Proverbs 8 (ESV) — 1 Does not wisdom call? Does not understanding raise her voice? 2 On the heights beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand; 3 beside the gates in front of the town, at the entrance of the portals she cries aloud: 4 “To you, O men, I call, and my cry is to the children of man. 5 O simple ones, learn prudence; O fools, learn sense. 6 Hear, for I will speak noble things, and from my lips will come what is right, 7 for my mouth will utter truth; wickedness is an abomination to my lips. 8 All the words of my mouth are righteous; there is nothing twisted or crooked in them. 9 They are all straight to him who understands, and right to those who find knowledge. 10 Take my instruction instead of silver, and knowledge rather than choice gold, 11 for wisdom is better than jewels, and all that you may desire cannot compare with her.
12 “I, wisdom, dwell with prudence, and I find knowledge and discretion. 13 The fear of the Lord is hatred of evil. Pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate. 14 I have counsel and sound wisdom; I have insight; I have strength. 15 By me kings reign, and rulers decree what is just; 16 by me princes rule, and nobles, all who govern justly. 17 I love those who love me, and those who seek me diligently find me. 18 Riches and honor are with me, enduring wealth and righteousness. 19 My fruit is better than gold, even fine gold, and my yield than choice silver. 20 I walk in the way of righteousness, in the paths of justice, 21 granting an inheritance to those who love me, and filling their treasuries.
22 “The Lord possessed me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of old. 23 Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth. 24 When there were no depths I was brought forth, when there were no springs abounding with water. 25 Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth, 26 before he had made the earth with its fields, or the first of the dust of the world. 27 When he established the heavens, I was there; when he drew a circle on the face of the deep, 28 when he made firm the skies above, when he established the fountains of the deep, 29 when he assigned to the sea its limit, so that the waters might not transgress his command, when he marked out the foundations of the earth, 30 then I was beside him, like a master workman, and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, 31 rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the children of man.
32 “And now, O sons, listen to me: blessed are those who keep my ways. 33 Hear instruction and be wise, and do not neglect it. 34 Blessed is the one who listens to me, watching daily at my gates, waiting beside my doors. 35 For whoever finds me finds life and obtains favor from the Lord, 36 but he who fails to find me injures himself; all who hate me love death.”
Since the beginning of time, when the earth was without form and void, when darkness stagnated over the face of the deep, when the Spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters, I waited in anticipation for Yahweh to work (Gen. 1:1-2). When he spoke, I was born. With me, Wisdom, his voice crafted the cosmos—he generated light and separated it from darkness; he gathered the waters and divided them from the land; and he clothed the earth with vegetation to sustain all his new creatures (Gen. 1:3-25). The waters swarmed, the skies filled, and the land teemed with the fresh life God had created.
And as he crafted and cut the primordial world into a breathtaking display of his glory, I, Wisdom, stood beside him as his partner. He possessed me at the beginning of his work, from the very first of his acts of old (8:22). Like a master craftsfman ready to construct with precision and care, I was with him—beside him—brought forth and woven into all he made (8:30). I cheered his every move (8:30). When he formed the depths of the sea, when he established life-sustaining springs, I rejoiced (8:24). When he shaped the mountains, grand and immovable, I rejoiced (8:25). And as I watched the waters flow from those mountains down to the rest of the earth and its fields, I rejoiced (8:26). He proved himself wise—everything he made was good.
But my greatest song of celebration was reserved for what he did next. After forming the land and sea, God made man. He utilized me, Wisdom, when he said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth” (Gen. 1:26). Male and female, in his image, Yahweh formed them, breathing into their nostrils the breath of life—”and man became a living creature” (Gen. 1:27, 2:7).
Since that moment, I have delighted in the children of man, willing and wanting them to flourish according to Yahweh’s design and dwell in the beauty of his wisdom. I have steadily called to every generation (8:1). I have raised my voice, pleading with them to hear and live (8:1). My invitation is not veiled. My invitation is not exclusive. I stand near them, in their path—I am on the heights shouting to them as they go their way; I am at the crossroads of their daily habits and decisions; I am at the gates where life unfolds; I am at the entrances of their every endeavor (8:2-3). They cannot go far without encountering my invitation to abide by Yahweh’s wisdom. The God who wisely cut the worlds cultivated them—Oh, that they would listen and walk in his wisdom.
Not that I have been alone in my call. From the beginning, there has been another voice. Fallen from grace and banished from glory, a devilish, serpentine whisper slithered into God’s paradise. With demonic power and an envious heart, he suggested that Yahweh was not to be trusted to decide what is good and what is evil. He offered autonomy disguised as enlightenment, rebellion veiled as revelation. Eat the fruit, he promised, and you will be like God. If God’s children would merely partake, they could determine for themselves what is good. This snake intimated that God’s people could cast off the shackles of God’s wisdom and become gods for themselves. And, though I called, though I raised my voice, and though I echoed through the beauty and brilliance of the cosmos, the father and mother of all mankind would not heed my cry. The voice of the serpent had won.
I sat mortified as I watched the fallout from the serpent’s overtures cascade down through the ages of early human history. His manipulations bore bitter fruit. Cain spilled the innocent blood of his brother (Gen. 4). Lamech vengefully killed a younger man (Gen. 4). A parade of caskets filed through the emerging decades (Gen. 5). And the nations of the earth coalesced in unified rejection of their maker, submitting again to the serpent’s voice as they built a tower and a city in an attempt to ignore God’s commission to go fill all the earth (Gen. 10-11).
In those days, man and woman, designed in the image of God to reflect his goodness and reign here on earth, were instead subjugated to the terrors of spiritual, societal, and physical death. Though I raised my voice in a continued public call, only a scattered few children of man loved my intercession (8:2, 4, 17). Enoch found knowledge of the holy as he walked with God (Gen. 5:22, 8:1). Noah, a righteous man who feared the Lord and hated evil, found favor in Yahweh’s eyes (8:13, Gen. 6:8-9). And then Abraham—chosen by God and obedient in faith—left his idolatrous homeland, trusting that God would make him and those gathered under his name a blessing to all the families of the earth (Gen. 12:1-3).
In the centuries after Abraham, I, Wisdom, remained and continued my call. By the power of Abraham’s God, and from Abraham’s line, came kings and princes and rulers and nobles—many of whom learned to govern justly by my guidance (8:15-16). Joseph humbled his heart and heard my cry, so I installed him as a great and wise ruler in Egypt. Moses spent forty years retraining his ears on the far side of the wilderness, until I, Wisdom, gained entrance into his life. Others like them—Joshua, judges, prophets, the faithful—received my counsel and sound wisdom, obtaining strength to act mightily for God (8:14).
Yet even as I beckoned, the serpent hissed offers of prosperity without me—honor without holiness, riches without righteousness, power without prudence (8:12-16). And many laid hold of his imposterous glory—all while I continued to hold high God’s way of righteousness and paths of justice (8:20).
One day, in another display of his paradoxical wisdom, Yahweh anointed a young shepherd boy as the next king of his people. David did not think or feel as others did. He did not cower at the shout of the giant with scaly armor. He did not even raise a spear. But he believed in God’s wisdom and inserted five smooth stones into his pouch, trusting in the name of Yahweh to deliver him in battle. With my aid, he slew the enemy. From that act of faith, a new era with fresh promises emerged. David, the poet-warrior, the shepherd-king, would become the man who laid the foundation for a kingdom of God’s wisdom that would endure forever. And from his royal line, a son was born—Solomon.
Solomon, Solomon, how I cried after you! You most certainly heard my voice beckon you from the heights of Gibeon. You craved me more than wealth or power, fame or glory. You seemed like a little child—humble, uncertain which way to go—so you asked Yahweh for me. And he granted you wisdom beyond measure. Your father penned many Psalms, but you authored saying after saying, poem after poem, song after song, and proverb after proverb in a display of God’s majestic insights. You became a conduit for me. You put a voice to the wisdom ingrained in the universe. Many had heard my cries, but you put pen to paper and captured them. And when you wrote of me as a woman belting out through time, standing next to you as a king-father concerned for his sons, it’s as if you depicted us as a new Adam and Eve crying out to their offspring, “Hear the way of wisdom. Don’t do what we did. Rebuff the voice of the serpent.”
But even you, O Solomon, allowed your heart to drift from Yahweh. While his wisdom can lead to promotion, riches, and honor, you began to worship promotion, riches, and honor. O, how I wish you could have discerned the hiss of the serpent and seen the slithering of the snake. I had been your joy, but you, Solomon, my beloved and my delight, saw a shortcut to the desires of your heart (8:30). You welcomed the other voice, and you ceased to keep my ways or hear my instruction (8:32-33). You grew tired of listening to me and instead heard the voice of the forbidden woman (8:32, 34). You grew tired of my counsel and came to despise me. You became cold, even hostlie, until you hated me (8:36). And I—who watched galaxies take shape and kingdoms rise and fall—knew what your hatred meant: you loved death (8:36).
Through the long centuries that followed, I, Wisdom, continued to cry out. But so did the other voice—the merchant of death, that Serpent of Old. Some bent to my yearning, but most yielded to his falsehoods. Still, I did my utmost for Yahweh’s highest and poured out my love and blessing on all who sought me, all the while longing for a universe where God’s wisdom could run to its furthest edge, flex to its fullest strength, and go on expanding forever throughout every living thing.
Then—one day—it started. In a move predicted by prophets and foreshadowed by types, yet still veiled and mysterious, the fullness of God’s wisdom arrived. I had been with Yahweh at the first beginning—when he established the heavens and drew a circle on the face of the deep—but this was a new beginning (8:27).
I, Wisdom, stood speechless as the very Word of God—who was with God and was God, the Ancient of Days and the Son of God—stepped into time (John 1:1-3). The voice that once thundered, “Let there be light,” had become the Light of the world. The One through whom all things were made had become human flesh and dwelt with the children of men (John 1:14). The image of the invisible God—the Creator of all that is visible and all that isn’t—had arrived (Col. 1:15). Greater than Solomon and stronger than Adam, he entered in the line of David to make all things new. Everything had been formed through him, just as everything had been formed for him (Col. 1:16). Thrones and dominions and rulers and authorities were all made by him and meant for him (Col. 1:16). And I saw him holding all things together, reconciling all things in creation to himself—”making peace by the blood of his cross” (Col. 1:17-20).
And it was that cross that became the ultimate display of God’s wisdom. In the perfections of his wisdom, Jesus lived a life glorious and true. Full of grace. Full of love. Full of truth. Full of mercy. Full of righteousness. And his perfectly wise life—never even one misstep!—culminated in the agonies of the cross. There, God’s wisdom gained its richest resonance and its loudest roar. Christ crucified became a stumbling block to some and foolishness to others, but the power and wisdom of God (1 Cor. 1:23-24). And I began to realize: the cross had become the truest, fullest voice of wisdom—the voice that would silence the snake forever.
It was then I remembered Yahweh’s ancient prophecy. In the garden, after Adam and Eve’s error, God immediately promised a day would come when the serpent would be crushed (Gen. 3:15). And as I watched Jesus emerge from the tomb and ascend back to glory, I recognized him as the serpent slayer who would silence the forked tongue forever.
I watched as Jesus, from his exalted seat at the right hand of the Father, poured God’s Spirit onto God’s people. The same God who breathed life into Adam put his breath into his new people. They went out into the world, preaching and speaking the glorious truth of the wisdom of the cross. And for as much as I sang and danced in joyful celebration when God made his inhabited world and the children of man, I rejoiced even more at the unfolding of his new people and the promise to renew the world (8:30-31).
And I witnessed Yahweh’s people embrace Yahweh’s fresh wisdom. While past generations struck down brothers and others made in God’s image, Christ’s church loved one another and cared for everyone God had made. While past generations would not scatter throughout the earth, Christ’s church embraced his call to run with his wisdom throughout the known world. While past generations needed their languages confused to get them to depart their abominable tower, Christ’s church received diverse languages, and they joyfully ran to the nations. As they announced the name of Jesus throughout the world, I remembered Yahweh’s promise to Abraham that through him, all the nations of the earth would be blessed (Gen. 12:3). God’s wisdom was running, progressing, shaping, and moving through his cosmos.
Still, as the ages passed, the voice of the serpent was notably clear. He still deceives nations, blinds leaders, and destroys lives. Greed and oppression and murder and injustice—all continue their gruesome work. For as much as God’s people spreads life, healing, and joy, the snake’s poison spreads death, decay, and despair. That ancient serpent seems to me a great dragon deceiving the whole world, warring with and accusing God’s children, people who overcome by the blood of the Lamb (Rev. 12:7-11). Even as the wisdom of the cross advances, so does the venom of the snake. But God, who loves the children of men more than I, has showed me the end, the great day when the mighty Word incarnate will return and throw that dragon into the second death of the bottomless pit and the lake of fire.
And what is that I hear? Silence! The hiss of the serpent, the pull of his lies, the stranglehold of temptation is gone. Quieted. Muted. No—eradicated! When that day comes, tears will be wiped away. Death will be vanquished forever. Pain will be eliminated. Only one voice will remain—the wise and glorious and good and loving and just and righteous and merciful and gracious voice of Yahweh. I will no longer cry at the gates or plead at the crossroads (8:2-3). No man will wonder which voice to hear—all will love me, all will seek me, all will keep me. And God’s life and favor and blessing will rush upon us all, forever, without end, without limit, and without the foolish and erroneous voice of the snake. And God’s children will walk with him again in his renewed world, his new garden, hearing his voice alone for years without end.
So today, I cry to the people I love: hear my voice, and listen to my plea. Love me, and I will love you in return (8:17). Seek me diligently, and you will find me (8:17). The viperous voice beckons you. That worm says he is calling you to live, but, in truth, he reels you into death (8:36). But the wisdom of God, the glorious cross, calls you into death—death to self, death to sin, death to the snake—that you might live life abundant. Hear my cry. Obey my call. Keep my ways, “For whoever finds me finds life and obtains favor from the Lord” (8:35).
Study Questions
Head: How does the voice of the serpent contrast with the voice of God’s wisdom throughout the biblical story? What specific stories or texts come to mind?
Heart: In what ways might the cry of Wisdom resonate with you? For instance, have you felt no need to continue pursuing her voice, as if you have already arrived and it’s others who need wisdom more than you? Or do you sense ways you have actively ignored or neglected her call?
Hands: What are ways you want to increase your love and search for wisdom? For instance, what practices would you like to improve? What categories of wisdom would you like to pursue? And what wise voices would you like to increase?
