God arose and wrung His hands.
“Those Calvinists have got it wrong;
my will is shackled by human sin
and their chains are far too strong.
I gave them all free will—it’s true…
some choose to scorn my sacred Word.
I guess I don’t know what to do;
their human plans are undeterred
while my designs are all aborted;
no more need for intake lists.
My plans made void, my Truth distorted
by crypto-hyper-Calvinists . . .”
Distressed by celestial impotence
His angels wept and veiled their faces;
for there is nothing God can do
when man His perfect plan effaces.
The Lord continued, in His sorrow
“I’m guilty and my outlook’s narrow
in other words: I’m screwed . . .
Man is king—while I, poor servant,
exist to bless his mortal dreams.
Genie of the Bible bottle,
I facilitate their schemes.”
God sighed. “Oh that my wisdom could
redeem the lost, and punish sin
but I’m unable to get through.
(Besides, I’m semi-Pelagian.)
Humankind can vote me out,
fashion me anew from clay.
I will evolve to suit their fancy
growing with them day by day.
I want to help them— but it’s hard.
I just can’t do predestination.
Mortals twist my righteous plans
I’m no rigid righteous Sovereign—
don’t believe that Puritan hype.
I’m your life coach, here to offer
I’d love to finish what I started
but humankind won’t acquiesce.
First I need to ask permission
so our plans might coalesce.
My essential need to please;
(sinful self-important twerplets—
ignorant of my unease…)
Tulip-breeding Dutch reformers
Sottish lairds and heretics
reading the Bible for kicks
will never comprehend my purpose.
I am sworn to placate Man!
Offering my selfless service,
I’m doing the best that I can!
So burn a candle, say a prayer.
Let me prosper, help and bless you.
Intervene? I’d never dare.
I’m mainly here to confess to.”