The Moment of Decision
Sermon
THE HAPPY HOUR
SERMONS FOR ADVENT, CHRISTMAS AND EPIPHANY (SUNDAYS 1-8 IN ORDINARY TIME)
Dr. William James, the father and founder of American psychology and a great Christian, has said that the only irrefutable thing is a religious experience. In other words, the only thing that you cannot disprove is a religious experience. Using deductive logic you can say, "All truth is based upon an experience." That is the only irrefutable truth of reality. More succinctly, Jesus simply said, "I am the truth." You can not reduce it any more simply than that. Jesus is saying that to experience him personally is to know truth. The validity and the proof of all truth and reality lies in whether or not you have had that experience.
For example, I do not remember much about my freshman year in college except my first visit home. Everyone can remember that. You were now a "college man" and it was your sworn duty to return home and impress all the ignorant folk in your little town about how smart you were and demonstrate how much college had changed you. I will never forget what I wore for that first visit. I was "decked out" with white bucks, a navy blue double-breasted suit, a knit tie, and a beanie cap. Immediately upon entering the house my Dad asked me whether I was learning anything. Apparently it did not look like I was. Trying to validate myself and having read a little bit of Tillich and Niebuhr, as well as Kierkegaard, I replied with a superficial pseudo-sophisticated South Carolina pantomime of an Oxford English accent, "The confrontation and cross-fertilization of ideas has made me cognizant of my ultimate concern in the midst of my existential despair which threatens the ground of my being." To which my Dad responded, even more confused than I was, "Ain't they taught you nothing up there?" But in spite of the fact that my vocabulary revealed or gave away my ignorance, my Dad should have spotted that I had learned that all truth and knowledge and facts had to be based on an experience. My "putting on airs" was to validate that I had had the experience in hopes he would be convinced of what I knew.
For centuries people have said that the only way you learn is by experience. I have heard that all my life. Plato based his whole philosophy on that theory. John Dewey and Thorndike in the early twentieth century built a new discipline we call education upon that theory. For example, everyone who speaks at an evangelistic meeting will inevitably give you their testimony; then they will get around to preaching and telling you the facts they want to "lay on you." There is a universal awareness that without a worship experience, what one says, learns, teaches, prophesies about, cannot be authenticated.
Have you ever been to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting? That is how they do it. Have you ever been to a CFO meeting? That is how they do it. Have you ever been to an Ashram? That is how they do it. Have you ever been to a Full Gospel meeting? That is how they do it. Have you ever been to a Faith and Works meeting? That is how they do it. No speaker ever has the gall to try to share with you some truth they know, unless they can first validate the fact that it is based on an experience they have had.
Every scholarly lecturer does the same thing. No matter what the subject of their lecture, they do this. They may have three Ph.D.'s and be from the ivory towers of Harvard, but every lecturer I have ever heard from Duke to Yale has always begun just like they begin in a Full Gospel or an evangelistic meeting - by sharing with the audience their testimony of how they experienced this information or knowledge. They give a testimony of how they have gone through the process of pilgrimage, what effect it had on them and what they think. Then they get around to presenting the facts they want to present because they feel that they have thereby authenticated their right to teach you some truth.
This is true of everything in life. Athletes will tell you how, after years and years of practice, it finally clicked. Suddenly, I could hit that forehand like it ought to be hit. It finally came to me. Or we say, "For the first time in my life I saw what I was doing wrong." Then they tell you how they learned how to hit it. Or we say, "It came to me out of the blue." Or, as scholars and college students say, "Finally the truth hit me." "It was like a light turning on." "Suddenly after all those years I could do it."
Now, in matters of love it is the same way. People will tell you how, all of a sudden, they realized they were in love. "It was love at first sight." Or, "I was just swept off my feet!" Or, "The stars began shooting and sirens started going off."
Now we do that in everything, because we know that until you can substantiate the fact that you had the experience, all the facts that you are going offer anybody have no credence and no authenticity. That is what Isaiah learned. He was the prime minister of his country. Since Uzziah the great King had leprosy most of his reigning life and, since his son Ahab was not too smart, Isaiah had run the Kingdom. The problem was that King Uzziah died and Ahab had full control, and the country was going to pot. It was somewhere around 742 B.C. Ahab was now the King and he did not want to let Isaiah have much influence. Ahab was married to Jezebel who did not "cotton" to these Southern Baptist preachers in Judah and especially the Methodists.
Notice, in the first five chapters Isaiah starts trying to tell the people some brilliant ideas and observations he has about some of the peace treaties they have made and some of the things that his Congress had done. He tries to tell them that these peace treaties they have made with all these various nations in the Middle East, are not worth the paper they are written on "because we do not have our act together back home." He tells how they have sinned. He tells them that their only hope is that a Messiah will come, but they are still not listening. After about fifteen minutes into the sermon Isaiah realizes that he has not validated his prophecy, so he says, "Before we can go any further I have to validate my right to speak to you. Let me tell you about my experience. Let me tell you how I finally came to this theory."
So he tells about his experience in the Temple, saying that the truth of everything he is saying is based on that. He recalls, "It was in the year that King Uzziah died and I went, not out on the golf course, not out on a beautiful lake fishing, but to the Temple. And I saw the Lord high and lifted up. I saw the greatness of God. I heard choirs singing, 'Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of hosts.' It was so overwhelming that the seraphim had to cover their eyes and their feet. After I had seen his greatness I began to see myself in comparison to the goodness of God and I said, 'I am a sinner. I am a man of unclean lips and dwell in the midst of people with unclean lips. I live in a sinful, evil world and I am a part of it.' Suddenly God pardoned me and took the coals from the altar and cleansed my sin, seared it with the fire which sterilizes it of all the contagion of sin, and said, 'You are forgiven.' " Now Isaiah's experience did not end there.
The worship service came to a close and God gave an invitation. He always does that. He gave an invitation and he said, "Who can I send?" Isaiah looked around and thought, "Who are you talking to, Lord, that guy in the forty-third row?" And Isaiah looked around again and really wondered who God was talking to. Finally he realized he was the only one in the church. God had to be talking to Isaiah. He discovered that every worship experience prevents you from going out of the door until you have had a confrontation or at least been given an invitation to make a decision, yes or no. You cannot say, "Well, maybe." Or, "I will think about it." No, every worship experience ends with a confrontation between you and God. "Who can I send?" Finally Isaiah said, "Here am I, Lord, send me" ... the decision, the eternal "Yes." Now let's see what Isaiah experienced.
I. He Saw the Value of God
The Scripture says he saw the value of God. That is what all worship ought to accomplish. It causes you to want to adore him. Every worship ought to begin with adoring him: "How Great Thou Art" or "Holy, Holy, Holy" or "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing." We should begin every Sunday in church with a hymn of adoration. Some churches begin with applauding. I think that is most appropriate, applauding the greatness of God, waiting with anticipation." And I saw the Lord high and lifted up." "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of Hosts." The Lord's Prayer begins that way, and that is the perfect example of worship. You identify God: "Our Father who art in Heaven." What comes next? Adoration: "Hallowed be Thy Name." That is how we begin in celebrating the goodness of God. Once you have experienced God's greatness, love, and perfection, it causes you to then measure yourself and see how you stack up.
II. He Saw the Condition of Himself and His World
Then he saw the condition of himself and his world. He cried out, "Woe is me for I am a man of unclean lips and dwell amidst people with unclean lips." You have not worshipped if you have not, honestly and personally, X-rayed your soul, your subconsciousness and your mind. Every theologian from the liberal to the conservative has always said that is the point of beginning for Christianity: to see your predicament, your condition. It is not easy to do. is it?
I said to one of my sons one day, "Why do you do such-and-such or why do you react such-and-such a way?" He said, "Daddy, where do you think I learned it?" I had a man with whom I was in counsel who was an alcoholic. He would not admit he was an alcoholic. His wife and I tried to help him see his condition. He would do things when he was drinking that he did not even know he was doing. He would not admit it until one night he heard his little son in the bed, crying out in the middle of the night, "Daddy, don't hit me again, please." For the first time he honestly saw himself. There are the sins of temperament, bitterness, resentment, anger, moodiness, and superiority. Then there are the social sins we need to confess. I am a part of society. I belong to this church. I belong to this state, this nation, this world. And its sins are part of my sins. I dwell among the people of unclean lips, too. It is complicated, I know, but you must confess that you are a part of it.
One of my favorite books is John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath. Do you remember when the old farmer's farm was being taken from him during the Depression? He was determined to go and shoot whoever was reclaiming his farm. So he took his shotgun and went to the bank and poked it right in the manager's face. The manager said, "It is not me. It is the president." So he went to the president who said, "Oh, no. it is not me; it is the Board of Directors." And he went to the Board of Directors. There were thirty-six of them and he only had two shells, but they said, "It is not us; it is the stockholders." And, for the first time in that simple man's life, he realized how complex and how social sin is and that he was also a part of it.
There are the sins of neglect, too. Do you see those? The good you should have done but did not do? That is what the parable of the Good Samaritan is about, those who passed by and went on the
other side of the road because they were too busy. They neglected him.
Then there are most of us who just do not like to see ourselves honestly as we are. One of the greatest plays on Broadway was "Death of a Salesman." It starred Willy Loman, a big bag of wind, a hotshot salesman who liked to pretend that he was influential and important. He was not. Finally he could not face who he was and he killed himself. After the funeral service, his son and his wife were in the kitchen, and the son said to the mother, "You know, he never knew who he was." He had never stood in the Temple and seen himself in comparison to God. Socrates said, "Know thyself." That is imperative. And if you have seen God, you will feel the necessity to see yourself.
III. He Accepted the Pardon and Forgiveness of God
Having confessed, Isaiah accepted the pardon and the forgiveness of God. It is not enough just to admit that you have sinned, but we have to accept it. That is not so easy. "Behold the coals touched my lips and my guilt was taken away and my sins forgiven."
Herb Gardner wrote a beautiful story about a nonconformist kind of fellow. He was a good man, but he could not hold down a job. He had a little nephew that he reared and they did not have any specific rules. He was a colorful, lovable man, but he lacked reality. He was supposed to go down to apply for a job one day. Instead of applying for a job, he went up and down Fifty-first Street saying to everybody he saw, "Forgive me. I'm sorry." And everyone who saw him would pat him on the head and say, "You're forgiven; it's okay, buddy. Don't sweat it, man." One man hollered out of a cab, "You're forgiven." Another lady carrying her puppy dog said, "Poof forgives you."
Now forgiveness is something we all know we need, so we are willing to give it. But the problem was that this man was not aware that he had sinned and that he really needed it. He just wanted to test people's willingness to forgive. What a tragedy! Most of us are like him, running down the street asking for forgiveness when deep down we don't really believe we need it. Forgiveness is designed to put us back in good terms with God. It is to wipe away our sin. It is to receive it and let God give it to you.
IV. Call and Commitment
Isaiah's worship experience ended with a call and a commitment. "And I heard a voice from heaven saying to me, 'Whom will I send?' "Every worship service must end with an invitation, a chance for a commitment, a chance for a decision. How are you going to respond to this God whom you have just experienced? What are you going to do now that you have had your sins washed away? My friends, it is not a special call. We preachers have distorted the Scriptures so that you think a "call" is something unique. We are not special. God calls everyone who experiences him. He calls you and everyone. "Whom can I send?" That is a part of worship. Then you have to decide what you are going to do about it. Worship always ends with the experience you have just had, causing you to make ethical and moral decisions about your life.
In the Bible every experience was like that. How about Moses and the burning bush on Mount Sinai? Suddenly he was impressed by God's greatness and the bush was aflame, beautiful and magnificent, and he knew he was in the presence of holiness. He took off his shoes and fell to his knees and cried. "Forgive me." And he went through the whole process of dialogue and experiencing of God in such a magnificent fashion there. It ended with what? "Go down into the valley where the people are; do not stay up here on this mountain. Go down and serve and love and help." Always it ends that way. That is why we always have an invitation at every worship service to which we can respond.
Dag Hammerskjold, who was Executive Secretary of the United Nations and was killed, was a deeply spiritual man. In his autobiography he wrote in one sentence a description of his religious experience: "A moment in which I said yes; after that, I could not look back." The same words of the text we have from Paul today say. "Behold, all things will become new and the old will pass away."
Notice that even after Jesus at age twelve went to the Temple, what happened? How did He respond? Immediately, at the end of the worship, He began the service when He said, "Did you not know that I must now be about my Father's business?"
In every biography I have ever read about great men and women, they have all spoken of a moment, a moment in which they made a decision that changed and altered their lives. And I listen to the testimony of lesser men and women often, who tell me about that moment in which they almost decided, but they did not. Every one of you who has worshiped has heard a call, "Who will go?" Or, "Will you go?" Yes or no? You must answer.
It is the moment of decision right now.
For example, I do not remember much about my freshman year in college except my first visit home. Everyone can remember that. You were now a "college man" and it was your sworn duty to return home and impress all the ignorant folk in your little town about how smart you were and demonstrate how much college had changed you. I will never forget what I wore for that first visit. I was "decked out" with white bucks, a navy blue double-breasted suit, a knit tie, and a beanie cap. Immediately upon entering the house my Dad asked me whether I was learning anything. Apparently it did not look like I was. Trying to validate myself and having read a little bit of Tillich and Niebuhr, as well as Kierkegaard, I replied with a superficial pseudo-sophisticated South Carolina pantomime of an Oxford English accent, "The confrontation and cross-fertilization of ideas has made me cognizant of my ultimate concern in the midst of my existential despair which threatens the ground of my being." To which my Dad responded, even more confused than I was, "Ain't they taught you nothing up there?" But in spite of the fact that my vocabulary revealed or gave away my ignorance, my Dad should have spotted that I had learned that all truth and knowledge and facts had to be based on an experience. My "putting on airs" was to validate that I had had the experience in hopes he would be convinced of what I knew.
For centuries people have said that the only way you learn is by experience. I have heard that all my life. Plato based his whole philosophy on that theory. John Dewey and Thorndike in the early twentieth century built a new discipline we call education upon that theory. For example, everyone who speaks at an evangelistic meeting will inevitably give you their testimony; then they will get around to preaching and telling you the facts they want to "lay on you." There is a universal awareness that without a worship experience, what one says, learns, teaches, prophesies about, cannot be authenticated.
Have you ever been to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting? That is how they do it. Have you ever been to a CFO meeting? That is how they do it. Have you ever been to an Ashram? That is how they do it. Have you ever been to a Full Gospel meeting? That is how they do it. Have you ever been to a Faith and Works meeting? That is how they do it. No speaker ever has the gall to try to share with you some truth they know, unless they can first validate the fact that it is based on an experience they have had.
Every scholarly lecturer does the same thing. No matter what the subject of their lecture, they do this. They may have three Ph.D.'s and be from the ivory towers of Harvard, but every lecturer I have ever heard from Duke to Yale has always begun just like they begin in a Full Gospel or an evangelistic meeting - by sharing with the audience their testimony of how they experienced this information or knowledge. They give a testimony of how they have gone through the process of pilgrimage, what effect it had on them and what they think. Then they get around to presenting the facts they want to present because they feel that they have thereby authenticated their right to teach you some truth.
This is true of everything in life. Athletes will tell you how, after years and years of practice, it finally clicked. Suddenly, I could hit that forehand like it ought to be hit. It finally came to me. Or we say, "For the first time in my life I saw what I was doing wrong." Then they tell you how they learned how to hit it. Or we say, "It came to me out of the blue." Or, as scholars and college students say, "Finally the truth hit me." "It was like a light turning on." "Suddenly after all those years I could do it."
Now, in matters of love it is the same way. People will tell you how, all of a sudden, they realized they were in love. "It was love at first sight." Or, "I was just swept off my feet!" Or, "The stars began shooting and sirens started going off."
Now we do that in everything, because we know that until you can substantiate the fact that you had the experience, all the facts that you are going offer anybody have no credence and no authenticity. That is what Isaiah learned. He was the prime minister of his country. Since Uzziah the great King had leprosy most of his reigning life and, since his son Ahab was not too smart, Isaiah had run the Kingdom. The problem was that King Uzziah died and Ahab had full control, and the country was going to pot. It was somewhere around 742 B.C. Ahab was now the King and he did not want to let Isaiah have much influence. Ahab was married to Jezebel who did not "cotton" to these Southern Baptist preachers in Judah and especially the Methodists.
Notice, in the first five chapters Isaiah starts trying to tell the people some brilliant ideas and observations he has about some of the peace treaties they have made and some of the things that his Congress had done. He tries to tell them that these peace treaties they have made with all these various nations in the Middle East, are not worth the paper they are written on "because we do not have our act together back home." He tells how they have sinned. He tells them that their only hope is that a Messiah will come, but they are still not listening. After about fifteen minutes into the sermon Isaiah realizes that he has not validated his prophecy, so he says, "Before we can go any further I have to validate my right to speak to you. Let me tell you about my experience. Let me tell you how I finally came to this theory."
So he tells about his experience in the Temple, saying that the truth of everything he is saying is based on that. He recalls, "It was in the year that King Uzziah died and I went, not out on the golf course, not out on a beautiful lake fishing, but to the Temple. And I saw the Lord high and lifted up. I saw the greatness of God. I heard choirs singing, 'Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of hosts.' It was so overwhelming that the seraphim had to cover their eyes and their feet. After I had seen his greatness I began to see myself in comparison to the goodness of God and I said, 'I am a sinner. I am a man of unclean lips and dwell in the midst of people with unclean lips. I live in a sinful, evil world and I am a part of it.' Suddenly God pardoned me and took the coals from the altar and cleansed my sin, seared it with the fire which sterilizes it of all the contagion of sin, and said, 'You are forgiven.' " Now Isaiah's experience did not end there.
The worship service came to a close and God gave an invitation. He always does that. He gave an invitation and he said, "Who can I send?" Isaiah looked around and thought, "Who are you talking to, Lord, that guy in the forty-third row?" And Isaiah looked around again and really wondered who God was talking to. Finally he realized he was the only one in the church. God had to be talking to Isaiah. He discovered that every worship experience prevents you from going out of the door until you have had a confrontation or at least been given an invitation to make a decision, yes or no. You cannot say, "Well, maybe." Or, "I will think about it." No, every worship experience ends with a confrontation between you and God. "Who can I send?" Finally Isaiah said, "Here am I, Lord, send me" ... the decision, the eternal "Yes." Now let's see what Isaiah experienced.
I. He Saw the Value of God
The Scripture says he saw the value of God. That is what all worship ought to accomplish. It causes you to want to adore him. Every worship ought to begin with adoring him: "How Great Thou Art" or "Holy, Holy, Holy" or "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing." We should begin every Sunday in church with a hymn of adoration. Some churches begin with applauding. I think that is most appropriate, applauding the greatness of God, waiting with anticipation." And I saw the Lord high and lifted up." "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of Hosts." The Lord's Prayer begins that way, and that is the perfect example of worship. You identify God: "Our Father who art in Heaven." What comes next? Adoration: "Hallowed be Thy Name." That is how we begin in celebrating the goodness of God. Once you have experienced God's greatness, love, and perfection, it causes you to then measure yourself and see how you stack up.
II. He Saw the Condition of Himself and His World
Then he saw the condition of himself and his world. He cried out, "Woe is me for I am a man of unclean lips and dwell amidst people with unclean lips." You have not worshipped if you have not, honestly and personally, X-rayed your soul, your subconsciousness and your mind. Every theologian from the liberal to the conservative has always said that is the point of beginning for Christianity: to see your predicament, your condition. It is not easy to do. is it?
I said to one of my sons one day, "Why do you do such-and-such or why do you react such-and-such a way?" He said, "Daddy, where do you think I learned it?" I had a man with whom I was in counsel who was an alcoholic. He would not admit he was an alcoholic. His wife and I tried to help him see his condition. He would do things when he was drinking that he did not even know he was doing. He would not admit it until one night he heard his little son in the bed, crying out in the middle of the night, "Daddy, don't hit me again, please." For the first time he honestly saw himself. There are the sins of temperament, bitterness, resentment, anger, moodiness, and superiority. Then there are the social sins we need to confess. I am a part of society. I belong to this church. I belong to this state, this nation, this world. And its sins are part of my sins. I dwell among the people of unclean lips, too. It is complicated, I know, but you must confess that you are a part of it.
One of my favorite books is John Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath. Do you remember when the old farmer's farm was being taken from him during the Depression? He was determined to go and shoot whoever was reclaiming his farm. So he took his shotgun and went to the bank and poked it right in the manager's face. The manager said, "It is not me. It is the president." So he went to the president who said, "Oh, no. it is not me; it is the Board of Directors." And he went to the Board of Directors. There were thirty-six of them and he only had two shells, but they said, "It is not us; it is the stockholders." And, for the first time in that simple man's life, he realized how complex and how social sin is and that he was also a part of it.
There are the sins of neglect, too. Do you see those? The good you should have done but did not do? That is what the parable of the Good Samaritan is about, those who passed by and went on the
other side of the road because they were too busy. They neglected him.
Then there are most of us who just do not like to see ourselves honestly as we are. One of the greatest plays on Broadway was "Death of a Salesman." It starred Willy Loman, a big bag of wind, a hotshot salesman who liked to pretend that he was influential and important. He was not. Finally he could not face who he was and he killed himself. After the funeral service, his son and his wife were in the kitchen, and the son said to the mother, "You know, he never knew who he was." He had never stood in the Temple and seen himself in comparison to God. Socrates said, "Know thyself." That is imperative. And if you have seen God, you will feel the necessity to see yourself.
III. He Accepted the Pardon and Forgiveness of God
Having confessed, Isaiah accepted the pardon and the forgiveness of God. It is not enough just to admit that you have sinned, but we have to accept it. That is not so easy. "Behold the coals touched my lips and my guilt was taken away and my sins forgiven."
Herb Gardner wrote a beautiful story about a nonconformist kind of fellow. He was a good man, but he could not hold down a job. He had a little nephew that he reared and they did not have any specific rules. He was a colorful, lovable man, but he lacked reality. He was supposed to go down to apply for a job one day. Instead of applying for a job, he went up and down Fifty-first Street saying to everybody he saw, "Forgive me. I'm sorry." And everyone who saw him would pat him on the head and say, "You're forgiven; it's okay, buddy. Don't sweat it, man." One man hollered out of a cab, "You're forgiven." Another lady carrying her puppy dog said, "Poof forgives you."
Now forgiveness is something we all know we need, so we are willing to give it. But the problem was that this man was not aware that he had sinned and that he really needed it. He just wanted to test people's willingness to forgive. What a tragedy! Most of us are like him, running down the street asking for forgiveness when deep down we don't really believe we need it. Forgiveness is designed to put us back in good terms with God. It is to wipe away our sin. It is to receive it and let God give it to you.
IV. Call and Commitment
Isaiah's worship experience ended with a call and a commitment. "And I heard a voice from heaven saying to me, 'Whom will I send?' "Every worship service must end with an invitation, a chance for a commitment, a chance for a decision. How are you going to respond to this God whom you have just experienced? What are you going to do now that you have had your sins washed away? My friends, it is not a special call. We preachers have distorted the Scriptures so that you think a "call" is something unique. We are not special. God calls everyone who experiences him. He calls you and everyone. "Whom can I send?" That is a part of worship. Then you have to decide what you are going to do about it. Worship always ends with the experience you have just had, causing you to make ethical and moral decisions about your life.
In the Bible every experience was like that. How about Moses and the burning bush on Mount Sinai? Suddenly he was impressed by God's greatness and the bush was aflame, beautiful and magnificent, and he knew he was in the presence of holiness. He took off his shoes and fell to his knees and cried. "Forgive me." And he went through the whole process of dialogue and experiencing of God in such a magnificent fashion there. It ended with what? "Go down into the valley where the people are; do not stay up here on this mountain. Go down and serve and love and help." Always it ends that way. That is why we always have an invitation at every worship service to which we can respond.
Dag Hammerskjold, who was Executive Secretary of the United Nations and was killed, was a deeply spiritual man. In his autobiography he wrote in one sentence a description of his religious experience: "A moment in which I said yes; after that, I could not look back." The same words of the text we have from Paul today say. "Behold, all things will become new and the old will pass away."
Notice that even after Jesus at age twelve went to the Temple, what happened? How did He respond? Immediately, at the end of the worship, He began the service when He said, "Did you not know that I must now be about my Father's business?"
In every biography I have ever read about great men and women, they have all spoken of a moment, a moment in which they made a decision that changed and altered their lives. And I listen to the testimony of lesser men and women often, who tell me about that moment in which they almost decided, but they did not. Every one of you who has worshiped has heard a call, "Who will go?" Or, "Will you go?" Yes or no? You must answer.
It is the moment of decision right now.

