What Does God Really Want From Us? (Proverbs 23:26–27)
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Proverbs 23:26-27
My son, give me your heart,
and let your eyes observe my ways.
27 For a prostitute is a deep pit;
an adulteress is a narrow well.
Now here’s a guy— …and I don’t think the older audience is gonna get that. That’s a Chris Collinsworth thing. He always says, “Now here’s a guy…”
So let me say it this way: here’s a verse. Actually, here are two verses, because you really need both to understand what’s going on here.
What’s pretty obvious is that this is an exhortation and a warning. Solomon is once again addressing the adulterous woman — which, if you were with us for Pursuing Wisdom in Proverbs, chapter 5 through 7, you know shows up a lot. This theme keeps returning. And that alone should tell us something: this isn’t a minor issue. It’s a recurring human problem.
Now, I could go straight down the road of warning about lust. I mean, Samson broke the physical bonds of his enemies, but he couldn’t break the bonds of his own desire. He snapped chains, but he couldn’t choke his disordered love. I could go there.
But honestly, what stands out to me most is not verse 27.
It’s verse 26.
“My son, give me your heart.”
That’s the heart of the passage — no pun intended.
When you really step back and ask, What does the Lord ultimately want from us?—the answer isn’t first our behavior, or our discipline, or our moral cleanup project. It’s our heart. He wants our love. He wants us.
And that’s actually what Solomon is getting at here. Before he warns about the danger of the adulteress, he says, “Give me your heart.” Why?
Because whatever has your heart will eventually shape your life. Behavior always follows love.
In other words, the problem isn’t just lust. The problem is that we were made to give our hearts to something. And if we don’t give them to God, we’ll give them to something else.
That’s why every rival love—romance, success, achievement, pleasure—eventually acts like an adulterer. Not because those things are all bad in themselves, but because they ask for what they can’t safely hold. They promise fulfillment, but they demand more and more, and they give less and less in return.
We were made for Him. Made for God. Made for Christ.
And when we give our hearts to something other than the One we were designed for, it always becomes a narrow well—a place that looks satisfying, but slowly traps you.
What’s beautiful here is that God doesn’t just demand our hearts. In the gospel, He gives us His first. Jesus doesn’t stand at the edge of the pit warning us—He goes into it for us. He’s faithful where we’re not, so that we can finally give our hearts to someone who won’t use us, abandon us, or drain us dry.
So this proverb isn’t just a warning.
It’s an invitation.
My son, give me your heart.
Let’s pray.
