Several years ago I taught a series of Sunday School lessons under the general title of "Lies We Hear and Say at Church." "Lies" is a pretty strong word and, yes, I was trying to be a bit sensational. My very first lesson was on the lie we often say ourselves or hear others say when asked the question about how we are doing-- "Everything is fine." It's often a lie. But that's not the one I wanted to discuss right now.
In one of the other lessons I tried to address the issue of whether everything that occurs is "part of God's plan." While the whole world is struggling with the devastation of this novel coronavirus... the loss of life and the devastation to the world's economies, the question arises... "where is God in all this?" "Is this all a part of God's plan?" First, let me say... I cannot answer this question. But, let me share the lesson I taught all those years ago. Maybe it will be helpful. Maybe not. Here is my lesson copied and pasted into this blog. I will warn you... it's a good bit longer than what I usually blog.
“It’s All Part of God’s Plan?”
Isaiah 25:1–5 •
1 Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago. 2 You have made the city a heap of rubble, the fortified town a ruin, the foreigners’ stronghold a city no more; it will never be rebuilt. 3 Therefore strong peoples will honor you; cities of ruthless nations will revere you. 4 You have been a refuge for the poor, a refuge for the needy in their distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat. For the breath of the ruthless is like a storm driving against a wall 5 and like the heat of the desert. You silence the uproar of foreigners; as heat is reduced by the shadow of a cloud, so the song of the ruthless is stilled.
Acts 2:22–24 •
22 Fellow Israelites, listen to this: Jesus of Nazareth was a man accredited by God to you by miracles, wonders and signs, which God did among you through him, as you yourselves know. 23 This man was handed over to you by God’s deliberate plan and foreknowledge; and you, with the help of wicked men put him to death by nailing him to the cross. 24 But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him.
It’s said that in the language of the indigenous Maori people of New Zealand, the way one speaks of the past is to say, “the days in front” and the future is “the days behind.” The Maori see themselves as backing into the future. That seems a curious thing until you realize that the Maori have a pretty good point. Back when I was a kid, there were no such things as SUV’s or minivans. If you had a tribe of kids to haul around, you owned a station wagon. It was as long as a city block and the seats in the very back (where the unfortunate children had to sit) faced backwards. Our lives are like sitting in that back seat of a station wagon; we can easily see what is behind us, but it requires some effort to see what’s ahead of us, and even that we do not see clearly.
In fact, our ability to see even a few hours ahead into the future is extremely limited. None of us knows what the future will bring; even what will happen by the time this class ends. We can make some educated guesses and may likely be right in most of them when it comes to the immediate future. But the reality is that we cannot see into the future. Whether it’s in predicting the course of tropical storms, figuring out who’s going to win the election, or the winning lottery numbers, all we can do is make predictions using probabilities. All we can do is guess.
And that is frustrating to us much of the time.
Faced with that uncertainty, it is comforting to know that someone is at the wheel of the station wagon. Someone is driving this thing, someone who knows where we’re going.
And so, we tell ourselves, that while we cannot know exactly where we’re going, wherever it is, is part of God’s plan. God is in charge. And God’s a good driver so we can relax and enjoy the ride and the view out the back window.
Because of our future-blindness, all we can really do is attempt to interpret the past. And so, while we cannot predict with absolute certainty the things that will occur, we can contextualize and analyze the things that have occurred. And it is in the process of doing so that we often come up with the idea of a “plan”.
- And we see that sentiment echoed in the scripture passages for today. A passage from Isaiah in which the prophet declares:
I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago.
And also in the passage from the Book of Acts in which Peter is making his Pentecost Day Sermon to the crowds in Jerusalem. In it, he relays what is known as the
kerygma, the core preaching of the Christian message: the story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. As Peter tells it:
This man was handed over to you by God’s deliberate plan and foreknowledge; and you, with the help of wicked men put him to death by nailing him to the cross.
It’s important to remember that scripture does not drop out of the sky without any context. And that is certainly the case with the Book of Isaiah and the Book of Acts.
One of the main things Isaiah emphasizes in his writings is the Holiness and Sovereignty of God. The visible manifestation that Isaiah has of God in the Temple in the sixth chapter of that book is of a God sitting on a “high and exalted throne” surrounded by attending angels singing praises to God. The image of God as the great King of the Universe is found throughout the book of Isaiah and there is great emphasis on God’s sovereignty. Therefore, it only makes sense that the things that have occurred were “planned long ago.” It is important to note that the idea of a Divine Plan usually comes from the fact that you already believe in the sovereignty of God. The one necessitates the other.
The Book of Acts is the second part of a two-part work including the Gospel of Luke. This combined work, usually referred to as “Luke-Acts” has a number of prominent themes, among which is a special concern for Christian faith being shared among the Gentiles. By the time Luke-Acts was written sometime in the 80’s AD, the Christian movement had become a predominantly non-Jewish movement, in spite of its initial all-Jewish roots. As a result, there were many in the Jewish community who questioned Christianity’s legitimacy as a movement claiming the heritage of the faith of Israel. How could it, when very few of the followers were actual Israelites?
That’s why the Books of Luke and Acts makes the case over and over again that Gentile Christianity is God’s doing.
In addition, many Jews had trouble with the idea that the messiah was supposed to be crucified—something that seemed to be almost oxymoronic to them. And so, as Peter makes his speech to the crowds he notes that Jesus was crucified “in accordance with God’s established plan and foreknowledge.” Peter, by way of the Luke gospel, helps to interpret a problematic and difficult past in light of God’s overarching plan.
And so, we can see that appealing to God’s plan helps to assure the listener that it is not a random or chaotic series of events taking place, but elements of a divine plan “long established.” It can be a comfort in a time of confusion and uncertainty.
But for all this, there remain significant problems with the idea of a Plan governing
ALL things.
- Perhaps you’ve noticed this phenomenon: when a couple gets together and everything is going well, people will say, “Oh, they’re meant to be together.” And then, if they should break up, people will say, “Oh, I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” We want it both ways.
One of my all-time favorite films is
Lawrence of Arabia. There is a scene in the movie where the British officer T.E. Lawrence is leading the Arab army in a surprise attack against the Turkish guns at Aqaba. In order to do this, they must cross a dangerous and deadly desert and must cross the most dangerous section of it—the Anvil—at night, because it is deadly during the day. As they emerge, they discover that one man has been left behind—he has fallen off his camel somewhere back on the Anvil. Lawrence turns his camel around and heads back out to find him before the sun kills him. His Arab allies shout to him that there is no point—no one can survive the Anvil. It is written. Sometime later, Lawrence emerges from the desert in the middle of the day carrying the missing man. As the man is lowered down and given water, Lawrence says to his men “Nothing is written.”
Some time later they encounter another tribe whom they enlist to help them with the attack against Aqaba. Suddenly, there is a disturbance. One of the men in Lawrence’s group has murdered a man from the new group. The fragile alliance is about to fall apart, since the new group will be enraged if the man is not brought to justice, and the original group will be infuriated if the other tribe administers justice. Lawrence declares that he will carry out the sentence—as he is a member of neither tribe. When they bring forward the guilty party—it is the man who he had rescued from death in the desert. Pained and devastated, Lawrence executes the man. When the leader of the new tribe asks why Lawrence was so upset, he is told “The man he killed is that same man that he saved from the Anvil.” “Ah,” responds the first man. “It was written.”
See, one of the immediate problems with the idea of this Plan is that it only describes things that have already taken place. Which, when you think about it, really doesn’t serve the purpose of having a plan. What good is a plan when you can only know about it after it’s happened?
Now, to be fair there are those who claim to know God’s plan in advance. They make huge pronouncements usually about the end of the world. And they’re always wrong. And so, if the Divine Plan were made known to someone, that someone has yet to show up and be an accurate predictor. Not even the prophets claimed to have that ability.
So, even if there were some Divine Plan controlling everything, it’s not one that is made known to us, and therefore has little use for us. All we can do is watch it unfold and reflect on it after the fact. It doesn’t seem to invite us to participate.
- Which leads us into the next problem: our role in all this. If the Divine Plan is equated with what actually happens, then it doesn’t seem that our choices matter in the slightest. In fact, have you ever heard anyone say, “Well, God planned for X but old Bill here, he just had to go and do Y”? No. If Bill goes and does something stupid, people will just shake their heads and say, “Well, I guess it’s all part of God’s plan.”
And so, it doesn’t seem that we have very much to do with God’s Plan, whatever it is. Now, to be fair, that’s kind of the point. Earlier, I noted that Isaiah strongly emphasized God’s sovereignty and as a consequence of that emphasis, the idea of God’s plan comes through. It is that same emphasis, by the way, that results in the Calvinist theology of predestination.
It was John Calvin’s realization that he could not account for why certain people seemed to respond to the Gospel and others didn’t. His only conclusion was that their responses for either good or ill were predetermined by God. Now, that flows out of a strong emphasis on the sovereignty of God. The consequence of that is that apparent choices are revealed to be part of a larger plan. Why should there be any emphasis on my making choices?
Now, perhaps God’s Plan only applies to the big things like earthquakes and football championships. Maybe my choice of soft drinks is in fact all my own. But where is the dividing line? How do I know when I’m making my own choices versus when I am simply acting out the choices planned for me? It becomes very hard to discern how an individual should act if it should turn out that some or all of our decision making is not really ours at all.
But those just wind up being interesting philosophical puzzles in the end. The biggest problem with the statement that something is “all part of God’s plan” is what it says about God.
Since God’s plan is not known to us, there is a layer of mystery that surrounds the entire thing. Now, I am not opposed to mystery, in fact, I think that it is an essential part of faith. And a healthy theology admits that there are things we cannot know about God. This is always to be preferred to a theology that basically reduces God to an old, white haired guy who basically shares all your political opinions.
But the result of this is that we maintain that God has a plan and that the things that have happened are part of that plan, then when we encounter something that we cannot understand, our only answer is “it’s a mystery.” Why did that accident happen? Why did my loved one have to die? Where is there such suffering? The answer that God’s ways are mysterious seems like a cop out. And, it presents a God who would rather remain unknown to us, which is precisely the opposite of the Gospel. The Gospel of the God walking through the Garden of Eden, revealing the Divine self to Moses and the Prophets, becoming incarnate in the person of Jesus. This does not sound like a God who is trying to remain aloof and inscrutable. This sounds like a God who is trying to be made known. The answer “It’s a mystery” sounds like the kind of thing a public official says when they say something is “classified”.
But by far, the greatest problem with the idea of a Divine Plan controlling every aspect of life is what it says about God’s character.
When people suffer a horrible experience—the death of a loved one, a life-threatening disease, an injustice, a rape—the desire to understand and to put into context is extremely strong. And the desire to be helpful for the friends and loved ones of the afflicted is likewise strong. And that’s why people say things like “It’s all part of God’s plan” because they hope to reassure the affected person with the idea that God is still in charge and that someone is still driving the station wagon.
But what is the implication of such a statement when you think about it? God
planned for my loved one to die? God
wanted me to get this disease? God
planned for me to suffer this injustice? God
wanted that young girl to be a sex slave?
What kind God is this anyway? While people intend the sentiment to be a comfort, all it does is reinforce the idea that God might actually be out to get you. How do you know that God’s plan doesn’t require you to experience some tremendous misfortune? How do you know that God’s divine plan doesn’t require you to suffer for reasons you cannot—and will not ever—fathom? What’s to say that God, for whatever mysterious reasons, has planned that your life is to be one of abject misery? What kind of God is this? Is this a God worthy of worship? Or a God worthy only of fear, like an Ancient Near Eastern despot, capricious and fickle, sacrificing the lives of the ordinary people because it amuses the King to do so? One wonders at the omnipotence and omniscience of a God who could not come up with some other way to affect the Divine purpose without such needless suffering.
But the simple truth is this: this is not the God we know. The God we know is the one revealed to us in Jesus Christ—and this is not a God aloof and disconnected or cruel and indifferent. The God we encounter in Jesus is a God of love and a God of solidarity. And a God who seeks our freedom.
That last point is the crucial one.
You cannot love someone if they are not free. If they do not have a choice in the matter. In order to truly love someone, you have to set them free. In order to be in relationship with someone, it has to be free. And God seeks relationship with us, God loves us, therefore, God must set us free.
And the consequence of our free will is that we will make choices that have terrible consequences. We will do the wrong things, we will cause pain and injury to each other. The injustices, the violence, the suffering, so much of it is the result of choices we make. The man killed in
Lawrence of Arabia did not live because it was written; he did so because Lawrence chose to try to save him. Nor did he die because it was written that he must, it was the result of a choice that he had made to murder another person.
And I believe that God’s love is not confined to us, but to all creation. From the uncertainty that guides subatomic particles, to the dynamism of plate tectonics, to the power of wind and wave—we see freedom in the creation all around us. It is a freedom not only reflective of God’s love but also a freedom necessary for life. Without continental plates sliding around, without ocean currents and wind patterns, life would not be sustainable on this planet. It seems, then, that our very being is tied up with freedom, but also with the uncertainty and risk that that brings.
But there is one other thing about the God we know: this God is not removed from the suffering of the world, but is found in it. The power of the cross lies not in any magical properties, but in what it represents. The power of the cross comes in knowing that even in the midst of that profound brokenness, God is with us.
Life is not easy. It is full of challenge, sorrow, and pain. It is full of mystery and things we will struggle to understand. Throughout it all, we will be tempted to ascribe everything to a plan or to fate in order to make us feel better about knowing that someone is in control.
But when it comes to us, God does not seek to control us, but rather, He seeks for us to be free. And so, God has never promised us that everything would work out. God has never assured us that we would not suffer. God has never said that a life of faith was not without its risks; in fact, Jesus told us that a life of faith may cost us everything. But God has promised to be with us in all the times of our lives… in the times of joy and of sorrow, in celebration and in mourning.
God for sure has a great and perfect plan. What we can know is that He loves us and stands by us all the days of our lives—the days in front and the days behind—until the end of the age.
