"Okay, Jen, here we go. As Christians, we believe that God has certain plans for all of us. When people say 'Everything happens for a reason,' this is what they're talking about. God's plan."
"So we can't change anything? Is that what you're saying?" Jennifer asked.
"Not exactly. Again, we believe that part of God's plan is to give us choices. And I don't mean choices like which of the 31 flavors of ice cream to get. I mean choices more about spiritual matters."
"Such as?"
"Such as whether or not we believe in God. On whether we accept that Jesus was the Son of God, and accepting that, that we accept Him into our hearts as our Savior. God gave us that choice."
Jennifer thought a moment. "But wouldn't it make more sense for God to control the 'spiritual matters' and let free will do the rest? You know, in terms of things like where we live, where we work, who we marry. If God is spiritual, then...do you see what I'm saying?"
"I do. And you do still have free will. Let me put it this way: have you ever done something you knew was wrong?"
"Well...I took some lip gloss from a Walgreens when I was 11."
"And you knew it was wrong when you did it, didn't you?"
Jen looked at her feet. "Yes."
"You see? That voice inside - that was God's plan. But you chose to ignore God's plan and exercise your free will, which was to commit that sin."
"But...wouldn't that throw off God's whole plan? If taking that lip gloss went against his plan for me, wouldn't that mess up future situations?"
Pastor Wood smiled. "Well yes, if God were a machine that couldn't adapt. But God takes these situations, these situations that don't fit in and adapts them into a new plan. And if you think of how many people are acting against God's plans all over the world, you begin to realize the awesome power of God."
"I see."
"Do you mind if I ask why you bring all of this up?"
A pause.
"We read part of Slaughterhouse Five in English class, and in there -"
"Ah yes, time is happening everywhere at the same time, and nobody can change anything."
"YOU read Kurt Vonnegut?" Jennifer was surprised.
"I have. In fact, it was 'Galapagos' that led me to some interesting books about evolution and creation and, indirectly, led me to the church."
"Really?"
"Really and truly."
"Thanks, Pastor Wood. I need to get to work, but I appreciate your time."
"No problem, Jen."
She gathered her purse and got up to leave.
"Jennipher, just one more thing."
"Yes?"
"Regardless of whether you accept that God has plans for you or not - and I believe that he does - know that all of it - ALL of it, fate, free will, where you live, whom you marry, all that - all of it is because he loves you. He loves you with the same awesome power he used to create the universe. First John 4:8b: 'for God is love.'"
"Thanks, Pastor."
"Anytime."
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Chapter 18
"Pastor Wood? Jennipher Semmes is here to see you."
"Send her in."
Pastor Wood's office was, in a word, cozy. The wooden bookcases held a copious number of books on (of course) faith and Christianity, his office plants thrived, and it was always the "right" temperature. Pastor Wood himself was a jovial man, a bit overweight, thinning hair, and a huge sincere smile on his face.
"Jennipher! What can I do for you today?"
"Hey, Pastor Wood. It's been a rough few days for me."
"I'm here to help. What's going on? Youth Group giving you trouble?"
"No, the girls are great. It's just that - this is a tough one."
"Take your time."
After a deep breath, Jennifer steeled herself. "How much of life is predetermined?"
Pastor Wood's eyebrows shot up. "That's a pretty deep question."
Jen remained silent.
"It's something that people have been wrestling with since the dawn of man, and let me stress that scholars differ on the matter."
"I'd like to hear as much as possible."
"Send her in."
Pastor Wood's office was, in a word, cozy. The wooden bookcases held a copious number of books on (of course) faith and Christianity, his office plants thrived, and it was always the "right" temperature. Pastor Wood himself was a jovial man, a bit overweight, thinning hair, and a huge sincere smile on his face.
"Jennipher! What can I do for you today?"
"Hey, Pastor Wood. It's been a rough few days for me."
"I'm here to help. What's going on? Youth Group giving you trouble?"
"No, the girls are great. It's just that - this is a tough one."
"Take your time."
After a deep breath, Jennifer steeled herself. "How much of life is predetermined?"
Pastor Wood's eyebrows shot up. "That's a pretty deep question."
Jen remained silent.
"It's something that people have been wrestling with since the dawn of man, and let me stress that scholars differ on the matter."
"I'd like to hear as much as possible."
Monday, June 11, 2007
Chapter 17
PROM COMMITTEE MINUTES:
Present for the meeting were Jonna McCarver, Melissa Frobish, Steve Norcutt, "Little" Kueny, and Advisor Kotoly.
The meeting began at 3:35. Melissa presented ideas for favors, including glasses, candles, and scrubs. By a vote of 3-1, scrubs won.
Next, Kueny went over the budget for decorations with the group and showed some of his ideas. This developed into a discussion of prom theme ideas. The following ideas were considered:
The Time of Your Life
One Night In Paradise
Dancing With The Stars
A Magical Evening
Destiny
By a vote of 3-1, "A Magical Evening" won. Steve continued to fight for "Destiny" but Advisor Kotoly took over and said that the matter was settled.
Assignments were divided up as follows:
Jonna - Volunteers to decorate. Hire DJ.
Melissa - Scrubs
Kueny - Get decorations
Steve - Food.
The meeting ended at 5:18.
MF
Present for the meeting were Jonna McCarver, Melissa Frobish, Steve Norcutt, "Little" Kueny, and Advisor Kotoly.
The meeting began at 3:35. Melissa presented ideas for favors, including glasses, candles, and scrubs. By a vote of 3-1, scrubs won.
Next, Kueny went over the budget for decorations with the group and showed some of his ideas. This developed into a discussion of prom theme ideas. The following ideas were considered:
The Time of Your Life
One Night In Paradise
Dancing With The Stars
A Magical Evening
Destiny
By a vote of 3-1, "A Magical Evening" won. Steve continued to fight for "Destiny" but Advisor Kotoly took over and said that the matter was settled.
Assignments were divided up as follows:
Jonna - Volunteers to decorate. Hire DJ.
Melissa - Scrubs
Kueny - Get decorations
Steve - Food.
The meeting ended at 5:18.
MF
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Chapter 16
"The PROM committee? Are you serious?"
"Yeah, Gar, I am. Little Kueny and I are going to help out. That way we don't have to pay for tickets."
"But still...the prom committee is for...well, it's not for us."
Steve kicked a rock along the ground. "It is since last Friday."
Realization dawned on Gar. "Oh, you've got to be sh-"
"Listen. If I can't go with Jennipher, I don't want to go. But I have to go, and I have to have a reason not to have a date. Being on the prom committee is that reason. I'll go early, decorate, maybe help the DJ set up, I don't know. Then I go home, get cleaned up, show up, eat dinner, then stay off the dance floor all night, then clean up. The committee is the perfect cover for not having a date."
"I don't see how it's a perfect cover. You're still going to be there by yourself."
"No no no, brother. Here's what I say: 'I was going to bring a date, but it didn't seem fair to any girl to not give her the whole special Prom experience. I'll be so busy helping set up and clean up that I wouldn't have time to devote to a date.'"
"I think you're crazy."
Steve pursed his lips in thought.
"Yeah, I probably am. But I told Little Kueny I'd help out, so I'm already committed."
"So Prom Committee?"
"Prom committee. I'll see you after the meeting."
"Deuces."
"Deuces."
"Yeah, Gar, I am. Little Kueny and I are going to help out. That way we don't have to pay for tickets."
"But still...the prom committee is for...well, it's not for us."
Steve kicked a rock along the ground. "It is since last Friday."
Realization dawned on Gar. "Oh, you've got to be sh-"
"Listen. If I can't go with Jennipher, I don't want to go. But I have to go, and I have to have a reason not to have a date. Being on the prom committee is that reason. I'll go early, decorate, maybe help the DJ set up, I don't know. Then I go home, get cleaned up, show up, eat dinner, then stay off the dance floor all night, then clean up. The committee is the perfect cover for not having a date."
"I don't see how it's a perfect cover. You're still going to be there by yourself."
"No no no, brother. Here's what I say: 'I was going to bring a date, but it didn't seem fair to any girl to not give her the whole special Prom experience. I'll be so busy helping set up and clean up that I wouldn't have time to devote to a date.'"
"I think you're crazy."
Steve pursed his lips in thought.
"Yeah, I probably am. But I told Little Kueny I'd help out, so I'm already committed."
"So Prom Committee?"
"Prom committee. I'll see you after the meeting."
"Deuces."
"Deuces."
Friday, June 8, 2007
Chapter 15
Stares-At-The-Sun waited patiently. Heat from the overhead sun came in waves with the breeze. Plan were in motion. Soon.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Chapter 14
Blake Blakesly tried to relax, but it wasn't happening. His sleepicle was too small to pace properly, so he fidgeted, awaiting words from headquarters.
As he stewed, he thought about how he had gotten into the service. After the compulsory physical fitness exams in school had disqualified him from the glory of holovision actor (curse my physical fitness!), he had considered going into the civil service, but that application required a fee. Joining the Service had been free. Hello, Service.
Basic Training had been great. Because of the number of lawsuits (many of which were still pending), it had all been classroom-based with frequent breaks and recesses. He had learned how to make lemonade and write poetry. And, theoretically, how to handle a Weapon.
Then came the Tour of Duty in Low America. He had killed a man for the first time there, an Enemy soldier who had stumbled into their party while tracking game. Others froze, but Blakesly calmly pulled his Weapon out of its designer bag and shot the man in the head. Then, to ward off any nightmares, his entire group wrote poetry about their feelings.
And now this. A charge of disobedience...but no one would seriously have expected him to go back for his Squad Leader's lucky cap, would they? It was ridiculous.
Just then there was a knock at the door as a letter was slide under it. Hands trembling slightly, Blake opened the letter.
"Blake Blakesly. Due to your recent actions concerning deliberate disobedience of Squad Leader orders, you are to appear before the Minister-General in seven days to be tried for Heresy."
As he stewed, he thought about how he had gotten into the service. After the compulsory physical fitness exams in school had disqualified him from the glory of holovision actor (curse my physical fitness!), he had considered going into the civil service, but that application required a fee. Joining the Service had been free. Hello, Service.
Basic Training had been great. Because of the number of lawsuits (many of which were still pending), it had all been classroom-based with frequent breaks and recesses. He had learned how to make lemonade and write poetry. And, theoretically, how to handle a Weapon.
Then came the Tour of Duty in Low America. He had killed a man for the first time there, an Enemy soldier who had stumbled into their party while tracking game. Others froze, but Blakesly calmly pulled his Weapon out of its designer bag and shot the man in the head. Then, to ward off any nightmares, his entire group wrote poetry about their feelings.
And now this. A charge of disobedience...but no one would seriously have expected him to go back for his Squad Leader's lucky cap, would they? It was ridiculous.
Just then there was a knock at the door as a letter was slide under it. Hands trembling slightly, Blake opened the letter.
"Blake Blakesly. Due to your recent actions concerning deliberate disobedience of Squad Leader orders, you are to appear before the Minister-General in seven days to be tried for Heresy."
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Chapter 13
Smithson turned toward the stairwell.
"Why aren't they coming up?"
Blake considered the situation. "They don't know how much ammo we have. For all they know, we could have a Repeatogun up here waiting for them. Can you get Squad Leader Jonesfoot on the Talkwave?"
As Smithson fiddled with the controls of his Talkwave, Blake looked around the room, frantic for escape. He noticed a water stain in the ceiling in the corner of the room.
"Blake - we're got a Hoverliftandcarrier coming in two minutes!"
"Let's go, Smithson."
As they headed to the corner with the ruined ceiling, a Poisonogas canister landed in the room!
Quick like a jackrabbit, Blake drew and fired into the ceiling - parts of it rained all over the room. As the Poisonogas spread, he lifted Smithson, who used his Combatosharptorch to cut through the floor above them. He reached down, desperate to grab Blake's arm. Energy fading, Blake leaped and grabbed onto Smithson's hand. Smithson heaved him up through the gap.
It took a few seconds to clear the cobwebs, but with Smithson's urging, Blake was soon on his feet and heading to the roof stairwell. They emerged into the evening air, hot with a bite of cool. Looking around, Blake saw the rest of his squad on the roof next door. The Hoverliftandcarrier was preparing for touchdown under heavy fire.
Blake and Smithson wasted no time in sprinting across the rooftop and leaping the small gap to the roof of the Vitapaste-Mart.
"Good to see you guys!" Smithson called, over the roar of the Hoverengine.
As they clambered into the Hoverliftandcarrier, Squad Leader Jonesfoot lost his cap. It was a fluke gust of wind that had powered through the Hoverengine.
"My cap!"
The soldiers watched it blow away, off the roof of the Vitapaste-Mart.
"My lucky cap! Go get it, Blakesly!"
"Sir! That's insane! There must be fifty Enemy troops down there!"
"Get my cap!"
"No, sir!"
"Blakesly, are you disobeying a direct order?"
"Sir, I don't want to get shot for your cap!"
Squad Leader Jonesfoot stared at him. "One last chance, soldier."
"Sorry, sir."
Jonesfoot shook his head. "Get us out of here, pilot."
As the Hoverliftandcarrier took off, the other soldiers made a point not to look at Blake Blakesly. Smithson, still not looking at him, leaned closer. "You're in big trouble, man."
"Why aren't they coming up?"
Blake considered the situation. "They don't know how much ammo we have. For all they know, we could have a Repeatogun up here waiting for them. Can you get Squad Leader Jonesfoot on the Talkwave?"
As Smithson fiddled with the controls of his Talkwave, Blake looked around the room, frantic for escape. He noticed a water stain in the ceiling in the corner of the room.
"Blake - we're got a Hoverliftandcarrier coming in two minutes!"
"Let's go, Smithson."
As they headed to the corner with the ruined ceiling, a Poisonogas canister landed in the room!
Quick like a jackrabbit, Blake drew and fired into the ceiling - parts of it rained all over the room. As the Poisonogas spread, he lifted Smithson, who used his Combatosharptorch to cut through the floor above them. He reached down, desperate to grab Blake's arm. Energy fading, Blake leaped and grabbed onto Smithson's hand. Smithson heaved him up through the gap.
It took a few seconds to clear the cobwebs, but with Smithson's urging, Blake was soon on his feet and heading to the roof stairwell. They emerged into the evening air, hot with a bite of cool. Looking around, Blake saw the rest of his squad on the roof next door. The Hoverliftandcarrier was preparing for touchdown under heavy fire.
Blake and Smithson wasted no time in sprinting across the rooftop and leaping the small gap to the roof of the Vitapaste-Mart.
"Good to see you guys!" Smithson called, over the roar of the Hoverengine.
As they clambered into the Hoverliftandcarrier, Squad Leader Jonesfoot lost his cap. It was a fluke gust of wind that had powered through the Hoverengine.
"My cap!"
The soldiers watched it blow away, off the roof of the Vitapaste-Mart.
"My lucky cap! Go get it, Blakesly!"
"Sir! That's insane! There must be fifty Enemy troops down there!"
"Get my cap!"
"No, sir!"
"Blakesly, are you disobeying a direct order?"
"Sir, I don't want to get shot for your cap!"
Squad Leader Jonesfoot stared at him. "One last chance, soldier."
"Sorry, sir."
Jonesfoot shook his head. "Get us out of here, pilot."
As the Hoverliftandcarrier took off, the other soldiers made a point not to look at Blake Blakesly. Smithson, still not looking at him, leaned closer. "You're in big trouble, man."
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