Eternal guarantee

Hey Jesus, a letter slipped through my mailbox this morning. Right through the green door and – poof! – down it fluttered right on the entrance way floor.

ETERNAL LIFE GUARANTEED.

I examined the envelope and my eyes read the wishes of a child.

You know Jesus, when I was a child I had came to believe that death was inevitable and my heart sunk when I closed my eyes for the terrible sight of my casket appeared before me as if someone had deliberately placed it in my head. I knew when I understood time I understood my enemy. And I cried as little as a boy does in the solemn of his room wondering why I had been burdened with such thoughts of an enemy that cannot be beaten. Sorry, Walt.

That’s why I can’t sit in the room with a filled casket, Jesus. These wooden boxes serve one purpose – to sit eternally under six feet of dirt and hold rotting corpses until there comes the time when space runs out for such silly rituals and we are dug up, our bones burned and returned to earth as munch for some plant. I will not lye with a casket’s legacy.

Living forever seems to suit me better.

ETERNAL LIFE GUARANTEED.

This letter with no return address offered me hope that maybe a casket does not await me, after all. Heck, maybe if I play it smart I might become somewhat like you and resurrect every time I get in a mess. Amused with this thought I opened it. Had you sent it to me? I am pious, Lord. I just don’t want to die. Maybe you have finally heard my prayer. I know that you must have – I always betted that if I kept on repeating my prayer to you that you would hear me, based solely on the consistency of my words. It’s no good to just pray one day for world peace and then the next day for the death of the rapist in the news. That was the trouble with most religiosos, they never had uniformity with what they asked for. How could Jesus, as miraculous as you must be, capably fulfil these demands? You died for our sins and not our indecisiveness.

I knew what I wanted and I expected its deliverance had come to me in this letter.

Dear Friend,

You pass through this life but once, death is guaranteed and can come at any time.

Lies! The words on the envelope lied to me. Jesus, what kind of bullshit is this crap offered to paper for my eyes. It proposes eternal life and then I open up and see that it does not propose anything of the sort. It only offers hate and paranoia, a sort of anthrax in word form, infesting itself in to my mind to strip it of the very oxygen of thought it needs and replaced it with fear and distrust.

I am pissed, no doubt. But I am reading on, the disappointment coursing through my veins demanding answers I cannot provide in my heart.

The amazing thing about the salvation message is the plain and simple fact you do not need to believe in God Almighty to begin with in order to accept it.

I close the letter. I accept none of what it says. Had you really sent this to me? Had you nothing better to do? I do not believe you would mock the very thing that beats my heart and calls my soul.

I walk outside and consider the sky. The everlasting sky I live under is filled with azure and stars. I look up and see the unique Preston blue by day and unreachable stars blinking by night over my balding head. Jesus, you’re up there and listening, perched on a star and shedding your light towards our salvation that you no longer want.

Then a curious thought enters my head.

Funny that some men dream of reaching diamonds, not stars, and grabbing hold of them so that they might shine their own light.

Perhaps I should, Jesus?

I close my eyes and there was love and I can’t hear just what I am being told but out of the corner of my dream I turn to look and realise the sky is gone, my heart is gone, my soul is gone. My hands feel just like balloons – they are light and reaching. There is place they are going. Jesus, God, Beelzebub and the others cannot come. They are left in the horizon of this blue ball and my lips move to say to them adieu, good luck god men, but there are no words. Earth is a speck in the vast blackness of the universe. The sound of politics and preaching fade away. My head is clear. I reach for the edges of the nearest star and feel its cutting sides. I want what they offer, what others have wanted. I want eternity.

As I have always.

Things to remember:

Do not look up to seek spiritual guidance.
Read the Bible at least once a day.
Avoid books written by Christian authors as these books will only confuse you.
Never try to understand the Bible through your own understanding.
Our saviour asks your sacrifice.