Surviving when you choose the permissive will of God

Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 12:1-2

A common theme often surfaces in conversations with people who are frustrated, bitter, anxious, or disappointed with their lives. It’s this: They recognize that they took a wrong turn somewhere back in their past, and the anguish and disillusionment they face as a result just about wipes them out. Every negative thing that has occurred in their lives ever since, they believe, can be traced back to that one bad decision. And they live in regret and self-loathing, never quite able to forgive themselves or anyone else involved with the situation.

Not too long ago I spoke with a precious believer whose life has been upended. Years ago, she made a move in her life that she is convinced was contrary to the perfect will of God. Ever since, turmoil, consternation, and calamity have hit her smack in the face—and in her pocketbook, her career, her peace, and her joy. And she is having extreme difficulty forgiving herself for taking that wrong turn way back when.

I shared with her a story about a foolish decision I once made that brought chaos into my own home. Although my mistake was not as earth-shattering as marrying the wrong person, moving into the wrong house, or taking the wrong job, nevertheless, it demonstrated some truths about the permissive will of God. Be cautioned: This tale involves cats.

In December of 2004, I had that instructive dream about which I blogged yesterday. In early 2005, I put my “old man” cat Amos to sleep, decreasing the number of felines at home to a manageable three. However, a former beau decided that I would be the perfect owner for his sister’s cat’s kitten. I told him I wasn’t interested; I didn’t need another cat. He persisted and talked me into visiting the kitten.

Foolishly, I went along with him, and—sucker for cats that I am—I fell in love with that humongous, 11-pound, eight-month-old kitten. To be honest, also in the back of my mind I thought that adopting his sister’s cat would open the door to rekindling the relationship. Pretty stupid, huh?

Most of us don’t make decisions outside of the perfect will of God without “good” reasons. I have since learned to check my motives with the Lord before jumping into new decisions. When our motives aren’t in line with the will of God, our choices usually won’t be, either.

I brought the big, fluffy, blue-eyed white cat home with me and named him Rowe after the cat in my dream. Because this cat was so big and full of kittenish behavior, without missing a beat he threw the house into an uproar that lasted for three solid years. He destroyed a new leather loveseat; it was the speed bump in the middle of his favorite raceway which extended from one corner of my small house to the opposite one—he would leap on the couch and over it, using his enormous claws as traction—both coming and going. I counted as he galloped back and forth, back and forth—30 or more laps at a time—before he conked out in a pile of white fur, only to re-energize and start all over again.

Toilet paper was one of his favorite toys; I lost count of the times I was greeted by shreds of it all over the house; every time it happened, I kicked myself once again for forgetting to hide it.

He followed me everywhere and would leap heavily onto my shoulder as I walked past him; his thunderous galloping was constantly heard throughout the house (and I learned this is why his previous owner actively sought a new home for him). He chased the girl cats who returned the favor with constant hissing and spitting, snarling and screeching anytime they caught a glimpse of him. I thought surely my sweet male cat Gideon could settle him down. He tried. He calmly walked up to Rowe one day, and extending the paw of fellowship, started gently licking him on the neck. Rowe, however, full of mischief and spitfire, knocked Gideon into next Tuesday with one swipe of his paw.

Whereas the girls were in a constant state of seething indignation, Gideon lost his personality that day. He withdrew into timidity and blandness, hiding under furniture and venturing out only when the coast was clear.

I was heartbroken. I had foolishly brought turmoil into my home, and my pets were suffering for it. I prayed, asking God if I should return the cat to his owner or put him up for adoption. I sensed the Lord saying, “You made your bed. Now lie in it.”

When you make a poor choice and confess it to God, sometimes He will lead you out of it. But sometimes He doesn’t. You need to find out from Him what to do next—you got yourself into a mess by doing it your own way; don’t make the mistake of trying to fix it on your own. Let Him determine the next step, whether you like that step or not.

I kept the cat; he ended up needing prescription food for the rest of his life due to a urinary tract condition, and vet and food bills skyrocketed, causing my wallet to suffer. My furniture and “stuff” suffered due to his girth and his zeal for life; my other cats suffered due to his love of the chase; and I repented for my poor decision and prayed for peace to return.

These days, the girls still hate Rowe’s guts, but they have relaxed their constant, seething rage, limiting their disgust to giving him the evil eye and soft hisses. And about a year after the big kitten took the house by storm, Gideon’s personality returned, and he regained “top cat” position, despite Rowe’s six to seven pound advantage. The two boys now adore one another and are usually found napping close together, often grooming each other.

And believe it or not, Rowe is now the best behaved cat in the house. His dog-like personality seeks to please the alpha in the house—me—and he obeys orders that the others selectively ignore.

And to top it off, he has done his best to help me maintain the habit of prayer. Here’s how. Because of his special diet and Gideon’s penchant for edging him out of way and gobbling his food, Rowe eats breakfast every morning in the prayer room while I pray. He is such a stickler for consistency that when I’m in a hurry (or a mood) and don’t want to spend the time separated in the prayer room, the cat stubbornly refuses to eat. Therefore, in order to get him to eat his prescription food, I am “forced” to go to the prayer room with him—he eats; I pray.

God may deliver you from the poor choices you have made. Or He may say to you like He did to me, “You made your bed; now lie in it.” However, when He does direct you to walk out your “permissive-will-of-God” choice, once you confess your error and humbly entrust your future to Him, He will—sooner or later—turn it around for your good and for the furtherance of His will in your life.

Don’t live in regret. We all make mistakes; sometimes we make huge mistakes. But God is in a covenant relationship with you and cares for you more than you can fathom. What He desires of you is not 100% toe-the-line perfection; instead He seeks intimacy and honesty from you—and a depth of trust that can say to Him, “Lord, I’ve blown it. Forgive me and show me what to do now.”

And with a heart like that, He can work His wonders. All He needs from you is your honesty and trust.

Dorothy