Thoughts On: Choosing God

In the Evangelical world, you "accept Christ," or you "invite Jesus into your heart," or you "get saved." This happened to me when I was a little kid, but I don't think I really chose Jesus until the year I turned eighteen. That was seven years ago, now, and I guess I thought it was going to get easier. But a week ago a sat in my parked car and cried and told God, once again, that I was tired of his way. I was tired of choosing forgiveness over bitterness, peace over anxiety, true-healing over easy-fixes . I told him I didn't know if I wanted to do it anymore, and he's heard it a million times from me. He lets me bang my fists on my steering wheel and tell him I'm exhausted, and he lets me say everything I need to say, because he knows that I know. He knows that I know it's a choice. 

I remember, six years ago, sitting on my knees by my sofa, surrendering once again and feeling like a failure because it seemed like everyone else only had to do it once. I had too many doubts, though. Too many questions and too many dreams and too much ambition, to only surrender once. I knew it at eighteen, and nineteen, and I know it today - being on your knees is not a bad way to start your day, or your month, or your year. I don't feel bad, anymore, that I have to keep making that choice, because I think I'm better off that way. I'd rather live a life of wrestling and asking the hard questions and healing than a life that is familiar but never new, comfortable but never challenging. I love the thrill. I probably always will. But that's also why I love Jesus - religion may get me down sometimes, but Jesus never disappoints. He's always off somewhere doing something radical, or making peace where there was chaos, or exposing truth where there were only lies. 

A few weeks ago we had one of our worship events for students, and as the band played I sank down to my knees once again. It wasn't that I felt humbled or that I needed to somehow manifest my worship physically. It was that I didn't feel anything - and I told him that. Which was when I felt him say what I think I've known all along: "Don't you see? You choose me. You keep choosing me. It doesn't get easier. You just keep choosing. That's surrender. That's faith." That choice used to scare me. But somewhere along the way I learned that even if I let go, he won't. Even when I make the wrong choice, he's still there, waiting for me to come back to him. And I always do, because he's better. He's better than the other choices.

My pastor told me once that your 20s are all about obedience. You don't really know where you're going - you just listen to God and do what he says. You forgive people you've been holding grudges against. You choose to serve instead of complain. You do the little, ordinary things, and you let them add up. It's been seven years of that, now, and I think Jesus and I have only brushed the surface. Who knows what could be beyond those new mountains to climb, or what could be held in the depths I'm going to eventually swim in. I wish, so much, that I could tell people where I plan on ending up, but I can't, because the only plan I've ever had is to end up with Jesus, and as much as I keep asking, he just won't tell me where we're going. But he knows. So I will keep choosing, because I know he loves me.