The two of us loiter together in the coffeehouse of my imagination, arguing like a couple of old friends. “I wish that the expression ‘free will’ had never been invented,” he remarked the other day. “It is not recorded in Scripture and should more justly be called self-will, which is worthless.”
This was Marty at his most pedantic.
“Which is to say that the self is worthless?” I parried. “You seem to preclude the possibility that my will can be in concordance with God’s.”
Concordance indeed, he spluttered, going on to ask how dare I equate myself with God – which I hadn’t meant to do, as Marty well knew.
“I only meant that free-will or self-will can be divinely instigated,” I suggested. “Would God have men be puppets, our will superimposed?”
He left, saying he’d just as soon have me be a puppet, which remark, whoever’s will it reflected, was certainly on the testy side.
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