In my last article I mentioned for the umpteenth time that I was an Atheist and that I would require a personal visit from a Deity, before I would believe in any God. Then yesterday, there was a knock at my door.
My first thought was, “It’s probably the upstairs neighbor Shawn needing flour or sugar or something for whatever his wife Rene is making for their Super Bowl snacks.” I grabbed my cane and limped for the door.
I opened the door, expecting to see Shawn, and I was startled by a tall bearded man who seemed to be backlit by a thousand LED lights. I jumped backwards.
“Jesus Christ,” I exclaimed. “You startled me.”
“Wow,” he said. “You recognized me right away. That’s pretty good for an Atheist. May I come in?”
“May-I-come-in?” he said pronouncing each word slowly.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Jesus Christ. Didn’t you just recognize me and say My name.”
“No. That was just an expression, an expression of incredible surprise.”
“Oh, I’m not used to hearing my name used like that. Hmmmm. Interesting. May-I-come-in?” he repeated.
“Sure, sure. Come in. What can I do for You?”
“I’d like to talk.”
“Then let’s go in the kitchen. We can sit and talk there. Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m gonna have wine. Unless, of course, you’re planning on doing some of that changing the water into wine stuff. I’d be very interested to see how that trick is done.”
“What the Heaven,” He exclaimed. “It’s your house, and I am here on a friendly mission. Give me two glasses of water.”
If I really believed that a miracle was about to go down and this bearded stranger could turn ordinary tap water into wine, I would have poured two glasses of ordinary tap water. I had my doubts, though, and I knew I would be required to taste the post-miracle results, so I used the good Brita-filtered water in the refrigerator. I didn’t grab dainty wine glasses, though. I filled up two large water glasses, just in case this did work.
He took the two glasses, folded his arms and crinkled his nose, like Barbara Eden used to do in “I Dream of Jeannie.” Then he chuckled to Himself and smiled. He was just teasing me.
He got serious for a moment and then, He said, “Amen” and handed me one of the glasses. I tasted it. It was delicious, the best wine that I’ve ever had. (I know this doesn’t sound like much of a compliment since I drink wine from a 5-liter box found in the economy section of the local liquor store.) It was great tasting wine, though, and it was strong too. I started getting a buzz from the very first sip.
I asked Him what He wanted to talk about. He said He was there more to answer any questions I might have. So, I tried to think of a question for Him, as I drank more of the wine.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I finally asked Him.
“I meant questions about Religion.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” I took another sip of the wine and tried to think of a Religion question, but I was getting a little drunk. Maybe I could ask Him how he felt about Judas. Was that a Religion question? Forgiveness?
Then, the doorbell rang.
“That can’t be my doorbell. My front doorbell hasn’t work in six years.”
“It’s your doorbell. I fixed it.”
“How did you know it was broken?”
“I just know these things,” He said, and He gave me a look that was a very polite way of saying, “Duhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
I got up and I ran for the door. I stopped halfway to the door and grabbed my hip. I didn’t have any pain, and I wasn’t using my cane. My hip felt brand new. I turned to Him and He gave me another of those very polite looks.
“Did You fix my hip, too?”
“It’s what I do.” He said. “Healing is one of My hobbies.”
I continued to the door and when I opened it, a very old man with long silver hair and a beard was there.
“I’m here to pick up my Son.”
“He’s the only Son I have.”
“He’s in the kitchen. Do you want to come in?”
“No, we’ve got to get going. We’re having a Super Bowl party in Heaven, and He’s in charge of the liquid refreshments.”
I turned around, and Jesus was right behind me. “I wish we had more time,” He said, “but everyone loves my wine. Plus, Me and Pop have got a lot of prayers to answer this weekend. Sunday is supposed to be Our day of rest, but everyone in Kansas City and San Francisco is on their knees asking for a miracle. I’ve got to go. We’ll have to do this again sometime. You could always come and visit me in Church tomorrow.”
“Okay, I will” I said, “Thanks for stopping by.”
They left and I went back to drinking the delicious wine. After a while I fell asleep. Then when I woke up this morning, my hip hurt, my 5-liter box of economy wine was empty, and the doorbell didn’t work. I guess that it was all just a dream. Well, at least that gets me out of going to church today.
Happy Super Bowl Sunday.
Peace & Love, and all of the above.