dropped the regular habit once. Then he did the same thing again, and then again. The gap between each repetition grew shorter. Now the well-ordered Christian life has become a disorderly wilderness of evil weeds.
One commentator sees the picture come true in the life of Solomon, the king who wrote this chapter.
The field and the vineyard were completely overgrown with thorns, the sign of the curse. The stone wall was broken down — that is, the wall of separation from the enemy's raids. In fact, this state of ruin developed very soon in Israel after Solomon himself took the throne. His marrying many foreign wives began the breaking down of the wall. It let false religions in, so brazenly that Solomon fell into the dreadful practice of worshipping idols! He warned against this in this chapter, yet he failed to follow his own instruction, just as people generally do.
- Ground: The land speaks for the man. He may be free of drink, lust and wasteful company, yet his laziness alone ensures his ruin.
- Season: He had a field; he missed his season. No ploughing, so no sowing. No sowing, so nothing to reap but thorns fit for burning.
- Drift: The wall does not fall in a day. Weeds grow and stonework leans while the owner says another time will do just as well.
- Wall: Thorns mark God's displeasure where fruit should be. A broken wall lets evil company in and shuts nothing out.
- Warning: Even Solomon, who wrote this warning, failed to keep it. His own broken wall let in false religions, and then idols.
and lo, it was all grown over with thistles, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and its stone wall was broken down.
A passer-by stops at a boundary and looks over into another man's ground. What he sees is not a disaster but a slow surrender. Weeds stand where a crop should be, and the wall no longer keeps anything out.
The field and the vineyard tell you about their owner before he says a word:
The slothful man deserves pity as well as blame. He might be respectable in this way or that, but his field and his vineyard announce his fault and predict his ruin. Thorns and nettles hold the field where the good grain should be waving, and the wall is so broken down that it invites harmful men and animals in. Is this not a plain lesson to anyone who looks at it with the least attention? It is certainly no example to follow, but a serious warning. The outward discloses the inward.
Each detail in the picture carries its own weight. Thorns are not just untidy growth, and the stone wall was there for a reason:
Here we see "thorns," the emblem of God's displeasure, instead of the "trees of His own planting." We see "nettles" instead of fruitful branches. And "the stone wall" of separation, once so definite and solid, is now "broken down." So evil associations are easily found inside, and evil intruders are not shut out. All of this traces back to spiritual laziness.
One reference work says that nettles mark "a place that was deserted and given up to desolation" — Morrish Bible Dictionary.
One writer points out that the kingdom of the man who wrote this proverb went the same way as this vineyard:
The field and the vineyard were all overgrown with thorns, the sign of the curse. The stone wall was broken down — that is, the wall of separation from the enemy's ravages. In fact, this state of ruin developed very soon in Israel after Solomon himself took the throne. His marrying many foreign wives began the breaking down of the wall and let evil religions in. It went so far, so brazenly, that Solomon was carried into the dreadful practice of worshipping idols! Though he warned against this in this chapter, he failed to follow his own instruction, just as mankind generally does.
Ground yields food only through hard work, and this owner was not there when the work needed doing. A neighbour's field nearby showed what that cost him:
After Adam sinned, the Lord God cursed the ground, and told him that only hard work would make it yield food: "By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread." Man has found it so ever since… This observant passer-by must have noticed the sluggard's field in summer, while the thorns and nettles were growing strongly. It was a poor outlook for its owner as harvest came near. His neighbour's field looked very different. A fine crop of grain covered its face… The slothful man had missed his season. In winter he should have been up and ploughing his field. Then the frost and cold winds could break up and soften the clods and prepare a good seed bed. When he should have been rooting out the nettles and thorns, he had been folding his hands to sleep.
Each choice to put the work off looks small. The end result does not:
It is always like this. Sloth says, "Put the work off till tomorrow. Another time will do just as well." So things are allowed to drift. No weeding. No digging. No sowing. But all the while the nettles are growing. The thorns are silently creeping over the flower beds, and the stone wall is toppling a little further every day. Then suddenly there is a crash. You rush out to see what happened, and you find your neat garden has become a wilderness. All around you are the results of your own sheer neglect.
The same writer then retells the proverb about a house instead of a field:
I went to the house of young Mr. Slothful. His Bible was completely hidden by many other books. Thick dust covered its back and sides, and his regular habits of daily prayer were quite broken down. I saw all this and thought it over, and I knew the reason. He had been indulging in a little more sleep in the mornings, a little slackening off with the usual duties, a little more self-ease in all things. And now spiritual poverty has come upon him like a robber.
Ground left alone does not stay as it was:
Idle, inactive habits in a Christian breed a lot of trouble. For if you do not work hard to cultivate the ways of goodness and truth, the opposite will spring up on its own.
- Neglect — nothing attacked this field. The owner put the work off, and the thorns did the rest.
- Thorns — they stand for God's displeasure and the curse, growing where fruit was meant to be.
- Wall — a broken wall means lost separation. Evil associations get in, and nothing keeps intruders out.
- Season — winter decided the sluggard's poverty. He slept instead of ploughing, and harvest only announced the result.
- Warning — the outward discloses the inward, and Solomon, who wrote it, let his own wall be broken down first.
Then I looked, I took it to heart; I saw, I received instruction
Solomon walks past a neglected field and a vineyard, and he stops to study what he sees. Looking becomes thinking, thinking becomes a lesson — but what did the ruin teach him?
The state of the ground told a story about its owner to anyone willing to look.
The slothful man deserves pity as well as blame. He might be admirable in this way or that. But his field and his vineyard announce his fault and point ahead to his ruin. Thorns and nettles hold the field where good grain should be waving. The wall is so broken down that it invites damaging men and beasts. Is this not a plain lesson to anyone who looks at it with even a little attention? It is no example to follow, but a serious warning. The outward discloses the inward… He may be free of strong drink, of sensual pleasure, of wasteful company. His laziness ensures his ruin.
Each detail carries meaning, and the wall matters as much as the weeds.
Here we see "thorns," the sign of God's displeasure, instead of the "trees of His own planting." We see "nettles" instead of fruitful branches. And "the stone wall" of separation, once so firm and solid, is now "broken down." So evil company is easy to find inside, and nothing keeps evil intruders out. All this traces back to spiritual laziness.
The picture was not just one careless farmer. One commentator reads it against Israel's history and against Solomon himself.
The field and the vineyard were all overgrown with thorns, the sign of the curse. The stone wall lay broken down — that is, the wall of separation that kept out the raids of the enemy. In fact, this ruin appeared in Israel very soon after Solomon himself took the throne. His marrying many foreign wives began the breaking down of the wall. Evil religions came in, so openly that Solomon himself was carried into the dreadful practice of worshiping idols! He warned against this in this chapter, yet he failed to follow his own instruction, just as mankind generally does.
One writer retells the scene as a visit to a house instead of a field.
I went to the house of young Mr. Slothful. His Bible was hidden away under many other books. Thick dust covered its back and sides, and his regular habits of daily prayer had quite broken down. I saw all this and considered it well, and I knew the reason. Young Mr. Slothful had been taking a little more sleep in the mornings, slackening off a little with the usual duties, a little more ease for himself in everything. And now spiritual poverty has come upon him like a robber. He is cold in heart and distant in his ways. But it is all the fruit of his own plain neglect.
The ruin grew out of small delays that nobody watched.
Sloth says, "Put the work off till tomorrow. Another time will do just as well." So things drift. No weeding. No digging. No sowing. But all the while the nettles are growing. The thorns creep silently over the flower beds, and the stone wall topples further day by day. Then there is a crash. You rush out to see what happened, and you find your neat garden has become a wilderness.
Readers today can still take the lesson, and sleep is where the danger gets in.
At least now may we receive the instruction we need in this matter. Only "a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest" (v. 33) may have dreadful results. Of course we need sleep and rest. But if this is what marks our lives, that is a different matter. It is worse still when we sleep about spiritual things and stay blind to grave dangers. It was "while men were sleeping" that the enemy sowed weeds among the wheat (Matt. 13:25).
The cure is not more effort of our own. One writer names it. He uses the word propitiation — the sacrifice that satisfies God's just claim against sin.
The true remedy is not hard work for self. It is not activity in the world and the things of the world. The remedy is Christ. He is the life eternal and the only propitiation for our sins, to God's glory. He is the Lord of all, saints or sinners. He is the fullness of blessing and the pattern of service.
- Look. The field and vineyard announce their owner's fault. What is outside shows what is inside.
- Read. Thorns and nettles stand for God's displeasure instead of fruit. The fallen wall stands for lost separation, so intruders walk in.
- Consider. The scene is a warning, not an example to copy. Writers apply it to one person and to a whole nation that drifted the same way.
- Receive. A little sleep, a little slumber — and the enemy sows while men are sleeping.
- Return. The remedy is not more self-effort. It is Christ Himself: the life eternal, the propitiation for our sins, and the pattern of service.
-- A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest!
These words are not the wise man's advice but the sluggard's excuse, spoken beside a field of thorns and a broken wall. A small indulgence turns out to explain a whole ruined life.
The wall and the weeds are not the man's problem; they are his portrait. He does nothing scandalous. He simply leaves the work undone.
The slothful man is an object of pity as well as blame. He might be respectable in this way or that. But his field and his vineyard proclaim the fault, and forecast his ruin. Thorns and nettles hold the field where the good grain should wave. The wall is so broken down that it invites damaging men and beasts. It is no example, but a serious warning. The outward discloses the inward. The careless man lives to sleep his life away. He may be innocent of strong drink, or of sensual pleasure, or of wasteful company. His laziness ensures his ruin.
The verse counts everything in small amounts. That is how the damage happens. No one decides to ruin the garden; they decide to leave it until tomorrow.
It is always so. Sloth says, "Put off work till tomorrow. Another time will do just as well." So things are allowed to drift. No weeding. No digging. No sowing. But all the while the nettles are growing; the thorns are silently creeping over the flower beds, and the stone wall is toppling further day by day. Then there is a crash. You rush out to investigate, and you find your neat garden has become a wilderness. All around you are the consequences of your own sheer neglect.
The verse is not an attack on rest. It condemns rest that has taken over — and Solomon, who wrote the warning, did not heed it well enough himself.
Verse 33 shows that Solomon understood this well, but apparently not well enough. Only "a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest" (v. 33) may have serious results. Of course, we need sleep and rest. But if this characterises our lives, it is a different matter. This is especially serious when we sleep about spiritual matters, and so are unaware of grave dangers. It was "while men slept" that the enemy sowed weeds among the wheat (Matt. 13:25).
One writer retells the picture as a visit to a house, not a farm.
I went to the house of young Mr. Slothful. There many other books completely hid his Bible. Thick dust had covered its back and sides, and his regular habits of daily prayer were quite broken down. I saw all this and considered it well, and I knew the reason. Young Mr. Slothful had been indulging in a little more sleep in the mornings. He had been slackening off with the usual duties, and taking a little more self-ease in everything. And now spiritual poverty has come upon him like a robber. He is cold in heart and distant in his ways. But it is all the fruit of his own simple neglect.
The outward decay starts inside. One writer traces the order in which it happens.
The truth is that we begin to be slothful Christians when certain things happen. We stop enjoying the love of God to us in Christ. Christ Himself is no longer the Object and Hope of our hearts. Meditating on the word of God becomes tiresome, and private prayer declines. Private praise and making melody in the heart to the Lord stops. We no longer overflow with love to our Saviour God, to His ways, His people, and His service. How serious this state is! For "slothfulness casts into a deep sleep; and an idle soul shall suffer hunger." (Prov. 19:15.) Note that it is a deep sleep; so deep that ordinary means completely fail to wake them.
The same excuse also lulls a conscience that feels no alarm. One writer names where that quiet ends.
Times of misgiving may indeed come, yet relapses follow. The sluggard's plea lulls the conscience: "A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest." So all is quiet again, all is peaceful, all is silent — but it is the silence of death.
Commentators differ on the cure. One offers a swap: instead of folding the hands to sleep, "a lot of folding of the hands to pray would be a far better exercise" (Michael Vogelsang). Another looks past effort to Christ Himself, our propitiation — the sacrifice that answers our sins before God.
The true remedy is not industry for self, or activity in the world and the things of the world, but Christ, the life eternal and the only propitiation for our sins to God's glory, the Lord of all, saints or sinners, the fullness of blessing and pattern of service.
- Little. Ruin arrives in small instalments — a little sleep, a little slackening, a little more self-ease — never in one deliberate choice.
- Neglect. This man is no drunkard and no waster; laziness alone breaks his wall, and "the outward discloses the inward."
- Drift. Decline starts inside, when Christ is no longer the heart's Object and private prayer fades.
- Deep. The sleep hardens, until ordinary means fail to wake the sleeper — and that quiet can be the silence of death.
- Christ. The answer is not harder work for self, but Christ Himself — hands folded in prayer instead of sleep.
So shall thy poverty come [as] a roving plunderer, and thy penury as an armed man.
Proverbs 24 ends with a walk past a ruined field, and verse 34 names what finally arrives there: poverty and want. The picture is violent — a robber and an armed man — yet the cause looked harmless: a bit more sleep, a bit more delay.
The scene behind this verse is a farm gone wild. Thorns, nettles and a collapsed wall each carry meaning:
Here we see "thorns," the sign of God's displeasure, instead of the "trees of His own planting." We see "nettles" instead of fruitful branches. And "the stone wall" of separation, once so decided and solid, is now "broken down." So evil associations are easily found inside, and evil intruders are not shut out. All of this comes from spiritual laziness.
Nothing scandalous has happened here. A man can have a clean record and still be heading for ruin:
The slothful man deserves pity as well as blame. He might be respectable in this way or that, but his field and his vineyard announce his fault and predict his ruin... The outward reveals the inward. The careless man lives to sleep his life away: "a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep." He may be innocent of strong drink, of sensual pleasure, or of wasteful company. His laziness guarantees his ruin.
The two figures describe two ways loss arrives. One writer traces the same pattern from Israel to the church, using a translation that reads "prowler" where the ESV reads "robber":
Lazy neglect reduced Israel's condition to deep spiritual poverty. In the same way, the public condition of the church has so deteriorated through our own slackness that it bears no resemblance to what was true of the church in the time of the book of Acts. Poverty has come "like a prowler," one who arrives as secretly as he can to rob us of the wealth God gave us at the start. Or it comes "like an armed man," who steals everything he can by force.
Verse 33 is not condemning rest. The warning lands on what rest becomes when it takes over a life:
Only "a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest" (v. 33) may have terrible results. Of course we need sleep and rest. But if this is what marks our lives, that is a different matter. It is worse still when we sleep in regard to spiritual things and so lose all sense of serious dangers. It was "while men slept" that the enemy sowed weeds among the wheat (Matthew 13:25).
The same writer notes that the man who wrote this warning did not keep it. Solomon's many foreign wives began the breaking down of his own wall, letting false religions in, until he was drawn into worshipping idols — he "failed to follow his own instruction, just as mankind generally does."
One writer retells the story in the first person, set in a bedroom rather than a vineyard:
I went to the house of young Mr. Slothful. His Bible lay completely hidden under many other books. Thick dust covered its back and sides, and his regular habits of daily prayer were quite broken down... And now spiritual poverty has come on him like a robber. He is cold in heart and distant in his ways. But it is all the fruit of his own simple neglect. First he simply left off the regular habit once. Then he did the same again, and again, and each time the gap between was shorter. Now the well-ordered Christian life has become a disorderly wilderness of evil weeds.
Standing still is not a neutral position:
It is good to keep in mind that the spiritual life is one of constant activity and effort. If you rest, you rust. You are swimming upstream. If you relax in the struggle, the current sweeps you back, and you will not regain that ground without great effort... The spiritual sluggard shuns self-denial and sacrifice for the sake of self-ease. The result of his laziness is that the works of the flesh choke the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:19-21).
The obvious response would be to work harder. Kelly points elsewhere:
The true remedy is not industry for self, or activity in the world and in the things of the world. The remedy is Christ. He is the life eternal and the only propitiation for our sins to God's glory. He is the Lord of all, saints or sinners, the fullness of blessing and the pattern of service.
- Little. Ruin starts in a word verse 33 repeats — "a little." Rest is not the sin; rest that rules a life is.
- Neglect. You do not have to do anything wrong to lose the field. Thorns and a broken wall grow all by themselves while the owner sleeps.
- Exposure. A wall down means intruders in. What the eye sees outside is only reporting what has already happened inside.
- Robbery. Poverty does not knock. It creeps in like a robber. Then it takes what is left like an armed man. Israel fell that way, and the church has too.
- Remedy. The answer to a wasted field is not busier self-effort. It is Christ Himself — the fullness of blessing and the pattern of service.