When I’m Right But Not Righteous: Proverbs 15

There are times I catch myself mid-sentence and wonder, Who am I trying to be right now?

Not am I right?—because often I am—but is my “rightness” actually righteous?

What’s the difference between being right and being righteous? Is it rooted in love—or in my need to prove something? Am I speaking as the humble follower of Christ I’m becoming—or as the reflex to be the most technically correct person in the room?

I don’t have a specific story to share today. Instead, Proverbs 15 has me noticing a pattern in my speech—and recognizing the Spirit’s gentle way of pointing it out as I seek to grow.

Lately, I’ve been trying to pause before I speak—long enough to invite God into that quiet space between thought and word. It sounds simple, but rewiring my patterns from the inside out feels slow and humbling. I stumble often, noticing how much of my speech is shaped by old habits—pride, fear, or the need to be heard—rather than the humility I long to grow into.

As Pastor John pointed out, Proverbs 15 speaks about the power of wise words to pacify conflict, promote truth, and provide healing.

That feels enormous. And impossibly high-stakes when I consider how my words have sometimes done the opposite. The tongue, as James reminds us, is small but capable of setting great fires (James 3:5–6). And too often, that fire starts in the soul—our internal wars, our need to be right, that take the shape of sharp words.

Proverbs 15:1 — “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.”

As I grow in faith, I’m beginning to see how deeply rooted my speech patterns are. My need to be precise and “technically right” isn’t just personality.

It’s a signal.

It shows me where I still need to grow—where my center isn’t fully surrendered.

In Proverbs, wisdom always includes humility, timing, and a posture of peace. When I chase being “right,” I’m missing the deeper invitation: to be righteous in how I speak—to let truth serve love, not ego.

But I’ve also seen the fruit of a quieter kind of speech—not through one big moment, but through years of presence and consistency. I have a handwritten note from my son that I received on my birthday. In it, he wrote:

“Your wise counsel will always be appreciated and noted. You convinced me to join the youth group which I love and never would have joined otherwise… I will always appreciate you and mom for bringing me to Jesus and Christianity.”

Those words mean more to me than I can express because something about the tone of my life—my counsel, my encouragement—had enough weight over time to help him see what matters most.

That’s the kind of speech I want to practice: not persuasive for its own sake, but quietly persuasive because it points beyond me, toward Jesus.

Proverbs 15 wants us to think of speech this way: not as a tool to be clever or impressive, but as one of the most powerful ways to plant seeds. In a world that rushes to speak, this kind of speech is rooted in patience.

Proverbs 15:23 — “To make an apt answer is a joy to a man, and a word in season, how good it is!”

There’s a quiet joy in wise words—not because they win the moment, but because they linger. They just stay, like a seed buried deep, slowly growing into something good.

Proverbs 15:28 — “The heart of the righteous ponders how to answer, but the mouth of the wicked pours out evil things.”

Lately, I’ve been praying Colossians 4:3–4 more intentionally: for clarity and boldness—the courage to speak up when needed—but also for gentleness. Because wise words don’t just say the right thing—they say it in the right way, at the right time, for the right reason.

Proverbs 15:4 — “A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.”

That’s the shift I’m leaning into: not rushing to fix, correct, or be the most technically right person in the room—but learning to ponder. To pause. To yield. Because wise words almost always begin with inward peace.

I still catch myself speaking from old reflexes—more often than I’d like. But I’m learning that Christlike speech doesn’t begin with the perfect words. It begins with a different center. It’s not about getting it right all the time—it’s about being rooted in grace and truth and letting that love shape what flows from my mouth.

This journey is ongoing. I know full transformation of my speech may never happen in this life. But I don’t want to hold myself to perfection—just to presence. To growth. To faith that it is God’s work in me that truly brings change.

Final Thought:

Each carefully chosen word, each moment I pause to pray, feels like planting the seeds Proverbs 15 speaks of—small, slow, but growing toward a tongue that heals.

And maybe that starts with a new question: Who am I becoming, with each word I choose to speak?

The sermon ends, but the story doesn’t. And in that story, I’m learning that being right isn’t the goal—being righteous is.
And that only grows from humility—from slowness—and from trusting God to shape my words, one quiet seed at a time.