Relentless

"For though a righteous man may fall seven times, he still gets up; but the wicked stumble in bad times." Proverbs 24:16 BSB

I was scrolling my Facebook memories today, whenever I came across a post I had written last year on the topic of stumbling, which came from the verse-of-the-day, that said, "Great peace have those who love your law; nothing can make them stumble." Psalm 119:165 

Towards the end of my post, I made note of the above verse in Proverbs that seems contradictory. Do we stumble, or don't we? I think the answer lies in the fact that there is a literal difference in the words being used, in English and Hebrew.

Full confession: I'm down in the dirt as we speak. So, I felt that this would be a good topic to meditate and study this morning. 

My go-to form of study is always word study. 

So, I began looking at the word translated as "fall", or naphal, in Hebrew. It's used to describe what that looks like for a righteous man. The second, is to "stumble" or kashal, in Hebrew, used for the wicked.

And while I study, I think it's important to contemplate two different ways this verse can be read.  Does it mean if you're righteous this is the outcome and if you're wicked, a different one. Or should it be read as your response to the outcome determines if you're classified as righteous or wicked. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

As always, I went to my favorite source for Hebrew word study and put in the word naphal (to fall) and I love the point that was made when looking at this word's first use in Genesis 2:21 whenever God caused a deep sleep to naphal upon the man. The point made:

 "The word's very first fall is not a disaster but the condition under which YHWH does creative work in a person while he is down."

Wow.  That statement packs quite a punch. When I'm down in the dirt, am I able to relinquish my ego and embrace humility by admitting what landed me there in the first place? Do I love the law (Psalm 119:165) or do I resent it and prefer my own wisdom?


So, what does the first use of kashal tell us?

Kashal is first used in Leviticus 26:37

"They will stumble over one another as before the sword, though no one is behind them. So, you will not be able to stand against your enemies."

The point being made here is that they're not stumbling over an external obstacle but over one another. There's no unity. They're at odds with each other, so they can't accurately diagnose the real problem and work to fix it. That resonates. 

Another thing I'd like to share is what I've learned about the Hebrew language: it is full of layers. One such layer is that the earliest forms of Hebrew writing developed from pictographic symbols. Looking at a word through this lens can reveal an additional layer of imagery and invite us to meditate on a passage in a different way.

Of course, the meaning of a Hebrew word is determined by how it is used throughout Scripture, but sometimes the pictographic imagery can help us visualize what the text is communicating.

And that is exactly what I noticed as I looked at these two words.

Napal is what it looks like to be flung to ground, to trip. But to kashal is the be pressed down under a load. Which illustrates perfectly why you can rise after you naphal, but when you kashal, you can't get out from under the force pushing you downward. But there's a nuance there too. It isn't only the force, its also your ability to withstand it.

So, we have the layer of first use, the layer of pictographic imagery, and also have the layer of looking at similar related words and noticing their nuanced differences.

One more thing I want to share that the word study tool pointed out in their "sister terms" section:

 Naphal— "to fall." The completed downward event; kashal is the tottering/buckling that may precede a fall. Prov 24:16 pairs them: "the righteous falls seven times and rises" — the fall is naphal, but the proneness to stumble is kashal's domain. 

That underlined bit caused me to go to a secondary word study tool I use. To see what it had to say about the verb.

Simply put, this tool defines kashal as the physical act of losing one's footing, staggering under a load too heavy to bear, or collapsing — often implying weakness that precedes a fall rather than the fall itself. 

So, naphal is the fall itself—the going down, the being thrown or falling to the ground. Kashal, however, carries the imagery of stumbling, staggering, faltering, even collapsing under something too great to bear. It can describe the weakness that precedes the fall.

Hmm. That's definitely something to contemplate. Especially whenever another place we find the verb kashal is in Isaiah 40:30 when its used twice, back-to-back, which is a Hebrew literary technique used to intensify a verbs idea. The ESV translates it this way:

"Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall (kashal) exhausted (kashal)" 

But this verse is contrasted by the following verse:

 "but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up (rise/get up) with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint" Isaiah 40:31

Remember what said earlier about the first use of naphal not being about disaster but about the condition in which God does His creative work? 

The Hebrew word for renew is chalaph which BibleHub describes in this way: 

"Chalaph conveys the movement from one state to another—passing by, exchanging, replacing, sprouting anew, or being renewed. Its twenty-eight Old Testament appearances trace a line from ordinary changes of garments to the sweeping renewal of creation itself."

I really like what the secondary tool says about the theological weight of kashal:

"The theological weight falls on what follows the stumble: those whose hope is in the LORD are lifted, while those who persist in covenant-breaking find the stumble becomes a ruin. The prophets use kashal to call Israel to see her military defeats, social collapse, and spiritual weakness not as random misfortune but as the readable consequence of covenant departure. This gives the word a diagnostic and ultimately restorative function: if you can name the stumble, you can find the path back."

Which leads us to what it means to be righteous (tsaddiq) verses what it means to be wicked (rasha).

What immediately stands out about these two words is that they have to do with relationship—with God and others. 

Tsaddiq — “the relationally aligned one”

A tsaddiq is a person who remains open, responsive, and willing in their relationship with God and others. They may fall, fail, grieve, or break, but they return, receive correction, and seek restoration. Their righteousness is not perfection but relational fidelity — a heart that stays turned toward God.

Rasha — “the relationally resistant one”

A rasha is a person who becomes closed, unresponsive, and unwilling in their relationship with God and others. Their wickedness is not defined by the amount of sin but by refusal — rejecting correction, resisting return, and hardening themselves against God’s voice. Their condition is not weakness but relational defiance.

Our verse in Proverbs is translated many different ways, but the Hebrew points out the tsaddiq keeps getting up, not because they're morally superior, not because they're stronger, but because they turn to God and He helps them. But the wicked, whenever bad (ra`) comes they refuse to keep going, keep trying, keep forgiving, keep showing up. They get knocked down and declare the problem unfixable; they point fingers, blame others, declare there is no hope and walk away.

Ra` is less "moral evil" in the Greek sense than that-which-brings-harm, dysfunction, calamity — the state of a thing that no longer works as intended.

Ra' is the current state of the world. The "big picture" world. And sometimes, the small picture —my world: my state, my town, my community, my home.

Can I be honest? Do you know what's landed me in the dirt? First and foremost, it's the fact that my son is dead. And that should be enough. But grief is relentless, and something in my world keeps pressing down, trying to make sure I don't get back up. My ego (self-pity) has taken center stage in the wake of Patrick's death and has helped land me here for sure, but I feel like it's the blows of another that is making it difficult to get back up. How I've prayed their fist would turn to an open hand instead. Be sure, my ego, full of hurt, has dealt blows of its own. This study is helping me, come to God with my struggles, difficulties, and failures, helping me to relinquish my hurt so that I can offer an open hand of my own. I'm stepping out in faith, that it will be met in kind. 

But if it isn't, maybe that will be the answer to my question about whether or not this situation is God pruning. Cutting loose. More honesty? If that's what's happening it breaks my heart and scares me all at the same time. So much loss, so close together. Tomorrow is 5 months since my son drew his last breath. One week until his birthday. The first one since his death. That's not enough time to have to lose a 22-year-old marriage too.  

My name does after all mean "to bind." 
His means "to descend."