You know what the odd thing is? You can reduce human desire down to three primary motivating factors that influence decision-making. But at the end of the day, when all those things are stuck in the balance and you have no idea what to do, how do you make up your mind? I did, just recently. I went with my gut.

You see, I can’t tell the future. I can extrapolate. I can extend lines. I can hope for the best. But there always seems to be some bizarre curve in the road that I never could have aniticipated; some strange twist to the plot that leaves me scratching my head and wondering about the author.

Is this a good choice? Who knows. I’m not even sure if it matters as much as they say it does. I mean, things matter - but do they have to be so heavy? People with amputated limbs can live happy lives if they so choose. People whose children have died can get over it and go on and even find joy in the midst of ashes. I can live with this small weight strapped to my back.

It’s just the prelude, this life. There’s an eternity wrapped like an onion around this core of eighty years, or ninety. And my choices aren’t an accident. I didn’t come to this crossroads like cat in a box waiting to see whether he lives or dies: I cam here on purpose. Do I know what the purpose is? No. I faith that there is one. Am I going to get an answer from the sky? No. I have faith that there is one, though.

That’s the enigma of God right there. He works with faith like bright threads, like sunrise. You can look at life and call it meaningless. You can look at God and say he has no voice. You can also rest in the everlasting arms, and hear a still, small voice after the whirlwind has passed. That, also, is your choice.

We Reformed have a particular vice when it comes to choice. Clearly, we make our choices. Some are optimal, some are suboptimal. Somehow, though, we always want to peek through God’s eyes and - because we know he’s in charge of the orchestra - figure out what notes to play before the page is turned for us. But I’m not God, and I don’t have his perspective. I have my perspective and from here I can see my nose, my hair, my hands. I don’t see the finger guiding me toward the conclusion reached when the world was a glimmer in a Triune eye.

I may live, never having heard a word from the Lord. Never. I may not understand anything. I may never have a clear-cut choice to make. But still, I’ll choose; and in my choices there will be joy.

Dan (is trying to walk somewhere… and isn’t getting there easily)

Tags: personal