Give Us A King
Napoleon thought he could be great because he founded a kingdom on force. Perhaps it’s worth listening to his words of warning at the end of his life. Napoleon said, “Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, and myself founded empires. But on what did we rest the creations of our genius? Upon force. Jesus Christ alone founded his empire upon love. And at this hour millions of men would die for him.”
“Give Us a King” is the same thought for many people even today.
Keep Your Eyes on King Jesus.
In the years 1014–1035 there ruled over England a Danish king named Canute. King Canute tired of hearing his retainers flatter him with extravagant praises of his greatness, power and invincibility. He ordered his chair to be set down on the seashore, where he commanded the waves not to come in and wet him. No matter how forcefully he ordered the tide not to come in, however, his order was not obeyed. Soon the waves lapped around his chair. One historian tells us that, therefore, he never wore his crown again, but hung it on a statue of the crucified Christ.
Was it God’s will for Israel to have a king? Prophecies dating back to Moses indicate that it was (Gen. 49:10; Num. 24:17; Deut. 17:14–20). It was not God’s preceptive will for Israel to acquire a king in the manner in which they were doing it (i.e., at the wrong time and from improper motives), but God allowed it because it was within His permissive will. God in His sovereignty allows even the evil deeds of men to accomplish His purposes (cf. Gen. 50:20; Acts 2:23). With respect to sin and evil, God wills to permit it, but not to effect it, for He cannot commit evil. See note on Isa. 45:7.
Included in God’s plan are all things (Eph. 1:11), though the responsibility for committing sin rests on the creature, not the Creator.
The story is told of a group of theologians who were discussing the tension between predestination and free will. Things became so heated that the group broke up into two opposing factions. But one man, not knowing which to join, stood for a moment trying to decide. At last he joined the predestination group. “Who sent you here?” they asked. “No one sent me,” he replied. “I came of my own free will.” “Free will!” they exclaimed. “You can’t join us! You belong with the other group!” So he followed their orders and went to the other clique. There someone asked, “When did you decide to join us?” The young man replied, “Well, I didn’t really decide—I was sent here.” “Sent here!” they shouted. “You can’t join us unless you have decided by your own free will!”
In Knowledge of the Holy, A. W. Tozer attempts to reconcile the seemingly contradictory beliefs of God’s sovereignty and man’s free will:
“An ocean liner leaves New York bound for Liverpool. Its destination has been determined by proper authorities. Nothing can change it. This is at least a faint picture of sovereignty.
“On board the liner are scores of passengers. These are not in chains, neither are their activities determined for them by decree. They are completely free to move about as they will. They eat, sleep, play, lounge about on the deck, read, talk, altogether as they please; but all the while the great liner is carrying them steadily onward toward a predetermined port.
“Both freedom and sovereignty are present here, and they do not contradict. So it is, I believe, with man’s freedom and the sovereignty of God. The mighty liner of God’s sovereign design keeps its steady course over the sea of history.”