About Choice

The thing about utopia is how imperfect and broken it is.  With ridding life of pain, of conflict, of disagreement, we take away so much.  We take away joy, and love, and color.  We take away choice.

Some believe that with choice, we always choose wrong.  Look at Adam and Eve.  They had the choice to live forever, and instead chose knowledge and death.  Is it because they didn’t have all the facts?  We may not ever know.  But maybe that’s okay.  So many of us say that if it were us, knowing what we know now, we would have chosen differently.  I’m not so sure that this is true.

I would love to rid the world of its corruptness.  I would love to end all wars and hunger and racism and all of that.  However, this may never be possible.  Not because people always choose wrong, but because the wrong choices sound the loudest.

If someone never knew pain, lived in a world without pain, and was surrounded by people who only knew the same, then once pain arrived it would scream in their face.  Everyone would feel it.  And to stop it, more pain would arise.  Or maybe it wouldn’t.

All I know is that the world is fallen, that I am fallen.  All I know is that I am redeemed.  All I know is that this all can be washed clean.  If only we would make the choice.


I have grown numb
There is no feeling left in this soul of mine
Not even that tingly feeling you get when your feet fall asleep
The circulation to my soul has been cut off for so long now that I fear it is lost forever

Because I no longer weep when I hear the stories of genocide in Africa
Children being forced to carry guns and go off to war so that they can be numb too
And I forget to feel for them, because I brushed concern aside when their lives never touched mine

Because I am not welling up with tears when I am told about human trafficking in countries like India
Women who have lost all hope for love because they are forced to be lover to too many men a day
Never believing it’s a crime even thought they never see a dime
While I sat at home comfortably on my couch cracking jokes about all the reasons I don’t have a boyfriend

Because I am not overflowing with emotion at the true rumors of starvation every place I haven’t been
People dying daily from malnutrition while I’ll complain because I woke up too late for breakfast and I’m too lazy to go buy food from the market down the street
I’ve never done anything to change the world

I have grown numb
Because I sin joyous songs of my Savior’s death
But forget the picture of pain and gore that put Him there
Why am I no longer broken by the knowledge that He gave everything for me?