There are moments when the soul realizes it cannot go on living by habit alone. Something deeper is being asked of us—not louder effort, but truer choosing. Psalm 51 begins in that place. David does not defend himself or explain away his failure. He comes empty-handed, praying, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” He knows that what God desires is not performance but truth in the inward being.
Paul stands in that same place of clarity in Philippians 3. Looking back over his life, he recognizes that much of what once defined him—his credentials, his certainty, his achievements—can no longer lead him into life. “I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” Paul is not rejecting his past so much as releasing it. What once shaped him is no longer what saves him. Knowing Christ has reoriented everything.
This is why Scripture keeps pressing the question of choice. “Choose this day whom you will serve.” Not once for all, but again and again—in the ordinary, hidden decisions of the heart. Will I cling to what binds me, or will I step toward the freedom Christ offers? Will I serve fear, habit, reputation, or control—or will I serve the living God?
Henri Nouwen names this moment honestly as a time of purification. A time when God gently exposes the chains we have learned to live with, and invites us to see our prisons for what they are. This is not condemnation; it is mercy. God does not reveal our bondage to shame us, but to free us. As John Eudes said, it is a time to identify ambiguous relationships, ambivalent attitudes, and to choose direction. The spiritual life is not vague longing—it is concrete choosing.
And yet, choosing is not easy. Like Nouwen, we often find ourselves praying without enthusiasm, distracted, afraid of what we might see if we truly stand before God. Still, the invitation remains: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” Even when we feel we are going in circles. Even when nothing seems to be happening. Prayer itself becomes an act of choice—a quiet declaration that God, not our feelings, will have the final word.
Paul reminds us that this journey is unfinished. “Not that I have already obtained all this… but I press on.” The Christian life is not about flawless consistency, but faithful direction. We forget what lies behind—not denying it, but refusing to let it define us—and we strain toward what lies ahead. Eternal life begins now, in the daily decision to choose Christ.
Closing Prayer
Lord,
In the great choices and the small ones I will make this day,
be at the center of my heart and my will.
Create in me a clean heart,
and renew a right spirit within me.
Help me choose wisely—
not out of fear, habit, or pride,
but out of love for You and trust in Your mercy.
Teach me to say with honesty,
“Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”
I pray for Your Church:
purify her, guide her, and renew her witness in the world.
I pray for others entrusted to my care and those I struggle to love
draw them into Your healing grace.
I pray for myself that I may press on, forgetting what weighs me down, and choosing the way of life eternal in Christ Jesus.
May I come to the end of this day
knowing that, by Your grace,
I have chosen You.
Amen.
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