I Choose Life

How deeply is God in our humanity? And vice versa?

Must His leading always be a clear, spiritual moment? Can He not guide us using our human sense and intuition also?

If Christ is in me, can I not simply walk as I see the way before me? Not in arrogance or ignorance, but in the freedom of knowing that He is ingrained within my very soul. And knowing that it does not matter if I step to the right or to the left,  because I walk in Him, and Him in me…

I don’t want to live in perpetual concern that I may have missed a step or veered too far off to the side.

I want to LIVE.

Yes, there will be loss and mistakes. There will be pain and confusion. But isn’t that a part of life?

I’m tired of scrambling to ease the concerns of every person who feels I’m not doing “the right thing”.
Right by whose standards?
Yours? Mine? God’s?

I want to be free to laugh and cry and go hither or yonder, light in my step and firm in my heart because Christ dwells within.

It’s not pride – it’s passion to thrive.
It’s not delusion – it’s wonder in the joy.

Life is full of beautiful and unexpected moments. Must I ask permission or seek approval in order to delight in those moments? Or to dwell in their depth?

If I step forward, not knowing everything, yet knowing that God is my heart beat and indeed my very breath – why should I be made guilty for choosing to do more than merely exist by others’ rules?

God is in me. And I am in Him.

Yes, I am human. I live in a fallen world. I will experience darkness. It will discourage me. Maybe even crush me.

But it will not destroy me.

Because even my humanness is somehow sacred.

The presence of Jesus is mine, whether I’m basking in the sunlight or shivering in the shadow. Whether I’m humbly bowing amidst the gracelessness of this world, or fighting a battle I didn’t ask for, or running forward in reckless, joyful abandon.

I refuse to toe the line. I won’t fold myself into the box.

I will not allow the angst or apathy of others to stop me from diving into the pure and beautiful joy of living.

I was made to do more. I was made to be more.

I was not made for existence.

I was made for life.


The Taste of the Sunset

How does one begin to describe the taste of the sunset?

I know a little of its taste, because I watched the sun breathe deep of the glowing clouds. I smelt the sweetness of the air trapped in its final rays, and heard the hush of twilight’s gentle feet, and felt the cool touch of the night sky…

How does one begin to describe the taste of Papua New Guinea?

I know a little of its taste, because I watched the land breathe deep of the culture engraved upon its lush, green face. I smelt the dust and the dirt, and heard the throb of voices and the pealing echo of birds, and felt the sting of the flies and the warm clasp of friendly hands…


I have tasted the earth and the sky. And both have altered my taste in a profound and irrevocable way.

And now, I realise, I have been spoilt by the taste of the sunset; I have been spoilt by the taste of PNG.

I have been ruined of all future ignorance.

Because no longer can I see a sunset and not remember that soft, layered, unfathomable taste of the clouds. No longer can I think of PNG and not feel again that harsh, mysterious, beautiful heartbeat of the land and the people.

My smile is tainted by their sweet taste.

Yes, I tasted the sunset – I wish I could bring you a sip of its glimmering nectar.

Yes, I tasted Papua New Guinea – I wish I could bring you the feel of its shimmering drum.

But how does one describe the taste of the sunset? All I can bring you is the words that linger in the afterglow.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll taste the sunset too.

© Emma McGeorge 06 August 2014

PNG sky - Anton

(“PNG Sky” photo credit: Anton Lutz)