Wisdom Against Seduction

Proverbs 7:21-27

1

As I mentioned at the beginning of this worship, over the past three weeks, I have spent a great deal of time walking the trails of several of Wisconsin’s State Parks. As I walked, I reflected on various memories – from the mistakes I made from my early twenties, both knowingly and unknowingly, to my recent meetings with the cabinet of the Wisconsin Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. Carl Jung, the Swiss psychoanalyst who founded analytic psychology, became my imaginary companion in these reflections. While Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis, emphasized the formative role of childhood, Jung focused more on the middle years of life. During middle age, we slowly but inevitably come to realize that our time in this world is limited. With that realization, we begin to take ourselves more seriously – examining the life we once hoped for and measuring how much of it we have actualized. A wave of regret can hit us indifferently, and we often find ourselves thinking: If only I had done things differently. If only I hadn’t made certain choices. Perhaps my life today would be different. When we struggle to find meaning in what we have created with the time given to us, we may fall into either despair or obsessive introspection. Time is short. Life is a singular, precious opportunity – more valuable than anything or anyone. We know this, and yet we often struggle with the deeper question: What do we truly want to do with it? And so, the paradox only grows more complex.

2

A key concept in Jung’s analytic psychology is the individuation process – a lifelong journey of becoming the person we are meant to be by integrating all aspects of the self, both conscious and unconscious. This includes reconciling various fragmented memories and dimensions of the psyche into a unified whole. Jung believed that unresolved, repressed, or split-off memories and traits create internal conflict and suffering. By confronting and integrating these fragments – rather than rejecting or suppressing them – the individual becomes more balanced, authentic, and whole. This integration fosters greater self-awareness and psychological health. To put the individuation process in simple terms: our forgotten, or intentionally buried, memories never truly disappear. They remain within us, continuously shaping the way we think and act. In doing so, they persistently remind us that we must confront and process them – even if doing so leaves lasting wounds. In The Divine Comedy (1321), Dante implied that Hell exists within memory. The souls in Hell retain full awareness of their earthly lives – their sins, regrets, and missed chances for repentance. This perpetual recollection contributes to their torment. They remember who they were, what they did, and what they lost – forever. Hell is what happens when we live trapped in guilt, sin, or self-deception. Memory itself becomes part of the punishment. In midlife, in a sense, we find ourselves standing in the middle of a purgatory, grappling with the weight of our past and searching for the path forward.

3

Wandering through Wisconsin’s State Parks, I decided to call my father. I wanted to ask for his advice on something I had been grappling with internally. But to do so, I had to navigate two obstacles. The first was my mother. Whenever I call my parents, my conversations with my father rarely last beyond three minutes. I take after him in many ways – he tends to be cautious about his words and prefers listening to speaking. So, even if I call him directly, after a brief exchange, he habitually passes the phone to my mother. Once she’s on the line, I have to gather myself again, bracing for her endless repertoire – stories from her present life interwoven with memories of our shared past. Finding the right moment to close the conversation becomes increasingly difficult as time stretches on. The second obstacle is steering my father away from his singular speech on South Korean politics. Recently, the president of South Korea was removed from office after being impeached. I support the decision. My father does not. So, when I speak with him, I find myself performing acrobatics to avoid the topic entirely. Nevertheless, whenever I speak with them on the phone, I feel grateful that they are still alive. A famous Korean novelist once said that when our parents pass away, we all become orphans. After hearing their voices and observing their facial expressions and body language, I mostly feel relieved because I still have my parents to go back to and rely on whenever I need them. Their presence, along with all they have built in their limited time, including me, encourages me to keep moving forward.

4

Proverbs 7 is more than moral instruction – it’s a vivid narrative, a father’s urgent warning to his son about the seductive pull of temptation. The chapter begins with a passionate plea: “My son, keep my words... write them on the tablet of your heart.” Wisdom and understanding are presented as safeguards. The father then shifts to storytelling: “At the window of my house, I looked out through my lattice…” He sees a naive young man walking at night, unguarded and unaware. The setting – twilight and deepening darkness – mirrors his vulnerability. Suddenly, a woman appears. She is dressed to seduce – loud, confident, and persuasive. She seizes the young man and speaks with flattery, inviting him to indulge in secrecy and pleasure: “Come, let’s drink deeply of love till morning... my husband is not home.” She offers desire without consequence. The tone turns tragic. “All at once he followed her like an ox going to the slaughter…” The young man offers no resistance. He follows blindly, unaware of the cost. The story ends with the father’s final words: “Now then, my sons, listen to me…” He delivers the lesson – her house is not simply a place of sin, but “a highway to the grave.” The words our Father spoke to us in childhood and adolescence were true, yet we did not listen. At best, we ignored Him; at worst, we despised Him. And yet, in retrospect, we come to see how blessed we were to have someone with the courage to speak the truths we most resisted hearing. That is why we need at least one day each year to remember our Father – both biological and spiritual.

Prayer

Gracious and everlasting God, we thank You for the wisdom that You have spoken into our lives – through Scripture, through our fathers and mentors, and through the quiet whispers of Your Spirit. So often we have turned away from Your voice, ignoring Your counsel and resisting Your truth. Yet still, You have remained faithful – waiting, watching, and calling us home. Today, as we reflect on our memories, our choices, and our search for meaning, remind us that Your grace is not limited by our past. Teach us to listen anew to Your words – to write them on the tablets of our hearts, to walk in Your wisdom, and to live with courage and integrity. Lead us, O Lord, not down the path of seduction and regret, but along the road that leads to life with less regret. In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Redeemer, we pray. Amen.