Proverb 10:2

“Treasures of wickedness profit nothing
But righteousness delivers from death.”

So how de we tell if our hearts treasure wickedness or righteousness? I think we can start by taking a look at the things we treasure. Perhaps we start by asking ourselves questions like these:

What do you find value in? What has worth to you? What do you look forward to? What are you curious and enthusiastic about? What do you anticipate? And then ask why.

The first thing comes to mind for me, is music: listening to it, playing it, writing it, going to concerts, watching other musicians; the marriage between lyric and melody; the history and evolution; sheet music, instruments and amplifiers; the way a song touches the inner man. All of it!

It would be easy for me to write this “treasure” off as a tame desire and I could be quick to assume I’m righteous as a result. That is, if I associate wickedness with pure evil. But if I judge my own “wickedness” under these terms, I have to judge my own “righteousness” with the same sliding scale—not to mention judging others with the same forgiving standards I offer myself. 

If I claim to be righteous because I don’t murder, rob or engage in extramarital affairs, why don’t I ever assume I’m wicked because I don’t lay down my life for my brother, turn the other cheek in a heated exchange, or sell everything I have and give it to the poor?

If we honestly assesses ourselves, I think we can all find a little bit of both righteousness and wickedness in recesses of our hearts. And I think the Proverb is telling us more than something as obvious as murder doesn’t gain you anything, and you’ll be better off if you refrain from doing so. 

If I take a deeper look at what Lady Wisdom is trying to convey here, I have to take a magnifying glass to the reason behind why music gives me so much pleasure to determine whether my desire for this treasure is wicked or righteous. 

And honestly, I think it can change from moment to moment. Because my heart is volatile. As I write, I’m listening to an instrumental mix of blues-rock guitar ballads. I have a natural liking for the melancholy licks and yearning sounds of this musical style. When the guitarist bends his strings, its like he’s reaching for something that he never quite gets his grasp on. And the sound reverberates in my soul because I identify with the longing in the notes.

My personal longing is twofold: my spirit years for the Kingdom to come, the King to take his throne, and I to be claimed as his bride (to reference the imagery from Revelation 19); my heart yearns for an earthly groom to take his place as prince of my heart and to start my own kingdom by way of a family. 

I also know this about myself: I have depressive tendencies. So, if I’m in a place where I’m feeling sad because of my unmet desires on this earth, tuning in to these types of songs could be destructive—dare I say wicked, even. When I choose to tap into that space, knowing that it’s feeding something in me that starves my soul and profits me nothing, my heart’s behavior is morally wrong. Or, wicked. 

But as I write today, for instance, I associate the very same bend in the string and the very same vibratos and trills with the deeper longing of my heart; the one for which it was created for. My mind and heart tap into a very different space than when I am sad or lonely, and dwelling on the things I’m missing from this life. Instead, I dwell on that which I have to look forward to and my joy is multiplied. 

Each of these scenarios produce a very different fruit in my heart. One which destroys me and one which fuels me. To put it another way, one kills, the other gives life. One profits me nothing, the other delivers me from death. The terminology starts to look a little more murderous, doesn’t it? 

So when I tap “play” in my playlist, I am decidedly taking life, or giving it to myself. I know the difference and it would be foolish of me to ignore that truth, or worse, deny it. On some days, it may be a wicked choice. On others, it could be entirely righteous. The question then becomes: am I willing to discern the difference?