DAY 5 — Whose Voices Influence You? | Proverbs 1:8–9

 

Key Verse: “Hear, my son, your father’s instruction” (v.8)

 Big Idea: Wisdom grows when you let the right voices shape you—even when it’s uncomfortable.

🎧 Listen to Today’s Audio Here

I almost didn’t come.

 After yesterday, I wasn’t sure I wanted another conversation that nudged me closer to questions I’d spent years avoiding. But curiosity has a way of pulling harder than resistance, and by the time I realized it, I was back at the café, scanning for Solomon like this had somehow become normal.

 He was already there, standing near the window, talking quietly with Mara. She noticed me first and offered a small, knowing smile—the kind people share when they’ve both slept poorly after thinking too much.

 “Glad you came,” Solomon said as I approached. “Today’s conversation tends to stir things.”

 That was not reassuring.

 We sat, the familiar leather notebook landing between us with a soft thud. Solomon didn’t open it right away. Instead, he looked at me for a moment longer than usual, like he was gauging whether to press play or pause.

 “You didn’t leave yesterday convinced,” he said.

 “No,” I replied. “But I didn’t leave angry either. Which is… new for me.”

 He nodded. “That’s usually where wisdom starts.”

 He finally opened the notebook and turned it so we could see the words written plainly at the top: Proverbs 1:8–9.

 “‘My child, listen when your father corrects you, and don’t neglect your mother’s instruction…’”

 I felt another internal bristle—but this one was different. Less about God. More about authority.

 “I have to be honest,” I said. “When I hear stuff like this, my first reaction isn’t warm and fuzzy. It’s… skepticism. I’ve seen plenty of authority figures get it wrong.”

 Mara exhaled softly. “Same,” she said. “Some of the loudest voices in my life were also the most damaging.”

 Solomon didn’t argue. He didn’t rush to defend the verse. He leaned back instead, fingers tapping lightly against the table.

 “This passage isn’t saying every authority deserves your trust,” he said. “It’s asking a deeper question: Who gets influence, or weight in your life? Whose voice are you allowing to shape you?”

 He sketched a simple image in the notebook—concentric circles again. “Everyone has voices speaking into them. Parents. Teachers. Culture. Friends. Fear. Pride. Past pain. The issue isn’t whether you listen to voices. The issue is which ones you let correct you.”

 That word again: correct.

 I frowned. “Correction feels like failure.”

 Solomon looked at me steadily. “Only if your ego is in charge.”

 That landed harder than I expected.

 He continued, “A wise person doesn’t reject correction—they filter it. They understand that being teachable is not the same as being weak. In fact, it’s usually the strongest people who can hear hard truth without collapsing.”

 Mara stared at the notebook. “So… this is about posture?”

 “Yes,” Solomon said. “About humility. About being willing to say, ‘I might not see the whole picture.’”

 I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “That sounds a lot like the ‘fear of the Lord’ thing again.”

 Solomon smiled slightly. “Well, sort of. Reverence does show up here. If you truly believe you’re not the center of the universe, then correction stops being an insult and starts being a gift.”

 He tapped the verse. “These lines talk about instruction like a crown or a necklace—not something that weighs you down, but something that marks you. Shapes how others see you. Shapes how you move through the world.”

 I thought about how defensive I get when challenged. How quickly I justify myself. How rarely I sit with discomfort long enough to learn from it.

 “I don’t love the idea of being corrected,” I admitted.

 “No one does,” Solomon said kindly. “But the question isn’t whether you enjoy it. The question is whether you want wisdom more than comfort.”

 That one stayed with me.

 He closed the notebook slowly. “If you’re wrestling with God right now, this is where it gets practical. Reverence isn’t abstract. It shows up in whose voice you allow to interrupt you.”

 He stood, gathering his things. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk about competing invitations—the ones that look harmless but lead somewhere else entirely.”

 Mara rose too, giving me a small nod. “See you tomorrow?” she asked.

 “Yeah,” I said, surprising myself. “I think so.”

 As I stepped back into the noise of the day, those three questions followed me—unsettling, but clarifying.

 

 What? Wisdom grows when we’re willing to listen to instruction and correction from voices that are grounded in truth and care.

 So What?  Resisting correction often protects our ego, but it also blocks growth—especially when we’re wrestling with trust, authority, and God.

 Now What? Pay attention today to how you respond when challenged. Instead of defending yourself immediately, pause and ask what