Christina Baldwin has written a delightfully complex novel, “The Beekeeper’s Question: Love and Honey, War and Reckoning, A Novel of WWII.” People who know me recommended the book to me because it is set in Montana, and some of its principal characters are beekeepers. As someone who grew up in Montana and is an amateur beekeeper, I found the book to offer accurate descriptions of both the state and the hobby. One of the characters in the book, a Blackfeet medicine woman trained in indigenous wisdom whose husband was raised in a settler family, offers a bit of wisdom: “Creator didn’t choose human beings because we are so advanced but because we need teaching.”

I'm not sure if that idea is part of traditional Blackfeet spirituality. It wouldn’t surprise me if it is. It aligns with the teachings I have received from Lakota elders. My cousin lived near the area in which the novel is set and spent considerable time among Blackfeet teachers. He would agree with the idea.

The idea of being chosen by God is deeply ingrained in Christian theology. We received the concept from our Jewish forebears. The idea of chosenness is deeply rooted in the Hebrew Scriptures. The people of Israel are chosen for a covenant with God, which holds them to specific commandments regarding how they treat others and how they relate to God. Jesus picks up on this theme by quoting the prophet Isaiah. Matthew, Mark, and Luke all report him saying, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Luke 4:18-19)

One of the requirements on my journey to becoming an ordained minister was writing a theological paper on my call to the ministry. That paper was read and defended before an ecclesiastical council that voted on my fitness for the ministry. On the one hand, the paper wasn’t the most challenging assignment of my theological education. On the other hand, I wrestled with the concept of being called. I do not experience God as a cosmic voice that speaks directly to me in human language. Unlike some of my colleagues, I have not had an experience in which God speaks English. My call to ministry was, instead, communicated in the words of pastors and teachers who encouraged me to pursue the path of ministry. It was experiences of the glory of nature and many encounters with the divine in the beauty of creation. It was nurtured by being part of a loving community that challenged and supported me.

As a result, I am more at home with the idea that all human beings are chosen, as opposed to thinking that any particular group is more chosen than another. I find myself closely aligned with the contemporary liturgical greeting: “No matter who you are, or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here!” In my understanding, God chooses every human being.

We are not chosen because we have somehow arrived at the correct set of beliefs. We are not chosen because we have recited the correct words or made the appropriate confession. We are not chosen to be set aside and identified as different or better than others. We are chosen because God loves all humans. We are beloved of God simply because we exist.

Because of the broadly inclusive nature of my theology of chosenness, I resonate with the idea that we are chosen not because we are advanced, but because we need teaching. Being chosen to learn certainly resonates with my life experience.

Last night, a small group of us gathered at the edge of the Salish Sea for a few moments of meditation on creation and our call to care for the environment. I arrived at the gathering with a feeling of frustration. A typographical error in an email message sent by our church caused confusion about the meeting time. Some people arrived an hour and a half early and had to leave before the designated time. I had tried to correct the misunderstanding, but had missed some people. I allowed my frustration to show. We proceeded with our gathering despite the misunderstanding. The opening invitation was to take the place of our gathering. We were invited to take a few breaths and to listen to the sounds, smell the aroma, and take in the visual beauty of standing on the shore of a bay in a sea dotted by islands. As we shared that experience, paddlers went by in canoes, sailors in small boats passed within our vision, gulls and herons flew overhead and landed near us, and the breeze brought us the aromas of the sea. I thought of how people have stood on that shore since time immemorial. The sea offered rich sustenance for the indigenous people who lived here for thousands of years before settlers arrived. The sea and land provided resources for those who came to settle in later times. The shore has nurtured my soul as I transitioned from an active pastor to a retired person. The sound of the gentle waves lapping on shore released me from my frustration and invited me to relax into the moment. The small group gathered was loving and supportive. I became aware of God's presence.

That is how I experience being chosen. Sometimes I am chosen to release my frustration and become present in the moment, among the people who have gathered. After 72 years of living and 47 years as an ordained minister, I continue to discover that there is much that I have to learn. Fortunately for me and all of us in this generation, God is a patient teacher. Creation is amazingly resilient. Life presents us with new opportunities to learn from our mistakes, make adjustments, and move in new directions. I am among those chosen because I need learning.