Whom have I in heaven but you?
Psalm 73:25
In the final scene of the movie Thelma and Louise, the titular characters, who are running from the law, drive their 1966 Thunderbird convertible to the rim of the Grand Canyon. As they admire the magnificent view, they are suddenly cornered by an army of law enforcement vehicles. Faced with the certainty of being captured or gunned down, they decide to “keep going” and gun it toward the edge of the canyon. The last shot shows the Thunderbird rocket over the rim and soar gracefully into the air.
The scene’s impact does not come from the car’s dramatic launch, however. What gives this final scene its punch is the poignant exchange between the characters just before their last act. Realizing that they’ve run out of other options, they confront the only one that remains. The stark reality of their situation unnerves and then thrills them. They surrender to the absurdity of what they are about to do and with grim euphoria charge headlong into the valley of no return.
One of the cornerstones of the good life, so we are taught, is the availability of alternatives. The greater number of options from which to choose, the better. Long gone are the days of Henry Ford who, describing his new Model T, is purported to have declared, “Any color the customer wants, as long as it’s black.” We now expect selection—and selection we get. Ford alone currently produces an estimated 28 different models, and their flagship F-150 pickup comes in eleven colors. The proliferation of options isn’t limited to automobiles themselves. Each state now offers multiple license plate designs to appeal to any taste. Maryland has the most plate designs of any state at 989, nearly twice as many as runner-up Texas at 476.
Modern consumers are drowning in options, whether at the retail store or the ivory tower. There are roughly 5,000 different types of breakfast cereal to choose from. The US hosts more than 2,500 apple varieties. (The UK has a staggering 1,750.) It’s not just food products either. In 2023, Nike offered 773 different footwear products, including 342 men’s shoe styles. Need a new refrigerator? Among multiple other brands, Home Depot offers 52 Frigidaire models. And then there’s the tech market. In 2024, over 1.8 million apps were available in Apple’s App Store and over 3.9 million Android apps on Google Play. Need a little higher education? There are some 5,916 colleges and universities in the United States to choose from. What to study? Penn State offers more than 275 undergraduate major programs; the University of Minnesota offers nearly 300. Can’t afford to pay up front? Chase offers 32 iterations of its Visa card. Speculators might be interested in a few of the 1,900-plus cryptocurrencies currently busking in the digital marketplace. Looking for a spiritual uplift? By some estimates, in the US there are over 200 Christian denominations and about 370,000 religious congregations to satisfy the most esoteric itch. Whether it’s cereal, shoes, or salvation, there’s an orgy of options out there.
Yet rather than deliver the producer-promised contentment, this plethora of possibilities often results in confusion, second-guessing, and dissatisfaction. Cognitive psychologist George A. Miller of Harvard University’s Department of Psychology asserted in 1956 that the number of objects an average human can hold in short-term memory is about seven. “Miller’s Law” suggests that lists much longer than that become significantly harder to remember and process. Nelson Cowan, a cognitive scientist at the University of Missouri, has demonstrated that when a number of objects are flashed briefly, their number can be determined very quickly, at a glance, when the number does not exceed four objects. As the number of considerations increases, the ability to process decreases. What may seem beneficial for decision making can quickly become counterproductive to making informed choices. There can indeed be too much of a good thing.
The serpent insisted that unless our first parents chose other than what their creator desired for them they were not free at all. A careful reading of the account reveals that he was not advocating for the right to choose per se (humanity had already been granted that right). The wily serpent was actually arguing for a specific choice, and until the serpent’s pitch, it would seem that Eve hadn’t considered that disobedience was an option. The assumption (which persists) is that something cannot be freely chosen if it is the only option available. This, in turn, leads to a most egregious supposition—that choice itself is of greater value than anything that might be chosen.
An obvious manifestation is our culture’s objection to a Christianity which insists that Jesus Christ is the only one through whom humanity can have a relationship with God. Most unbelievers have little problem with Jesus as one of many, or even as the best of many; but they take issue with Jesus as the one of one. This objection is rarely aimed at the actual biblical testimony (of which most are either ignorant or dismissive) but is instead leveled at Christians as though they are the problem, not Jesus himself. To insist that Jesus is the only option leading to eternal life is to blaspheme against the great god Option whose temple is Choice and whose archenemy is the Chosen.
Christians like options too. We church shop and swap congregations whenever we hanker for a vibe change, or maybe we opt out of organized gatherings altogether. Above all, we don’t accept any real spiritual authority over us. Sermons are suggestions; constraint is cultish; discipline is dead. Even the Bible is more inspiration than imperative. Devotion can take any form that appeals to us. We allow no one to drain the pool of available options. For Western Christians, submission is just another word for nothing left to choose.
So what happens when God pulls a Henry Ford? What if he nullifies all options but one? What if he grants you the right to choose only what he wants? What if the God father makes you an offer you can’t refuse? He’s done it before. When Israel continues in her unfaithfulness, God declares through the prophet Hosea:
“I will block her path with thorn bushes; I will wall her in so that she cannot find her way. She will chase after her lovers but not catch them; she will look for them but not find them. Then she will say, ‘I will go back to my husband as at first, for then I was better off than now.’”
If the subject is particularly resistant to instruction, God generally employs one of two strategies. Either he gives the reprobate over to his wayward desires to reap what he sows (definitely not what you want), or he will narrow the aperture of possibility to expose the futility of carrying on as usual and to provoke a return, even if a half-hearted one. But waywardness isn’t always sinful. Sometimes God blocks the way simply because we are lousy cartographers
God also eliminates options for those whom he calls to important work. Paul’s Damascus experience is a textbook case. First God aborts Paul’s mission to destroy the fledgling church by striking him blind. God then orders Ananias to go to Paul: “Go! This man is my chosen instrument to proclaim my name to the Gentiles and their kings and to the people of Israel. I will show him how much he must suffer for my name.” Note the imperative he must suffer for my name. When God chooses you, you have little choice, no matter what your pet definition of freedom is. If Jonah teaches us anything, it’s that the call of God cordons off the exit ramps.
It’s not that he won’t give you an out. Even Jesus could have bailed if he had wanted to. (Remember those twelve legions of angels?) But if you’re especially slow in the revelation department, God will keep throwing roadblocks in front of you until you hang-dog the only road back home. As an uncharacteristically meek Simon Peter once told Jesus, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” Ardent devotion can be fickle. Sometimes you just need to be herded like a dumb sheep to the green pasture.
So enjoy the scenic routes when you can. But remember, O chosen one of God, “What he opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open.” And when you find that the only road left to you leads off the precipice, put the pedal to the metal. You’re not coming back from this one—and that’s the thrill of it.
