For a long time, I lived by the motto “che sera sera”—what will be, will be. It sounded poetic, but in reality, it became my excuse for reckless decisions. I would leap without looking, then act surprised when I landed face-first in the mud. And of course, I complained: “Life isn’t fair! I’m not in charge!”
In truth, I used religion as an escape from responsibility. My goal wasn’t to have a relationship and walk in obedience to my Maker, but to avoid accountability. I misunderstood surrender as laziness and obedience as optional. Accountability? I treated it like a bad diet plan—something for other people, not me.
That mindset carried me for years, until one day the lightbulb flicked on: I am the author of my own destiny. Our Maker doesn’t force His will on us like a cosmic traffic cop. He invites us to discover His desires and align with them. That realisation changed everything.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I still make mistakes, sometimes spectacularly. But these days, I realign faster. And I’ve noticed something: the drama I used to blame on others has shrunk considerably. It turns out that when we stop outsourcing responsibility, life becomes far less chaotic.
Every morning, life hands us a quiet gift: the freedom to choose. Our story isn’t carved in stone—it’s stitched together moment by moment, decision by decision. Some choices are small, like whether to smile at a stranger. Others are massive, like who you marry or associate with. But all of them matter. Even the tiniest pebble tossed into the river sends ripples farther than we imagine.
Here’s the truth: freedom always comes with responsibility. A choice isn’t just a whim—it’s a seed planted in time. Some seeds grow into joy, peace, and harmony. Others sprout regret, sorrow, and “what was I thinking?” The harvest we reap tomorrow depends on what we plant today.
Considering the potential Consequences inherent in each choice makes us wise. Consequences aren’t merely punishments or rewards—they’re teachers. Sometimes they’re gentle tutors, other times they’re drill sergeants. But they always have something to say. To live wisely isn’t to fear consequences—it’s to welcome them as guides, nudging us toward deeper understanding and keeping us focused on our purpose.
So let’s choose with hearts tuned to love, heads open to truth, hands skilled for labour with integrity and spirits humble enough to laugh at our own mistakes and learn from them. Because every choice shapes not only our path, but also the paths of those walking beside us.
And here’s a question worth pondering: Is it wise to demand the freedom to live however we like, while expecting others to bear the consequences of our choices?
May we walk lightly, choose wisely, and accept the fruits of our decisions with grace.
