Big Buts of the Bible

“But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve… But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”
—Joshua 24:15

Some choices are so small we barely notice making them. What to wear. What to eat. Which way to drive. Whether to answer the email now or leave it sitting there until tomorrow.

Other choices quietly determine the direction of our lives.

Joshua was talking about one of those.

Israel had reached a significant moment in its story. The wilderness years were behind them. They had crossed the Jordan, entered the Promised Land, fought battles, settled communities, and received the inheritance God had promised their ancestors. Joshua was old now, his leadership nearing its end, so he gathered the tribes of Israel at Shechem for what amounted to a final conversation with people he had spent much of his life leading.

Interestingly, before Joshua told them what they should do, he reminded them what God had done.

God had called Abraham. God had brought Israel out of Egypt and rescued them from Pharaoh. God had led them through the wilderness, protected them, provided for them, and finally brought them into the land He had promised.

Grace came first. 

“Then came the choice.

Joshua called the people to fear the Lord and serve Him faithfully, putting away the other gods that continued competing for their allegiance. Then comes our but:

“But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve.”

It’s almost startling. Joshua doesn’t pretend there aren’t alternatives. Their ancestors had worshiped other gods. Egypt had plenty of gods. The Amorites whose land they now inhabited had their own gods.

Joshua essentially tells Israel: You’re going to give yourself to something. Decide what it will be.

That’s a surprisingly contemporary thought.

Most of us aren’t particularly tempted to construct an altar to an Amorite deity in the backyard. But we still give ourselves to things. Success. Money. Approval. Relationships. Comfort. Control. Achievement. Possessions. Even our own desires. None of those things has to be carved into an idol before it can begin asking for our allegiance.

Anything we depend upon to give us what only God can ultimately provide can slowly begin occupying sacred territory in our hearts.

And sometimes we don’t consciously choose it.

We simply drift there.

Which makes two little words in Joshua’s challenge particularly hopeful:

This day.

Joshua isn’t asking Israel to go backward and rewrite yesterday. They couldn’t. Neither can we.

Maybe yesterday we gave too much of ourselves to something that didn’t deserve it. Maybe we let fear make decisions for us. Maybe we chased approval, nursed resentment, returned to an old habit, trusted our own strength, or simply became so busy that God was pushed toward the edges of our lives.

We cannot choose differently yesterday.

But we can choose today.

There is hope hiding in plain sight.

Morning arrives. Another day opens. And somewhere amid the appointments, responsibilities, interruptions, worries, conversations, temptations, joys and disappointments, we find ourselves standing again at Joshua’s crossroads.

Whom will you serve?

Not merely with what you say you believe, but with your attention. Your priorities. Your choices. Your trust. Your heart.

Joshua doesn’t wait to see which way the crowd moves.

“But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

There’s conviction in that statement, certainly. But I think there’s gratitude there too. Joshua had seen what God had done. He had watched Israel cross the Jordan. He had seen the walls of Jericho fall. He had witnessed victories that made no human sense and experienced God’s faithfulness across decades of wilderness and uncertainty.

Joshua wasn’t choosing an unknown God.

He was choosing again the God who had already been faithful.

Perhaps that’s where our choice begins too. Before asking What must I do for God today?, it might be good to remember what God has already done.

Remember grace. Remember provision. Remember prayers answered—and the times we were carried when the answer wasn’t the one we wanted. Remember forgiveness. Remember the people God placed beside us. Remember the cross.

Remember Jesus.

Then choose.

Following God isn’t merely one enormous decision made somewhere in our past. In many ways, it becomes a lifetime of smaller choices made in very ordinary moments. Today I will trust rather than surrender to fear. Today I will forgive rather than feed resentment. Today I will tell the truth. Today I will extend grace. Today I will listen. Today I will love. Today I will remember who I belong to.

Tomorrow?

We’ll meet another crossroads tomorrow.

But today is the day we’ve been given.

And perhaps hope really can be that simple sometimes. Whatever yesterday looked like, whatever has competed for our hearts, whatever direction we’ve been drifting, today we can stop long enough to remember.

And choose again.

“But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”