We’ve been moving through the book of Proverbs one chapter at a time each week at church, and this past Sunday, our pastoral resident Brian Wagers preached on Proverbs 19.
The theme was integrity. Proverbs 19 gives a rich and at times sobering picture of what that looks like.
Proverbs 19:1—“Better is a poor man who walks in his integrity than a rich man who is crooked in his ways.”
The message is clear: it’s better to be broke and blameless than wealthy and corrupt. But that’s not the story our culture lifts up. We’re trained to admire success, charm, and influence.
Proverbs 19 clearly says: a clean conscience is worth more than a padded bank account.
That verse forces us to ask: what kind of wealth are we really chasing? The kind you can deposit, or the kind you can live with? Because at some point, all the external success in the world can’t cover up internal rot. This is a truth I have learned firsthand.
As a kid, I used to lie all the time. I wasn’t even good at it, but if I thought I could avoid trouble, I’d do it. If I wanted someone to be impressed by me, I’d make up stupid things.
For instance, I remember once, in fourth grade, I told the kids on the playground I’d gone to see a movie called Pirates. This was 1990. No such movie existed. I just wanted to sound cool.
Lying was one part of my struggle; sneakiness was another.
I would go through my sister’s room, nosy and curious and totally invasive. I wanted to know what she had, what she was doing, what she might be hiding.
In a separate instance, I remember reading someone’s private journal—deeply personal things that weren’t meant for my eyes. I still regret it.
That desire to know everything, especially the hidden things, felt irresistible. Even in conversations, I’d find myself tuning out the person in front of me just so I could eavesdrop on a different conversation happening behind me.
My curiosity seemed to always win out over my conscience.
Eventually, though, the shame caught up to me. It wasn’t one moment of regret; it was slow and sinking, like waking up and not recognizing the person you’ve become. It was sometime in my twenties when I started recognizing that the way I wanted to be seen—trustworthy, honest, dependable—was completely out of sync with the way I acted.
That tension between how I looked and who I actually was started to wear on me.
Proverbs 19 nails what I was back then: a soul without sense, chasing approval with lies instead of building trust with truth.
I hardly dare to judge my past self with the words of verse 5:
Proverbs 19:5—“A false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will not escape.”
That phrase, “breathes out lies,” makes me wince. That was me back then, exhaling dishonesty without much thought.
But lies don’t evaporate. They circulate. They cling. They catch up. And when they do, the fallout is usually worse than whatever we were trying to avoid.
Brian pointed out the Hebrew language doesn’t have an exclamation point, so they repeat for emphasis. And Solomon repeats himself just four verses later, escalating the warning:
Proverbs 19:9—“A false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will perish.”
It’s as if he’s saying, “In case you didn’t take me seriously the first time…”
This isn’t just about consequences, it’s about what lying does to a person.
It erodes your sense of self. It unravels relationships. It turns your life into a web that gets harder to untangle the more you build it.
Proverbs 19:22—“What is desired in a man is steadfast love, and a poor man is better than a liar.”
What people actually want isn’t perfection or flash or wealth?
Solomon says they want steadfastness. They want to know the people they love are the same in private as in public. They want to trust. And trust is built on truth, not performance.
Today, integrity is one of the most important values in my life. Maybe that’s because I remember how it felt to live without it.
I still have moments where I’m tempted to impress, hide, or withhold. But I believe in a kind of wholeness that’s worth pursuing: a life where your inside matches your outside.
I was thinking about what it looks like to model this for my kids. We talk about trust and honesty, owning our mistakes, and how building trust is like building a house: every honest word adds a brick, and every lie knocks one out.
This week, I’m really reflecting on whether I’m modeling integrity well. The truth is, I can’t afford to fake it. I’ve lived that double life already. And it’s not worth it.
Final Thought:
Proverbs 19 grounds us with essential questions:
- Who are you when no one is watching?
- Who are you when there’s nothing to gain?
- Who are you when being truthful costs you something?
To keep myself honest, I’m committing to this question:
What is the one lie I’m most tempted to tell right now, and what is it hiding?
I want to be the same man in every room. Not perfect, but truthful; someone my children can trust, my friends can rely on. Someone who lives with integrity, whether anyone’s watching or not.
Let me know what you think.