|
The Choice
by Max
Lucado
He
placed one scoop of clay upon another until a form lay lifeless on the
ground. All of the Garden's inhabitants paused to witness the event.
Hawks hovered. Giraffes stretched. Trees bowed. Butterflies paused on
petals and watched.
"You
will love me, nature," God said. "I made you that way. You will obey
me, universe. For you are destined to do so. You will reflect my glory,
skies, for that is how you were created. But this one will be like me.
This one will be able to choose."
All
was silent as the Creator reached into Himself and removed something
yet unseen. A seed. "It's called 'choice'. The seed of choice."
Creation
stood in silence and gazed upon the lifeless form. An angel spoke, "But
what if he...."
"What
if he chooses not to love?" the Creator finished. "Come, I will show
you."
Unbound
by today, God and the angel walked into the realm of tomorrow.
"There,
see the fruit of the seed of choice, both the sweet and bitter."
The
angel gasped at what he saw. Spontaneous love. Voluntary devotion.
Chosen tenderness. Never had he seen anything like these. He felt the
love of the Adams. He heard the joy of Eve and her daughters. He saw
the food and marveled at the warmth.
"Heaven
has never seen such beauty, my Lord. Truly, this is your greatest
creation."
"Ah,
but you've only seen the sweet. Now witness the bitter."
A
stench enveloped the pair. The angel turned in horror and exclaimed,
"What is it?" The Creator spoke only one word: "Selfishness." The angel
stood speechless as they passed through centuries of repugnance. Never
had he seen such filth. Rotten hearts. Ruptured promises. Forgotten
loyalties. Children of the creation wandering blindly in lonely
labyrinths.
"This
is the result of the choice?" the angel asked.
"Yes."
"They
will forget you? They will reject you?"
"Yes."
"They
will never come back?"
"Some
will. Most won't."
"What
will make them listen?"
The
Creator walked on in time, further and further into the future, until
He stood by a tree. A tree that would be fashioned into a cradle. Even
then, He could smell the hay that would surround Him.
With
another step into the future, He paused before another tree. It stood
alone, a stubborn ruler of a bald hill. The trunk was thick, the wood
was strong. Stony brow of another hill. And soon He would be mounted on
it. He felt the wood rub against a back he did not yet wear.
"Would
you go down there?" the angel asked.
"I
will."
"Is
there no other way?"
"There
isn't."
"Wouldn't
it be easier to not plant the seed? Wouldn't it be easier to not give
the choice?"
"It
would," the Creator spoke slowly. "But to remove the choice is to
remove the love."
He
looked around the hill and foresaw a scene. Three figures hung on three
crosses. Arms spread. Heads fallen forward. They moaned with the wind.
Men clad in soldiers' garb sat on the ground near the trio. They played
games in the dirt and laughed. Men clad in religion stood off to one
side. They smiled. Arrogant, cocky. They had protected God, they
thought, by killing this false one. Women clad in sorrow huddled at the
foot of the hill... Speechless. Faces tear-streaked. Eyes downward. One
put her arm around another and tried to lead her away. She wouldn't
leave.
"I
will stay," she said softly. "I will stay."
All
heaven stood to fight. All nature rose to rescue. All eternity poised
to protect. But the Creator gave no command. "It must be done..." He
said, and withdrew. But as he stepped back in time, He heard the cry
that He would someday scream: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken
me?" He wrenched at tomorrow's agony.
The
angel spoke again. "It would be less painful..."
The
Creator interrupted softly. "But it wouldn't be love."
They
stepped into the Garden again. The Maker looked earnestly at the clay
creation. A monsoon of love swelled up within Him. God's form bent over
the sculptured face and breathed. Dust stirred on the lips of the new
one. The chest rose, cracking the red mud. The cheeks freshened. A
finger moved and an eye opened.
But
more incredible than the moving of flesh was the stirring of the
spirit. Those who could see the unseen gasped. Perhaps it was the wind
who said it first. Perhaps what the stars saw that moment is what has
made them blink ever since. Maybe it was left to an angel to whisper
it: "It looks like... it appears so much like...it is Him!"
The
angel wasn't speaking of the face, the features, or the body. He was
looking inside--at the soul. "It's eternal!" gasped another.
Within
the man, God had placed a divine seed. A seed of his self. The God of
might had created, not a creature, but another creator. And the One who
had chosen to love had created one who could love in return.
Have
there ever been times in your life when you doubted God's power?
Surely
if he was the God who made the heavens and the earth, how could he
allow my friend to die? How could He allow millions to starve every
night? Isn't God suppose to be almighty?
Let's
stop blaming God and blame ourselves. He spared not even Himself to
bring about the salvation of man. He knew that He could lose us and yet
created us. The most beautiful of all is that He gave us a choice to
love Him because He first loved us.
|
|
|