Heart beats

I've often wondered whether the Virgin Mary was the first and only choice to be mother of God-made-man, or whether Gabriel had been knocking on a lot of doors for a lot of decades till someone at last said, 'Okay then - let God do as he wants with me.'

Having free will means that being chosen by God to fulfil a certain plan is never an obligation: at any moment we have the chance to say yes or no.

Many Christians have experienced God prompting them to go to someone with a message that is challenging or possibly unwelcome, only to learn that they are the last in a line of people who have approached that person with the same message.

The coincidence either convinces the person that it's time to take seriously what God has been saying to them in myriad ways, or that they are a victim of human conspiracy: 'Oh, not you as well!'

God stands at the door and knocks - sometimes in the form of a succession of servants, over a period of time, so the person inside has time to adjust to following a new direction.

At other times, when God's knock on the door comes there isn't much time at all for the person to make up their mind; if they hesitate, the moment is gone, for their whole lifetime.

The invitation will go to the next person; Jesus moves on to the next town, and the man or woman he called, who hung back to finish their project, complete their career or finish rearing their family, will lose sight of his plan for them.

What happens when we say no to God's plan for our lives - when we let that crucial moment go by without our 'Let it be done to me'?

A missionary priest told me some of his friends were killed, refusing to deny their faith in Christ. He was sure they had a special place in heaven.

But his heart really went out to the ones whose courage had failed, who were still alive because at that life-or-death moment they gave way to fear, said the words or signed the document that said they denied Jesus Christ.

Simon Peter, swearing three times that he'd never set eyes on this Jesus-Nazarene guy, would sympathise. Plan A, at least in his own mind, was to fulfil his boast that he would die with the Master he had followed, loved and argued with for the most challenging years of his life.

He had his chance to be a hero, the loyal friend who wouldn't back down. And he blew it, big-time - so that even 2,000 years later anyone who picks up a bible, or watches the DVDs, knows all about his cowardice.

But there was a Plan B. For those God loves and carries, there is always Plan B, as Jeremiah found out when he watched the potter reduce to a blob the pot that didn't turn out right, then patiently mould it into a new design.

It's while we are in the blob phase that Plan B is not immediately obvious. All we can see is that Plan A (whether our own or God's) has failed to be fulfilled, or that we have failed to rise to its demands.

'I am the Alpha and the Omega,' God reassures us, in the almost-last words of the Bible. A to Z. Plan A, Plan B and every other plan as far as Z if needs be.

Even if every town you go to rejects your message, Jesus told his friends, you will not run out of towns and potential believers before the fulfilment of every plan comes to fruition and God's kingship becomes visible as the only reality.

Even if we let our God-given opportunity pass by or pass to someone else, God perseveres with renewed invitations and alternative plans, circumventing our hesitations and denials.

'I am coming soon,' he promises, in the very last words.

And we see that Plan A - the eternal plan - still stands.

Let it be.