Ambiguity

We always imagine that if we ever just made up our minds to obey God's will, it would be a simple matter of choosing the paths with the signposts clearly marked "God's will," and doing it. Furthermore, we imagine that those forks in the road are countable and episodic. None of the above is true.

What I encounter instead is ambiguity. To be sure, some cases are easy: "No, you may not run away with that married man." But more often, rather than being presented with a bona fide good and a bona fide evil, one is confronted with moment-by-moment morally complex situations, and the ability to argue from Scripture for any number of right choices (or, if one is given to guilt, the ability to argue from Scripture that all choices are sinful).

Recently I spent four straight days babysitting Nassia. Perhaps I am like the centipede that got tangled in his legs when he made the mistake of looking down, but I became almost paralyzed wondering what I should be doing. Was it right to spend all my time playing with her? What of my responsibility to my job? But then what if God has given me a flexible job for this very purpose, so that I am more available to others?

What about those personal letters from hither and yon, piling up in the kitchen? Isn't it rude not to answer them? But shouldn't my duty to strangers be the first thing I let go since I'm not even doing right by family and friends. And I still haven't visited Eileen in the hospital. And I still haven't painted leaves on Aimee's bedroom wall like I said I would. And shouldn't I read a book sometime? Forget the guitar.

In my confusion I pray. And there are no lightning bolts. There is just all that Scripture in my head, and naked, terrifying choice. And besides that, the fear-and-trembling trust that if I weigh the Scriptures and my heart the best I can, God will find me through this maze.

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