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On Foreknowledge And Free Will
I loved my cocker spaniel Monica, who we acquired as a just-weaned pup in January, 1972, and who remained a part of my life until May of 1986. Although not functionally deformed, she did not present a proper cocker spaniel appearance: her snout was elongated, like a collie's, and her four legs were misaligned---in a forward stance, one could see at least three of them. On her sire's side, she was descended from thoroughbreds who had won awards for their excellence; and the breeder of most of those thoroughbreds actually offered me money to allow her to euthanize Monica, and actually made a brief attempt on her life.
I learned a lot from Monica; and at times when I could not earn my parents' approbation, I still knew I had hers. She did not care what grades I earned; what I believed; or the friendships I had, or whom I chose to love. None of that mattered to her. We loved each other, and that was all that counted.
Now Monica had a sly and mischevious streak, and from time to time this resulted in bad behavior. The mail carrier always had to hear her pipsqueak bark. If Penny, our other, and senior, dog had a bone or treat, Monica would manage to take it away from her. Small rabbits, that often crawled under our backshed, which stood on concrete blocks, often found that exiting that shelter had several difficulties. Monica also suffered from a common vitamin deficiency, which caused her to chew on her own turds, and Penny's, and she had the glandular anal difficulty that is a feature of the breed, and would often cause her to scoot her rectum along the rough steps leading from our backporch in order to relieve the itch. When, in December of 1975, she delivered a litter of which the fifth pup, a runt, was silver---an extremely rare color for the breed, and one which would fetch a good price when we sold her pups. The silver pup was internally deformed. amd was soon to pass away, and she continually pushed it away from her mammary glands, no matter how often I put it back.
Because I knew Monica, I knew what conditions or circumstances would provoke misbehaviors or failures of expectations. I could predict these accurately, and my predictions did not, in any way, interfere with Monica's behavior; she was, essentially, free to bark at the mail carrier, take Penny's biscut, or pause for an afternoon snack at a pile of poop.
And that struck me as a metaphor of the theological concept of foreknowledge and free will. God has known me since before the beginning of time; and He knows me infinitetly better than I knew Monica. He knows what conditions or circumstances---like the odor of my mother's cole slaw, or the comments of clodhoppers and sotty saps---will bring me to aggravation and then, possibly, to the commission of sin, even if by omission. I have been free to respond to these circumstances, and sometimes they trigger bad behavior. But, before the foundation of the world, God made provision that my sins would be redeemed, two thousand years ago when the world crucified His Son: at that time, all my sins were, then, future; although some (and I hope, the majority) are now past.
I have been told by a disbelieving prooftexter that some of my behavior is not Christian; but the Christian faith does not require me to like, applaud, approve of, or encourage bad writing that takes no cognizance of anything but itself. I have been told I should call people "clodhoppers," and yet Paul called the Cretan people "slowbellies," and Jesus called Herod Antipas a fox, which was then a derogatory term in Galilee. I have been told, by that same person (who does not believe in God, but apparently believes he speaks for Him), that Matthew Shepard's soul is not in Paradise, and he quoted a Scripture verse which he believed gave him this unlimited authority to declare. I dislike him, and his politics, and his comments . . . and there is not one word of Scripture that says I have to like him, or that for which he stands.
But I digress. God loves me more than I loved Monica. God knew and knows me better than I knew Monica. He has accepted me not for my own credentials, but for my Savior's, which He has imputed to me through His unlimited Grace. And, of His Great Mercy, and to give me a Blessed Assurance, he allowed an awkwardly standing, sometimes very mischevious, cocker spaniel to teach me the relationship between His Foreknowledge and my free will. And I believe that Monica and Penny are, both, in Heaven; where, I believe, Penny need no longer fear the loss of her biscuts, and Monica no longer wants to swipe them. And, perhaps, even Matthew Shepard, in the timelessness of eternity, has had a moment to toss a ball for both of my dogs to chase and bring back.
Starward
