John,
We talk of God's sovereignty and predestination, but do we really understand it?
Below is a short story my 17 year-old daughter just wrote. I think it is quite profound:
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Thanks for sharing, Glenn. She has a gift in writing.
John
YOU DON’T HAVE A CHOICECopyright 2006 by Mary Elise Hall
Sam Thomson looked eagerly out of the back seat window of the car. The houses rolled slowly past as they drove through the neighborhood. He unbuckled the seat belt and leaned forward to stick his head between the two front seats.
"Are we there yet?" he asked.
"Almost!" said his mom. "Just another turn here. . ." the wheel turned under her hands, they drove up a block, and the brakes came on again ". . .and another turn here and we’re there!"
Sam gave an excited yell as he opened the door and bounded outside. He ran all the way from the car to the house’s front door and rang the doorbell before his mom had even gotten out of the car.
"We’re here, Grandma!" Sam announced when the elderly, white haired woman opened the door. "Is Grandpa here?"
"Yes, he is, dear," Grandma said, smiling. "He’s waiting for you on the back porch."
Sam rushed past her, wound his way through the house to the back door, and went back outside. There his grandpa sat, his lap covered with a blanket regardless of the warm, spring sun.
"Hi, Grandpa!" Sam called, running over to him.
"Why, hello, Samuel!" the elderly gentleman replied. He held out his arms to the little boy. Sam hugged him and then scrambled onto his lap.
"Tell me a story, Grandpa," he said. "Please! I’ve been looking forward to it all the time. You said last time that you’d tell me a story about something you’ve been thinking about."
"Ah, yes. An illustration."
Sam frowned. "No, not an illustration. I want a story, not a picture. Mom says you’re horrible at drawing (is that true?), but you’re great at story telling. Please tell me a story!"
Instead of explaining to Sam what he meant by an illustration, Grandpa just smiled and began his story.
A god once ruled a world. It was not our God, but a god kind of like him, but not as good. He loved to have everything in his control, and only his control.
"I am god!" he said. "And I have complete power. What I say is right - is right, because I say so."
The god soon got lonely, living all by himself. So on the world, he made men, like us. He gave to them minds, souls, wisdom, taught them to speak, and told them the difference between right and wrong. One thing he did not give them was the choice to do what they wanted to do.
There was a family on this world. They lived near another family. Both of these families lived near a water fall. In each family was a young man, the oldest children.
One day, these two young men met at the top of the waterfall.
"Hollo, Tom!" called the one.
"Hi, Jack! I’ve got great news! I’ve been chosen!"
"Cool!" A short pause and Jack looked slightly confused. "Chosen for what?" he asked.
"Why, god chose me to believe in him and become one of his followers!"
Jack’s eyes lit up with eagerness. "Really? I would like to be chosen as well!"
A voice suddenly interrupted him, however. It spoke inside his head, growling and low. "No," it said.
Jack turned his head, his eyes looking away from Tom. "What?"
"No. You can not believe in me and follow me."
"Why not? You’re the only one to believe in!"
"All the same. You don’t have a choice. I am god. I decide. To make life more interesting, I say - you can not believe in me."
"Why?"
Nothing answered him. The voice was gone. His ears rang as though cymbals had been clashed together just by his head, but there was no voice. He looked at Tom, who stood staring at him in surprise.
"What’s the matter, Jack?" he asked.
Jack opened his mouth to respond, but the god interrupted him again.
"Lie to him. Tell him nothing is wrong."
Again Jack turned his head to an attitude of listening. "Why? I want to tell him the truth."
"You don’t have a choice. Now do as I say."
"It’s wrong to lie!" Jack protested - but the voice didn’t answer. Jack looked again at Tom. A long silence fell between them. Jack warred with his conscience.
‘It’s wrong to lie!’ he said fiercely to himself. ‘And it’s horrible not to be able to believe in him! I want to - and I don’t want to lie! But I can’t disobey. He’s god!’
His eyes locked with Tom’s. "Nothing is wrong," he said dully. "I’m fine. And it’s great that you’re chosen. I am not. And therefore, I can not believe."
He turned, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, and stumped away. Tom stood where he was, staring after Jack in confusion. He had not heard the words pass between the god and Jack. He did not know why Jack had changed his mind so quickly nor why the sullenness had suddenly come upon him.
Jack walked slowly away. He, too, felt confused. Why could he not be chosen? Why did god tell him he could not believe?
He made his way to where a bit of jagged rock thrust its way out into open air beside the waterfall. The water roared in his ears. Below him, the pool at the base of the cliff bubbled and foamed. Where he stood, he could feel the spray of water on his face and hands.
"Feel jealous of Tom," the voice said. It was quieter than the water, but Jack could hear it all the same, very clearly.
"I don’t want to feel jealous," he murmured. "Why should I feel jealous? It is not his fault."
"Be jealous because I said to."
"You have told us before not to be."
"But you must break the rules."
"I don’t want to."
"You don’t have a choice."
"Very well. I am jealous."
"Good."
Jack was left alone again. He sighed deeply and sat down. He put his legs over the edge of the rock and let them dangle. The water drew his eyes to it, and he sat watching the water minutes after minute on end. The minutes turned into an hour and still he sat, frozen by the ever flowing, ever changing water.
He noticed the passing time only when the sky grew dark and the sun sank lower into a red bed of clouds. Jack roused himself and began his way back home.
On the path, he saw a figure before him. Almost at once, he recognized Tom. He lifted his hand to shout and hail him, when the voice checked him.
"You are jealous, remember?"
Jack wavered uncertainly. Then he nodded slowly.
"Then you are angry with him and do not want to walk home with him."
Jack looked up the path at Tom, wanting very much to go to him.
"Now, take up a rock, and throw it at Tom. Kill him with one blow."
"Murder?" Jack whispered in horror.
"Yes."
"No! No! You’ve told us not to! It is the worst crime of all!"
"Do it. I said to. I control. You are mine, and you don’t have any choice whatsoever."
Jack stooped to obey. . .
"Grandpa, he didn’t really kill him!" Sam broke out. Grandpa’s face was closed and stern. His head jerked in a nod.
"He did. He killed Tom."
"What then?" Sam squeaked.
Jack turned away from Tom’s body and fled back up the hill. He ran towards the top of the waterfall again. The voice pursued him.
"Where do you think you can go to hide from me?" it asked.
Jack’s heart beat as though it would burst from his chest. His breath came in sharp, heavy, fast gasps. His eyes stung with tears he had never had to cry before.
"You went directly against my word and my laws!" the god bellowed.
"You told me to!" Jack screamed back. "You said I had no choice! No free will! And I didn’t - because you’re god!"
"You’re right. You don’t have a choice. I control everything. That’s why. Now, because you’ve gone against my word - you didn’t believe in me, you told a lie, you were jealous of Tom for something he had no fault in, and because you killed him, I shall punish you."
"Grandpa, he didn’t," Sam gasped.
"He did," his grandfather responded, his voice low. "He killed him and then put him in a place of fire and pain to be tortured until the end of the worlds come to relieve him of his trouble. Thank your God that He is different from this god and gives you and all the rest of his sons the choice of whether to believe, to lie, to be jealous, or to kill."