There's as much crookedness as you want to find. There was

“There’s as much crookedness as you want to find. There was something Abraham Lincoln said—he’d rather trust and be disappointed than distrust and be miserable all the time. Maybe I trusted too much.” Thus spoke John Wooden, the great coach, a man who built not only teams but character, who saw victory not merely in trophies but in the integrity of the soul. His words are tender, wise, and humbling, for they reveal the paradox of life: that though the world is filled with crookedness, it is still better to live by trust than to let suspicion devour the heart.

The ancients knew this struggle well. They told tales of rulers betrayed by their closest allies, of friends deceived for gold or power. Yet they also exalted the heroes who trusted freely, even at the risk of loss. For what is life without trust? To see only the crookedness is to dwell in shadows, forever fearful, forever closed. To open the heart is to risk being hurt, but it is also to allow the possibility of love, friendship, and fellowship. Wooden’s echo of Lincoln’s wisdom carries this eternal truth: better the occasional wound of disappointment than the constant misery of distrust.

History gives us many mirrors. Consider the fate of Julius Caesar, betrayed by Brutus and the Senate. His trust led to his downfall, yet his willingness to believe in the loyalty of others also allowed him to build an empire of alliances, friendships, and loyalty from the people. Without that trust, he would have lived in isolation, guarded but unloved. Even in betrayal, the grandeur of his life proved greater than the safety of suspicion. Trust cost him much, but distrust would have cost him everything.

Wooden himself, as a leader of young men, built his teams not by suspicion, but by trust. He believed in discipline, yes, but also in the goodness of those he coached. By trusting them, he allowed them to rise to the standard he set, to become more than they thought possible. Could some betray that trust? Perhaps. But his legacy proves that most did not. His greatness came not from cynicism but from faith, even if, as he humbly confessed, “maybe I trusted too much.”

The meaning of his words reaches into our daily lives. There is always crookedness to be found—dishonesty, betrayal, selfishness. If you seek it, you will see it everywhere. But if you live only to find fault, you become a prisoner of your own suspicion, miserable in a world you refuse to believe in. Trust, even when imperfect, liberates the heart. It allows joy to flourish, love to deepen, communities to grow. Disappointment may wound, but distrust corrodes the soul endlessly.

The lesson, then, is clear: choose trust over fear, even if it brings hurt. For hurt is temporary, but distrust is perpetual misery. Let your life be open, not closed. Let your heart lean toward belief in others, for though some may fail you, many will prove worthy. And when you are betrayed, do not let it turn you into stone, but let it remind you that trust, even when costly, is still the nobler path.

Practical wisdom follows: extend trust freely, but with eyes open. Give others the chance to prove themselves, and when they fail, forgive without surrendering your openness. Surround yourself with those who honor your trust, but never allow the bitterness of betrayal to harden you into suspicion. Seek always the balance Lincoln and Wooden knew: that trust may disappoint, but distrust will imprison.

So let Wooden’s humble confession endure as a teaching: “I’d rather trust and be disappointed than distrust and be miserable.” O children of tomorrow, live by this truth. Trust freely, forgive often, and bear the wounds of disappointment as the price of an open heart. For a life of trust, though imperfect, is rich and full, while a life of distrust is cold and barren, like a fortress whose gates never open.