There has long been an academic debate, in regards to human behavior, between “nature” and “nurture”. The question is – are we really inextricably predisposed to follow the genetic script of our DNA, or are we just environmentally conditioned to act out of psychological muscle memory reflex response? Or perhaps, some amalgam of the two? But doesn’t such a question presuppose a determinist answer – that somehow, either your immutable genetics, or your immutable past, has already predetermined your path? Seems to me like the debate has conspicuously over looked the step that explains where volition fits in.
When I read the Bible cover to cover I can see the providential hand of God indisputably working his sovereign will – but on every single page of it, I find the absolute significance of human choice on full display, as being crucial to how history unfolds. And when I attempt to simultaneously hold these two truths in my mind I experience the innate tension between the two. I can’t bring myself to believe in a fatalistic world that imagines life as nothing more than a cosmic simulation, as if all of our choices were merely cosmetic. But neither can I imagine a world where all of my choices have preeminent value – as that also strikes me as an untenable form of fatalism.
Is this not what it means to live contingently within the mystery of believing in a God who speaks us into existence? Desperate to reconcile the tension we feel between the two, we are tempted to resolve this dilemma with what are arguably reductive theological solutions – solutions intent on giving us the illusion of control over things beyond our comprehension. This invariably leads us to assume human volition to be irredeemably corrupted, while unavoidably being our inescapable responsibility – so we know we need to make the choices . . . even if we don’t really trust the choices we make.
Having grown wiser as I’ve grown older, I’ve developed an appreciation for the sublime elegance of the simple routines of a disciplined life. It has been a refinement of my choice making, a narrowing of my focus to the things that most matter . . . and this is where I’ve learned to make the will of God my deepest desire. So when I read about this teenage girl who intuitively reaches the same conclusion in Luke 1: 26-38, I take notice of her gracious resolve to “let it be”, and marvel at how beautifully divine providence is able to gently entreat our involvement in what God is doing . . . and then I’m humbled in realizing that the natural home for my will is found in God.
Mary’s willingness to play her part in our redemption serves as a bookend to the confession of Jesus “Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42) – so that it would be obvious to us, that throughout the life of Christ, doing his Father’s will was ever before him . . . and that he chose every step of that path to the cross. So now, let it be that our hearts may also treasure up all these things that Mary pondered (Luke 2:19) in her willingness to bring Jesus into this world — this gift beyond all measure.
Christmas begins as a conversation between an angel and a teenage girl . . .