Where Do You Loiter?

 

“I have seen among the simple,
I have perceived among the youths,
a young man lacking sense,
passing along the street near her corner,
taking the road to her house,
in the twilight, in the evening,
at the time of night and darkness.”
(Proverbs 7:7–9)

Wisdom and folly are found in very different places. Wisdom stands on the street corners and lifts her voice to all who will hear: “How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple?” Her invitation to the fool is a call to change direction: “If you turn at my reproof, behold, I will pour out my spirit to you; I will make my words known to you” (Proverbs 1:22–23).

Wisdom is portrayed as easy to find, and her message is clear. Why, then, aren’t the simple flocking to her invitation from every corner of the city square?

The simple are loitering somewhere else.

They wait at the gate of folly. Night is falling. The businesses of the city are closing their shutters, and the folly of the night has begun. The fool knows the danger he is in, but he wonders how close he can come without getting burned. His loitering is rewarded by the arrival of temptation—her words, her dress, her perfume. All at once, he follows her. The trap is sprung, and his life is changed forever.

Why does he loiter?

The work of the day is finished, and as soon as his time is his own, he goes to wait by her door. His free time—his leisure—is spent awkwardly standing or pacing, watching at her house. How foolish is his heart, how oblivious to the danger! His heart longs for the temptation, the excitement, the enticement. He does not mean to go all the way—just a little further. Yet he sets himself on a trajectory that will bring his ruin.

So ask yourself plainly: Where do you loiter?
Not where you fall, but where you linger. Not the sin you commit, but the door you stand near. Wisdom calls in the daylight, but folly waits patiently for the evening. The heart is shaped long before the act.

Do not be deceived—no one stumbles suddenly. We drift by standing still. If you would walk in wisdom, then do not loiter at the threshold of sin. Turn your feet while it is still day, and order your time, your thoughts, and your desires toward the voice that gives life.

Glory and Influence

 King Lemuel’s mother was a wise instructor (Proverbs 31:1–9). She warned her son not to spend his strength—his time, money, spiritual capital, and moral authority—on self-indulgence. Instead, she called him to use his position as king to influence the plight of those who could not speak for themselves.

Kings possess glory (Hebrew: kābôd)—majesty and honor made visible. People are drawn to a king’s power, wisdom, and judgment. A good king therefore stewards not only his strength, but also his glory and, by extension, his influence. Lemuel’s mother exhorts him to “open his mouth”—to act publicly and justly on behalf of the poor and the needy.

Like strength, glory and influence must be stewarded. Any man must guard his character, both in public and in private, if he is to retain moral authority. Glory can be wasted—traded away for approval, comfort, or the avoidance of conflict. But a faithful king spends his influence differently. He aligns himself publicly with what is good, right, and true. He speaks with moral clarity. He expends his influence downward, on behalf of those who cannot repay him.

Spending glory and influence in this way may cost comfort, safety, relationships, and even reputation for a season. Yet men who desire to fulfill the dominion mandate and to steward their strength and influence wisely must listen to Lemuel’s mother. God gives strength and influence not merely to possess, but to deploy. They may be squandered, hoarded, or spent—but only when they are spent wisely are they used for the glory of God.