Growing up in a one-horse town in the North Cariboo, I was pretty aware of the lack of choices.
Back then, we had a handful of stores in town and a mail order through Sears. But I aspired to a multitude of choices in bigger centers and eventually landed in the Lower Mainland.
Here, I could find any variation of what I wanted in unlimited stores, and I liked this freedom of choice.
But more choices are not necessarily good choices, and I found a whole bunch of bad ones in my 57 years.
I learned that there are lots of credit card companies that wanted to give me their card. And when I was done with them, there were plenty of nice banks that would gladly help me consolidate my credit card debts.
I also discovered an abundance of drug choices that made me feel good.
And then of course, there were the choices of internet sites, all accessible in a few keystrokes.
I made choices that I thought I would never make. Common sense seemed to be sacrificed on the altar of choice.
I felt the pain of those choices, and argued it was my right. I even felt others should help me with the pain of these choices.
I was a slow learner.
But I read once that, “I should not expect honey in the pot if God has written poison on the lid” (Gurnall).
And I came to realize that I mattered to God, that He wanted to heal my pain and even help me with my choices, if I allowed Him to.
Dave Schapansky is a pastor at HillCity Church. You can reach him at email@example.com