The Seeming Way

The Seeming Way

by Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death. It’s one of those truths that sits heavy, like a stone in your spirit. I’ve walked that way before, and maybe you have too. The path that looks good, feels good, makes sense in your mind but deep in your soul, something just don’t line up. Still, we convince ourselves. We lace up our boots of pride, throw on the cloak of ego, and march down that road with heads held high, calling it purpose. We silence that still small voice and turn up the noise of our own reasoning.

Can you say ouch?

It bit me good like sandflies on a muggy Gulf Coast fishing trip. Buzzing, biting, and too small to fight back. That’s what pride feels like when you finally wake up to what it’s doing. And believe me, I learned the hard way. Pride and ego look like royalty they carry themselves like kings and queens, but their kingdom is made of paper. They’ll lift you up like a throne, only to toss you down like a broken promise.

Let me take you into a piece of folklore one told in the deep South by old folks who knew something about how pride works.

They used to say there was once a man named Cato who caught a mockingbird that could talk. Cato would take the bird around town, showing it off, making it repeat praises like “Cato’s the smartest man in the county,” “Cato knows best,” and “Ain’t nobody like Cato.” Folks would laugh and cheer. He fed that bird better than he fed his children. But one night, during a storm, the mockingbird said something different: “Cato is blind. Cato is proud. Cato is headed for a fall.”

He was furious. He caged it. Starved it. Told everyone the bird went dumb. But the truth is, that bird just stopped repeating the lies. Because when you live off flattery, truth sounds like betrayal.

That’s how many of us live. We walk around looking for people to co-sign our nonsense. We don’t want healing we want “amen”s. We don’t want correction we want company in our delusion. We gather folks around us who echo our dysfunction, who validate our wrongs, and we call it support. But really, it's just spiritual sabotage with a smile.

And it’s nothing new.

Let me share a parable with you: A traveler came to a fork in the road. One path was rocky, narrow, and shadowed. The other was wide, golden, lined with flowers and cheering voices. A sign read: “Truth, this way.” But another said: “Comfort and Confirmation.” The traveler hesitated. “Surely, beauty and praise can’t lead to destruction,” he thought. So he followed the wide path, smiling at the applause of those who stood along it, shouting “You’re right! Keep going! You’re doing great!”

But as he walked, the flowers began to wilt. The cheers turned to silence. The golden path turned to thorns, and the traveler found himself in a wasteland. Alone. Wounded. Regretful.

He cried out, “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

And a voice answered, “You didn’t want truth. You wanted agreement.”

That parable? That’s us.

We confuse agreement with affirmation. We confuse comfort with confirmation. But just because people are clapping doesn’t mean you’re doing it right. Sometimes, people will amen your destruction just because they’re afraid to lose your approval or too blind to see their own path.

And that’s the real poison just like the oleander. Beautiful, bold, captivating. But once you taste it, it corrupts. Ego is oleander nectar. It intoxicates, deceives, and eventually destroys. We sip on it thinking it’s honor, when it’s really just pride in disguise. We tell ourselves we’re justified. We dig through old wounds, past betrayals, and present frustrations to find something anything to explain away our behavior. We become defense attorneys for our dysfunction.

But at some point, you have to stop building your case and start building your soul.

You know, I used to think strength was never admitting you were wrong. Now I know real strength is confessing when you’ve been dead wrong and letting the Creator rewire your thinking. I ain’t here to argue. You got rebuttals? Take ‘em up with the Creator. I’m just the messenger, scribbling what I was given.

This reflection isn’t about being better than anybody. I’m not above the fall. I’ve felt the sting of consequences. I’ve sat in the aftermath of my own ego’s explosion.

But that’s where grace met me. That’s where the Creator didn’t slap my hand He reached for it. Because He’s not out here trying to embarrass you. He’s trying to awaken you. He’s not out to shame you He wants to shape you.

But He can’t shape a heart made of stone. He can’t mold a spirit that’s too proud to bend. He can’t elevate you if you’re too busy justifying your low ground.

There’s a way that seemeth right. Oh, it’ll sparkle. It’ll even taste sweet at first. But it won’t last. Because the truth will always catch up. And when it does, it don’t knock politely it kicks the door down.

So here I am. Not perfect. Not always right. But willing. Willing to be real. Willing to admit that what I thought was right… wasn’t. Willing to trade ego for honesty, and pride for peace. Willing to walk away from the applause of the crowd to hear the whisper of the Creator.

And if that makes me foolish in the eyes of man, then so be it. Because I’d rather walk in foolish truth than strut in smart deception.

Let the world “amen” your behavior if it wants. But I’m listening for a different kind of affirmation now. The kind that comes from above. The kind that doesn’t praise your path but perfects your purpose.

So check the path you’re on. Is it lined with comfort or conviction? Is it cheered by man or chosen by the Most High?

There is a way that seemeth right… but I’m no longer interested in what seems. I’m after what is.