Singing in Babylon: Finding Purpose in Life's Second ChoicesMinta

The preacher was working up a sweat now, dark patches appearing in the armpits of his otherwise immaculate suit. Arms flailing, he paced back and forth across the platform, barking into the microphone. His sky-blue eyes were wide open, his smile broad, revealing perfect white teeth.

What he offered sounded very good indeed. Bible open in hand, he proffered what everyone with a pulse wants: a wonderful life.

Briskly weaving contemporary examples of victory and breakthrough with a practiced delivery of memorized Scriptures, he told us that God wanted us—each and every one of us—to be winners, not losers.

For a few moments, I believed it and tried to ignore the fact he had wrenched some of those Scriptures completely out of context. His rapid-fire, staccato delivery made it hard to keep up.

But my discomfort increased as I looked around the congregation. Like hungry baby sparrows, beaks wide open for a tasty tidbit, many of them were swallowing this whole.

Yes, please!

But then I glanced over at wheelchair-bound Sue, and before I could look away, she caught my eye. She just looked back at me, a fixed stare, yet not harsh. And then I realized what was behind her expression: quiet despair

Sue’s condition has gone downhill fast in recent years. She has received prayer for her multiple sclerosis many times, but without noticeable effect.

I looked away, and my eyes fell upon Bill, who has been unemployed for a very long time. After decades of working for the same company (and refusing lucrative offers along the way because he is loyal), now he’s been rudely banished in the company reshuffle, with the news he’s now overqualified. He’s too old, it seems; younger blood is needed. He lives daily with the harsh knowledge he has passed his sell-by date. His loyalty wasn’t reciprocated.

Sitting next to him is his best friend, John, who is currently at the head of the proverbial tale, at least in career terms. Handsome and brilliant, he is racing through promotions at meteoric speed. With no money problems, he and his wife, Christine, enjoy the comforts of a beautiful home.

At first glance, they’re living the dream. But John and Christine are currently navigating heartbreak because their oldest son has marched away from Jesus and is playing fast and loose with hard drugs. They pray for him each night before they vainly pursue sleep, terrified at the thought of a phone call in the small hours from the hospital or police.

Nobody gets a life of endless first choices, be they billionaires or

barely scraping by, be they anonymous faces in the crowd or feted

celebrities.

Nobody.

Including Jesus.

If in doubt, eavesdrop on His prayers in Gethsemane. His first choice was for the cup of suffering to be taken away. He got second choice, which involved a cross. Second choice living: we all experience it.

If in doubt, ask Sue.

Ask Bill.

Ask John and Christine.

Ask Jesus.

But here is some good news. When life offers us second choice, not only can we survive, we can thrive. We can flourish when the weather turns wintry.

I know those last couple of sentences sound like fodder churned out by one of those motivational speakers that I mentioned earlier, slogan like rather than substantial. But as one who views the Bible as the core foundation for life, I’m convinced there’s good reason for that claim.

Can we learn to blossom in the wilderness or, to switch back to our familiar metaphor, could we sing a joyful song in Babylon?

Perhaps there’s a way.

Yes, please.