Chosen

It's a busy season at school. The roles are being handed out for the school play, winners are being selected for the various class awards and teams are being picked for the sports festival. Of course it goes further than that - who will be prefects, head boy, head girl. Who will be the boy that gets to dance with her. Nor does it end the day you leave school; who will choose me for life, will I get chosen for that job, will my potential be seen for that promotion?

For every role, every opportunity, there is an associated set of criteria; suitable, not suitable, tick, cross, yes, no, chosen, not chosen. We know how it works and it isn't always fair. Hard enough to cope with not being chosen when it's clear that someone else was better qualified. Harder when there's a niggling suspicion that favouritism or money swayed the day.

But what about in history, His-story? Some pretty big roles out there, what about those, what were the criteria, who got chosen?

Role: Church Planter
Location: Rome, heart of the world's only super-power
Criteria: Faith-full, well educated, socially adept, proven political operator, religous leader
Candidates: Peter (uncouth fisherman from the backwaters) or John (temperemental 'son of thunder')

We know the story. Somehow the criteria get bypassed. In God's kingdom, even when the uncouth fishermen tops this with violence, lies and denial, somehow God sees something that qualifies him. (John by the way gets a job that must have seemed equally unlikely - whilst the others were pioneering new ministries, he gets to look after Jesus' mum....)

So what about this one. A bride for God's only son. What does he deserve, who will God choose? Time to look in the mirror. He knows all the flaws that you know about, as well as the ones you haven't yet discovered. He knows those things that you see as disqualifications.

I can picture it now. A team of angels with clipboards and questionaires, analysing the candidates. As they look at each there's one or two ticks, but mostly crosses. They go back to God, sadly shaking their heads, apologetic that no suitable bride has been found. God looks puzzled for a moment and points at you. 'Haven't you seen xxxxxx?' There's a rustling of paper whilst the angel finds your score sheet and hands it to God with a gentle, forlorn shake of the head. God looks at the paper then laughs, tears it to shreds and says 'I choose because I love!' And that's it.

You are chosen.