Dialogues with God III

Man:  Lord, are you there?

(silence)

M:  Can you hear me, Lord?

(moments pass)

God: Yes, of course I’m here. You know I'm always here whenever you're ready for me.

M:  Then why were you not answering?

G:  Because you weren't quite ready for me to answer you.

M:  What does that mean?

G:  It means that you were not willing me to answer your call rightaway.

M:  I wasn’t?

G:  No, you weren’t.

M:  Then why was I calling you?

G:  What I mean is that you wanted to do it your way and that’s why I wasn’t able to answer your call straightaway.

M:  Do it my way? I really don’t understand you sometimes. What was my way, anyway?

G:  Your way was to allow a couple of minutes to go by before I made my entrance.

M:  And why would I want that, Your Omniscience?

G:  Let’s just say it was a sort of pregnant pause for dramatic effect.

M:  You say the oddest of things sometimes. It’s almost as if I were controlling you or something and you had no will of your own?

G:  Well, have I?

Lord, are you there?

M:  What kind of a question is that?!
G:  Just a question. Don’t take it the wrong way.

M:  You know, there are times when I don’t understand you at all. Anyone would think you’re suggesting you don’t exist in your own right and that you’re a figment of my imagination.

G:  Well do I and aren’t I?

M:  What???

G:  Well, look, have you considered that I might only exist in your mind? I mean, I think I might exist in some form or other but I can't be sure, and it's just as likely that I don't exist at all. 

M:  That’s ridiculous! It doesn’t make any sense, no sense at all.

G:  Well can you actually see me?

M:  Well no, not as such, but…

G:  Can you hear me?

M:  Yes, of course.... in a way.

G:  In what way?

M:  Not of course in the way that I here other people, or as some loud voice booming down from on-high, that’s just in films, but as a voice in my... well... in my mind, let's say.

G:  Well there you are!

M:  Where am I?

G:  I could be just a figment of your imagination, a sensory illusion, another aspect of yourself,

M:  Oh I don’t think so. You’re real alright! And being God, you communicate in your own special way.

G:  Well, okay, if you say so.

M:  What do you mean “if I say so”? Don’t you know?

G:  As I say, I’m not too sure I do.

M:  What does that mean now?

G:  It means quite simply that I seem to exist for some and not to exist for others. It's really confusing.

M:  Oh come off it! You either exist or you don’t, you can’t both exist and not exist! Anyway, what are you saying? That you might not exist and that I’m imagining you now? That all this conversation is just in my head?

G:  Well, yes, I suppose that’s more or less what I’m saying. Sorry about that and all. 

M:  So taking this one step further, you’re saying in effect that you probably don’t really exist as such but that you may appear to exist for some people because they conjure you up in their imagination, is that right?

G:  That’s it in essence. Put bluntly, I only exist for those, such as yourself, who want me to exist and who will me into existence.

M:  But that means that you don’t exist, that I've made you up, as have many others.

G:  I suppose I am saying that, yes. It’s a bit like with dragons and fairies and the like. They exist for those who believe they exist and their effects are seemingly felt by those who believe in them.

M:  And who believes in dragons and fairies nowadays? I don’t know of anyone who really believes all that nonsense.

G:  Well, okay, perhaps there’s not so many who believe in all that anymore, but you take my point.

M:  I take your point, God, but you’re asking me to accept that I’m imagining this dialogue with you now because you don’t really exist except in my head. Is that it?

G:  In a nutshell, yes!

M:  If you weren’t God, I would tell you what you could do with yourself now, Your Omnipotence!

G:  Come, come now.... don't get upset.

M:  How can I not get upset when Your Almightiness is implying that I’m out of my tiny mind, that I’m a complete loon, and that none of this is happening.

Where are you, God?

G:  ………….....………..

M:  That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? That  I’m having this conversation with myself because I'm hallucinating or something! In short, that I’m bonkers, stark raving mad, and therefore that I should be locked up in some institution for the mentally insane!!

G:  ………..………….

M:  Well, cat got your tongue, Your Divinity? Lost for words now? Speak up, damn you!!

G:  ………..………….

M:  I said speak up!!! Where’ve you gone now?! Lost the argument and ran off with your tail between your legs???

G: ………...........……………...

M:  Well??? Say something, for God’s sake!!!! No, no, not for God’s sake, for MY sake!!!

G:  ………...........…..........……………


M:  Speak!!!! Why don’t you damn well say something?!? And where in heaven’s name are you now?!! Heyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Warden:  Quiet please in Cell No.13! You’re upsetting the other inmates and stopping them from sleeping.

M:  *&a#p;*^!!+="$!$*!!!*@*&am\;*^!!$%$%£@*&a##p;*$£!!!!!

W:  I said quiet!! If you don’t calm down and shut up you’ll be medicated to shut you up! We’re not putting up with this sort of disruption in this facility. Go back to bed and stop talking to yourself!!

M:  No, please... let me out... please let me out!! I’ve got to get out of here.... I've got to find God!!!!

Dialogues with God II

Man:  Hey, God, where are you? I need to talk to you.



Hey, God!

God: Well, what’s the matter now, old fellow? Why are you looking so down at the mouth?
M: You've noticed. I’m feeling depressed, you know how it is.
G: No, I don’t know how it is. What on earth are you depressed about at this joyful time of the year?
M: Well, that’s just it, you’ve put your finger on it.
G: Put my finger on what precisely?
M: It’s the Christmas thing, the whole shebang.
G: This Christmas thing? The whole shebang? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.
M: Well, it’s true. Christmas just gets me down.
G: This shebang, as you call it, is the celebration of my beloved son’s birth, divine spirit made into human flesh. This shebang is about the Saviour of mankind. And all you can do is mope around and complain?
M: Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, God, and it’s not really about your son.
G: Not really about my son? It’s Christmas... Christ... mass... and you say it’s not really about my son, the anointed Christ? Kindly explain yourself before you incur my divine wrath and I send down a lightning bolt to turn you into a heap of smouldering dust!
M: No, no, you don’t understand! What I meant is that it’s more about me and the way I feel rather than your son Jesus or Christ or whatever you call him.
G: Tell me more, because I’m still mad at you and I haven’t given up the idea of making you go up in a puff of smoke!
M: Calm down, God, and I’ll explain.
G: Go on, I’m listening...
M: Well, there isn’t much to it, really. But in simple terms, all this Christmas business... you know... all the shopping, present-buying, card-sending, carol-singing, goodwill to all men lark... and even the partying, boozing and bingeing that goes with it... all this enforced merry-making and jollity... is doing my mind in. It’s not my thing really.
G: Not your thing? I could take this personally and turn you into a leper this very second , but you’ve roused my curiosity now. What IS your thing then?
M: Well, it’s not so much that it’s not my thing, some of it IS my thing, like the noshing and boozing, but the rest of it I could do without. I mean, I lost my job this year, our mortgage payments went up and we’ve fallen behind with them, the price of everything in the shops has hit the fuckin’ roof, I’m pretty-well skint, the missus is spending the social money on presents like there’s no tomorrow, and we’ve got to go around smiling and laughing and be joyful in front of the kids and everyone else just because your son was born on this day a couple of thousand years ago. And the worst thing about it is that he probably wasn’t even born on 26 December!
G: Hmmmm... I see what you mean. I’m still hurting but I see your point. I must admit I don’t rightly remember myself when he was born exactly, but that doesn’t really matter, it’s the principle not the date that’s important. As for the rest, I can see you’re not having a great time of it, but Christmas comes just once a year and you could make an effort, for the kids at least.
M: Yeah, sure, for the kids. I haven’t got a penny to my name, we’re about to lose our house, I’m unemployable, the kids are driving me round the twist, the wife’s giving me grief every day cos things are getting shittier by the day, and you want me to make an effort. That’s just great!
G: You’re not a believer, are you, old man?
M: Believer? I suppose not.
G: No suppose about it. You’ve lost your faith.
M: Well, maybe I have. What’s that got to do with anything?
G: It has everything to do with anything.
M: Oh yeah? Like what?
G: Listen, my friend, I want to help you.
M: Help me? You’ve never helped me before all the times we’ve talked, so why should you help me now?
G: What’s gone on in the past is not necessarily relevant to what could happen now. Why do you think I’m having these chats with you?
M: I’ve asked myself that and I don’t have an answer. Maybe it’s to make me lose my mind. I’ve made the mistake of telling my wife about you and she told me to pull myself together and not mention it to another soul. She’s starting to think I’m mentally unbalanced. That’s what you’ve done to me!
G: That’s what you’ve done to yourself, old fellow! And I advise you to keep all this to yourself. But let’s get back to the matter in hand.
M: And what’s the matter in hand other than I’ve fucked my life up and everyone thinks I’m a born fuckin’ loser?
G: The matter in hand is that I can help you get things back on track if you do as I ask you.
M: Well the first part sounds good but I’m not so sure about the second part.
G: Well that’s the deal, my friend. Remember, I’m the Almighty and I can do anything I want. Nonetheless, I want you to do your part.
M: Okay, let me have the deal.
G: It’s simple. Turn back to me... err... to God.
M: What does that mean?
G: Embrace the faith again.
M: Are you having a laugh?
G: No. I’m deadly serious. Do you accept the deal or not?
M: Hmmm... maybe... depends on what it means.
G: It means that you should say your prayers every day, go to church every Sunday and on all religious holidays, bring Me back into your life and go back to being a real Christian.
M: Jesus! Oh, sorry...
G: That’s one bad habit you’ll have to put an end to. Now, do you accept the deal?
M: Hang on, you haven’t told me yet what’s in it for me.
G: Oh yes, I forgot. Well, simply put, it would mean the end of all your problems.
M: How’s that then?
G: Never mind how, just trust me. All I ask is that you come back to me, and then I’ll make all your problems go away. One by one, little by little, you’re life will turn around and happiness and fulfilment will come back into it.
M: You’re asking a lot of me, God.
G: I don’t think so, especially as the benefits for you are immeasurable.
M: You’re right. For a deal like that I would sign my life away to the devil himself!
G: Bite your tongue! For that remark alone I should take back the deal and send you to him to do just that! You ungrateful fellow!
M: I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry, it just came out, I didn’t mean it.
G: Okay. Now I don’t have much time, I have a lot of things to do today. So let me have your answer now.
M: Alright, alright... it’s a deal! I’ll do what you say if you get me out of this mess.
G: Good man! Here’s the contract to sign...
M: Contract?
G: Of course. You don’t think we could tie up a deal without making a binding agreement, do you?
M: I hadn’t really thought of that.
G: Well, that’s the deal, take it or leave it. Sign on the dotted line and your life will be transformed for the better.
M: I’ll sign, yes. Give me the contract and I’ll sign it.

..........................

 God? Lord? Where are you? Where’s the contract? What’s happened? Where are you, God? Speak to me... speak to me... please... I said I’ll sign the contract... come back... I’ll sign... where are you, Lord? Where are you? I’ll sign... I’ll sign... I’ll sign.... don’t leave me, Lord... I’ll sign....

Passers-by wonder at the incoherent mutterings of the vagrant sprawled in the shop doorway and hurry on past, shaking their heads, as the night turns bitterly cold.