God's Will Made Simple

Knowing God’s Will

The problem with approaching theological issues as a fallen human being is really pretty simple: as a fallen human being, my default mental setting is always, "it is all about ME."

Take God’s will as an example.

Whenever I start thinking about finding God’s will, I automatically focus on such questions as “Which person should I marry?” or “What job should I apply for?” or “Where should I go to college?”.

Those are all crucial questions in my life. Why? For many reasons, but chiefly because they all deal with my personal happiness, fulfillment and success in life. To be fair, people do ask such questions because they are concerned about knowing God’s “perfect plan” for their lives. But there is a deeper issue here.

Desiring to know God’s will for a specific person (myself included) is a time-honored, traditional desire among Bible-believing Christians. But...it is a desire that has no Biblical basis. 

You read that right: wanting to know God’s individual will for your individual life is not a Biblical idea, and it never has been.

The “traditional” and faulty view I’m talking about is that which assumes that God has a perfect plan for every person--a plan that is possible to discover for oneself by spiritual and/or experimental means such as reading “signs,” claiming Bible promises, seeking godly advice and analyzing one’s own personal desires. This perfect plan is also one that it’s possible to miss out on by making the wrong decisions along the way: marrying the wrong person...attending the wrong college...choosing the wrong career path, etc.

The two things in the previous paragraph that make the view a faulty one are these:

1. God’s perfect plan can be discovered for oneself, and

2. God’s perfect plan can be missed out on or thwarted by one’s own choices.

I was brought up on this traditional view; in fact, this approach was often used as an incentive for me to make the “wisest choices” possible, so as to not miss God’s best plan for my life. The problem was not the need to make wise choices, but the idea of being able to thwart God’s best plan. Eventually, it became clear to me that the picture the Bible paints is far less ME-centered and far more GOD-centered than I had imagined.

Does God indeed have a perfect plan for every person’s life? Yes. Our God is the sovereign Ruler of the universe; He has complete control over His entire creation, ruling perfectly over all of His creatures and all of their actions, all of the time. That is what it means to be God. We are all the beneficiaries of His kind, benevolent rule, and ought to be supremely thankful to be so.

Does God instruct me to know what His individual plan for my life is in advance and stick to that plan by making the correct life choices? No. That is an idea that is foreign to the teaching of the Scriptures. When God revealed his individual will to individuals written about in the Bible, He did so by audible, verbal, extraordinary methods such as visions, dreams, angelic announcements and words from heaven. Such methods were limited to times and situations where God’s word was being delivered or authenticated. They were never used to give directions for believers’ individual life choices unless those believers were advancing God’s revelation or His redemption. And whenever those situations occurred, it was God, not the individuals, who took the initiative of revealing His will. The believers never took it upon themselves to discover it.

In fact, we are warned in the Scriptures not to try and discover God’s secret plans for our future. Deuteronomy 29:29 reminds us, “The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.” When King Saul went to the witch of Endor and attempted to receive direction by consulting the dead, he was violating God’s will and was disciplined accordingly. When Peter asked Jesus about the future plans God had for the Apostle John, Jesus, in effect, answered, “Peter, that is none of your business. You must follow Me” (John 21:22).

There are things about our future--most things--that God has planned out, but which it is none of our business to know in advance. People who assume that they can discover that secret will of the Father for their lives are playing a dangerous game. At best, they are hankering after signs and other extraordinary revelations apart from the perfect revelation of Scripture. At worst, they are delving into mysteries similar to those sought by sorcerers and soothsayers.

So, what HAS our God permitted us to know regarding his will for us?

Even more important than that question is this one: What reason does God give us for knowing His will for us? Is it to satisfy our own curiosity? To assure us of our own security, fulfillment, happiness, success?

God’s will for us is to “be filled with the knowledge of His will” (Colossians 1:9b) so that we will grow into the likeness of His Son. In other words, He gave us His word to instruct us in the ways of holiness--to teach us to obey Him in the same way Jesus did. God saves us. He gives us new hearts to believe and obey His gospel so that we are justified by the work of Christ. And once we are justified, His will is for us to be sanctified--made over in Christ’s likeness as obedient servants of the King.

And if you are not yet saved by God’s grace through Jesus Christ, it is God’s will that you repent and believe the good news. Turn from your sins and surrender your life to the Lord Jesus, your King and your God. Begin your life anew with Jesus as your Master, His word as your instruction manual, and Heaven as your ultimate destination.

That pretty much sums up all of God’s plan that He means for us to know. If we are living our lives in obedience to His word, by faith in His promises and His power, then believe me, none of our choices will ever depart from His perfect plan for us.

May He bless you all abundantly this coming week!

A Poem in the Style of Lewis Carroll

The Bopple of Kelly and Quinge

The frontier of Denck was bosso that day
when the prisoners of Pewn were released...
for the sun was as hot as a Hockafool’s pot
after all of her floogs have been fleeced.

The Choon moon was rising, so it wasn’t surprising
that Kelly Tacktelly came forth
from his lodge at Blue Blenck and flew down to Denck
to cross sabres with Quinge of the North.

It was well-known that Quinge used to poach and impinge
on Tacktelly’s rectigulous land
and had made off, it’s true, with a pluckwuck or two,
which had cost Kelly T. half a grand!

So, with sidge sabres drawn, the bopple was on
as the other Pewn cell-mates were scattered;
how they jeered! how they jooted! They huckered and hooted
as their humbusky heroes got battered!
(Who would win? To them it hardly mattered.)

Just then like a shroud came a cunimjus cloud
that just snawffled the sun quick as thought...
so the bopplers peered ups as the rain came in cups,
maybe leaving their flay-fest half-fought.

Still they hated to scrawn with their mates looking on,
so they plunged one more lunge at each udder;
but the sabres bedewed by the rain went askewed
and the heroes got schnocked in the mudder!

Tacktelly and Quingie were dopey and dingy
when suddenly Sun shined again...
and their sabres were senck in the hard earth of Denck
so they both of them counted to ten...

“Maybe that was a sign,” growled the Quinge, with a kind
of regrievulous glower on his phizz.
“I agree,” grunted Kelly. “And although you’re still smelly,
guess it’s best to leave things as they is.”

Now, the Choon moon has set since the two bopplers met
on that plain where two sabres are stuck,
telling all: “Wars shall cease, and in Denck there’ll be peace
long as Kelly and Quinge mind the muck!

The Prince of Peace

Do we not yet know what will calm the waves--
What will make the wind's howling cease?
His head is on a pillow in the bow of the boat,
Or He may be approaching,
Through the whitecaps walking;
And He calls for courage as He wakes, as He walks,
Courage given by the Prince of Peace.

Do we yet ask 'why?' when the storms are fierce,
Even longing for death's release?
Our Master weathered tempests mightier than hell,
Thorns of man enduring,
Demons' dance defying;
And He shows His wounds ever open, never healed,
Wounds of mercy in the Prince of Peace.

Do we cry 'how long?' when the wars rage on,
Ever hungering for victory's feast?
Our Victor sits enthroned far above any strife,
And He left His promise
He will soon come for us
With all those who died dressed in white by His side,
Bright companions of the Prince of Peace.


4.29.14
MNA

Flash Fiction (stories of exactly 25 words)

Love Larceny  by Mark Aikins

I only found Camille’s headstone,
having tracked the little thief to Athens
--not for my wallet...for my heart.
Another lover had found her first.





Day of Vengeance  by Mark Aikins

Hovering spectres crowded Cutter’s Glen,
gleeful over the blood-soaked ground.
Lightning, not tomahawks, had ended
the hundredth anniversary picnic of
the Indian War Victory Society.





Shore Leave Interruptus  by Mark Aikins

Communicator now slick as his palm,
“Enterprise!” he shouted, “report!!”
“Klingons disabled,” Chekov panted.
“Thirty casualties...torpedoes depleted...shields open.”
“Beam me aboard,” Kirk whispered.

At Long Last - short fiction

Dreams are funny things, he thought. Dreams are funny, tantalizing, tragic, magical, maddening things. They’d kept him going for a long time--longer than he cared to remember. Dreams of other places, of moving out, up and away. Dreams of doing more, better, greater. Dreams of being someone other than ordinary.

He looked down at Mary’s sweet, sleeping face, wisps of dark honey hair veiling one prettily lashed eyelid. Through the curtained full-length windows of their suite he could make out the muted, unending thunder of the Falls. Finally they’d made it to one of the picture postcard places he’d been reading about all his life. Finally he’d lassoed a honeymoon.

Oh, not all by himself, he’d have to admit. And that in and of itself roped one of his dreams and dragged it down to earth. Always the fierce advocate for neighbors helping neighbors, at least when it came to the calamities others were facing, when it came to his own crises, accepting outside help had always seemed an admission of defeat. Until that crazy Christmas Eve when the unimaginable had happened.

Harry’s medal ... the whole county decked out and poised to honor the Bailey name ... Uncle Billy’s memory lapse ... the missing money ... the bank examiner ... the frantic search ... the meltdown at home ... the fear in the faces of the ones he loved ... the insurance policy ... the river...

Help was certainly there when he needed it that night. The night he ceased to exist and his whole world changed.

“‘Morning, George.” The music of Mary’s voice drifted to him on the fog of memory and stirred a warm pool at the base of George’s spine, sending misty rivulets throughout his lanky frame.

During the last six months he’d spent more time with his wife than usual, watching her work, learning her ways, her habits, her likes and dislikes--studying her closely. She’d asked him why all the fuss once or twice, eventually getting used to his hovering around her.

“‘Morning, Mary.” He joined her on the bed already in his corduroys, sport shirt and tennis shoes, reached over and gently smoothed back the stray locks of hair out of her eyes, eliciting a contented “mmm” sound. “This place has a coffee pot in the corner nook; I made you some.”

“You can make coffee?” she teased. He rubbed her shoulder and she began stretching out her limbs under the covers.

“Yes, and you missed that feat of culinary prowess by sleeping half the day away.”

“Oh come on, when do I ever get to sleep in at home?”

George chuckled. “Never. You stay right where you are and I’ll bring you a cup.”

“Nonsense. I’m wide awake now. Hand me my robe--”

When she said that, a funny recollection struck both of them simultaneously. Their eyes met and the unspoken joke about locker room clothes, broken glass wishes and hydrangea bushes rushed up to their faces in wide mirrored grins.

“I should’ve grabbed you then and there and kissed the daylights out of you.”

“Would it really have put hair on that poor man’s head?”

George laughed explosively. “Ha! Maybe so...he certainly was askin’ for it!”

Their mirth settled like dream-dust around them as his memory continued on to later developments. Giving his wife a gentle pat, he rose, crossed to the sunken closet in three long strides, returned with the terry-cloth robe and held it open for her. Mary emerged naked from the covers and wrapped her body up in one fluid movement.

George encircled her shoulders with both arms from behind. “I sure do miss him.” He said it simply and sadly. He felt her hands on his arms squeezing and her head turning to press her cheek to his chest, giving him her support.

“Somehow, I’m sure he misses you, too, Darling.”

“Never knew his grandkids...never knew what a dynamite daughter-in-law he was getting.”

There was a long, lingering pause.

“Coffee smells good,” she said.

That was it for the stroll down memory lane, at least for that day. Sam Wainwright, Mr. Gower and Harry had all conspired to cover George’s duties at the Building and Loan, and over at Bailey Park housing development, so that he and Mary could get away. And after weeks of hemming, hawing and protests, George had finally admitted that the world could get along without him for a week or so. Harry’s wife Ruth, and Marty and Doris, were all looking after the kids--that is, when Mother Bailey and Mother Hatch could be pried away from them.

Up in Heaven, Peter Bailey was enjoying long talks with his new friend Clarence, who was very happy with his shiny new wings.

Movie Review: God's Not Dead

Two movies of interest for Christian viewers are being touted and critiqued these days. Rather than attend the blockbuster about the big boat that saved the animals from all the evil humans with the help of the mythical rock monsters, I took the wife to see God's Not Dead, a well-produced evangelistic film that touches on a variety of themes close to the hearts of both churched and un-churched moviegoers.

Jeff Wheaton, the protagonist of the picture, wants to major in pre-law at a prestigious college. His parents and his highly-charged girlfriend have ambitious plans for his future. But danger looms for Jeff the T-shirt wearing Christian when he enters his Intro to Philosophy class: the professor throws down the gauntlet to the entire class when he more or less requires everyone to "officially" deny God's existence by handing in a signed piece of paper with the words "God is dead." The prof does this so that by consensus the class can forego the tiresome debate about the theism question at the outset and get on with the more important parts of philosophy (whatever they are?).

Much to the teacher's chagrin (as well as that of his hot girlfriend and his ambitious parents), Jeff decides that he will refuse to follow the crowd and deny his own personal faith in God. "I can't sign that...I'm a Christian," he whispers to the prof, to which the prof replies, "Fine. Go ahead and pray and follow your Jesus on your own time. But for the purposes of this class, either sign the statement or I will make your life miserable and fail you for one third of your grade in my class" (or words to that effect).

Jeff insists that he can't sign, so the teacher challenges him to lecture the class for twenty minutes at the end of the next three class sessions concerning why he is sure God exists. As Jeff feverishly prepares his arguments and deals with the fallout of his decision with both parents and girlfriend...

Several related dramas are taking place:

1. A young woman (later revealed as the professor's former student/significant other) is desperately dealing with her dementia-stricken mother;
2. The young woman's brother (who seems too preoccupied with his career to care about their mom) is planning to marry a well-known journalist who is planning a "hit" piece on one of the Duck Dynasty family members;
3. This journalist finds out that she is dying of cancer, and the news causes her fiancé to split up with her;
4. A young middle-eastern college woman is hiding her Christian faith from her family members, and she overhears Jeff and his girlfriend arguing about his convictions and upcoming debate;
5. Another student, this one from mainland China, expresses his own interest in the reasons Jeff would not sign the statement of denial. This student's father insists that the professor's beliefs should have ended the matter.
6. A local church pastor is trying to leave on a Florida vacation with a visiting missionary from Africa, but none of the cars they are seeking to leave in are willing to start, for some mysterious reason that seems very "providential," as several of the above people keep showing up in the pastor's study for counseling help.

These various vignettes unfold along with Jeff's dilemma in the classroom, all of them challenging the people involved to confront their weaknesses and their need to trust in Christ, or at least to look for answers outside of themselves.

Each of the characters lives out a gripping scenario in his or her own right, several of them experiencing painful rejection, two of them hearing haunting messages from the past, some of them experiencing the crucible of faith's refining fire, and one of them experiencing a deathbed conversion.

Although God Isn't Dead has been critiqued and ridiculed as predictable and simplistic, I found it rewarding on several fronts. For one thing, the general mood of the academic world was, I think, realistically portrayed as knowingly dismissive of people of faith, maintaining the assumption that God is (or might just as well be) dead. Jeff's encounter with his atheistic teacher left the strong point behind that there are strong-minded Christian thinkers out there, whose viewpoints deserve consideration in an academic setting.

I appreciated the fact that the Christian world was portrayed as one that transcends nationality and culture: Middle-easterners, Chinese, Africans, etc. were included with skill and sensitivity. I also enjoyed the unifying force provided by the culminating Newsboys concert toward the end of the film. Rather than leave the band purely in the fantasy realm of pop-Christian superstars, they were integral to helping tie up several of the story's loose ends, providing much-needed spiritual support.

Finally, the gospel was, I believe, as fairly and fully presented as I have witnessed in a religious film for some time. In addition, the cost of discipleship was belabored several times, as well as the warning that we risk our Lord denying us before His Father in heaven, if we choose to deny Him here on earth.

Here is another viewpoint about the movie:
http://www.theblaze.com/stories/2014/03/25/gods-not-dead-producer-answers-critics-who-say-film-is-too-over-the-top/

Book Review: The Giver

The Giver, a 1993 novel by Lois Lowry, I would classify as a work of speculative fiction. It is an engrossing and beautifully written tale aimed mainly at youth and young adult readers. And yet it succeeds in touching the hearts and challenging the minds of mature readers as well.

The Giver was recommended to me (and bought for me at a Salvation Army thrift store by my sweet daughter, BTW) very highly as a story that would captivate and expand my imagination; it certainly did that. The storyline made me compare it to such films as The Island as well as books I've enjoyed such as Brave New World and That Hideous Strength. However, this book has the advantage of being exceedingly readable and inviting in its straightforward style and accessible characters.

Jonas, the hero of the tale, is a 12-year-old member of a centuries-old future society. His is a community that has been thoroughly planned and controlled for countless generations. Children are named and assigned to particular family units by the dictates of the community's ruling body. Every child is raised by his or her parents according to highly structured and enforced rules, and when each child reaches the age of 12 (adulthood), the community leaders assign him or her to the particular role in society best suited to his or her abilities. Everyone in the community seems content, healthy, well provided-for and secure. But...

Jonas, unlike any of the other 12-year-olds in his group, has been singled out for a unique and dubious "honor" of becoming the community's new Receiver of Memory. What exactly this entails and what it means for Jonas in particular, is what the book is really all about.

The old Receiver of Memory is nearing the age when he will retire--or "be released" in the book's terminology. He becomes Jonas's mentor and eventually a kind of grandfather figure who opens his eyes to realities that Jonas never imagined. Realities that society at large has, with the passage of time and its own complacency with the status quo, forgotten about entirely.

Another book that comes to mind when considering The Giver is Flowers for Algernon, which charts the journey of a man named Charley, who is given a surgical procedure that increases his mental abilities to that of a genius. Jonas's journey introduces him to new information that increases both his pleasure and his pain exponentially and, at the same time, makes him, in the reader's mind and heart, more fully human.

The Giver took me on a journey along with the main character--one that explored the contours and composition of what it means to be human. It asks serious questions about why we value the things we do, why the experiences of pleasure and pain are so important to us, the ethical implications of an overly controlled society, and many others. It forced me to ask once again "what do I really want, expect, and long for in life here on earth...and in the life to come?"

Jonas's previous life, the changes that occur to him, and the heroic choices he is forced to make at the end of his journey, involve freedom and bondage, responsibility and conscience, life and death, and a force he finally comes to reckon with...love.

Here is a link for Lois Lowry's book:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Giver-Readers-Circle-Laurel-Leaf/dp/0440237688