"I Choose: A Kingdom Declaration for a Complicated Time"

"Rev. Fredrick Lemons II"

Scripture Focus: Joshua 24:15 (KJV) 

“Choose you this day whom ye will serve”

There is a weight to choosing that we often have forgotten. We live in an age of endless options but shallow commitments. We scroll through possibilities like they cost us nothing. We sample spirituality like it’s a buffet. We move from moment to moment, carried by impulse, distracted by noise, shaped more by algorithm than by altar. And somewhere in the chaos, we have lost the sacred discipline of decision.

But the gospel has never been passive. Faith has never been accidental. And discipleship has never been a drift. Joshua stood before Israel at Shechem, at the edge of promise and peril, and he did not offer comfort. He offered a charge. “Choose you this day whom ye will serve.” Not tomorrow. Not when the conditions are favorable. Not when the pain subsides or the path clears. Today. Now. In this moment. With what you know. With what you carry. Choose.

Because there are seasons in life when you cannot move forward until you make a decision. When the paralysis of indecision becomes its own kind of bondage. When waiting stops being wisdom and starts being fear. When silence stops being rest and starts being retreat.

This is that season for the Body of Christ.

We have been through a wilderness. A pandemic that didn’t just take lives; it took rhythms, relationships, and routines we thought were permanent. It exposed fractures in our faith we didn’t know existed. It revealed how fragile our fellowship was, how conditional our commitment had become. We learned we could worship without gathering. But we also learned we could gather without worshiping.

And now, here we stand. Between what was and what will be. Between grief and growth. Between exhaustion and expectation. And the Spirit is whispering the same word Joshua spoke centuries ago: *Choose.*

Not because the choice is easy. Not because you have all the answers. Not because you feel strong or certain or ready. You choose because God has been faithful. Because grace still holds you. Because the cross still stands. Because the tomb is still empty. Because your life still matters. Because your witness is still needed.

You choose because covenant requires participation.

The Greek word for church, *ekklesia*, means “the called-out ones.” But calling implies response. God does not force us into fellowship. He invites. He woos. He pursues. But at some point, we must answer. We must move from passive reception to active surrender. From spiritual spectator to kingdom participant.

There are people in the pews right now who love God but have stopped choosing Him. They show up, but they don’t engage. They sing, but they don’t surrender. They pray, but they don’t pursue. They’ve been hurt, and understandably so. Betrayed by leaders. Disappointed by friends. Disillusioned by systems that promised more than they delivered. And so they’ve pulled back. Protected themselves. Built walls where there used to be windows.

But beloved, you cannot heal in isolation. You cannot grow in withdrawal. And you cannot fulfill kingdom purpose while holding God at arm’s length.

The invitation today is not to pretend the pain didn’t happen. It’s not to act like the wounds aren’t real. It’s to choose, deliberately, intentionally, sacredly, to move forward anyway. To recommit. To re-engage. To say with fresh conviction: I will not let my disappointment determine my destiny.

I choose.

I choose to trust God even when I don’t understand His timing. I choose to stay planted even when the soil feels hard. I choose to serve even when I’m still recovering. I choose community even when I’ve been betrayed by it. I choose worship even when my heart is heavy. I choose obedience even when the outcome is unclear.

Because this is what mature faith looks like. Not the absence of doubt, but the decision to move despite it. Not the absence of pain, but the refusal to let pain have the final word. Not the absence of questions, but the willingness to trust the One who holds the answers.

Paul wrote to the church at Philippi from a prison cell. Chains on his wrists. Uncertainty about his future. And yet his words rang with authority: “I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content” (Philippians 4:11). Not complacent. Content. Not passive. Purposeful. He had chosen, not happiness, not comfort, not ease, but Christ. And that choice anchored him when everything else was shaken.

That is the posture we need today. Not a forced smile. Not a shallow “I’m blessed.” But a deep, settled, Spirit-sustained choice to cling to Jesus when nothing else makes sense.

This series, “I Choose,” is a pastoral invitation back to intentionality. In the weeks ahead, we will explore what it means to choose to move on, to choose to grow up, and ultimately, to choose Jesus above all else. But it begins here. With the acknowledgment that we have agency. That our faith is not fatalistic. That God, in His sovereignty, has granted us the dignity of decision.

So to the grieving mother still showing up to Sunday service even though the seat beside you is empty, I see you. And I’m asking you to choose hope. To the pastor preaching through burnout, wondering if anyone even hears you anymore, I see you. And I’m asking you to choose perseverance. To the young adult navigating a world that feels more fractured than faithful, I see you. And I’m asking you to choose conviction. To the elder who has seen too much disappointment in the church, I see you. And I’m asking you to choose love one more time.

Because the kingdom does not advance on autopilot. Revival does not come through routine. Transformation does not happen by accident. It requires a people who have made a choice. Not once, but daily. Not in theory, but in practice.

Joshua gathered the people and laid it before them plain: “If it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom ye will serve… but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15).

He didn’t wait for consensus. He didn’t poll the crowd. He made his declaration. And the people, stirred by his conviction, chose as well.

So I ask you today: Whom will you serve? What will you choose?

Not next week. Not after the storm passes. Not when it feels easier.

Today.

In this complicated, beautiful, broken, hope-filled moment: choose.

Choose faithfulness over fear. 

Choose community over comfort. 

Choose surrender over self-preservation. 

Choose the Christ who chose you first.

And when you do, you will discover what the saints have always known: that the power to choose is not burden, it is blessing. It is the very breath of God in you, calling you forward, calling you upward, calling you home.



Rev. Dr. Fredrick Lemons II is the pastor of St. John MB Church in St. Louis, Missouri, and a voice for spiritual renewal in the African-American Baptist tradition.