Early Morning Choice

Choice is a powerful reality. If I am forced to do something, something that even in a different setting I might have chosen to do on my own, the coercion itself makes the action bitter. Choice is usually freedom, space to authentically be who we are, and often correlates with power. Choice usually is exercised best with maturity, thoughtfulness, and in community. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about choice lately and wrestling with the times that I can’t seem to choose to not have something or someone else affect me, or those times that I can’t fully live into a choice I thought I had made (like choosing/committing to make a change in my life, but then having trouble living that consistently). There are also times when I, or others, really are, truly, without choice at least in part of ou reality (oppression, voicelessness, being ignored or overlooked, being denied something or undervalued). There are many things I cannot choose, including what others do, how others see or treat me, and how the world at large will move along – that kind of thing. But there is a mighty long list of things that I can choose, including the all-important how I respond to those things that I cannot choose, which is really how I choose (or don’t choose) to intentionally live my days. I am not heralding ‘choice’ here as an individualistic, consumer-oriented right of some kind, but rather pausing to acknowledge how much we can choose to let God in, listen, rest, reflect, and have an open posture toward others and toward times – with or without choices we might want.  Here is a reflection by Max Lucado that I appreciate, titled “I Choose”:    

It’s early. The sky is still black. The world is still asleep.

In a few moments the day will arrive. It will roar down the track with the rising sun. The stillness of the dawn will be exchanged for the noise of the day. The calm and solitude will be replaced by the pounding pace of the human race. The refuge of the early morning will be invaded by decisions to be made and deadlines to be met.

For the next 12 hours I will be exposed to the day’s demands. It is now that I must make a choice. Because of Calvary, I am free to choose.

I choose love. No occasion justifies hatred; no injustice warrants bitterness. I choose love. Today I will love God and what God loves.

I choose joy. I will invite my God to be the God of circumstance. I will refuse the temptation to be cynical, the tool of the lazy thinker. I will refuse to see people as anything less than human beings, created by God. I will refuse to see any problem as anything less than an opportunity to see God.

I choose peace. I will live forgiven. I will forgive so that I may live.

I choose patience. I will overlook the inconveniences of the world. Instead of cursing the one who takes my place, I’ll invite him to do so. Rather than complain that the wait is too long, I will thank God for a moment to pray.

I choose kindness. I will be kind to the poor, for they are alone. Kind to the rich, for they are afraid. And kind to the unkind, for such is how God has treated me.

I choose goodness. I will go without a dollar before I take a dishonest one. I will be overlooked before I will boast. I will confess before I will accuse.

I choose faithfulness. Today I will keep my promises. My debtors will not regret their trust. My associates will not question my work. My wife will not question my love. And my children will never fear that their father will not come home.

I choose gentleness. Nothing is won by force. If I raise my voice, may it be only in praise. If I clench my fist, may it be only in prayer. If I make a demand, may it be only of myself.

I choose self-control. I am a spiritual being. After this body is dead, my spirit will soar. I will be drunk only by joy. I will be impassioned only by my faith. I will be influenced only by God. I will be taught only by Christ.

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. To these I commit my day. If I succeed, I will give thanks. If I fail, I will seek his grace. And then, when this day is done, I will place my head on my pillow and rest.

[Excerpted from WHEN GOD WHISPERS YOUR NAME, (Word, 1994).]