Day 22 — Fault Lines | Proverbs 6:12–19

Key Verse: “There are six things the Lord hates—no, seven things he detests:” (v.16)

Big Idea: God takes seriously the attitudes and actions that fracture trust; a life built on deceit and division eventually collapses under its own weight. 

🎧 Listen to Today’s Audio Here

The waterfront was restless that afternoon. Wind slapped the pilings beneath the pier, and the water kept its own ledger—dark, cold, honest. Gulls argued over scraps. The sky hung low, metallic, like it might crack open if pressed too hard.

I arrived carrying a tension I couldn’t name. The kind that lives behind the sternum. Solomon stood near the railing, linen shirt moving with the wind, silver-streaked hair tied back. 

“You picked a fault line—a place where hidden pressure builds beneath the surface,” he said, gently humorous. He tapped the rail twice, listening to the echo. “Good place for today.”

Mara joined us a moment later, scarf tight, jaw set. She’d been different since the café—showing up earlier, eyes clearer—but something was chewing at her. I felt it before she spoke.

Solomon greeted us both, then introduced the passage. “In this section, I shift from habits to hearts,” he said. “I describe the troublemaker—smooth talk, crooked steps—and then I list what the Lord won’t tolerate. Not preferences. Deal-breakers.”

He leaned in as the wind softened, the world obliging him by slowing down. “Here’s the line that frames it all,” he said, voice sure. “‘There are six things the Lord hates—no, seven things he detests.’ I wrote that to wake people up. Because some patterns don’t just harm you. They poison the ground around you.”

He opened his weathered leather notebook. Inside were simple lines drawn like cracks in concrete, branching. At the center, a small house. No labels. He slid it toward us.

“I list seven,” he said, tracing the cracks. “Pride that looks down on others. Lies that make truth optional. Hands that harm. Hearts that plan damage. Feet eager to run toward wrong. A mouth that spreads false stories. And—this one matters today—someone who stirs up division among people.”

Mara’s breath caught. The water slapped the pier again.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, staring at the sketch. “I was just… venting. Sharing. But it turned into sides. Texts. Screenshots. It felt justified.”

Solomon nodded, eyes kind but clear. “Division often wears the clothes of righteousness,” he said. “It sounds like concern. Feels like honesty. But it fractures trust. And God cares about trust the way engineers care about load-bearing walls.”

He told us a story then—one from his own life, offered without spectacle. “I once let whispers do my work,” he said. “I allowed alliances to replace integrity. It kept peace for a season. Then the house cracked. Quietly at first. Then all at once.”

The wind fell still. Even the gulls paused.

“God isn’t petty,” Solomon continued. “When I say the Lord hates these things, I’m talking about a fierce protection of what makes life possible—truth, humility, peace. Deceit and discord don’t just break rules. They break people.”

Mara wiped her eyes, steadying. “So what do I do?”

“Repair,” he said. “Where you can. Silence where you must. And choose words that heal even when they cost you.”

She nodded. After a long moment, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then tucked it away untouched. “I need to go make something right,” she said. When she left, the space she vacated felt heavier—and then lighter, like a knot loosening.

For a moment, Solomon said nothing. The water moved. The pier creaked. Absence has a sound if you listen long enough.

“She left lighter,” he said at last, not looking at me. “That’s usually the first sign of truth doing its work.”

And then he was gone, cedar scent fading into salt air.

I stayed where I was, staring at the water. I thought about how often I’ve called my words honest when they were really just convenient. How easily I’ve shared things that weren’t mine to share, telling myself it was harmless. Necessary. True enough.

The pier felt solid beneath my feet—but I knew better now. Strength isn’t about standing still. It’s about what you choose to build on.

What? Proverbs 6:12–19 teaches that God opposes attitudes and actions—especially pride, deceit, and division—that destroy trust and harm community.

So What? Our words and motives quietly shape the stability of our lives; patterns of dishonesty and discord eventually cause everything to crack.

Now What? Before speaking today, pause and ask: Does this protect truth and peace? If not, choose silence—or a better word.