Life is an endless string of them. Why is that? Why is it that just when I think I’ve got it down, I’ve made my decision, the universe leads me around a corner and smack into another choice.

Grrr…

Some decisions I’ve made over the last few days haven’t led to new choices. Yet. Some decisions are in front of me right now because of choices made by others, which then requires that I make a choice. Kind of like a never-ending game of chess. Move. Counter-move. Counter-move to the counter-move… Ai-yah! My head hurts.

I suppose most people would find all this decision-making exciting, and grown-up-ish. I find it all quite annoying right now. I’d really like my life to settle down for a while, get a little normalcy going. I’ve been living like a nomadic nerfherder for so long it’s hard to remember what stability feels like. I have just enough memory of its taste to make my heart salivate for more, and cause my mind to insist its only a mirage.

Bill Sackheim once gave me a piece of advice — well, actually Bill was full of advice — but one nugget he gave me when I first started working with him came back to my mind with brutal force recently. He regretted having his name attached to a particular piece of… um, well, a movie… He could tell me exactly the day, hour, even minute that he knew the project was going south. But he kept his name attached, and, as Bill always did, worked his butt off desperately trying to salvage a once-decent script. It didn’t work. He hated the movie. And he hated the fact that his name was now forever linked with something that in his mind was a piece of garbage. His advice to me was, "the moment you smell the winds change and see the project headed in the toilet, get out. As fast as you can, get your name off the project and keep it off. Don’t let your name or reputation (and in Hollywood the two are synonymous) be soiled by a project you no longer believe in or like."

For many decisions I make, I write my name in pencil, because I’m just not sure. Some, I write in pen, because, while there are still a few lingering questions, I’m ready for that dotted line, and all that comes with it. Only one decision have I written my name in blood, because I was willing and ready to shed mine for that decision. That’s my decision to follow Jesus, no matter what it costs me. There is no other decision I will ever make in my life where I will sign in blood. None.

In Hollywood, contracts are signed in pen — though I’m sure some felt like they’d been in blood, for all the bloodletting that preceded the signing. Even the most binding of those contracts can be broken. To pull your name off a project may cost you a pretty penny, but it won’t cost you your life.

In the world of Christians, we usually don’t sign contracts. At least not officially. Yet, the commitment made on the part of one party to another can sometimes be confused with the commitment made to God. One, or all, of the parties may have unspoken — even subconscious — expectations that all signers have signed in blood, because, this is, after all, "Kingdom Work". What happens then, when a few, or even just one, of the parties isn’t happy with the direction the project is going? Can you pull your name off, or are you bound to it, even knowing that it is not the kind of "kingdom work" you want your name attached to?

And, most vexing of all, once I’ve signed in ink, can I erase it and go back to pencil?

The chess game goes on…

Perhaps after a year or two of what the rest of the world might call boring — you know, working the same job, living in the same country, that sort of things — I’ll be ready for some more turn-my-life-upside-down kind of stuff. But please, can I just have a year or two off the merry-go-round? I’m feeling a little nauseous.