But
But means we have options, but not in the same way that and or or suggests options: but gives us direction. But points us in the other direction, the way that is away from the way we have been heading. In our Christian life, the idea of having this kind of option is essential. Having choice, the concept of free will, is central to our relationship with God. If we do not have choice, then Christ is redundant. We are made in God's image, and that includes our ability to choose.
Our lives are filled with buts, but the big buts are the most important. I like big buts. (I am not being sacrilegious. I am being juvenile. Being juvenile is not a sin--just annoying.) We are faced with decisions that have real consequence, and we have to accept our role in addressing each of them.
Robert Frost offers us the idea of two paths in a wood, and he suggests that this one decision, this one choice, "makes all the difference." However, our lives are filled with choices; instead of one fork in the road, we are all faced with navigating the road system of Los Angeles. But, there is one choice that remains central to our lives, and that is our choice of being a Christian.
But even after making that choice, we aren't out of the woods (notice how I cleverly cling to the Frost allusion): we are still traveling, still having to make decisions. The only difference now is that we have a GPS to help us as we make our way. I realize that this smacks of a bad country song from the seventies (and, no, that is not redundant)--"Jesus is my GPS"--but the analogy is not altogether bad. A GPS tells us where we are and plots out the best possible route for getting where we want to be. We do not have to listen to the GPS; we have to make the ultimate decision. Christ also points us in the right direction, and we still have to make the final decision.
Making the decision for Christ is not a once-and-you're-done thing. Living as a Christian is a day-by-day, moment-by-moment undertaking. We are not elevated above the world and free from all temptations and tribulations. As Christians, we live in the same world as everyone else, and we face the same kinds of choices each day. Many people outside the church--and a good many inside--misunderstand the idea of our transformation in Christ. Yes, we become a new person, but we are still a person. Our transformation is a first step, and the journey lasts as long as we inhabit the bodies we have on the earth. A lot of people confuse the transformation we undergo when we accept Christ with the transformation we will undergo when we leave this life. We are still human as long as we are here.
Being human, as we have said, means that we have to make decisions. Some choices are simpler than others, but all choices have consequences (and there I go, getting all existentialist again). As Christians, we have to watch for the choices--sometimes they can be sneaky--and we have to offer up the decision to Christ. We have to ask the ubiquitous "What would Jesus do?" God has given us the gift (and curse) of having free will. What we do with it identifies us.
Our lives are filled with buts, but the big buts are the most important. I like big buts. (I am not being sacrilegious. I am being juvenile. Being juvenile is not a sin--just annoying.) We are faced with decisions that have real consequence, and we have to accept our role in addressing each of them.
Robert Frost offers us the idea of two paths in a wood, and he suggests that this one decision, this one choice, "makes all the difference." However, our lives are filled with choices; instead of one fork in the road, we are all faced with navigating the road system of Los Angeles. But, there is one choice that remains central to our lives, and that is our choice of being a Christian.
But even after making that choice, we aren't out of the woods (notice how I cleverly cling to the Frost allusion): we are still traveling, still having to make decisions. The only difference now is that we have a GPS to help us as we make our way. I realize that this smacks of a bad country song from the seventies (and, no, that is not redundant)--"Jesus is my GPS"--but the analogy is not altogether bad. A GPS tells us where we are and plots out the best possible route for getting where we want to be. We do not have to listen to the GPS; we have to make the ultimate decision. Christ also points us in the right direction, and we still have to make the final decision.
Making the decision for Christ is not a once-and-you're-done thing. Living as a Christian is a day-by-day, moment-by-moment undertaking. We are not elevated above the world and free from all temptations and tribulations. As Christians, we live in the same world as everyone else, and we face the same kinds of choices each day. Many people outside the church--and a good many inside--misunderstand the idea of our transformation in Christ. Yes, we become a new person, but we are still a person. Our transformation is a first step, and the journey lasts as long as we inhabit the bodies we have on the earth. A lot of people confuse the transformation we undergo when we accept Christ with the transformation we will undergo when we leave this life. We are still human as long as we are here.
Being human, as we have said, means that we have to make decisions. Some choices are simpler than others, but all choices have consequences (and there I go, getting all existentialist again). As Christians, we have to watch for the choices--sometimes they can be sneaky--and we have to offer up the decision to Christ. We have to ask the ubiquitous "What would Jesus do?" God has given us the gift (and curse) of having free will. What we do with it identifies us.
posted by Rodney Rhodus | 7:56 AM
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