One God One Vote

calvin

In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will. (Ephesians 1:11)

Free will is highly overrated. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Freedom is our big thing. We love the freedom to choose. We want to call the shots on everything. We’re the land of the free and the home of Walmart. That’s what we’re about; that’s what people die for. FREEDOM. We’re the “give me liberty or give me death” folks. More than anything else in the whole world we demand the right to choose for ourselves. We want the freedom to pick our noses and our government and our religion. We are the freaking masters of our own destinies—and we’ll kill anybody who thinks otherwise.

This gets into our religion too. It’s the big battle of the ages. Is my salvation predestined by God or am I free to choose whether I get saved or not? Those who opt for predestination are called Calvinists, named, I think, for the famous cartoon character. I have no idea why, but there you go. Those who opt for free will are called “Armanians,” after some Italian fashion designer named Giorgio Armani, I think. You can maybe see why his name is used since fashion is all about personal choice.

If you are an Armanian, you’re not only a good dresser, but you believe that you’re saved because you made a good choice. You didn’t have to pick God, but you were hip enough to the gospel jive to make the right move. God is happy that you picked him and awards you with salvation: “Good call, kid,” he says. “You made the right choice.”

But as far as salvation is concerned, I say screw free will. Do you really want your eternal destiny locked in place because of your choices? Geez Louise. Just take a look at your track record and see all the really really really dumb things you’ve chosen in your life so far. Sometimes you make choices against your better judgment, and sometimes even the “good” choices you make turn out crap. At the end of the game do you really want to stand before the Thermonuclear Throne and bet your future on your choices? Not me, buddy.

Personally, I’m banking that this whole thing is a setup from the get-go. My money’s down on a Deity who cheats, who’s fixed the series even before it started. I want the Big Daddy to pull the strings, twist the arms, lean on the witnesses, and pay off the officials. When I stand before the Blazing Doors of Eternal Forever, when I’m peeing my pants before the Burn Your Face Off Glory, the last thing I want is to rely on my choices. If Paul is right, predestination is the only sure ticket for admission.

You got problems with that? Then choose away, mon ami. But I’m telling you, the election is rigged. The ballot box is stuffed. And you better thank your lucky stars, baby.

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