“Hear, my children, the instruction of a father, and give attention to know understanding” (v. 1). These words arrive not as a barked order but as a summons shaped by affection. Father Solomon speaks here with the gravity that comes from loving what he may one day lose. He doesn’t merely dispense advice; he offers himself—his voice, his memory, his faith. “For I give you good doctrine: Do not forsake my law” (v. 2). Solomon speaks as one who has received before he gives. What he hands on is not self-invented insight, but Wisdom inherited, learned at the knee of his father David (v. 3), and refined through lived obedience. Wisdom, then, is not novelty; it is continuity. It’s the careful passing on—the tradition—of what has proven true under the fear of the Lord.
“‘Let your heart retain my words; keep my commands and live’” (v. 4). The father presses wisdom beyond the reach of the intellect and into the center of desire. Instruction isn’t meant to hover at the edges of memory but to settle in the heart, shaping what one loves and what one resists. Wisdom doesn’t content itself with informing decisions; it trains affections as well. This is why Solomon urges, with almost desperate insistence, “Get wisdom! Get understanding! Do not forget, nor turn away from the words of my mouth” (v. 5). The plea carries urgency because the alternatives are not neutral. False wisdom beckons—wealth, status, influence—but none guard the soul or steady the path like the Wisdom that comes from God. She must be sought, desired, and pursued. She doesn’t drift into one’s keeping by accident.
“Do not forsake her, and she will preserve you; love her, and she will keep you” (v. 6). Wisdom appears here not as an abstract principle but as a faithful guardian. She watches over those who cherish her, shielding them from ruin and guiding them through danger. To love Wisdom is to be loved back with her protection. “Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore, get wisdom. And in all your getting, get understanding” (v. 7). If life allows you to secure only one possession, let it be Wisdom. She may not guarantee acclaim or prosperity, but she grants something far greater: a life ordered toward God. She crowns the faithful with grace and confers a dignity that doesn’t depend on public recognition (vv. 8-9).
“Hear, my son, and receive my sayings, and the years of your life will be many” (v. 10). This promise echoes earlier instruction, not as a mechanical reward but as a pattern woven into God’s design. Wisdom tends toward life. She leads along paths already laid down—paths illumined by the Word and worn smooth by generations who walked them in trust. “Take firm hold of instruction, do not let go; keep her, for she is your life” (v. 13). The image is striking: not a lose grasp but a steady hold, not anxious clinging but faithful perseverance.
As we confess about the 3rd Commandment (“Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy”), “We should fear and love God so that we do not despise preaching and His Word but hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it” (SC I, The Third Commandment). Thus, in strength or in weakness, in clarity or in confusion, the call remains the same: Hold fast. Let Wisdom shape your steps, steady your heart, and keep you on the path that leads not merely forward, but home.
The Lutheran Column 