Perfume And Incense Bring Joy To The Heart

Proverbs is not a single sermon written one afternoon. It is a collection, gathered over a long stretch of Israel’s history, and the headings inside it tell you as much. Much of the book is tied to Solomon (Proverbs 1:1), yet chapter 25 opens by saying these are proverbs of Solomon that the men of Hezekiah king of Judah copied out, which places part of the work generations after Solomon himself. So when I read 27:9, I am reading a line that someone thought worth preserving and passing down, because they had watched it prove true in real lives. That settles me. This is not a one-off observation jotted in a margin. It is tested wisdom, the sort that survives because it keeps earning its place. Proverbs sits in what we call the Bible’s wisdom literature, alongside Job and Ecclesiastes, and its aim is wonderfully practical: how do you live well, day by day, under God. A line about friendship is exactly the kind of thing it exists to teach. Chapter 27 leans into that subject especially, circling round again and again to friends and to the people who live closest to us.

The picture in the first half of the verse is chosen with care. In ancient Israel a good scent was not cheap or everyday. Fragrant oils and incense were costly, often imported, and in scripture they keep turning up around worship, hospitality and honour. The same world of holy incense and anointing oil is set out in Exodus 30. So the comparison is doing more than calling counsel pleasant. It is calling it precious, set apart, the sort of thing you do not receive every day. There is craft in the proverb’s shape, too. Hebrew poetry often works by laying two lines side by side so the second answers the first, and that is just what happens here, with the joy of perfume and incense matched to the counsel of a friend. The word I do not want to hurry past is ‘earnest’. This is not idle chatter or easy agreement. Some take it as counsel that comes from deep within a person, weighty and sincere, and that fits the feel of the line, even if I would not press the exact shade of meaning too hard. The sweetness, then, is not in soft words. It is in honest ones, given by someone who has thought and felt their way to them first.

Read the rest of the chapter and the proverb stops looking like it stands alone. Three verses earlier, Proverbs 27:6 calls the wounds of a friend faithful, and a little further on, 27:17 gives the well-known picture of iron sharpening iron. The chapter keeps returning to one idea: love that is willing to be honest does us more good than affection that only flatters. The wider Bible carries this right through. Think of Nathan walking in to confront David (2 Samuel 12), or of Jonathan going to David in the wilderness to strengthen his hand in God (1 Samuel 23:16, one of the cross-references this verse points to). None of those moments were comfortable, and every one of them was a kindness. For me it reaches its deepest note in Jesus, who called his disciples friends and spoke of laying down his life for them (John 15:13, 15). He is the Wonderful Counsellor of Isaiah’s promise (Isaiah 9:6), the one whose word is always for our good. Every honest, loving friend is, in a small way, an echo of him.

I have been on both ends of this verse, and the harder end is giving the counsel, not receiving it. It is so much easier to nod along. When a friend is about to make a choice I quietly think is unwise, the cowardly move, dressed up as kindness, is to say nothing and keep the warmth between us untroubled. The proverb gently refuses to let me off. Yet notice it does not ask me to be blunt, or clever, or right about everything. It asks for counsel that is earnest and friendly, the way a good scent fills a room rather than slapping you in the face. What helps me is to earn the right to say the hard thing by showing up for the easy things first. Then I try to pray before I speak and to pick my moment with some care. I have also learned to stay near the friends who will do this for me, the ones who love me enough to risk my mood. When such a word lands well, it really does lift the heart for days, like perfume on a grey morning.

• Who has been the friend whose honest word changed the direction I was heading, and have I ever thanked them for it?
• Is there a true and loving thing I have been avoiding saying to someone, and what is the fear underneath my silence?
• Do I drift towards friends who flatter me, or towards the ones who will gently tell me the truth?
• When I remember that Jesus calls me his friend, does it change how I receive his correction through scripture and through other people?

If you want to keep going, you could read more of this book at Proverbs or sit with another verse on friendship over at our topics page.