Saying Twenty-Five

Proverbs 24:10-12

If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small. Deliver those who are drawn toward death, and hold back those stumbling to the slaughter. If you say, “Surely we did not know this,” does not He who weighs the hearts consider it? He who keeps your soul, does He not know it? And will He not render to each man according to his deeds?

True strength has receipts.

The clock did not chime 11:58 p.m. because clocks never do. But it was 11:58 p.m., nonetheless. Bruno’s right hand, enveloping his gaming mouse, drenched that poor, defenceless object in a pool of clammy sweat. All he had to do was click the blue button — the one inscribed with that terrifying word, “Send.” Why was it so difficult?

It was difficult because this email contained an apology, the details of which would likely cost him a promotion. It was difficult because his boss was a hard man, reaping where he had not sown, and gathering where he had not scattered. But at the bottom line, it was difficult because Bruno was a morally weak man. He told himself it wasn’t wise to send an email this late. HR would overreact. His boss already knew. Tomorrow would be clearer. These little alibis stacked like sandbags against his flooding conscience.

At 11:59 p.m., Bruno didn’t click “Send.” He hovered over the button, sniffed involuntarily a few times, pictured the fallout, and with a relieved click, sunk his finger into the gray button labelled “Save as Draft”. He was safe — safe from the HR Karens, anyway. Unfortunately for Bruno, the Final Judgement will not render to each man according to his drafts.

The “day of adversity” might be the day you jump in the ocean to save a drowning child. It might be the day you run inside your elderly neighbour’s burning house. Much more common, however, are the uninspiring moments, in which serious moral quandaries mask themselves in the mundanity of blue “Send” buttons and pulling up the covers at 6 a.m.

These moments are gifts. They come wrapped in the packaging of low stakes, tied off with the bow of privacy. When no one else but God knows the decision you will make, and when (in the grand scheme of things) it genuinely doesn’t matter, you have the opportunity to test your strength out. And it is entirely by the grace of God that these situations turn up on your doorstep every day. Will you cook a healthy dinner, or order Uber Eats? Will you turn left and run another two kilometres, or turn right and head home? Will you commit adultery in your heart, or kill the temptation with a quick prayer?

In one sense, therefore, these small moments of temptation should be viewed as training for the big day. When the curtain rises on Proverbs 7, you better hope you’ve practiced your lines during rehearsals. In another sense, however, the rehearsals are the big day, because how you behave at those will determine what happens during the performance. For the sake of staying true to the saying at hand, however, we will view the “day of adversity” in the former sense: the grand performance, when men are being “drawn toward death,” and “stumbling to the slaughter.”

In short, Saying Twenty-Five is asking: When it really matters, does your strength have receipts?

The difference between true and counterfeit strength may be illustrated as the difference between lexical and modal verbs. Bear with me for a moment as I wax eloquent on grammatical semantics.

True strength is generally characterised by lexical verbs — verbs that carry the weight of a sentence. This is because true strength does things:

• “He ran to her aid.”

• “She wrestled the goose.”

• “He bench-pressed the fridge.”

Counterfeit strength, dressing itself up in the same garb, cannot help but betray itself by the presence of modal verbs — verbs that express possibility, necessity, or permission. This is because fake strength boasts itself loudly, and has excuses for its lack of receipts:

• “I could beat you in a fight.”

• “I didn’t realise we’d started.”

• “I could’ve run faster, but my crocs weren’t in sport mode.”

Much can be learned about a man by simply observing the ratio of lexical to modal verbs in his speech. Strength speaks in verbs that do, not verbs that dodge. Is he a would’ve-should’ve-could’ve guy? Or is there concrete in his voice that has had time to set?

Now, even the best of men, at times, offer excuses; sometimes there are genuine reasons to pardon your behaviour. A man who says “my arm fell off” when asked why he failed to reel in a falling child is not sinning if his arm did, indeed, fall off. (It seems an unlikely story, I’ll grant, but there should be no trouble in verifying the truth of it.) As such, excuse-giving is not, per se, an indicator of moral weakness.

But watch a man when he gives his excuse. Does it come naturally to him? Did it roll off the tongue? Did he have it ready to go? Such factors are red flags. A man trained in the art of excuse-making is a man who has failed to train. He is compensating for his weakness with a swift tongue.

On the Day of Judgement, the Lord will not judge the tree by its sap. If the only proof you can give of your virtue is a verbal assurance that there are many spiritual sentiments coursing through your body — and they would’ve produced fruit given the right opportunities — then your strength is small. That stuff is rightly called “sap.”

By this we know love, because He laid down His life for us. And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. But whoever has this world’s goods, and sees his brother in need, and shuts up his heart from him, how does the love of God abide in him? My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth.

1 John 3:16-18

The Lord is not looking for “word and tongue.” He’s looking for fruit. He wants a genuine, juicy apple into which he can sink his teeth. Ask yourself these questions, therefore:

Did you send the email? Or will the Lord find it rotting away in your drafts folder?

Did you listen to the flattery of the Proverbs 7 woman? Or did you tell her to get back to her brothel?

Did you get out of bed when the alarm went off? Or did you negotiate with the snooze button like it was holding you hostage?

Excuses may fly before the naivety of men; on the Day of Judgement, they’ll fall flatter than the walls of Jericho after the seventh lap. So get up and act. Send the email. Ask the girl. Plant the tree. Kill the dragon. We aren’t saved by these receipts; we’re saved by Christ. But the faith he gives always prints them.

Scriptures for Comparison

Proverbs 3:27-28

Psalm 82:3-4

Isaiah 58:6-10

Micah 6:8

Matthew 7:15-23

Romans 2:6

James 1:22

James 2:15-17

1 John 3:16-18