“Chicken, beef or vegetarian?”
The text was from the planners for an upcoming banquet. My meal choice was needed and I quickly shot back my answer. I was hungry.
Ahh, wouldn’t it be nice if all decisions in life were that easy?
They’re not. Most the time I hate being pushed into issuing a verdict. I often try to put off coming to a conclusion as long as possible because I naturally doubt my initial conviction. Yet it seems there’s always some kind of decision I’m being asked to make—financially, vocationally, relationally, politically, ethically, spiritually, medically, nutritionally, etc., etc. Some feel easy, some seem irrelevant, while others overwhelm me as completely impossible. And I must remember that procrastination and even not choosing at all are all choices. I can’t get away from them!
Following Jesus is the choice I want to focus on. It’s actually a decision made up of many choices: daily, hourly and even minute by minute. They determine what I believe, think and do, as well as how I react, love, hate, give, trust others, and distract myself, all in light of truly being a follower of Jesus. And sooner or later an outcome chases after each one—outcomes, that for better or worse, I must own.
Consequences
Joshua said it several thousand years ago, “Choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15). He was fed up with the people of his country waffling on important issues like who their god was going to be. I find, however, that I so dread the thought of being stuck with the results of a bad choice (I don’t have all the information after all) that I look for ways to avoid committing at an intersection in life. Saying ‘yes’ to one thing means saying ‘no’ to one or more others. What if a better option comes along? Can’t I just hold off and sit here for a while, no obligations? Of course I can; that’s a choice. And it will eventually produce some kind of consequence.
As a result, it’s easy to just let life happen, which is releasing others to make choices for me. That then becomes my choice with its own set of consequences. I’m sure that some who were listening to Joshua were thinking, if not saying out loud, “But what if a better god comes along?” Hmm. And how did that work out for them?
They’re Ours to Own
The irony of making decisions is that while we want, and even fight for, the right to make our own choices—resisting the commands of those “Joshuas” who want to control us—we also struggle with it. There are many times we would rather someone just tell us what to do. Choosing can be hard and confusing work. It’s nice to have someone who’s figured it out give us the answer. And if in the end their judgment was wrong then it wasn’t our fault. Right?
Unfortunately, for that way of thinking, an irrefutable law stalks us: everything about our choices belong to us. We choose, whether we realize it or not, how we respond to everything that is thrown at us, even the things we didn’t choose: our DNA, our upbringing and all those crazy, painful outside circumstances or abuses. Though it feels like we don’t have a choice, we still must decide our response, our attitude and our actions. What we do with all that is given or thrust upon us is ours! And as much, if not more, these choices are what make us who we are, for good or for ill.
A lot of Choices to Examine
I want to use this blogging space going forward to talk about what it means to move through every day as a follower of Jesus, depending on His grace but recognizing all the choices before us. There’s actually many to look at because walking with Jesus involves our entire life—every part. And like so many other choices, not committing or half committing our lives to Him (is it possible to half-commit to my wife?) has an eternal consequence.
So, take Joshua’s challenge and choose. Some choices will be as simple as deciding between chicken or beef. Others will force you to search more deeply, determining WHO you’re going to serve each day. And your options are quite limited on that last one. For, as the Bible communicates and one of our American cultural prophets, Bob Dylan, has said, “You’re gonna have to serve somebody. It may be the devil or it may be the Lord, but you’re gonna have to serve somebody.”
The choice is yours.
Reflections
I remember the first time I stole something. I was six or seven years old, and I walked out of a store with a candy bar in my pocket. When I didn’t get caught and nothing bad happened, I was surprised. As a child I then decided it wasn’t really wrong to take something from someone when you wanted it more than they did. A few years later, however, when my bike was stolen, I changed my mind. There was something messed up about the world when people could actually steal from me.
I was on to something. Every philosophy and religion recognize there is something fundamentally wrong with the world. Most, however, disagree on what the fundamental problem is. What exactly is the root of human dysfunction? It’s all around us. Even a child can see there’s something wrong with the way things work.
The word “sin” carries varying definitions and innuendo depending on who uses it. To some, it might mean socially unacceptable behavior, while to others it could be nothing more than a mistake or a weakness. Still others see it as a silly or overly restrictive, outdated concept that shouldn’t be taken seriously; after all, we have evolved beyond the need for such primitive explanations of the human situation. And then there are those who only see the wrongdoing in others, never in themselves.
There is a growing group of people who choose to see sin as having nothing to do with morality but rather understand it to describe purely an ontological problem: physicality is what’s wrong with the world. If we could find a way to shed our corporeal entanglements and escape to a purer spiritual state of being, then we would experience “salvation.” Sin or evil, in this way of thinking, is nothing more than being stuck in a material world.
But how do these varying perspectives account for a world that so easily justifies stealing candy bars and bicycles and much, much worse?
Cut Off from God
The Christian faith teaches that “the problem” is related to human choices. It’s a moral issue. It manifests as rebellion against divine order. Instead of submitting to God’s rulership, we are driven to operate as individual masters of our own kingdoms. We’ve chosen to do things our way, separate from our Creator’s intentions and instructions. It has disrupted and twisted everything.
The problem isn’t always immediately recognizable in us because it’s an accumulation of all the little choices to do life without God. It is ultimately rooted in our alienation from all that God is, a heritage going back to our very first ancestors. We were designed to live in close, intimate connection with Him. But long ago in a garden, the choice to defiantly take one bite from a piece of fruit (Genesis 3) started an avalanche that carried all humanity out of God’s presence. The result is a spiritual and moral infection that has tainted all that was created good with deadly consequences. And that’s what the Bible calls sin.
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Though I could be quiet and reserved as a child, I had a belligerent side as well. I got into quite a few fights—the kind that included punching, slapping, kicking and bloody noses. Before you form a mental picture of me as a delinquent hooligan, I can honestly say all the incidents pitted me against a bully and usually on behalf of another who was smaller. One time, I even hit a girl who was physically assaulting a small boy (not all bullies are males). Even with such chivalrous zeal, I took a few beatings and didn’t always walk away as the victor.
I now look back and like to think of myself more as a resister than a fighter. I didn’t, and I still don’t, like to see people get pushed around by oppressors and tormentors. Yet even as an adult, I see them all around. The real bullies and hidden enemies, I now understand, are the ones that pull the strings behind stage. We don’t see them. They’re incorporeal spiritual beings. But there is still a need to stand up to them.
Who is the REAL enemy?
The Bible tells us to resist the devil and he will flee from us (James 4:7). Whether we think about having an invisible enemy who bullies us or not, the scriptures have a lot to say about such a being. We are instructed in more than one place to stand against and even wrestle the spiritual forces that are harassing, confusing and oppressing us. There is no room for passivity in the Bible when it comes to spiritual opposition. We are instructed to know who our real enemy is and who is not.
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Voices. They ring in my ears and shout in my mind. I don’t seem to be able to rid myself of their pressure. They want to be my guide, to instruct me in what I ought to do. They cajole, threaten, rationalize, alarm, accuse and soothe me at different moments. Often the easiest thing to do is submit to their demands. Is this my version of going crazy? Or is it an internal obstacle course that every human navigates? When I stop to honestly examine what’s going on, I find the common thread of these cries to be distress and anxieties about what others are going to think of me. These voices are powerful, and they expect to be obeyed.
The closest explanation I find in the Bible labels what I’m experiencing as the “fear of man.” This sensitivity to others’ opinions and voices works to keep me on a certain path. Where this road leads, I have no idea. I just know that it feels intolerable to stray from it. Only later, sometimes much later, I realize it has taken me to places I didn’t want to go. I then see that I was listening to the wrong thing.
“Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe” (Proverbs 29:25).
The Bible reveals that there is a trap laid for me, and I must be alert. If my ultimate concern when making decisions is appeasing the demands and expectations of people (be they inside or outside my head) I will eventually be caught in something that keeps me from going where I truly need to and want to be. And it will be exceedingly difficult to get out of it. How to avoid such a snare? Trust the Lord and not the smooth-sounding or coarse-accusing voices ringing in my ears.
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I first wrote the words “I love you” in a note to a girl when I was in the 5th grade. It felt good. And the feeling was even better when I received a note back with the same words. A core belief took shape in me. From that point on, I understood love as something that was meant to make me feel good. Of course, my 5th-grade love affair didn’t last long (I was too shy to actually talk to her). But the impression that love is defined by how another person makes me feel, stuck.
And then I encountered God.
Believing in His unconditional love felt good too. But He asked me to love others in the same way—even those I don’t like. How is that possible? If I didn’t have “the feeling,” how was I to love them?
Later in life, I remember reading through the book of Isaiah, grimacing over the descriptions of God’s loathing of sin and what it has done to His creation. Where was His love in all this? No good feelings here. It felt as though divine frustration was ready to destroy everything! But then the words of John 3:16 pushed into my mind. And I was struck with the awareness that even with God’s hatred of evil He longs to find ways to express His love and affection for those He has created. The familiar Bible verse declares God’s love to be an action, not a feeling! It shows how far His love is willing to go to deal with the sin problem.
But how does this change how I love?
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I recently traveled to Central Asia where a small group of us visited rural villages in a remote mountain range. Our purpose was simply to pray. Believing in the power of intercession, we asked God to bless these communities that, as far as we know, have never had a witness of Christ. We asked for spiritual hunger to be given, and at the right time, a witness of the gospel to be planted among them. It was personally stretching with days of rain, hours of climbing, treacherous mountain roads, high altitude, and the strangeness of a culture and language we had to depend on translators to navigate. We never knew what was going to happen next, but overall it was a very positive experience.
It was an adventure!
Coming home, I had to navigate some changes in my family, relational and job-related tensions, as well as financial uncertainty. It was stressful. I didn’t know what was going to happen next in most these situations. I got through it, but overall they did not feel like positive experiences.
Why did I NOT call my homecoming an adventure?
Double Minded?
With a bit of reflection and prayer, I can now see that both sets of circumstances were filled with uncomfortable situations. They each left me with the feeling that I was not in control of what was going on around me and that I was going to have to respond somewhat blindly to what happened next. Yet, one invigorated me and the other forced me to dig deep into previously untapped reserves of endurance to get through. Why did they feel so different?
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I was encouraged as a child to memorize the Ten Commandments. The meaning of the rules seemed clear to me except the last one. “Thou shalt not covet.” Around that same age, I heard the word “covenant” used in a Sunday-morning sermon. Jesus had come to make a new covenant with us. It seemed strange then that God commanded us not to do something that Jesus came to give us. Years later I sorted out the difference. But even today, the meaning of the word “covet” can be fuzzy for me and many Jesus followers. How did it make it into the list of the Big Ten? Why is coveting so bad?
I eventually concluded that coveting is all about desiring things I don’t have. This understanding fed a mindset I had developed growing up that it was best to not want things so I wouldn’t be disappointed. As a result, I taught myself to live with little, letting desires die that felt beyond my reach, labeling many of them as “bad.” The reasoning was usually something like this: if I desire it, it must not be God’s will. This worked fine when I was single but didn’t fly once I got married and started a family. Those dependent on me didn’t have the same tolerance for doing without. And there was also that growing suspicion that many desires weren’t dead, just buried and still trying to come out of the grave—zombie-like. Cravings deep inside were still longing to be satisfied. And I was afraid of the temptations and disappointments I would have to face if they ever made it to the surface.
What’s the Focus of My Desire?
Here’s one English dictionary definition of the word “covet”: “to desire wrongfully, inordinately or without due regard for the rights of others.” This is helpful, but there’s more to it. The original Hebrew word “chamad” translated into English as “covet” simply means “desire.” The same Hebrew word is used in Psalm 19:10 where the writer is reflecting on the goodness of the Lord’s commandments: “More to be desired [chamad] are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb.”
Is the Bible saying there are desires that are good and should be encouraged?
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I had a short stint running track when I was in middle school. It was enjoyable until the coach put me in an 800-meter race that I had not prepared for. As a sprinter, I applied what I knew and started out strong. But halfway through I had nothing left and ended up coming in last place. Not only was that the last track meet I ever participated in, but it was also the day it dawned on me that what is reserved for the end of a race is just as important, if not more so, as what is put in at the start. I have to keep the end in mind.
Of course, beginnings are important. Poor starts in athletic events, and life itself, can make winning seem impossible. But even with a disappointing outset, the end is never fully determined until the crossing of the finish line or the ticking of the last second off the clock. It’s true of races, soccer matches, and football games. The way a person or team finishes, more than how they begin, says much about who they are and what they value.
This is true for how life and faith are lived out as well.
They Were Chosen, But . . .
The Bible is full of stories of people who started out well but are now remembered for their poor finishes or completely missing the target. Saul, the first king of Israel, comes to mind. He seemed to be such a humble unassuming guy when he was first anointed to lead Israel. But by the time his reign ended, he was ignoring all the instructions of God’s law and prophets and was a paranoid and unstable man. And then there was Judas. Chosen by Jesus as one of the Twelve, he had every opportunity to be remembered as one of the pillars of the Christian faith. Instead, he ended up being a thief and betraying Jesus for a bag of silver.
Strong beginnings in life are helpful. But it is how one finishes that speaks the loudest and most powerfully impacts those watching.
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This Friday, my wife and I will celebrate 44 years of marriage. We were both 20 when we said, “I do,” having first met when we were freshmen in high school. Many times, I’ve been asked two questions:
1) how did we know that we had found the right person to marry (afterall, we were so young), and
2) what has been the “key” to staying married?
There are no simple answers, and this journey of walking out a marriage covenant hasn’t always been smooth. Much of what I think now about relationships has solidified through hindsight and many years of reflection. But I’m confident of this, if I had to do it over again, I would still choose Christine.
I Pledge Myself to . . .
Commitment isn’t an enjoyable word for most of us. Present-day American society operates from the understanding that the more options one has in any area of life, the better: streaming services, smart phone apps, salsa brands, and even dog food, to name a few (read post Choices and More Choices). Commitment, on the other hand, implies narrowing one’s focus, energy or affection down to a single point and saying “no” to the rest.
The average person today asks, “Why would I limit myself and choose before knowing ALL my options?” Such a response exposes a common fear: what if I commit and then something better comes along? The potential of getting stuck with a “second-rate” alternative (no matter how good it is) creates anxiety. We dread the possibility of future frustration, with restrictions on getting what we really want (though we don’t know what that is). It has become a 21st Century virtue to always keep our options open as we search for the “perfect” scenario, or person. Thus, we have become a generation of relational dabblers, rarely experiencing the mysterious fruit that comes from binding ourselves to another, long-term through whatever may come.
I have learned that commitment, whether it be in marriage, friendship, ministry or work, unlocks doors of opportunity and satisfaction that the open-option approach keeps sealed shut. True commitment changes the way we think about and see others as well as ourselves. When chosen, it exposes and can squeeze out narcissistic tendencies as well as establish a platform for true giving. In the end, its fruit delivers something more solid and lasting than a lifetime of playing the field. If my hope for happiness centers on finding the ideal partner who will meet all my needs and desires, I will never fully commit to anyone. After all, the person of my dreams might be just another date (or marriage) away.
Choose Wisely
I want to make an important distinction. There are smart commitments, and there are stupid commitments. Before I give myself to another person (emotionally, physically, spiritually), I need to know with whom I am connecting. What character qualities (or personal standards) dominate the individual? Does she truly listen? Does he admit when he’s wrong and sincerely apologize for hurtful behavior? Does she communicate honestly what’s going on inside her? Does he control his physical appetites? Does she recognize in a healthy way her value as well as her faults? Does he know how to sacrifice his self-interest for the sake of others? Are we going in the same direction?
Appearances and first impressions can be deceiving. The outer moral or spiritual trappings matter little if these and other solid inner attributes are missing.
It is foolish to commit myself to another who is not showing real movement toward life-affirming character qualities. In the end, I must take care to not fall in love with and give myself to a mirage. When I commit, it is not to an ideal or what I believe the person is capable of becoming but rather to the concrete character he or she is demonstrating NOW—good or bad. That is what I will have to live with.
Therefore, I must take the time to carefully observe on the front end, before I give my heart away and commit myself to any intimate relationship. The important question is not, “Can I have fun and feel good with this person?” More importantly I need answers to whether or not I can fully trust this person—to always tell the truth, to have self-control, to humbly apologize, to love unconditionally, to never give up, etc.
Accepting the Risk
It is thought best these days to cohabitate before marriage in order to know if the person is the right one. Sort of like test-driving a car before you commit to the purchase.
I challenge this conventional “wisdom” with a couple thoughts.
Typically, the logic of living together before marriage is to avoid the possibility of a future divorce (and to save a few bucks on rent). Yet, cohabitating inevitably becomes “marriage” without the legal constrictions (or protections). To eventually breakup and move out because it’s not working is very much like a divorce. It has all the accompanying personal doubts and emotional wounds that are natural with joining yourself to another and then ripping yourselves apart. It’s just easier to hurt one another and leave without working on it when there’s no required legal procedure. All this to say, it is not set up to instill any sense of relational security.
In addition, no matter how much time you spend with a person before marriage (cohabitating or not), you never fully know him or her. There is something about binding yourself to another through marriage that then opens your eyes to previously unseen things (some beautiful, some unpleasant). In other words: make a smart commitment and study the person’s character as best as you can but realize that there will always be an element of risk. You simply CANNOT know everything beforehand. And yes, that can be scary, but it’s the nature of any intimate relationship.
Learning to Appreciate
It wasn’t until Christine and I got married that we realized how little we had in common. She liked to plan how we were going to use our weekend; I liked to just let it happen. She enjoyed games and outdoor activities; I enjoyed reading a book. She preferred to process her thoughts out loud; I preferred to process them in my head. She valued always having a clean house; I valued always having the freedom to clean whenever I felt like it. And the list could go on. As you might imagine, we experienced a good amount of tension, arguments, and anger, as well as we accused each other of just plain being wrong about many things. Fortunately, we shared a common faith and a high value for people and relationships. This helped lead us to jointly engage in ministry activities that were part of positively shaping our marriage.
I look back now and see that we went through a process. We started by trying to change each other to fit with what we were each most comfortable. That didn’t work and never does. Slowly we began to tolerate our differences and eventually accepted them (for the most part). But we entered the most transformational and fruitful stage when we set about truly appreciating our dissimilarities. We finally recognized the richness that comes from being united with someone who thinks and does things differently. I can now say that I am a better person because I have been married to Christine. I feel like a wealthy man (though I don’t have a lot of money). And I hope she can continue to say the same about being married to me.
It’s Not a Feeling
So how did we know for certain we had each found the right person to marry? We didn’t. But even as teenagers, we saw qualities in the other that we admired and over time found that we could trust each other. It was then a matter of taking the risk of committing ourselves with the mutual determination that we were not going to give up. Marriage was the commitment. It’s what we choose again and again each day.
Ultimately, the key to longevity for us has been in honoring our vows. Commitment is not a feeling I have toward my wife. It is a decision I made long ago. It’s also a daily choice to bind myself to her and allow myself to be changed for the sake of loving her. And, thankfully, good feelings are often present.
This is what protects our relationship when circumstances challenge and romantic feelings drift a bit: I take you, Christine, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad, when we agree and when we disagree till death do us part.
And may Jesus always be honored in our commitment to each other.
I choose you again today.
Response:
May 22, 1982
The Launch of Artemis II on April 1st caught my attention. I was a child when Apollo 11 landed on the moon the summer of 1969, and this most recent mission took me back to the wonder I first experienced thinking about space exploration. The Artemis mission was significant for how it is meant to be the first step towards establishing a permanent base on the moon. The astronauts traveled farther from earth than any human ever has before. From there, the plan is to prepare to send humans to Mars. The challenges that must be overcome are enormous.
Going back to my childhood fascination, I determined at age 8 that I was going to learn everything I could about space travel. That lasted for a couple of years. But the information I gathered stuck with me. The most delightful revelation was the weightlessness astronauts experience once they are outside the earth’s atmosphere. Floating! The sense of freedom! Never falling down! Nothing too heavy to pick up! This sounded so fun!
I Need Gravity
It wasn’t till years later that I learned of the negative effects of prolonged weightlessness, also called microgravity. Astronauts can lose their sense of orientation with their inner ear getting confused. Their bones lose density. Their hearts grow weaker as body fluids shift upwards. Fluid buildup in their eyes cause blurry and long-term problems with their vision. Their spines stretch out, causing back discomfort. And their muscles atrophy because they don’t have to work as hard. All these physical maladies are due to one thing: the absence of gravity.
The freedom of not having to submit to gravitational pull, while initially a delightful sensation, has its long-term cost. Another way of looking at it is that humans are meant to live under the, sometimes harsh, pull of this invisible force. We need gravity to thrive physically. The lack of it will be a major problem to overcome as the plans to go to Mars advance.
My conclusion: we need to push against heavy and uncomfortable forces for the sake of our health, and this is not just for the physical body. We need mental, emotional, and spiritual resistance training.
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