Wise Guys Finish... Where Exactly?
Today I read 2 Chronicles 1 and Psalm 72, and both passages center on Solomon at the height of his potential. He’s just become king, he offers sacrifices, and then he gets this open-ended invitation from God: ask for whatever you want. Solomon asks for wisdom. It’s a move that seems admirable and strategic at once.
The Wisdom Payoff (Or Is It?)
But the question that lingers for me is: does wisdom actually lead to success?
Solomon’s choice earns praise in the text. He doesn’t ask for wealth or power, but for the ability to make good decisions, to govern well. And because of that, he gets the other things too—riches, power, fame. It’s almost like wisdom unlocks the rest. That’s the initial impression.
Yet the fuller story of Solomon’s reign—at least as it unfolds in later texts—complicates that image. He becomes known not just for his wisdom but for his excesses, his political alliances, and the way his leadership eventually contributes to division. So even though wisdom is his defining trait at the start, it doesn’t prevent all the pitfalls of power.
Tool or Trophy?
That makes me wonder: is wisdom enough on its own? Or is it more like a tool, something that depends on how it's used over time? Solomon starts with a clear sense of purpose. But maybe maintaining that clarity is the harder part. Maybe wisdom needs to be constantly reapplied, renewed, even questioned.
A Royal Wishlist
Psalm 72 offers another angle. It reads like a prayer for an ideal ruler—whether written by Solomon or for him, it reflects hopes more than facts. The psalm is full of language about justice, protection, flourishing. It imagines a world shaped by wise leadership, where the vulnerable are cared for and peace is abundant. There’s an optimism in it, almost utopian. But again, there’s a tension between what’s hoped for and what history actually delivers.
More Than Just a Smart Start
All of this brings me back to how we define success. Is it having good judgment? Is it achieving a long-lasting legacy? Is it holding onto power without losing yourself in the process? Solomon’s story doesn’t offer a clear answer, but it does suggest that wisdom isn’t automatic insurance against failure. It might be the best starting point, but it’s not the whole story.
I don’t have a tidy conclusion. But I do find it worth thinking about how we value wisdom in our own lives—not just as a moment of insight, but as something we might have to keep choosing over and over again, even when it's inconvenient or costly. Especially when success, however we define it, is on the line.