I was briefly tempted to write this blog in a New Zealand accent but there were no Kiwi vowels on my keyboard. Shame.
Often when I consider choice, or in fact any topic, I think of myself. Shocking I know. I think of me, and sometimes me, but mostly me.
I think of my choices, of which I have many. Because I am rich.
Strangely though, today I lifted my gaze briefly from my navel and considered someone else’s choice.
Jesus’s’ (I’m not sure how that plural/apostrophe works so I’ll double up for good measure).
Jesus had choice. Loads of it, I mean imagine him at school speaking to his career advisor. If you could do anything with your life (err... he totes can) what would you like to do?
HELLO JESUS. Big house. Pool. Parties. Loads of friends. Parties. Holidays. Parties…
Now I’m pretty sure Jesus did like to party. But he chose a rather sacrificial life (and then he said follow me which is a bit awkward).
But ALSO he cried.
John 11:35 “Jesus wept”
I so nailed this memory verse when I was a kid.
I know right? You’re thinking man she is so amazing. I’m thinking that too.
I never gave it much thought. Jesus wept.
I guess he’s a nice guy, a SNAG if you will, so it’s good he wept, he had compassion.
But then a cool preacher guy got me to read the whole passage (apparently this is usually a good idea, who knew?) and he pointed out to me that Jesus wept over this dude Lazarus, even though he knew he was about to raise him from the dead!
I mean if that was me I would be all like, hold your hankies people, quit the water works I’m here to save the day. I would stride over and work my magic and there would be high fives all round. Time to Partaaay.
But Jesus wept.
Because even though he knows what is coming, even though he knows he will raise Lazarus, even though he knows the battle is already won, he chooses to enter into our experience, into our pain, and weep with us.
He chooses to feel grief.
He chooses to enter into your pain.
He chooses to weep with you.
He chooses to suffer for you.
He chooses you.
He is choice bro.