Transient Things

Choose Your Own Adventure

Posted by Rath Loeung , Monday, July 23, 2012 9:40 AM

What kind of story are we telling with our lives?

Am I writing this story or is it writing me? There's a subtle deception that I let creep in over the years and I can trace it back to the "I'm just a first-mate while Jesus is my Captain" plot line that was taught in my younger formative years. With Jesus at the helm, I bought into a Christianity with plenty of life-vests and emergency crafts in case the ship went down. We all know what happens to the Titanic. It's resting under a couple miles of salty ocean.

Just like the famed luxury liner, our existence is destined for tragedy, heartbreak and turmoil. But how can this be? I've allowed Jesus to "take the wheel." Jesus may be Captain, but we make for pretty sad first-mates. In my case, I had SO MUCH faith in my Captain that I was confused, and sometimes in denial, about the power of the choices I made... and I was seemingly OK with it.

A silly example is a catchphrase I probably use too often, "I'm just the driver;" as if I were merely Sharyl's chauffeur with no autonomy of my own. Not having to be the decision-maker excuses me from all fault if the decision goes awry. Not only do I excuse myself from engagement, I turn it into a joke.

There's no autopilot to our lives. We write our own stories and make our own decisions. And most of the time, we eat the consequences. At the core, my attitude was lazy indecision and I mistook that indecision for faith. I let things just happen to me, for me. The story was writing me. I was the first-mate that decided that the Cap's got everything under control and I'm down in the lower deck sleeping.

I was blessed this past weekend attending the wedding of a student Sharyl and I used to work with, Matt. Grand life events (like weddings) spark, sometimes much-needed, moments of introspection. The words of commitment spoken as wedding vows are a direct, conscious choice that one makes. Matt was the author of his own story in that moment. Jesus was a part of that moment, and just maybe knew it was going to happen well before any of us sucked in our first breath of oxygen. But Jesus wasn't the one making the actual choice, determining Matt's fate, writing the story. If anything, I can imagine Jesus chest-bumpin' the Father high-fivin' the Spirit and celebrating right along with the rest of us.

I've been copping out all these years, shifting the privilege of blame from myself in one way or another. While Jesus is still integral, still a driving force, I'm the one faced with decisions day after day. Free will is pointless otherwise. What's stirred in me as a result is the need to wake up, and live up, to my responsibilities and claim ownership over the decisions, past and present, that shape the story I'm trying to tell with my life.