Can you hear the music ?? |
|
|
Your Choice
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 were 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 were 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 the
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 marvelled 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 proclaimed,
"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?"
"Yes."
"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, and
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 wear.
"Would you go down there?" The angel asked.
"I will."
"Is there no other way?"
"There is not."
"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 fleshed. 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 it 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 supposed 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 thing of all is that He gave us a
choice to love Him back because He first loved us.
The choice is ours. We have to choose God first before we can fall under
the protection of His wings of love.
Is there an area in your life where you need to choose God over
something or someone else? He chose the painful path and has been
patiently waiting for you to choose Him. It's your turn now.
---by Max Lucado from the book The Eye of the Storm
Forwarded by Ron Johnson
|
|
