The challenge behind the choosing

One of the intriguing side effects of Lent -- for me, at least -- is that I become very aware of my choices.  I mean, let's face it, we're all making hundreds, maybe even thousands of choices a day.  Every minute there's a choice, though of course some are more obvious than others.

I can choose to leap out of bed and rush downstairs to feed and walk the dog, or I can choose to linger long enough to give my husband a hug before I leave.  I can choose whether or not to meditate (though the chances are slim these days that I would choose not to meditate: I need all the practice of letting go that I can get!).  I can choose to greet this beggar, to offer her food, to offer her a coin, to take her picture or to pass her by; it's all my choice.

I can choose how to spend my time, my money, and my energy -- and hearing the stories of Japan, I am forced to realize again just what a luxury that is.  So with this gift, what is it that I choose?  Are my choices good ones? Bishop Tutu is speaking to this in my reading from Made for Goodness this morning.

"Not all our choices are ... historical.  They are, nonetheless, consequential.  Choice is a freedom each person has.  God invests each of us with the freedom to choose.  It is a very real freedom.  We have the freedom to choose right.  But that would be meaningless if there were not also the possibility that we would choose wrong... We are not the props of a celestial puppet master.  We are creatures with agency.  We are creatures who can affect the course of creation."

I don't know about you, but I've spent much of my life finding this whole concept a little scary: what if I choose wrong?  How many wrong choices can I make before God just gives up on me and turns away?  I've become conscious of that underlying question this Lent, as well.  And I seem to have decided, this time around, to have made the walk through Lent less about the choices (though I can't help observing them) than about paying attention.

And what is it I'm learning to attend to?  It's not just about the choices.  I'm trying to awaken to the emotions around the choices; trying to re-pattern myself to step beyond the fear (what if I make the wrong choice?) to the trust that lies beneath.  Partly that's a trust in me -- that I am basically good, and wise and thoughtful; that if I make a choice that some part of me deems self-indulgent, I can evaluate that wisely and assess the truth of that.  And partly I'm attempting to train myself to trust (a) that God will still love me if I occasionally screw up, and (b) that God gave me the power to choose because God trusts and respects me.

Which brings me to Richard Rohr's prayer in Wondrous Encounters: Scripture for Lent  today:

"Creator God, could it be true that you give my my human dignity and significance by asking so much of me?  Do you respect me so much to hope that I could actually be like you?"

The freedom of choice is a huge gift.  But it's time I let go of this sense that God is an angry and vindictive parent, just waiting to punish me for bad choices.  It's time to invite this feeling into my heart and bones: that God is in fact a loving and wise companion, walking beside me, watching, encouraging, and rejoicing as I accept responsibility and learn to choose wisely; learn to act out of love rather than out of fear.

Some part of me wonders if that's enough of a challenge for Lent -- but of course that's the same fearful child in me that fears I might be doing this wrong.  I think it's time to tell her to take a nap and stop worrying...