Something occurred to me recently where I sat silently (well mostly) wishing ‘pick me’ thoughts. I could have just said aloud what I wanted to happen and made it work out that way – but that wouldn’t be me being picked, that’d be me getting my own way. There wouldn’t be any heart-felt picking going on. What I wanted then was to be picked because I was chosen.To be a little clearer about it, this came out of one of those unjustified moments that wouldn’t make me look good if the details were laid out, so I’m skating past bits of the story here to hold on to the main purpose of this, my first blog.
What occurred to me was that, moment by moment, day after day, in the decisions I make, I have a choices where I can pick Jesus. I accept Jesus may not be overly bothered which biscuit I eat, so I’m not meaning every single decision, but you get the point.
Any of my ‘choosing me’ wishes aren’t worth the same if I make it happen by pushing myself forward. It needs to be a genuine preference to ‘choose me’, made out of free will. I don’t often have miserable moments, but something good came out of this one because it made me think harder about the times when I don’t choose Jesus, and how it must hurt the one I profess to love.
Having a forgiving God, full of grace and love is not an excuse to minimise the hurt I kindly return whenever I fail to choose him.I apologise to those who were looking forward to some light entertainment in Van Talk Blog #1. I will do better next time. I apologise to anyone who recognises in this blog my disgruntled reaction to a sense of not being chosen. Most importantly, I apologise to Jesus for the many times I’ve failed to choose him.
May God bless us all