“The Universe Has a Plan” – But Who Is Really Behind It?

Saying “The universe has a plan” or, as some even say, “God has a plan,” without even knowing who this God is and how He reveals Himself, is only half the story to me, even if it feels like the whole thing—until you get to know the real God and God’s Word. Before that, you can project whatever you want onto God, a higher power, or the universe. And because of that, it becomes really hard to tell what is your own will and what is actually God’s will.

When I say, “The universe / God has a plan for this,” at some point I have to ask myself: What actually makes me so sure? Am I just repeating what other people say because they give me hope, since they need hope just as much—and they are only repeating it from others, too? What if all of this is just a made-up trick to give ourselves hope and make life a little sweeter? And suddenly having to accept this possibility as a real answer felt, for a short moment, COMPLETELY meaningless to me. Really: 100% meaningless.

Then my thoughts went further: If God really has a plan, it always aims at something. But what is it aiming at in this specific case? And the more lessons I take from life, telling myself that something was good because X happened, that something happened because of Y and I learned Z from it, the more I eventually feel like I am not moving forward at all. It feels as if this “learning” is an endless task that, deep down, leads nowhere in my search for meaning—except, in terms of time, closer and closer to death. Of course, for many people, that is enough meaning. But with my analytical way of thinking, I had to admit to myself at some point: something still does not fit, or something is missing.

That cannot be the full answer. So: If God really has a plan, there must be one shared, overarching direction where all these individual plans for each of us fit—if you break them down to their deepest level. And if so: What is it, then?

I started to talk to “God” on purpose and trust that He would guide me now. I had felt guided before, too, but suddenly I was confused and no longer sure where I was actually being led. Toward which plan, anyway? Because some things hurt so much that I could hardly bear them on my own anymore. And some of the things that happened, and kept happening in certain situations, simply made no logical sense to me anymore. That is how I found Jesus.

And that—along with many other things—finally clicked for me when I started to really spend time with God’s Word and Jesus. When I started to truly believe Him when He says that He is the truth: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)—and that my own perception is not automatically the truth. That even this idea of “my own truth” is, in a way, an unintentional lie. Because our perception is always shaped and shifted. It does not matter how much we have worked on ourselves or studied human psychology: it is shaped by our experiences, by other people, and by a world full of people who are just as far from being God as we are, and who might not even know Him at all.

And so I gave myself time to take this in and really understand it. Step by step, I picked up my cross and started to follow Him as best as I could—and still can—at every point along my way. And I started to let Him heal things that seemed long overdue. Things I could never have reached on my own—or things where I did not even realize they still truly needed healing. And over time, this completely changed my idea of what “God has a plan” even means.

Before, that sentence was all about my own life: My path. My lessons. My growth. My purpose. If something did not work out, then God simply had something better for me. I already knew that something could be better for me even if I did not think so at first, simply because it did not feel better. I knew I did not always have much say in it, and that I could still trust in a higher purpose. The only question was: up to what point? Because I made decisions too, and those decisions caused some doors to close. Was that always right? And can I really just say that it was meant to be, simply because that is how things turned out?

Today, I believe: No. Just because something happens, it does not automatically mean that God wanted this specific decision or action. People have free will, make choices, and carry responsibility for them. But at the same time, I believe that God also sees what does not match His will, and He can still use it in His bigger plan. And I believe that His will stands above it all in the end: When we turn to Him, He can lead us back into His will and use even what did not match His will before – no matter at what point in our lives we come to Him.

So I asked myself more and more: And what about the other people who are involved?

Yes, surely "life" has a plan for them too. But who is really in control of the big picture if neither I nor other people can see the whole thing? I still affect people with my decisions. And others affect me. So how can it be that at some point we are just free from responsibility – out of convenience, or maybe even with good reason?

And how do I know for sure if all of this really leads in a direction that has a good, higher meaning? How could I even be sure of that? Because I do not want to find out at the end of my life that I got completely lost – and now it is too late. And yes: when one door closed, another one would open somewhere. When something hurt, I would learn something from it. And I saw again and again that this was true.

Still, at the center of this idea – even if I did not really like it – there was still very strongly: me. Just … without full responsibility? That feels arrogant. There was no standard that was not based on my "self", but one that my "self" could follow – completely independent of other people. Of course, that requires submitting myself to something I have never seen with my own eyes. Faith, then – not just what I can see and know for 100% sure myself.

But then again: What if I hurt another person by accident? Or what if they hurt me? Who corrects that when I cannot? And who judges it when I can never be completely sure myself and only have a feeling of what is fair or unfair? I cannot control what this person does with it. I can only control what I make of things myself. I cannot control whether someone else learns something good from it or becomes colder because of it. Whether they understand that people make mistakes and that you should not change your own character after every painful experience – especially not because of the mistakes of other people.

How could anyone really make sense of all this if there is no standard to measure myself by—and for others to measure themselves by as well? How can I know if I have understood something correctly? Without this standard, everyone is just left with their own interpretation of what happened. It is always "my" life. "My" story. "My" pain. What God has planned for me.

And right there, something important changed for me: "God has a plan" only made complete, logical sense to me when I understood that I and my experiences in life are not the goal of this plan. I am not the person who can even see the full picture of this plan. And while God belongs in this equation, He also stands above it: as a fixed, steady, and unchanging standard and judge. He is not randomly involved or limited by a narrow perspective like we humans are. Instead, He knows the situation completely and in every detail—because He created the playing field and sees everything that happens on it. So instead of just looking at myself and other people in it, God belongs in this picture above everything. It is the same from your point of view: instead of just you and other people. Suddenly, this sentence became much bigger—and at the same time, much less self-centered.

And that is true even though I never wanted to think in a self-centered way. I never liked that, and it always bothered me when I saw it in other people. I was just missing the perspective where the one, clearly known God truly stands above everything. Not some vague higher power where I can just imagine whatever I want, but the one God who revealed Himself and whom I can truly get to know through Jesus and His Word. Because if I lack this perspective, I end up being part of this self-centered thinking too—even if I really do not want to be.

And if God really is God and created this world, then His big plan cannot mainly be about my own personal life working out nicely, finding my purpose, reaching my dreams, and looking back on a perfect life story in the end—whatever that is even supposed to mean. Then my life must be part of something bigger. Not with a purpose that I choose for myself, piece together, or attach to my life after the fact, but with the purpose He gave me.

And that is exactly what the Bible suddenly gave me a framework for. Because it did not just offer me another “plan” that I could now simply believe in. For the first time, it showed me an overarching beginning, a firm standard, a root problem, and a goal where ALL of these individual human stories could finally fit. Suddenly, it was no longer just about what happens in my life and what meaning I can personally find in it. It was about where we come from, what is actually happening here, how we can tell good from evil, right from wrong, and where all of this is leading in the end. And inside this bigger picture, I could suddenly find a place for my own life, too. At the end of the day, spiritually speaking, there are two kingdoms on this earth—and I think we can see them more and more clearly in our visible reality: the kingdom of God and the kingdom of the devil. I do not mean two equally powerful opponents. The devil is not on the same level as God and is not His equal. But his influence also gains room through our free will. We often use our free will for the very things we think mean freedom, when in reality they can take us further and further away from what real freedom actually is. For example, addictions, uncontrolled desires, or the constant search for more and more extreme experiences can feel like freedom, while making us more and more dependent at the same time.

And Jesus, who is fully God and fully human, died on the cross out of love for us and for our sins—which we all have, measured against God’s perfect holiness and purity. He did this so that our connection with God can be restored through Him, if we accept Him as our Savior and Redeemer.

And if that is true, it means that much of what happens in and to our lives is really less about us than we might think. It is part of a much bigger context: God’s plan of salvation for this earth. And with that, the question of the goal suddenly found its place for me, too. It is not simply about constantly learning, growing, gathering experiences, falling, getting back up, learning something more, and dying at some point.

There is a bigger direction. And my life does not get its meaning because my life itself is the big goal, but because it is part of something bigger. We are all people who play an important role in it—and because of that, our choices and what follows from them also play a role in the course of this world.

Every action brings consequences. It does not matter if they are visible or felt right away, if they build up over years, or if we never even see some of them in this life, but only when we stand before God after death. That is why "God has a plan" makes so much more sense to me today, and at the same time it has gained a much deeper meaning. Not because I stopped believing that God has a plan for my life. Quite the opposite. The sentence only made complete sense to me when I started to understand who this God actually is. Who holds the plan. What standard He acts by. What His plan leads to. And where I stand in it myself.

Without Jesus, one question always stayed open for me in the end: Who is actually making the plans here—and how do I know that what I read into my own life really comes from God? With Jesus and God’s Word, a vague hope suddenly turned into something with a clear shape. "God has a plan" did not become smaller because of that. It became much bigger. Strangely enough, it is now much less about the plan for my own life. Instead, it is about believing that God has a plan that goes far beyond me—and that my life still has a very important meaning in it, or even because of that.

It is about God's bigger plan for this world. About the people around me right now. About the impact of my choices. And about the generations who might live on this earth after us one day.

And what if not? What if we, as humanity, do not last on this earth for that much longer? Even then, at the end of my life, I still want to be able to say that I tried to align my life with God and take what He showed me seriously—not because I could earn my salvation that way, but because I cannot earn it at all, and that is exactly why I need Jesus. And I want to prepare for what comes after death—instead of living my life as if nothing happens after it.

With love,

Lena :)