Authorities

“Wisdom Is Prudent: Learning to Let God Rule”

Ever notice how some people just seem to carry peace wherever they go? There’s a light in their face, a calm in their spirit, and a confidence that doesn’t come from knowing all the answers. Solomon would call that wisdom. In Ecclesiastes 8:1, he says, “A man’s wisdom makes his face shine, and the hardness of his face is changed.” That’s a poetic way of saying wisdom softens us. It changes how we respond to life. The truly wise aren’t hardened by cynicism or puffed up with pride—they’re grounded in reverence for God and contentment with His ways.

As Solomon unfolds this chapter, he tackles one of the hardest lessons of all: how to live wisely under authority, even when those in power don’t seem very wise themselves. He reminds us that obedience and respect aren’t blind submission—they’re acts of trust in God’s larger plan. “Keep the king’s command,” he writes, “because of God’s oath to him.” Wisdom teaches us when to speak and when to stay silent, when to stand firm and when to be patient. It’s not about agreeing with every decision; it’s about honoring God by the way we conduct ourselves under leadership, trusting that He’s still in charge even when others falter.

That’s not always easy, is it? We see injustice in the world, corruption in high places, and our hearts cry out for fairness. But Solomon knew that life under the sun rarely feels fair. In verses 7–8, he reminds us that even the most powerful people can’t control life or death, can’t predict the future, can’t command the wind or the spirit. In other words, human authority has limits. God alone holds ultimate power. That truth isn’t meant to make us passive—it’s meant to bring peace. When you realize you don’t have to control everything, you can finally rest in the One who does.

There’s something freeing about that realization. We spend so much energy trying to manage outcomes—our finances, our families, our futures. But no matter how hard we try, life keeps reminding us that control is an illusion. Wisdom doesn’t fight that; it accepts it. The wise don’t wring their hands over uncertainty—they surrender it to God. They understand that peace doesn’t come from knowing what’s next but from knowing Who’s in charge.

Still, Solomon doesn’t ignore the tension. In verses 11–13, he talks about the problem of evil: why wicked people seem to prosper while the righteous suffer. It’s the age-old question we all wrestle with. “Because the sentence against an evil deed is not executed speedily,” he writes, “the heart of the children of man is fully set to do evil.” When judgment feels delayed, people grow bold in wrongdoing. Yet Solomon’s wisdom doesn’t waver—he still believes that “it will be well with those who fear God.” Injustice may win the short battle, but righteousness wins the war. God’s timing may not match ours, but His justice is never late.

That’s where faith gets real. It’s one thing to believe God is good when life looks good. It’s another to trust His goodness when everything feels wrong. But the fear of the Lord—the deep reverence that acknowledges His sovereignty—anchors us in the storm. The wise person doesn’t lose heart when evil rises. They stand firm, knowing that every wrong will one day be set right. The resurrection of Jesus is the greatest proof of that truth. What looked like defeat on the cross became victory in the empty tomb.

As the chapter closes, Solomon confesses something every thoughtful believer eventually learns: “Then I saw all the work of God, that man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun” (v. 17). After all his searching, all his observing, all his reasoning, Solomon comes to rest in mystery. He realizes that human understanding will always have limits—but that’s not a curse. It’s an invitation to trust. When we stop demanding answers and start delighting in the wisdom of God, we find peace that passes understanding.

Sometimes the wisest thing you can do is admit you don’t know. You don’t know why the wicked prosper. You don’t know why suffering lingers. You don’t know why God allows delays or detours. But you can know that He’s good, He’s wise, and He’s working in ways far beyond what your eyes can see. Faith doesn’t erase the mystery—it finds comfort inside it.

So, how do we live out this kind of wisdom? Start by softening your heart where pride or impatience has taken root. Speak with grace, especially toward those in leadership. Stop grasping for control and rest in God’s sovereignty. And when evil seems to thrive, remember—it’s temporary. The Judge of all the earth will do right. In the meantime, enjoy the life He’s given you, stay faithful in small things, and trust that His hand is steady, even when you can’t trace it.

In the end, Solomon’s lesson is simple but profound: God knows what He’s doing, even when you don’t. Wisdom doesn’t fight that truth—it embraces it. And when you do, you’ll find that your heart grows softer, your peace grows deeper, and your face—just maybe—starts to shine.