Several years ago, the church I was involved in launched a cell group-wide course. We were all issued with a cute workbook, complete with fun cartoons, reading guides and discussion questions.
The booklet worked through the way of salvation. Each aspect of the process was defined, examples were given and then, at the end of each section, the disciple was invited to make a decision based on what was read and discussed.
I don’t remember too much else about that book. But I do know its title. ‘The choices you make, make you.’
It sounds like quite a simple statement, doesn’t it? At least at first glance it does. Dig a little deeper, however, and I find myself asking some profound questions. Am I really the sum of all my choices? What about the choices made by others that impact or affect me? Or when I didn’t think I had a different option, an alternate path, what then?
And perhaps the most profound question of all — do you mean I actually have a choice?
The God who designed the solar system, who put in place the rules of gravity and physics and chemistry, who through his patterns and authority orders chaos, has given me the greatest gift of all. The gift of choice.
No other being on the planet is given this gift. Everything else, from plants and animals to rocks and rivers, has no choice but to obey the rules. To follow the pattern. To do what it’s told.
Adam and Eve were given the run of a newly-created, perfect garden. They could do what they wanted. They could eat whatever they wished. They didn’t have to work for it, to toil day and night for blessings and refreshment. Theirs was the privilege of walking with their Creator and Father, chatting through their day with the King of the Universe. No shame, nothing to hide, nothing to cover up.
There was one instruction; to not eat the fruit of just two trees, the Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life. These trees weren’t guarded or fenced off. They weren’t beyond the reach of Adam or Eve. They could see the fruit. They could smell it. They could touch it. And they could eat it — if they so chose.
God, who conducts the orchestra of the planets, chose freedom for his companions. He allowed them to deviate, to decide something different, to disagree and to turn away.
He knew this would come with consequences. If Adam and Eve’s desire to taste overcame their desire for him, there could be no more intimate walks in the cool of the evening, no more freedom of fellowship. The decision to eat from the Tree of Knowledge banished the choice to eat — or not — from the Tree of Life.
But that’s not how the story ends! God created a path that would lead us back to the Tree of Life. And this time, we are offered its fruit.
Jesus said, “I am the Road, also the Truth, also the Life…Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.’
Even in this, I am given a choice. I can choose to eat of the life that is Jesus, inviting him into every area of my life. I can walk with him and talk with him, find my identity and purpose and place in him. Or I can choose not to.
I can choose to feast on all that Jesus is. Or I can nibble a bit here and a bit there, but never be fully satisfied. Or I can walk away altogether. It’s up to me.
‘I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live.’
What will you choose?
Rise up — choose Life.