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
acknowledging ineptitude:
“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
into abomination.

I’m no rigid righteous Sovereign—
don’t believe that Puritan hype.
I’m your life coach, here to offer
motivational tripe.

I’d love to finish what I started
but humankind won’t acquiesce.
First I need to ask permission
so our plans might coalesce.

Calvinism misinterprets
My essential need to please;
(sinful self-important twerplets—
ignorant of my unease…)

Tulip-breeding Dutch reformers
Sottish lairds and heretics
Presbyterian misnomers
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.”