The Sauntering Pilgrim

Near the end of the book of Joshua (Joshua 24:1-2a, 14-18) is a passage about choices that seems particularly relevant today. It describes a transition time when, after a generation of wandering in the wilderness following their exodus from Egypt, the people of Israel began settling in Canaan, their promised land. And there Joshua challenged them to make a choice.

On what foundation would they build their new life? Would they serve the gods they knew in the past, or the gods of the land they were settling? Or would they serve the one God, the source of their life, the creator of heaven and earth, in whom they lived and moved and had their being? It’s a choice all of us have to make.

Every day, every moment, consciously or unconsciously, life questions us about our values and priorities, and each of us must answer by making a choice. The question is not, “What will I do with my life?” We must answer questions that are deeper and more demanding: “Who am I? What is my nature? Why am I here?” And our response to those questions can only be: either we choose to build our lives, with originality and authenticity and integrity, upon the rock of life’s deepest center of values, or we choose to compromise our values, dilute our integrity, and build our lives upon sand (cf. Matt. 7:24-27).

The only power any of us has is the ability to make that choice. We have no power to change our past. We have no power to change what life will bring in the future. Our only power is in choosing how we respond to the circumstances of our lives in the present moment. For example, I learned in Vermont that there is no bad weather, only poor wardrobe choices. When it’s raining, I cannot stop the water that falls from the sky, but I can choose to wear a rain jacket or carry an umbrella.

I don’t have much control over how much money I have, but I can choose how to spend it, and I can choose the values that govern the way I spend it. I have the same amount of time everyone else has, this one single moment, and all my worrying will not add one hour to my span of life (Matt. 6:27), but I have power to choose how I spend the time I have, what priorities will govern my day, and what values will inform my choices.

In the transition between wandering in the wilderness and settling in Canaan, Israel had to choose what gods or God they would serve, what deep values they would build their lives upon. Let me reframe that choice in our Christian tradition. Jesus began his ministry by proclaiming the good news that the deepest of our human longings was being fulfilled, and he called people to choose to start living as if that good news is true (Mark 1:14-15). The people who heard him could not change their circumstances, but they could change the way they responded to those circumstances, and in that choice, distressing though it might sometimes be, they would find the blessing of abundant life. In choosing how to respond to their life circumstances, abundant life opened to them, and they entered.

Saint Paul stated the gospel this way, that “in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them” (2 Cor. 5:19). The good news is that every one of us, no matter where life has taken us, no matter what wrong turns or bad choices we have made, is held in the grip of the source of life. Every one of us is being drawn home to a whole and abundant life, and our only choice is whether we resist that magnetic pull or cooperate with it. Our choice will not affect the outcome – God is drawing us home irresistibly – but it will have dramatic effect upon the quality of our lives and relationships today.

The call of Joshua reverberates in our hearts: “Choose this day whom you will serve.” Israel heard it in their transition from a life of slavery to a life of freedom, and we hear it as well. At the beginning of every new day, we have the choice. In every moment when our past opens to our future, we have the choice. At every crossroads or fork in the road, we have the choice.

Neurologist, psychologist, philosopher, and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl wrote, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom” (Man’s Search for Meaning).

One of the signs that we are growing in faith toward human maturity, and one of the tools that helps us in that growth, is that the space between stimulus and response increases. Instead of reacting, making quick judgments and hasty choices, take time to reflect on the deep questions life is asking you: “Who am I? What is my nature? Why am I here?” Before deciding what you’re going to choose, pause. Bend down and doodle on the ground, as Jesus did when he was tested (John 8:6, 8), or get away by yourself to remember your “why” (Mark 1:35-38), to gain a larger perspective in a greater context. Gain clarity of mind and heart about why you might make the choice you do.

When someone asks my advice about vocation or any other important life choice, my first response is likely to be something like this: “Before you tell your life what you intend to do with it, listen for what it intends to do with you. Before you tell your life what truths and values you have decided to live up to, let your life tell you what truths you embody, what values you represent” (Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak).

In every large or small choice we make, the great Mystery at the heart of life, the one we call God, whispers to us, calling us home, calling us to remember who we are and why we are here. And in every moment, our first choice will be to pause, bring our full attention to bear, and listen with the ear of our heart. ▪