Not everything that happens in the world is the Lord’s will.
But we hear the opposite fairly often, from the pulpit and books and popular podcasts. I once heard a speaker say he believed that everything in the world that ever happens is all part of God’s plan and purpose for our lives.
But that’s not true; it’s completely unbiblical. It’s also a slippery way of accusing the Lord of perpetuating evil.
Yes, sometimes He allows things…but consider how much He prevents that we are completely unaware of.
Yes, He takes what the enemy means for evil and He turns it for good (see Romans 8:28)…but no, that doesn’t mean that everything that happens in the world is His will.
God gives humans free will. Sometimes humans do evil things that the Lord never sanctions.
To say that everything that happens is part of God’s will and plan is to tell a rape victim that the Lord is okay with what happened to her. It is to tell an abused child that they need to suck it up and deal because this is part of the Lord’s plan. It is to tell the grieving parent who lost their child to cancer or a drunk driver that this, too, is the Lord’s will.
Someone who says those things has not spent much time with God or in His word. Those beliefs (which are actually pious-sounding accusations) are completely against His character, and lies from the enemy.
Here’s what the Word says He is:
The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The Lord is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made.
— Psalm 145:8-9
The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.
— 2 Peter 3:9
Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.
— James 1:16-17
This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.
— 1 John 1:5
So if God doesn’t want evil to happen, why doesn’t He prevent it?
He often does and we are completely oblivious. And also, He also put us here to help prevent things, too: We are to partner with Him in this work. We are to act and intercede to prevent evil – not to condone it or shrug our shoulders and say it is His will.
He is a good father, not an abuser. He loves you. He has a good, beautiful, holy, joy-filled plan for your life, for this season, and for the situation you’re facing.
Sometimes we come up with good reasons for why we’re going through a particular trial. Since we know God has a reason for everything, and everything works for good, we convince ourselves that this situation must be part of God’s plan, since He loves us very much and wants us to suffer miserably for His sake.
Really. Many of us grew up believing a bunch of half-truths, and they center around that one.
When we come up with reasons for why we’re going through something, we sometimes end up agreeing with the circumstance, which often was never God’s will at all. Sickness is not His will. Abuse is not His will. Trauma is not His will.
Just because He can make good come from anything — and He does, remember Romans 8:28? — it doesn’t mean that He wanted the bad thing to happen in the first place.
You keep mentioning that chapter, Romans 8. What is it, anyway? Okay, here you go:
And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified. What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?
— Romans 8:28-32
We don’t have to make excuses for our situations, or give good reasons for them, or try to explain them away. We might be in a really crappy season that has no excuse other than that we fight a real enemy in a fallen world, and this place is a cleanup operation.
But we also serve the one real God who loves and cares for us, and equips us, and covers us with His righteousness and favor, and calls us His own. He has good plans for us, and that’s what we need to agree with.
This is chapter 7 of Grit: Kindling to Relight the Wounded and Weary. It is especially for those who have been burned, burned out, disappointed, dealing with hope deferred, and needing to get your fire rekindled.
Change is risk, movement is risk. But staying still and not doing anything is also a risk. For some deceptive reason, it just doesn’t feel like it because it’s so passive.
Our family has been in a significant transition for a few months – or more accurately, years – but most of the recent change has actually been in our minds: how we view and communicate what we do. Most of the physical, active changes already happened; it just took us a while to realize it. It was gradual and unintentional, hiding in plain sight.
“What would it look like for you to shift toward full time ministry? What would change?” one of our pastors asked, sitting with his wife on the couch across from us.
“Well, this week,” I answered, “it looks like taking Thursday off to help one of our families paint before they move…and not feeling guilty about it because we won’t be at the desk.” That’s the biggie.
We, like you, are pulled in all kinds of directions, and we fight feeling like we should be in all the places at once. Simultaneously, some of us also fight the urge to hide in our blanket fort all day where it’s safe, because the world out there can be doodlywhack.
My child, do not let these escape from your sight: keep sound wisdom and prudence, and they will be life for your soul and adornment for your neck.
Then you will walk on your way securely, and your foot will not stumble.
– Proverbs 3:21-23
Anyway, that was the plan for Thursday, but then we learned another friend in our group was diagnosed with pneumonia. And it’s been nine years, but I remember what it was like to be a nursing mama with pneumonia through almost the entire summer of 2016, with the feeling of “I can’t even” pervading everything.
I was already making a meal for the painting crew and it was no big deal to make a little more, just as it was no big deal to just split up for the first part of the day and reconvene later.
So that was the New Revised Plan: I’d take the girls to drop off goodies, Vin would take the boys straight to our other friends’ house to help prep for painting. Two vehicles, two destinations, and the girls and I would be back to join them by early afternoon.
Buuut…you know where this is going, right?
Of course you do. If everything went according to plan, why would I be telling you this?
The local lighting store tried to warn us on the drive out:
It started fine, though. Our friend who had pneumonia lives on the other side of the valley, so we had a drive ahead of us: through Wasilla, through Palmer, up the highway toward Sutton. It was a beautiful day for it, though.
It did cross my mind that this was quite the expedition to make just to deliver a small meal and a few other supplies. Not cost effective, not time efficient. And we think to ourselves, Will it really matter, anyway? Do these efforts make a difference?
It is such a long way to go, what if something goes wrong? We so often decline to do the right thing because self-protection mode is our default…until we change it.
The wind was against them now, and Piglet’s ears streamed behind him like banners as he fought his way along…to listen, a little nervously, to the roar of the gale among the treetops.
“Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?”
“Supposing it didn’t,” said Pooh after careful thought.
– A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner
Doing nothing is as much of a risk as doing something. And it was so clear when we found out our friend was sick that I was supposed to take her these things. To see her, to pray for her, to tell her what I knew, to deliver right to her home.
As we left our driveway, we prayed like always for a safe drive, no accidents, no injuries, a productive day, all the things.
All the things we thought of, at least.
I didn’t think to pray against car trouble. Or more specifically, to intercede for the car’s gas pedal. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
We arrived without incident. I delivered the package of goodies, prayed for my friend, patted the cute dog on the head, smiled at the kids. Restarted the car, turned around, went down the driveway, flicked on the right blinker. Turned back onto the highway.
Pressed the gas, and…twang, the pedal hit the floor under my foot. The car immediately decelerated, not even having reached 20 miles per hour.
I coasted into the grassy shoulder in front of the next driveway.
Assess the situation: Our car was stuck on the edge of the Glenn highway, fifty minutes from home, and I could not find the &*%$# switch for the hazard lights anywhere.
On the positive side, we hadn’t gotten far, and it was the gas pedal, not the brakes. There was no one right behind who had to swerve to miss us. It was only a two minute walk back to my friend’s house, and there was a paved path right behind our car, so we wouldn’t need to walk in the ditch or too close to the road.
So that was the New Revised Updated Plan: Grab our things, walk back to our friend’s house, call Vince, figure out what to do.
Let me interrupt here for a brief aside: Do you know that everything we do carries risk?
Sitting here and writing to you is a risk, an act of faith. I don’t know if these paragraphs will go anywhere. As I write them, I don’t know if they’ll come together into something coherent, or end up in the purgatory of my notes file. If it does come together, I don’t know who or how many the message will resonate with. I don’t know if people will misunderstand or find offense or leave nasty comments.
Every single time, I never know.
But the more I do it, the more I know that He moves through it in ways I can and can’t see. So I’m typing away here on this rabbit trail, trusting that it’s either going to be used to grow into an article, or to grow me.
And the same thing is true for whatever you are doing in quiet, steady obedience.
Everything we do is a risk. Everything we don’t do is also a risk. So we might as well be bold and free, and obey the Holy Spirit’s promptings.
Back at my friend’s house, I made and received about 58 phone calls and texts: To and from Vin, my dad, my cousin, AAA, and the towing company.
Do we need someone to come get us? Yes. But also, we need to be here when the car is towed. How long will that take? About two hours. Also, my name isn’t on the account, so can my husband be there when the tow truck driver arrives? No? Well, I should think about getting myself and my daughters an account, so the next time this happens I won’t have to deal with all of this. Right, well, since neither of them drive and I’m a little preoccupied at the moment I’m disinclined to fall for the marketing shtick right now but thanks so much anyway, buhbye.
So now we had a New Revised Updated And Expanded Plan: Wait for the tow truck, ride back with it to Wasilla, get picked up by Vin at the car shop, resume our originally scheduled plan, better late than never.
What did we do the whole time, besides send and receive 58 texts and phone calls? We smiled at the baby. Talked about pneumonia, and how to prevent cracked ribs from violent coughing. Talked about books, and woodstoves, and our families. And Reagan, who has always been afraid of anything on four feet, had some exposure therapy to one of the mellowest dogs ever.
Our self-protection mode keeps us back from so much. Obedience and freedom both require the same thing: Allowing our lives to overlap, rather than staying safe in our own bubble (or blanket fort) where we think bad things can’t happen, where people can’t touch us, and where we can’t accidentally hurt others.
Where we won’t get stranded far from home and have to rely on a friendly tow truck driver to fetch us, entertaining us all the way back with stories of his encounters with grizzlies while we gaze out on the beautiful day through a cracked windshield and wonder what we’ve been missing.
If protecting ourselves is our highest priority, everything else is a threat. Even simple observations might be seen as criticism, making us defensive when people try to talk to us – and they will learn that they can’t talk to us.
He was afraid, yeah. He was protecting himself. Three people asked if he knew Jesus, and he said no every time.
Here’s what one of my friends said about it:
I’ve often wondered if the three people were curious about the Gospel and what it was like to be with Jesus. I’ve often wondered if the people questioning Peter were genuinely interested in knowing Jesus. But Peter, in selfish fear, misinterpreted it and feared for himself instead…Peter made himself more important in that moment than he made Jesus.
And the point [Jesus] was making was, you deny me three times, and all they really wanted was a glimpse of what you and I have…
Peter’s response is so human…but we’re called to be more than mere men. How often do we back down in fleshly fear when God is trying to answer our prayers?
Man taught us to be afraid of what others think, but God teaches us to fear Him instead and only. And in doing so, we find freedom from all other fears.
If you sit down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet. Then you will not be afraid of sudden panic or of the storm that strikes the wicked, for the Lord will be your confidence and will keep your foot from being caught.
– Proverbs 3:24-26
Freedom feels irresponsible and reckless, but we are free to dream again, to move deeper and wider, to trust Him in all the plans – new, revised, updated, and otherwise. Because all is risk, but at the same time, if we are obeying, nothing is at risk. Nothing is wasted.
Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it.
– Proverbs 3:27
That night, home late from taping and painting, we put the kids to bed and collapsed on the couch. This text came in:
Thank you again (so much) for coming today and just walking me through the practical stuff of what to do to take care of myself. It might have felt simplistic but it meant so much.
The drive, and the distance, and the delay weren’t wasted; they were a divine appointment.
We tell Him no, we stay in our safe zones – but all they really want is a glimpse of what you and I have. We have to be willing to change and move to show them. If we’re not willing to do that, what do we have that’s worth showing, anyway?
At the end of the week, our pastor asked another question: What would it look like for us, for a community of believers, to really live out the gospel?
It would look more urgent, but less desperate, I said. Less insecure and striving, less self-protection mode, less worry about what others think and how we’re going to make ends meet. More wild and free, confident of His provision and protection, and a lot more fun.
Can we devote ourselves to a cause outside of our own comfort zone? When we rearrange our lifestyle to give Jesus room to move in us, to move us, He does. The world sees and notices, even as we wonder if it was worth the risk.
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It’s that time again. Meaning, it’s been a couple years since I last repaired it, and once again our cats have littered our duvet with several tears from their cute little claws.
And because sometimes I go out of my way to make a simple solution more complex, rather than just sewing it with the machine like I did the last time, I thought it would be brilliant to make some gorgeous scrappy patches for it, à la Pinterest.
The method: Determine color scheme. Gather fabric scraps. Waste time perusing the internet for ideas, under the guise of research.
And finally, pick up a piece of grey cotton, and hold the scissors against it.
Angle the scissors this way and that. Try to imagine the finished shape I’m going for.
Hem and haw, uncertain.
Aaaaand I’m stalling, doing nothing…and I realize I’m actually afraid to cut into the fabric.
Why? It’s just a small piece of unused material. It’s not like I’m ruining anything if I make a mistake.
But no, making a cut means a tiny bit of commitment. It means I’m officially starting this project. And it means the possibility of error, of ending up with something I don’t like, of eventually tossing these efforts into the trash bin.
And that’s the real crux of my hesitation.
I’m afraid to make this cut because I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m afraid it will be ugly, that it will be a waste of fabric, time, attention.
Holy Spirit corrects me: It’s not a waste. It’s never a waste. It’s how the process works, and you are learning.
And hey, Love…you’re making it out of scraps, anyway.
He’s right, of course. This is a project pulled together from scraps of material, worked on in scraps of time.
And the first try is ugly. A mess. Wrong stitches, wrong placements.
But this is how we learn: By trying. By making the cut.
Part of the problem was that my cuts were too small, too safe, too conservative. I was trying to not use too much fabric or make the pieces too big.
Why do we do this? The Lord offers freedom and gives us so much creative material to use. But whether it’s perfectionism, procrastination, overthinking, or fear of what others will think, we often hesitate and hold back, entertaining all the wrong what ifs.
But why are we afraid to waste what is already dedicated to burn?
For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
– Galatians 2:19-20
If we have really laid ourselves down, determined to die to self and let Him be Lord and live through us, why do we keep trying to jump off the altar? Why do we keep trying to determine how hot the fire gets, and to control the burning?
Maybe we use the phrase “making the cut” in the wrong way. We think it means approval, that we’re allowed to stay in the game, that we’re good enough. And that’s the problem right there.
In Jesus, we already have approval. We’re already in the game. He has made us good enough, because it was never about us being able to meet a particular standard.
It’s always been about Jesus being the standard.
So really, making the cut is about our willingness to move forward in that freedom. We invest the talent, the time, the materials, the effort. We risk the unknown outcomes, and lay down our desire to be seen as flawless and infallible, rather than burying ourselves safely where we don’t even accrue interest.
Will we mess up? Yes!
Will Jesus be shocked, dismayed, and disappointed? No.
We make something beautiful by daring to try. We may not start perfectly – we might need to undo, redo, and repent.But we use it all, our whole life, and we don’t hold back to preserve what’s meant to revert to dust anyway.
And then we find that instead of a stifled lifestyle that ties us up in knots of stress and perfectionism and anxiety, focused on self-preservation and lack, we are walking in Kingdom culture. Our lives breathe the Kingdom in vulnerability and discernment as we are willing to risk honesty and transparency with others.
Can I ask…where have you been hesitating? To what material have you been holding the scissors to, afraid to make the cut? And what is the fear you’re fighting? If you can identify it, you can move forward faster.
I’d love to hear your thoughts if you need help untangling this; just reply to this email.
Personally, Vin and I have made several “cuts” in the last few weeks as the Lord has brought clarity and certainty to us about a shift we’ve been sensing. We’ve arranged meetings and asked for advice and counsel. We’ve said things out loud that surprised us. And it’s all been good – don’t panic, I’m not getting ready to drop a scandalous announcement – but it has also pressed us (at least, me) into a new level of bold surrender.
Are you ready for a soft announcement?
We’re moving toward full-time ministry, which means we are also moving into being fully donor-supported. Still writing, still sharing, but with less paywalls and prices. Less business, more availability for the needs God is putting right in front of us…whether they are local or in our inbox.
We are using it all, our whole life, to help people live out Kingdom culture, deep and wide.
He himself granted that some are apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ.
— Ephesians 4:11-13
As a result, we’re even more focused on wholeness and healing, and we’re asking for monthly partnerships to help us do the work of expanding Kingdom culture, so we can still do other exciting things like pay the mortgage and buy groceries.
Many of you already support us through monthly or yearly subscriptions, and we’re so grateful for you. If you’d like to increase that giving or become a monthly supporter, you can mail donations to our address below, or donate through Buy Me A Coffee or Zelle (our email there is contact@vinceguerra.com). We’re still fleshing this out and will have more info to share soon….thanks so much for helping us make this cut.
To anticipate one question: We are not (and won’t be) a non-profit, and we will continue saying whatever God leads us to, whether the government or other entities like it or not.
As for the duvet, I’m just handstitching it. Forget Pinterest. :)
