"If Aslan gave me my choice I would choose no other life than the life I have had and no other death than the one we go to."
At the end of my life, ^that^ is what I want to be able to say. I want to say it with absolute certainty—that I am content with the way I spent my days, and content with the way they are ending. That, even if God gave me the chance, I would have no inclination whatsoever to want to change where I spent my life at, what I spent my life doing, or who I spent my life with.
As a Christian, I have faith that that is how it will be. I have faith that in the end, wherever or whatever the end is, I will look back on my life with fulfillment, with the knowledge that even the bad things worked for perfect goodness. I will know it so surely that I will have to look back for only a moment. Then, I will look forward once again, forward to the Light, to the Reason I lived how I did. To the One who made living the way I did possible (for without Him, I am a streaky mess. An inexpert window washer who leaves the glass smudgier than it was before). I will press in towards Him, finally know Him. And then enjoy Him. Enjoy Him so much more than I ever could here on Earth. Enjoy Him and get to know Him for eternity.
However, just because I have the assurance that that is how it will be, by the grace of God, who completes the works He starts—just because I know what lies at the finish line does not mean I see over the hills I face presently. I cannot see what lies around the bend. When the road bifurcates before me, the decision of which path to take is still hard. Honestly, the decision is still scary. Because at certain points in life—especially as a young adult—you face forks in the road that lead in very different directions. They offer lives and opportunities that, when compared, are vastly foreign to each other ("choose this path," the exit sign says, "and spend the next 50 years of your life doing this." "Choose this path," the other exit sign says, "and spend the next 50 years of your life doing that." Then there is this third little warning sign that says, "FYI, once you choose there is no going back.")
And God gives me the freedom to choose which path to take. That is responsibility for you. O yes God is sovereign, of course. It is because of His sovereignty that I have this deeper peace, beneath the surface fear. And I know He will give me wisdom to make the correct choices...
But I still have to make them. For, more or less, for better or worse (but hopefully for better), I am very free.
Free to do what I want.
Perhaps there is the key. What did Augustine say? "Love God and do whatever you please." Of course, we have to understand what love entails...but I think I have a bit of a grasp on it (I haven't been raised in a Christian home for 18 years and 358 days for nothing).
Anyhow, I think Augustine, though he may have had some whacked ideas concerning other things (I've got to do a bit of research), was, on this point, right. I can do what I please. I can do what I want, since I love God.
So then the question becomes, what do I want? Actually, I do know what I want. I want to know Christ through every possible avenue He has made Himself knowable to us on this Earth. I want to make Him known to others through every possible avenue. Writing is one such avenue. I want to be a writer. Friendship is another such avenue. I want to be a friend and have friends. I want to experience love. I want a family. I want laughter. I want difficulty—hardness and suffering and I-don't-understand-why-circumstances that pull me closer to God than prosperity ever does.
So yes, I actually know what I want. I just don't know which path will take me there. There, which is where I say, "If God gave me my choice I would choose no other life than the life I have had and no other death than the one I go to." And where He says, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Master."
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