“Happy is the man who finds wisdom, and the man who gains understanding” (v. 13). Scripture dares to define happiness in a way the world refuses to accept. Happiness isn’t seized through accumulation, applause, or indulgence, but discovered through Wisdom. Not the cleverness that manipulates outcomes, nor the savvy that advances self-interest, but the Wisdom that fears the LORD, trusts His Word, and submits to His ways (cf. Psalm 1 where “blessed” can also be translated “happy”). This happiness doesn’t shield a person from sorrow; rather, it roots joy so deeply that sorrow cannot uproot it. It’s the strange and holy joy that dares to sing Easter hymns at a funeral. Wisdom doesn’t anesthetize grief; she sanctifies it. And because she reveals God Himself, “her proceeds are better than the profits of silver, and her gain than fine gold. She is more precious than rubies, and all the things you may desire cannot compare with her” (vv. 14-15). She doesn’t merely instruct behavior; she discloses God’s heart.
“Length of days is in her right hand, in her left hand riches and honor” (v. 16). Wisdom gives freely, yet her gifts aren’t measured by market value. Her riches appear as peace when circumstances rage, integrity when temptation presses, and hope when suffering lingers. She doesn’t promise ease, but she does offer steadiness. Neither does she remove affliction but teaches how to walk through it without being consumed. “Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace” (v. 17). This peace isn’t the fragile calm of a sheltered life; it’s the durable peace that endures storms because it’s anchored beyond them. Those who walk with Wisdom still suffer, but they suffer without despair because their footing rests on something firmer than circumstance.
Then Solomon gives the image that gathers all the strands together: “She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her, and happy are all who retain her” (v. 18). This image reaches backward to Eden and forward to eternity. The tree of life was once barred by sin, yet Wisdom holds out its branches again—not as nostalgia, but as restoration. To take hold of Wisdom is to grasp life where death once ruled. This is no abstraction. Again, Wisdom isn’t merely instruction; she is embodied. She is fulfilled in Christ, the wisdom of God incarnate, who restores what was lost and heals what was broken. In Him, the tree of life stands once more, bearing fruit for the weary and leaves for the healing of the nations (Revelation 22:2).
Therefore, cling to Wisdom as one clings to life itself. Let her be more than a lesson learned or a proverb memorized. Let her shape your desires, steady your steps, and anchor your hope. Let the Word dwell in you richly, for in doing so, you’re holding fast to the tree whose roots are planted in the cross and whose fruit is poured forth from the side of Christ in water and blood of the Word and Sacraments. And when weariness overtakes you, lift your eyes. Wisdom’s branches remain full, her leaves do not wither, and all who rest in her shade find life, both now and forever.
The Lutheran Column 