Proverbs 4:14-17

¹⁴ Do not set foot on the path of the wicked
or walk in the way of evildoers.
¹⁵ Avoid it, do not travel on it;
turn from it and go on your way.
¹⁶ For they cannot rest until they do evil;
they are robbed of sleep till they make someone stumble.
¹⁷ They eat the bread of wickedness
and drink the wine of violence.

The book of Proverbs offers a sobering counter to our tendency to see ourselves sympathetically: evil is behavioral, not just constitutional.

We tend to think of ugly deeds as arriving from an ugly personality. It’s an essential badness, a flawed character that produces the transgressions we witness in and experience from others.

Bad people do bad stuff.

And maybe this is true.

The bad stuff we do, conversely, we see as mere error. It’s a bug, not a feature, a departure from our essential decency.

After all, we know our intentions, and we meant well.

We tend to judge ourselves by those intentions, because we know what they were, and even where they were awful, we know why they were awful. By definition, we can empathize with ourselves, because we are merely feeling what we already felt.

We tend, on the other hand, to judge others by their actions, because it’s all we have to go by. And if their actions hurt us, we aren’t necessarily in the mood to view them generously. We pass judgment. We want justice. We are angry because we are hurt. In our wounded minds, the people who hurt us are inherently unlike us.

The proverb makes a different argument: The path of the wicked leads to wickedness.

Evil is not a way of being. It’s a way of walking.

The more evil we do, the more evil we become.

And while this concept may seem straightforward, it shatters the illusion of moral exceptionalism that many of us unthinkingly carry in the world.

I won’t do the things I condemn because that’s not who I am. When presented with temptations, or opportunities to mess up, I will instead make good choices.

But how do I know?

The Apostle Paul, a seasoned leader, tells Timothy, a young pastor, to “flee youthful lusts” (2 Timothy 2:22).

And while the first interpretation here is often about sex, youthful lusts can be the hunger for money, for fame, or for power. And the reality is they don’t necessarily fade with our youth.

I have met people from eight to 88 frustrated they haven’t achieved more.

They are kids anxious they aren’t doing enough to get into the right high schools and colleges or become Broadway stars by 17.

They are preteens dying to become influencers.

They are twenty-somethings who already feel like has-beens, thirty-somethings who feel like they missed their callings, forty-somethings desperate to make a mark before it’s too late.

All these people, in their desperation, make selfish, lousy choices.

And under the wrong circumstances, so do I.

You don’t really know what trouble you have inside you until you experience the pressures that bring it out.

We have to be careful, at this point, however, not to let our common flaws justify an amoral complacency. Yes, we are all capable of evil behavior. Yes, we’re all at least partially corrupt. This does not, however, mean we’re all equally corrupt, and might as well just have fun.

Just because I’ve done bad things does not mean I should accept bad things as normal.

It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t strive to do better.

Amorality seeks to eliminate our ability to make moral decisions and while simultaneously seeking to rehabilitate the image of people whose behavior we have rightfully condemned. It’s the movement that says that mass murdering tyrants weren’t all bad, which is often just a gateway to excusing atrocity.

Taking responsibility for my own sin does not require conflating murder with jaywalking. And the person who attempts to do so is usually selling something.

Knowing that I’m capable of missteps makes each step that much more important.

There are things we can’t control, but we can control where we walk.

Walking the path of the wicked can all too easily lead us to do the same things they do, and its insane to risk everything in the confidence that they won’t.

If you’re a recovering addict, you might be ok around the thing that used to dominate you, but betting your recovery on the chance that you won’t stumble is probably not wise.

And if your addiction was to mayhem, you may need to stay away from destructive behavior and the people who engage in it.

Solomon describes the evil as inspired by evil deeds.

They can’t rest until they mess up someone else. They eat wickedness, and drink violence.

And they will likely eat you for lunch.

So guard your heart.

Watch your step.

And keep your hands to yourself.

(Photo Credir: Vassily Skuratov)

(Thanks for stopping by! If you like what you're reading, I have something else for you. Check out my blog at https://mischafield.com/blog

Subscribe to my newsletter https://mischafield.com/subscribe for book news, life news, and special posts that will not appear on social media. I’d love to take this journey with you.)