Choices

Praying for a friend's marriage this morning (in the shower, of course), I thought of a pivotal moment in my marriage when God pierced through the dark shroud of self-destruction in which I was steeped. He, quite simply, presented me with a choice.

During the first year of my marriage, I was a wreck. I spent a lot of time crying, yelling, running, sleeping, hiding, fighting, hurting. Every day I thought I was going to die. James could do nothing right. Almost everything he tried was met with fury and rage. I never felt in control of myself. I never felt as though I had a choice.

The first time I can remember being presented with a choice (in my mind--we always have choices, we're just not always aware of them), James and I were at a Saturday afternoon marketplace meeting at Belmont church. We had brought a can of Pringles for snacking (I was having major blood sugar issues at the time and couldn't go anywhere without something to eat).

James proceeded to eat the entire can. I was furious. He left. The hatred in my mind grew more and more intense. I didn't know where he went. I just sat there in my seething anger--alone--and waited. When he returned, he brought with him a new can of Pringles.

The thought entered my mind: Take his face in your hands and say, "Thank you."

I thought, "I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm angry."

"You can stay angry, or you can forgive him."

And then, in my mind, I began to see what would happen if I chose to take his face in my hands and say thank you and what would happen if I chose to hold on to the anger. For the first time I can remember, the consequences of both actions became unclouded, uncomplicated, unmistakably clear.

I had a choice. Instead of reacting, I was presented with the opportunity to respond. It was a powerful moment. I believe it was critically pivotal. I chose light over darkness in that instant, and the darkness cracked.

The next time I was presented with a choice was in our living room during a fight. James asked for forgiveness. This time, it was a little easier to choose.

I used to harbor anger and resentment toward James for weeks at a time. Eventually, I would be able to extend forgiveness within 24 hours. Today, it usually takes only a few minutes.

I don't just throw the phrase, "I forgive you" around lackadaisically. I spend time processing the pain of the offense. I choose to extend forgiveness knowing that unforgiveness is a prison in which I no longer choose to live.

One of my favorite favorite passages from the Bible comes from Isaiah 58:
"'If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.'"

God broke through the darkness. His light freed me from oppression. For me, "the pointing finger and malicious talk" revolved around what I thought people weren't doing for me. (For example, I shared with a group of women at church that I was having suicidal thoughts. They prayed for me on the spot, but no one called that week to find out if I was still alive).

Now, almost eight years later, I'm thinking less about what people aren't doing for me and looking for what I can do for other people. I have a baby who is completely dependent on me, a 3-year-old who is becoming more and more independent every day, and our Tiffany, who relies on me to create a haven safe for her. I'm trying to be faithful with little. I'm saying "yes" every day to the opportunities God presents and finding it easier and easier to walk in freedom.

Galatians 5:1 says that "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." I never understood what freedom meant until now. Slaves are subject to their masters; they have no choice.

Freedom, for me, is the ability to choose--the ability to make choices--the ability to control myself even in the midst of pain or fear or offense.
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(As I'm finishing this, I'm processing yet another place of frustration and pain. Oh, to be completely free and unable to be offended!)