626_The freedom of having enough (Proverbs 15:16-17)
Proverbs 15:16 Better is a little with the fear of the Lord
than great treasure and trouble with it.
17 Better is a dinner of herbs where love is
than a fattened ox and hatred with it.
The older gentleman was known in his town as a man who never seemed to be in a hurry. While others chased promotions, upgraded homes, and spoke endlessly about what they hoped to acquire next, he lived quietly in the same modest house for decades. One afternoon, a younger colleague asked him, almost teasingly, “Don’t you ever want more?” The man smiled and replied, “I discovered a long time ago that wanting less gave me more freedom than owning more ever could.” That simple sentence lingers because it exposes a truth many of us spend a lifetime learning: the real burden in life is not having too little, but never knowing when to say, “This is enough.”
Scripture captures this wisdom with piercing clarity in Proverbs 15:16–17. These verses do not merely compare quantities of wealth or quality of meals; they redefine what it means for life to be truly “better.” In the wisdom literature of the Bible, “better” is not measured by appearance, accumulation, or social standing, but by what produces peace, moral clarity, and enduring joy before God.
The proverb does not glorify poverty for its own sake. Scripture never romanticizes lack, nor does it suggest that holiness lies in deprivation. Rather, it calls us to contentment—to having enough. Contentment is the settled conviction that what God has provided is sufficient for faithful living. It is the ability to receive God’s gifts with gratitude, without allowing desire for more to dominate the heart. The danger, Proverbs warns us, is not in possessing much, but in losing the fear of the LORD in the pursuit of more. If the cost of gaining abundance is the erosion of reverence for God, then wisdom says it is better to live with less.
The fear of the LORD is the controlling center of biblical wisdom. It is reverent awe, humble submission, and a life lived with God as the ultimate reference point. Where the fear of the LORD governs the heart, even modest provision is accompanied by peace of conscience, spiritual security, and confidence before God. But where that fear is lost, even great treasure becomes a source of anxiety, rivalry, and unrest. Without reverence for God, wealth has a way of enslaving rather than serving. That is how one ends up as the “rich fool,” materially full but spiritually bankrupt.
Contentment, however, does not come naturally. It is learned, often through seasons we would not choose. The apostle Paul makes this clear when he writes, “Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned, in whatever situation I am, to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound.” Paul had experienced both extremes—abundance and hunger, freedom and imprisonment. His contentment did not arise from stable circumstances but from Christ-sufficiency. When he declares, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me,” he is not boasting in extraordinary achievements, but in the quiet strength to remain content whether full or hungry, honored or forgotten. Contentment, for Paul, was a spiritual discipline shaped by trust in God’s faithful provision.
This same spirit of contentment shines through the life of Abraham. When tension arose between his shepherds and Lot’s over grazing land, Abraham faced a moment that could have been driven by competition and self-interest. As the elder and the one to whom God had given promises, Abraham had every right to choose first. Instead, he said to Lot, “Let there be no strife between you and me… Is not the whole land before you?” Abraham was willing to take what was left, trusting that peace between brothers mattered more than securing the best pasture. His contentment rested not in visible advantage but in God’s promise. And in a striking turn, after Lot chose the fertile land, God reaffirmed to Abraham that all the land around him would be his inheritance. Contentment freed Abraham from rivalry and positioned him to receive more than he ever grasped for.
David’s contentment was forged in even harsher conditions. “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want,” he wrote—not from the comfort of a palace, but from a life marked by danger, displacement, and uncertainty. Hunted by Saul and often deprived of stability, David found rest not in ease but in God’s presence. His confidence flowed from knowing he was being led, guarded, and provided for by the Shepherd. Contentment, for David, was not the absence of hardship but the assurance of God’s nearness.
The opposite spirit is seen in the wilderness generation of Israel. Though they were daily recipients of God’s miraculous provision, they were persistently discontent. They complained about manna, longing for the familiarity of Egypt, forgetting the chains that once bound them. Their dissatisfaction blinded them to grace already received. Discontent has a way of erasing gratitude and magnifying longing, until even miracles feel insufficient.
King Saul presents another tragic picture of discontent, driven by comparison. When David’s popularity grew, Saul’s heart became restless and tormented. Instead of rejoicing in God’s work through another, he allowed envy to corrode his obedience and peace. Discontent often begins when we measure our lives against someone else’s success rather than God’s calling for us.
Proverbs 15:16 warns that “great treasure” without the fear of the LORD often comes with trouble. Wealth itself is not condemned, but wealth detached from reverence for God frequently produces anxiety, injustice, and broken relationships. The next verse deepens the lesson: “Better is a dinner of herbs where love is than a fattened ox and hatred with it.” In ancient times, a fattened ox symbolized luxury and celebration. Yet Scripture reminds us that abundance cannot compensate for relational emptiness. Love and peace nourish the soul far more deeply than extravagance surrounded by tension. Moral and relational health cannot be purchased, no matter how lavish the table.
Throughout Scripture, this theme is echoed again and again. A little with righteousness is better than great revenue with injustice. A cheerful heart enjoys a continual feast, regardless of circumstances. A good name outweighs great riches. Even the prayer of Agur captures this balance: “Give me neither poverty nor riches… lest I be full and deny you.” Scripture consistently points us to a life where enough is defined by godliness, not accumulation.
The writer of Hebrews brings this wisdom to a practical conclusion: “Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’” Contentment is grounded in God’s promise of presence. Those who live free from the love of money gain a deeper confidence: “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear.”
There is, indeed, a great freedom in having enough. Nowhere is this more beautifully embodied than in the life of our Lord Jesus Christ. Born into a poor family, identified by parents who could offer only a modest sacrifice, He lived a life marked not by accumulation but by trust in the Father. He possessed little, yet lacked nothing. His contentment flowed from perfect dependence on God.
As we reflect on this wisdom, we are invited to examine our own hearts. How do we define success? Is it shaped more by Scripture or by the culture around us? What kind of atmosphere fills our homes—peace and love, or abundance mixed with tension? Do we hold our possessions lightly, recognizing them as tools rather than foundations? And above all, do we cultivate a reverent fear of the LORD that turns “a little” into enough?
True contentment does not make us passive or idle. It allows us to work diligently without anxiety, to strive faithfully without obsession, and to trust God even amid uncertainty. May our lives reflect the quiet freedom of those who have learned to say, with confidence and gratitude, “The Lord is my shepherd; I have enough.” God bless.