Wisdom Starts Here
A message from Proverbs 1:1–7
“Love is an open door.”
That’s what Princess Anna of Arendelle declares in the movie Frozen when the doors of the castle are opened and she meets Prince Hans. On the basis of this open door, she immediately falls in love with Hans and accepts his marriage proposal—which works out wonderfully, other than the minor detail that he later tries to murder her.
Apparently, open doors don’t guarantee lasting love or great life choices.
In Frozen 2, Princess Anna has grown at least a little wiser. At one point, she finds herself all alone. Her sister is gone; the enchanted snowman Olaf is gone. Instead of looking for some open door that seems perfect, Anna says this instead: “Just do the next right thing.”
Just do the next right thing, take a step, step again.
It is all that I can do: the next right thing
And choosing the next right thing is what leads Anna back to those who truly love her.
When we’re trying to decide what to do our lives, sometimes we think we have to find that one perfect open door: that one career that will bring lasting prosperity and satisfaction, that one person who will love us for life, that one place that we can call home for the rest of our lives.
It’s not wrong to look for these things, but it can also be a dangerous quest, always looking for that one perfect open door.
This search for that one open door is especially dangerous when we tie it to God’s will. Sometimes, well-intended Christians think God’s will is like a series of doors that God opens and, if we miss any one of these opportunities, we’ve ruined God’s will for our lives. That leaves us living with the weight of constantly wondering, “What did I miss…” and “If only I had done that….” I’m the master of replaying every choice I’ve made and wondering what I missed, what I should have done differently, the futures that I’ve ruined because I could have made a different choice. Maybe some of you know what I’m talking about. What’s running through your mind is something like: I decided to go to University of Louisville because that seemed like the right door—but maybe I was supposed to go to that other school and what if the person I was supposed to marry went to that school instead. Now, what if both of us live and die alone, all because I chose the wrong school? And what if one of our children was supposed to find the cure for cancer? The entire human race is going to suffer, just because I didn’t choose the right door!
When we become trapped in this kind of rumination about God’s will, every choice feels like a paralyzing crisis because, if we make one wrong step, our whole life is ruined and maybe other people’s lives too.
Can I share a simple word of comfort with you—and with me?
