I choose to believe. That's the simple declarative sentence of this column. Allow me to add to it.

I choose to believe that God is active in our lives. No, I don't think God arranges everything that happens, an idea that if followed to its logical conclusion, would ascribe some incredible barbarity and monstrosity to the Creator of all things. There are accidents. Stuff happens. Also, incredible cruelties perpetrated by human beings cannot fairly make God their author. Logic and fairness won't permit this.

I choose to believe that God is light and in God there is no darkness at all. For those who care, that's an accurate paraphrasing of a New Testament verse: I John 1:5. This verse, and others like it, helps to persuade me that God intervenes in our lives by shining a light of illumination into our circumstances. To be sure, this doesn't happen all the time and not in a dictatorial way. Rather the light acts as a nudge, a pointer, a slight push to create loving opportunities where we might respond.

Forty-one years ago, a beautiful Pennsylvania coed poured water down my back while I was hosting a college radio show. I deserved the dousing, by the way. Mortified, she walked into town and bought me a "Forever Yours" candy bar as a peace offering. Later, she left a note in my dormitory mailbox expressing best wishes after minor surgery. I felt the light shining. These two encounters gave me the courage to ask her out. Today, we live in a century-old brick foursquare house near uptown Jackson with our two cats and we work in real estate together.

I like to think the Father God looks on the wide sweep of our lives and asks the other members of the Trinity: "Did you see what we did there?" I choose to believe in a God of light who creates loving opportunities.

Two weeks ago, during a weeklong training visit to Atlanta, five panhandlers crossed my path. The first four I refused. The details are not germane to this column, except to say that, in the main, people should not expect to extract money from strangers on the street. Also, I'm not at all certain that encouraging begging behavior by giving a reward because I'm uncomfortable really helps the person asking. If my money goes for beer, for example, what positive is achieved? But the fifth person who asked for money, I could not refuse. When I entered the bathroom of the Martin Luther King National Historic Site, a man was washing his clothes in one of the sinks. A uniformed guard came in shortly afterwards and told the man to get out: "You can't do this here, man!" The man agreed to go and after the guard left, he turned to me. "Can you help me?" I felt the light shining and gave him all the cash I had, which was not a lot. An hour or so later, the man saw me outside, stuck out his hand, we shook, and he told me he had already used the money to buy laundry detergent. With a quick "Thank you, again," he was off. I was sorry that my gift to him was so small.

Yes, I choose to believe in a God of light, who creates loving opportunities. But if we don't respond to God's nudge in those moments, it is all for naught.

There are moments when God nudges us, often subtly, many times almost imperceptibly. Sometimes the light shines.

At least, that's what I choose to believe.