Key Verse: “For wisdom is more profitable than
silver, and her wages are better than gold.” (v.14)
The café was already humming when I pushed the door open—milk steaming, cups clinking, the low thunder of conversation rolling like surf. I felt wrung out. It was payday, and my bank app had done that thing where the numbers look like they’re judging you. Again.
Solomon was at our usual corner table. He tapped the table once, like he was calling the room to order, then slid his weathered leather notebook toward the empty chair.
“You look like you checked your balance,” he said gently.
I laughed without humor and sat. “Is it that obvious?”
“Balances have a way of showing on faces,” he said. “So do bargains.”
Rachel arrived a minute later, breathless, scarf half-knotted, eyes tired but bright. She’s been with us the last couple of days—smart, sharp, carrying more weight than she admits. She ordered black coffee and rubbed her temples. She slumped into the chair and said, “If this is another one of those ‘you need to do it differently’ talks…I just might cry!”
Solomon leaned in, lowering his voice until the café noise dimmed, like someone turning a knob. ““Not ‘do it differently,’” he said gently, as if sharing a secret worth keeping. “Just… see it differently.”
He opened the notebook. The pages were crowded with diagrams—roots and branches, scales, a river feeding a city. He drew a wide arc across the top and wrote: Proverbs 3:13–18.
“Today’s passage is a song about happiness that doesn’t depend on circumstances. It compares wisdom to wealth—not to dishonor money, but to tell the truth about it. Wisdom is described as a person—her—because she relates. She gives long life, peace, favor. She’s called a tree of life—something ancient readers associated with flourishing, not survival. The whole section is saying: there’s a way of living that grows you from the inside out.”
A barista dropped off Rachel’s coffee. She thanked him, then stared into the cup. “I could use flourishing,” she said quietly. “I’m trying to do everything ‘right’ and still feel behind.”
Solomon nodded. “Context matters. These words were written to people building lives—families, work, communities—under pressure. The wisdom here isn’t ivory-tower stuff. It’s street-level. It’s asking: What actually pays off?”
He turned the page and drew a set of scales. On one side, he sketched coins. On the other, he drew a heart with a spine.
“Now we zoom in,” he said, tapping the key verse with his finger. “More profitable than silver. Better than gold. In Hebrew, the word for ‘profit’ is about surplus—what remains after costs. Not just income, but residue.”
I felt that land. The residue of my last promotion was anxiety. The residue of my last impulse buy was regret.
Rachel exhaled. “So what’s the plus side? Because wisdom sounds… slow.”
Solomon smiled, gently humorous. “Slow like compounding interest. Fast like avoiding cliffs.”
He leaned back, and the café noise faded again. I noticed a man at the counter arguing with his phone—voice tight, suit wrinkled, jaw clenched. Solomon glanced at him, then back to us. “There’s the cost side of money—stress, comparison, fear of losing it. Wisdom’s wages are different. Long life—not just years, but depth. Peace—not the absence of problems, but an unfractured soul. Favor—not popularity, but trust.”
He slid the notebook closer to Rachel. “The plus side is alignment. When your inner life and outer life stop fighting each other.”
Rachel traced the drawing of the tree with her finger. “Tree of life,” she read. “That sounds… solid.”
“It is,” Solomon said. “Trees don’t hustle. They grow where planted, draw from deep sources, and give shade they don’t charge for.”
I thought about my calendar, my notifications, the constant sense of chasing. “So wisdom pays,” I said, “just not in cash.”
“It pays in fewer apologies,” Solomon said. “Better sleep. Clearer decisions. Relationships that don’t feel like transactions.”
The man at the counter stormed out, leaving his coffee untouched. The absence felt loud. Rachel watched him go. “I don’t want that,” she said.
“Then choose what you’re paid in,” Solomon replied. “If you choose wisdom, every day is a paycheck.”
He closed the notebook and stood, boots whispering against the floor. “Three things to remember,” he said, tapping the table once more. “First: happiness grows from wisdom, not luck. Second: money measures income; wisdom measures residue. Third: hold onto wisdom like a living thing—it holds onto you.”
He smiled at Rachel, then at me, and slipped into the crowd, cedar trailing after him.
Both Rachel and I sat there longer than usual, watching steam rise, thinking about what I was actually earning with my choices.
What? Proverbs 3:13–18 teaches that wisdom brings a kind of profit money can’t—peace, stability, and a life that flourishes.
So What? Chasing only financial gain often leaves hidden costs; choosing wisdom reshapes what remains after the hustle—your sleep, relationships, and inner calm.
Now What? Today, before one decision (a purchase, a reply, a plan), pause and ask: What residue will this leave? Choose the option that pays you in peace.
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