Ah. Free choice. That perennial dilemma. Whether humans have “freedom of choice” is a subject on which scholars have been debating for centuries; I don’t suppose a housewife could further it much.
However, here are my thoughts for what they’re worth:
I did not choose to be born. I did not choose my birthday. I did not choose my parents. I did not choose my gender…my hair color…eye color…place in my family…country of origin…language and culture of origin…the gender of my children…my husband’s occupation…my own talents…my personality…my height…today’s weather…my bishop…my aunts, uncles, aunts, and cousins…that I haven’t gotten cancer yet…that I wasn’t born blind, deaf, handicapped…
But oh! Glory hallelujah! I have free choice!
Therefore: I chose to be saved!
Good for me! Go, June! You did it, in all your amazing freedom, you chose your salvation, you are a Real Saviour.
*I don’t think so.*
Christ said, You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you.
So I’ve been wrestling with a lot of that, over the past several months/years. And then this passage made me cry just Saturday night when I was reading aloud from this book to my husband on our way to a supper invitation, from the chapters about the lost coin and lost sheep:
“It is usual, when expounding the word metanoeein (repent), to go about the job etymologically. Since the word is a compound of meta (after), and noeein (think), its root meaning is to change one’s mind, or, better said, to change one’s heart about one’s sins. That approach, however, does not serve well here. Neither the lost coin nor the lost sheep was capable of any repentance at all. The entire cause of the recovery operation is the shepherd’s, or the woman’s, determination to find the lost. Neither the lost sheep nor the lost coin does a blessed thing except hang around int its lostness. On the strength of the parable, therefore, it is precisely our sins, and not our goodness [e.g. June's righteous ‘choice to stay God’s’], that most commend us to the grace of God.”
I can’t even type that paragraph without crying again. He chose me, He chose me. I didn’t know I was lost, and He found me. It’s the miracle of my life, and it makes me sad to hear people use the “free choice” argument as proof against certain other proposals. Or, as I have heard sometimes, “God doesn’t take us by the arm and drag us to Himself”
–!!
Oh, but He did! That’s what He did for me, and for the lost coin, and the lost sheep, and Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus, yet breathing out fire and slaughter. He said to me, to Saul, to Jonah, to all the other ones—the whole world of us who was gone a-whoring, sold under sin—He said, “No, huh-uh. You’re Mine.”
So flat in the middle of reading that paragraph aloud, I stopped a while till I could read again, and then I read the next paragraph:
"Hence if in our interpretation [of the parable of the lost coin or lost sheep] we harp on the necessity of a change of heart—if we badger ourselves with the dismal notion that sinners must first forsake their sins before God will forgive them, that the lost must somehow find itself before the finder will get up off his backside and look for it*—we carry ourselves straight away from the obvious sense of both stories. And…that violates not only the parables but also Romans 5:8—'while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.’”
*And along about here, I was laughing aloud. Which is what this author manages for me frequently—tears followed up by laughter. The chapter finishes: “[God] finds us, in short, in the desert of death, not in the garden of improvement; and in the power of Jesus’ resurrection, he puts us on his shoulders rejoicing and brings us home.”