The Royal Curriculum
Introduction: The King's Mother
We live in a generation that is deeply confused about authority, masculinity, and the role of women. Our leaders are often characterized by public corruption and private dissipation. Our culture alternates between celebrating a brutish, toxic masculinity and promoting an effeminate, gelded masculinity. And into this confusion, the modern church has often spoken with a stammer. But the book of Proverbs concludes its practical instruction with a potent and startlingly relevant curriculum for a king, and the source of this curriculum is even more startling to our modern sensibilities. It is not from a royal academy, or a council of grizzled generals, but from a mother.
This passage is a direct assault on the egalitarian conceits of our age. Here we have a woman, a mother, giving her son, a king, a binding oracle. She is not suggesting, she is teaching. She is not offering opinions, she is disciplining him with the word of God. This is biblical womanhood in its strength and glory. It is not the usurpation of authority, but the faithful exercise of God-given maternal authority. A godly mother is a theologian and a stateswoman in her own home, shaping the character of future rulers. Our society despises this calling, urging women to abandon this high office for the cubicle. But Scripture elevates it to the highest level. The wisdom that governs a nation is first learned in the nursery, at a mother's knee.
The words here are called an "oracle," the Hebrew word massa, which means a burden, a weighty, prophetic utterance. This is not gentle advice. This is a heavy charge. It is the kind of instruction that makes or breaks a man, and by extension, a kingdom. King Lemuel, whoever he was, had the wisdom to receive this instruction and, we can assume, to pass it on. This oracle lays out the great temptations of power, sex, and substance, and then pivots to the great purpose of power, which is justice for the weak. This is not just for ancient kings. It is for every man who would exercise any kind of authority, whether in the home, the church, or the state.
The Text
The words of King Lemuel, the oracle unto which his mother disciplined him: What, O my son? And what, O son of my womb? And what, O son of my vows? Do not give your excellence to women, Or your ways to that which blots out kings. It is not for kings, O Lemuel, It is not for kings to drink wine, Or for rulers to desire strong drink, Lest he drink and forget what is decreed, And pervert the justice of all the afflicted. Give strong drink to him who is perishing, And wine to those whose soul is bitter. Let him drink and forget his poverty And he will not remember his trouble any longer. Open your mouth for the mute, For the justice of all those passing away. Open your mouth, judge righteously, And render justice to the afflicted and needy.
(Proverbs 31:1-9 LSB)
A Mother's Burden (vv. 1-2)
The passage opens by establishing the authority and the affection behind the words.
"The words of King Lemuel, the oracle unto which his mother disciplined him: What, O my son? And what, O son of my womb? And what, O son of my vows?" (Proverbs 31:1-2)
Notice the source: a mother. And the action: she "disciplined him." This is not a sentimental greeting card. This is formative, corrective, covenantal instruction. The word for oracle, as we noted, is massa, a burden. This is the same word prophets used for their heavy messages from God. This mother understood that raising a son, especially a son who would be king, was a weighty, prophetic task. She was not just raising a boy; she was shaping a kingdom's future.
Her address to him in verse 2 is a threefold cord of love and obligation. "What, O my son?" is the cry of a mother's heart. But it is more. "Son of my womb" emphasizes the deep, biological, natural bond. She is the one who bore him. Her instruction is not abstract; it is born from the deepest possible human connection. "Son of my vows" points to the covenantal reality. This likely means she had dedicated him to God, perhaps like Hannah with Samuel. He was not just her son; he was a son promised to God, and she was holding him accountable to that vow. Every Christian child is a child of the covenant, a child of vows made at baptism. Christian parents must remember this. Our instruction is not merely our own good idea; it is holding our children to the covenant promises of God.
The Two Great Prohibitions (vv. 3-5)
The mother's oracle begins with two stern warnings against the classic temptations that have toppled men of power throughout history: lust and liquor.
"Do not give your excellence to women, Or your ways to that which blots out kings. It is not for kings, O Lemuel, It is not for kings to drink wine, Or for rulers to desire strong drink, Lest he drink and forget what is decreed, And pervert the justice of all the afflicted." (Proverbs 31:3-5)
First, the warning against sexual profligacy. "Do not give your excellence to women." The word for excellence is often translated as strength. A king's vigor, his vitality, his focus, his very life-force, is a trust from God to be stewarded for the good of his people. To squander it on a harem of women, as Solomon tragically did, is to pour out the kingdom's strength into a sieve. Notice the result: it "blots out kings." Sexual sin is not a private matter for a public figure. It is an act of political suicide. It erases legacies, destroys judgment, and brings down kingdoms. A man who cannot govern his own passions is manifestly unfit to govern a city or a nation.
Second, the warning against drunkenness. "It is not for kings to drink wine." This is not a proof-text for teetotalism. As the following verses make plain, wine itself is not the issue. The issue is the effect of wine on a man with immense responsibility. A king must not be a man who desires strong drink, because his central task is to remember and apply the law. Drunkenness causes a ruler to "forget what is decreed." The law of God is the foundation of justice. When the king's mind is clouded by alcohol, his memory of the law fails, and the immediate result is that he will "pervert the justice of all the afflicted." The ones who suffer most from a compromised leader are not the rich and powerful, but the poor and weak. A king's personal sobriety is a matter of public justice.
The Right Use of a Good Gift (vv. 6-7)
Just when we might think this is a prohibitionist tract, the mother displays a robust and earthy wisdom. Wine and strong drink are not intrinsically evil. They are creatures of God, and like all His gifts, they have a proper use.
"Give strong drink to him who is perishing, And wine to those whose soul is bitter. Let him drink and forget his poverty And he will not remember his trouble any longer." (Proverbs 31:6-7)
This is remarkable. The very thing forbidden to the king is prescribed for the suffering. For the one who is perishing, for the one whose soul is crushed with bitterness, wine is given as a medicine, a palliative. Its purpose here is anesthetic, to help a man "forget his poverty" and "not remember his trouble." This is an act of mercy. The Bible is not a book of brittle, abstract rules. It understands human suffering. It recognizes that in moments of extreme anguish, God has provided a created good that can bring temporary relief. This is not an endorsement of escapism as a way of life, but a recognition of mercy in the face of death and despair. The king must abstain from this comfort precisely so he can be clear-headed enough to govern in a way that reduces the number of people who are perishing and bitter of soul.
The Royal Job Description (vv. 8-9)
Having warned him against the dissipation of power, his mother now gives him the great purpose of power. This is the positive duty that the negative commands make possible.
"Open your mouth for the mute, For the justice of all those passing away. Open your mouth, judge righteously, And render justice to the afflicted and needy." (Proverbs 31:8-9)
Why must a king avoid the temptations of women and wine? So that he can do this. Royal authority is not a privilege for self-indulgence; it is a platform for advocacy. The king's primary job is to use his power and his voice for those who have neither. He is to "open his mouth for the mute," for those who cannot speak for themselves. He is to defend the cause of "all those passing away," which can be translated as the "sons of passing," those who are transient, destitute, with no one to stand for them.
This is the essence of godly leadership. The glad assumption of sacrificial responsibility. A true leader, a truly masculine man, stands between the weak and those who would devour them. He does not use his strength to exploit, but to protect. He is to "judge righteously," according to God's fixed standard, and to "render justice to the afflicted and needy." This is the measure of a king. Not the size of his treasury or the grandeur of his court, but the well-being of the most vulnerable in his kingdom. Power is for service. Authority is for the protection of the weak.
The True King
This oracle from a wise mother is more than just good advice for civil magistrates. It is a portrait that finds its ultimate fulfillment in the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the true King, the ultimate son of a vow, dedicated to God from the womb.
He was the one who did not give His strength away to sinful pleasures. He was tempted in all points as we are, yet without sin. On the cross, when He was perishing, He was offered wine mingled with myrrh, an anesthetic, and He refused it. He chose to face the full, unclouded wrath of God for our sakes, with a clear mind and a resolute will. He kept His mind clear so that He could remember the decree of God, the covenant He had come to fulfill.
And why did He do this? So that He could open His mouth for the mute. We were the mute, silenced by our sin, with no defense before the righteous bar of God. We were the afflicted and needy, spiritually bankrupt and perishing. And Jesus Christ, the righteous King, opened His mouth for us. He did not just plead our case; He became our case. He took our judgment so that we could receive His righteousness. He is the perfect King Lemuel, and all who would lead in His name, whether as fathers, elders, or magistrates, are called to walk in this same path: to forsake self-indulgence for the sake of sacrificial justice, and to use whatever strength God gives us to defend the weak.