The Forgotten Savior and the Foolish King Text: Ecclesiastes 9:13-18
Introduction: The World's Amnesia
The book of Ecclesiastes is a hard book for a certain kind of modern Christian. It is a book that looks at the world "under the sun" with an unflinching, hardbitten realism. It is not a book for sentimentalists. The Preacher, Solomon, is determined to show us the vanity, the smoke, the futility of life when it is viewed apart from the fear of God. And in our passage today, he gives us a sharp, pointed illustration that functions like a political parable. It is a story about the world's profound ingratitude and its astonishing ability to forget its saviors.
We live in a civilization that is suffering from a terminal case of amnesia. It is a society that gorges itself daily on the fruit of a tree it is simultaneously trying to chop down. The blessings of liberty, law, science, and a basic respect for human dignity did not crawl out of some primordial secular ooze. They are the direct inheritance of Christendom. They were blood-bought, prayed for, and built over centuries by men who feared God. And now, the beneficiaries of this inheritance spit on the graves of their forefathers and curse the God who gave them every good thing they enjoy. They are like the city in our text. They have been saved by a wisdom they now despise, delivered by a man they refuse to remember.
This is not just a sociological observation. This is a spiritual reality that plays out on the grand stage of history and in the small theater of every human heart. The world is always looking for a savior, but it wants a savior who is palatable. It wants a strong king, a loud ruler, a man with weapons of war. It does not want a poor, quiet man whose only weapon is wisdom. And when that poor, quiet man delivers them, they will take the deliverance and promptly forget the deliverer. This is the story of the world. And as we will see, it is a foreshadowing of the ultimate story of the world's interaction with the Lord Jesus Christ.
The Text
Also this I came to see as wisdom under the sun, and it was great to me. There was a small city with few men in it, and a great king came to it, surrounded it, and built large siegeworks against it. But there was found in it a poor wise man, and he provided a way of escape for the city by his wisdom. Yet no one remembered that poor man. So I said, “Wisdom is better than strength.” But the wisdom of the poor man is despised, and his words are not heard. The words of the wise heard in restfulness are better than the shouting of a ruler among fools. Wisdom is better than weapons of war, but one sinner destroys much good.
(Ecclesiastes 9:13-18 LSB)
The Great Predicament and the Unlikely Deliverer (v. 13-15)
Solomon begins with a story, an observation that he says was "great to me."
"Also this I came to see as wisdom under the sun, and it was great to me. There was a small city with few men in it, and a great king came to it, surrounded it, and built large siegeworks against it. But there was found in it a poor wise man, and he provided a way of escape for the city by his wisdom. Yet no one remembered that poor man." (Ecclesiastes 9:13-15)
Here is the scenario. You have a small city, utterly outmatched. A "great king" with all the apparatus of war comes against it. The city is surrounded, besieged. The situation is hopeless. This is not a fair fight; it is an impending annihilation. The great king represents the world's way of doing things: brute force, overwhelming power, intimidation. The "large siegeworks" are the visible evidence of this power. Everyone can see the problem, and everyone can see the strength of the enemy.
But inside the city, an unexpected variable is introduced. Not a great warrior, not a wealthy nobleman who can buy off the enemy, but a "poor wise man." Notice the combination of attributes: poor and wise. In the world's economy, this is a contradiction. The world equates wealth with success and success with wisdom. If you're so smart, why aren't you rich? But God's economy is different. This man has nothing but wisdom, and it turns out that his wisdom is sufficient. He delivers the city. The text says he "provided a way of escape." His wisdom was more effective than walls, more powerful than a defending army which they did not have.
And what is his reward? Oblivion. "Yet no one remembered that poor man." The deliverance was accepted, but the deliverer was forgotten. Why? Because he was poor. His wisdom did not fit their paradigm of what a savior should look like. They were happy to be saved from the great king, but they were embarrassed to have been saved by a pauper. His existence was an uncomfortable reminder of their own weakness and their reliance on a wisdom that was not loud, flashy, or rich. So, they took the benefit and erased the benefactor from the history books. This is human nature, raw and uncut. Men love the benefits of salvation, but they are deeply offended by the Savior.
The World's Faulty Calculus (v. 16)
Solomon now draws the lesson, the principle he has observed in action.
"So I said, 'Wisdom is better than strength.' But the wisdom of the poor man is despised, and his words are not heard." (Ecclesiastes 9:16)
The first statement is the objective truth. "Wisdom is better than strength." This is a divine reality. A clever plan can defeat a mighty army. A quiet word of truth can topple an empire. God's foolishness is wiser than men's wisdom, and His weakness is stronger than men's strength. This is an axiom of the kingdom of God.
But the second statement is the reality "under the sun." In the fallen world, this truth is inverted. "But the wisdom of the poor man is despised, and his words are not heard." The world does not judge by the truth of the words, but by the station of the speaker. If a man is not credentialed by the world's institutions, if he does not have wealth, or power, or a tenured position at a university, his words are dismissed out of hand. It doesn't matter if he is right. It doesn't matter if his wisdom can save the city. He is poor, therefore he is despised. He is not part of the approved establishment, therefore his words are not heard.
This is a permanent temptation for the church as well. We can become so enamored with worldly metrics of success that we despise the simple, unadorned wisdom of God's Word. We want pastors with impressive degrees and slick presentations. We want churches that look successful in the world's eyes. And in the process, we can despise the poor, simple, and profound wisdom of the gospel, and stop our ears to the quiet words of the wise.
Quiet Words and Loud Fools (v. 17)
The contrast continues, highlighting the difference between the methods of wisdom and the methods of folly.
"The words of the wise heard in restfulness are better than the shouting of a ruler among fools." (Ecclesiastes 9:17)
Wisdom does not need to shout. Truth has its own inherent authority. The words of the wise are effective "in restfulness," or "in quiet." They are for those who have ears to hear, for those who are willing to be still and listen. A man who is secure in the truth does not need to be shrill. He can afford to be calm.
Contrast this with the "shouting of a ruler among fools." This is the picture of a demagogue, a man whose authority comes from volume, from mob rule, from whipping up the passions of the foolish. He is a ruler "among fools," which means his entire platform is built on ignorance and passion, not truth and reason. The world is full of such rulers. They dominate our cable news, our political rallies, and our social media feeds. They are loud, they are confident, and they are leading a parade of fools straight off a cliff. The Christian must train his ear to distinguish between the quiet voice of wisdom and the deafening shouts of folly.
The Fragility of Goodness (v. 18)
The final verse gives us another hard-headed dose of reality. It presents a glorious principle and a devastating caveat.
"Wisdom is better than weapons of war, but one sinner destroys much good." (Ecclesiastes 9:18)
Again, the first clause states the objective truth: "Wisdom is better than weapons of war." This is a repetition of the earlier principle, driving the point home. True, lasting victory is won through wisdom, not through coercion or violence. A culture is built on what it loves and what it believes, not ultimately on the size of its military.
But then comes the tragic reality of a fallen world: "but one sinner destroys much good." This is the principle of entropy applied to the moral realm. It takes years of careful, wise labor to build something good, a family, a church, a civilization. It takes one act of foolishness, one sinner, to bring it all crashing down. It takes a thousand wise decisions to build a reputation and one sinful act to destroy it. It takes generations of faithfulness to build a Christian culture, and one generation of apostasy to dismantle it. Achan's one sin brought defeat upon all of Israel. David's one sin brought the sword upon his house for generations.
This is why we must be vigilant. Goodness is a garden that must be constantly tended. Sin is a weed that is always seeking to encroach. The sinner here is not just an individual evildoer, but is the personification of folly. One foolish decision, one compromise with the world, one moment of rebellion can undo years of wise and faithful work. It is a sobering reminder that our fight is not just to build, but to constantly guard what has been built.
The Poor Man of Nazareth
This entire parable is a picture, painted in miniature, of the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the ultimate poor wise man. He came to His own city, the world, and found it besieged by a great king, the prince of the power of the air, Satan. The world was small, weak, and helpless, surrounded by the siegeworks of sin and death.
And into this hopeless situation came Jesus. He was poor. He had no place to lay His head. He had no worldly credentials. He was despised and rejected by men. He was not the conquering king they were expecting. He was a carpenter from a backwater town. His words were not shouted from the centers of power, but spoken quietly to fishermen on a hillside.
And by His wisdom, the wisdom of the cross, He provided a way of escape for the city. He defeated the great king, not with weapons of war, but through His sacrificial death and glorious resurrection. He delivered all who would trust in Him from the siege of sin and death. He is the wisdom of God that is better than all the strength of men.
And how did the world respond? "Yet no one remembered that poor man." They took the deliverance and despised the Deliverer. The story of the church for two thousand years has been the story of God's people trying to remind the amnesiac world of the one who saved it. But the world does not want to hear it. His wisdom is despised, and His words are not heard. They prefer the shouting of rulers among fools.
And we see the final verse played out in history. The gospel, the wisdom of God, has built much good in this world. It has built hospitals, universities, charities, and nations that valued liberty and justice. And we are now living in a time where we see how "one sinner," the collective sinner of secular humanism, is working to destroy all that good. But we are not to despair. Wisdom is still better than strength. The quiet words of the wise are still better than the shouting of fools. And the poor man of Nazareth is not poor any longer. He is the great king, seated at the right hand of the Father, and He will have the final word.