I know many Christians who want to live wisely—and I do too. The rich tradition woven throughout the Old Testament calls us to embody the fear of the Lord in a way that transforms us into wise people. This is all great . . .  when it “works.” That is, when we get the promotion, gain respect at church, and receive the podcast invitation. But we live in a fallen world, and both Ecclesiastes and C.S. Lewis remind us of the subtle dangers of living for recognition and praise. Wisdom is a noble and right pursuit, but we should not be shocked when it doesn’t earn us recognition or prestige.

In 1944, C.S. Lewis delivered a lecture at King’s College, University of London. The talk he delivered to a group of young college students has become a famous address entitled “The Inner Ring.” In it Lewis states:

“I believe that in all men’s lives at certain periods, and in many men’s lives at all periods between infancy and extreme old age, one of the most dominant elements is the desire to be inside the local Ring and the terror of being left outside.”

In a stroke of religious and psychological brilliance, Lewis unpacks with arresting clarity the deep desires of the human heart to be loved, included, regarded, listened to, and accepted into the various “inner rings” of our lives—from friends, to co-workers, to politics, and even church. The temptation to live life striving to be accepted by our peers or our community can become an all-controlling feature of life. The desire for the inner ring is real. So, what does Lewis propose as an answer? Wisdom and work.

“The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it. But if you break it, a surprising result will follow. If in your working hours you make the work your end, you will presently find yourself all unawares inside the only circle in your profession that really matters. You will be one of the sound craftsmen, and other sound craftsmen will know it.”

Lewis here describes work done with skill and focus. This is not the path of self-promotion or maneuvering, but of wisdom and skill that warrants praise. The death of the desire to be in the inner circle is to pursue skill and wisdom with diligence, and Ecclesiastes 9–10 help us see why this is necessary: wisdom rarely makes a person famous.

Wisdom is Greater than Might

Ecclesiastes 9:13–18 tells a fascinating—albeit commonly overlooked—little story about a poor, wise man who delivered a city through his wisdom. This little story is one of my favorites in the book. There is something profound and strikingly realistic about the poetic justice of a great king with great siege-works being overtaken by the skill of a poor man in a little town by his wisdom. There is really no way to know what historical event the Teacher is describing, nor does it really matter. The point here is that wisdom has the power to protect and deliver. And this is a point for us to reflect upon: Do we believe true wisdom can protect and deliver? We live in a culture full of “shouting fools” (9:17), but do we believe that wisdom is greater than volume? Wisdom does not believe that the end justifies the means, but that the way we live shapes the end—the path of wisdom leads to life and deliverance.

The old man in the story is not celebrated or remembered (apart from this account in Ecclesiastes). He did not become the ruler, his name was not passed along, and he did not get a statue commemorating his accomplishment. One of the main ideas in these verses is that in a fallen world, we should not expect wisdom to be celebrated. But does this lack of recognition make his efforts in vain? No, he delivered the city! But he did not receive praise, glory, or honor. We live in a culture that sees shows of power and aggression as supreme, and wisdom as a waste of time. Wisdom is indeed greater than might, but don’t expect the mighty to admit it. The subtlety of wisdom is its own reward, and the wise know it.

Foolishness is Powerful

The Teacher of Ecclesiastes instructs us that another reason wisdom does not always get the recognition it deserves is because foolishness can reside in high places (10:5). In 10:1–11, the Teacher argues that while wisdom can deliver and is truly more powerful than weapons of war, foolishness also has its own ability to spoil things—like a dead fly in perfume!

This is true, right? How many headlines have we read where a life of good deeds was destroyed by a few moments of folly? Forty years of a virtuous career can be ended by one illegal decision. Foolish decisions have powerful consequences.

But folly not only has power because of its consequences; it is also powerful because of its ability to deceive. Ecclesiastes 10:3 describes an individual walking, lacking sense, and saying to everyone he is a fool. The passage is a bit ambiguous, but the idea is that either through his own words or actions he reveals he is a fool to all around him. The great power and irony of foolishness is that it is most often unobserved by those who display it most proudly.

In our current culture that values power, strength, shock value, and control, do not think that because folly hangs out in high places it is permissible—or benign. The Teacher explains that it will destroy a life… and a little goes a long way. There is no sin beyond the grace and forgiving power of the gospel, but talk to any longtime Christian, and they’ll tell you that being forgiven doesn’t mean that the consequences and memories of sin disappear. Wisdom recognizes the power of foolishness and counters it with a deep desire to walk in the paths of wisdom.

Go After Jesus, not the Inner Ring

In an Ecclesiastes-like fashion, Lewis warns of the vanity in pursuing the recognition of the inner ring:

As long as you are governed by that desire you will never get what you want. You are trying to peel an onion: if you succeed there will be nothing left. Until you conquer the fear of being an outsider, an outsider you will remain.

In Ecclesiastes, fools desire what they cannot have. Refusing to recognize the temporariness of this world, they seek ultimate fulfillment in things that cannot give it. In Lewis’s analogy, fools spend their lives peeling onions, only to find themselves empty-handed in the end.

Wisdom does not live for the inner ring, but for something more substantial. Ecclesiastes explains to us the power of wisdom and the disproportionate praise it receives in this world. But, like the Teacher of Old Testament wisdom, our Lord Jesus also calls us to a path of wisdom and virtue that is often not celebrated in this life. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us:

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it. (Matt. 7:24–27)

It is amazing how difficult and strange Ecclesiastes can feel at times, and yet how similar the message is to Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount. The first temptation of the serpent in the Garden of Eden was, “Did God really say….” The temptation to stray from God’s word continues through every generation. Wisdom is not crowd-sourcing. Wisdom is not trying to guess what the next big thing will be before everyone else. Wisdom begins with the fear of the Lord and building our lives upon his words. Wisdom believes that God’s instructions are good and life-giving, even though wisdom rarely gets a trophy.