A Way That Seems Right
I still remember a freshman from my 1999 class: a friendly, determined young lady with binders covered in Britney Spears pictures. I was nearing 40, just old enough to have a passing familiarity with her from the media.
She sat in the front of the class, and one day I asked, “Are you a big fan of Britney Spears?” Without hesitation, she looked up and, in a voice full of conviction, said, “I want to be Britney Spears.”
I don’t recall my exact response, but I think I told her: “You’re smart, capable, and genuinely kind. You don’t need to take a backseat to anybody.”
Britney’s reputation at that point was untainted. But I wished my student’s dreams could steer clear of the heartache that so often finds young stars. Age taught me how fame can swallow people whole, as Spears’ later years would illustrate.
A few years later, I saw a charming 13 year old actress in a popular film. I told my wife that she had a promising career—if Hollywood doesn’t destroy her. Unfortunately, her life after that film was one long shipwreck played out in the press.
Many parents hope their kids will shine, not fall, yet so many child stars’ lives are full of tragic choices and pain. What sparkles from outside often conceals heartbreak within.
We all have dreams and desires, but wisdom means asking if what we want is truly good—or if it is just an ornate landmine.
If only David had considered that question before taking Bathsheba. His moment of desire cost him his infant son, tore his family apart, and brought violence into his household for generations.
This reminds me of something I heard a pastor say:
“Many people are mad at God because He refuses to give them something that, if they got it, would destroy them…”
The scriptures tell us:
“There is a way that appears to be right, but in the end it leads to death.” —Proverbs 14:12
“For everything in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—comes not from the Father but from the world.” —1 John 2:16
Real wisdom isn’t chasing every desire. It’s trusting that God’s dreams for us are better than anything we’d run after on our own.
. . . and that’s what I know today.
