God Loves Fags

“God,” I said, “Do you really hate ‘fags’?”

“No,” God said.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“But what about the bible? Doesn’t the bible say thou shalt not lay with another man, or whatever?”

“Yeah, Will,” God said. “It says that.”

“So you do hate fags.”

“No. Stop using that word.”

“This makes no sense. The bible is your divinely inspired word, written through the hands of your faithful human servants, every word inerrant.”

“Says the bible.”

“Oh come on, God. It’s your book. Are you disowning it now?”

“Meh, it’s alright. Not my best work. I’m rather fond of the moon and the stars. Did you enjoy the Harvest Moon tonight?”

“Well yeah, God. It was beautiful. It filled me and healed me. It made me feel connected to everyone else who might have been watching the moon at the same time.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“Yeah, I guess you would.”

“I know everything.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“No, seriously, I know literally everything.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know. You say you know that I know everything, but you don’t even know the half of it. There is so much everything in everything, that for you to bat around terms like ‘everything’ and ‘everywhere’ is, just, I don’t know, man. I mean I do know. You know what I mean. But you don’t.”

“You lost me, God.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Gah!”

“That’s short for ‘God'”.

“Sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Don’t let it happen again or I’ll throw you in Hell along with the fags and Vanilla Ice.”

“Ah-ha!

“Just kidding.”

“Sigh. Why you gotta play me like this, God?”

“Play you? Please explain. As if I didn’t know.”

“What I mean is, I thought the bible said-”

“Oh me, here we go again. Yes, the bible said? Please, regale me about what the bloody bible said.”

“Well come on, God, gimme a break here. All I really have to go on is the bible.”

“And the church.”

“Yes, and the church.”

“And your heretical minister who weaseled his way into the cloth in my name.”

“…”

“You still don’t get it. Okay, let me put it this way. Everyone you know is an idiot compared to me.”

“True.”

“Including you.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No offense. I made you in my image. It’s not like I cloned myself. If I had, then you’d be smart like your heavenly father, but you’re not, because, well, just because. Point is, you’re human, so your understanding of me and my word is always going to fall short of perfection.”

“I follow.”

“Now, what that logically means is even if the bible is inerrant, still the interpretations of it given to you by your pastor and the busybodies in the congregation and your own adorable brain are totally, tragically, hilariously errant.”

“So you’re telling me nothing can be known.”

“I facepalm at that comment. See me? Do you see me facepalming? We’re talking now, aren’t we? I’m giving you really great stuff here, some really choice knowledge. Hello, God is talking to you right now, and he’s telling you he doesn’t hate gay people. Sometimes I wonder if I gave you enough ears.”

“Okay, so. You don’t hate fags.”

“Gay people, please. Don’t be an ass.”

“Gay people.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t hate them?”

“No, Will. I love them.”

“But you’re still going to let them rot in Hell for it, right?”

“Dude, no, that’s asinine.”

“Even though the bible says-”

“Please stop.”

“And my pastors, and the ‘busybodies’, as you call them?”

“Yup, they’re wrong. Frankly I resent being used as a scapegoat.”

“Oh, I hate being used as a scapegoat. I can relate to that.”

I know.

“I think I see now, God.”

“Maybe.”

“Hey, God? You’re kind of blowing my mind here. What does this imply about Christ? If the bible really is wrong, is he really your son?”

“I never said the bible was wrong, and yes, Christ is my son.”

“What does that even mean?

“It means Christ is my son. He is my Mini Me. I gave him to pay the debt you ingrates accumulated and continue to accumulate through your acting like a bunch of jerks all the time.”

“Okay, but you don’t sound very certain, God. About Christ, I mean. Are you just kind of letting my culture invent a story for itself?”

“You’re thinking too hard, Will. Stories are beautiful. The story of Christ is especially beautiful. Yes, it’s got some weird stuff in it that I don’t expect you to understand, but it works, and like your mom always said, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This religion, this story of Christ through which you Christians live and breathe and move, is one of redemption, grace, kindness, and charity. Dude, the universe is made of stories. I should know. I’m the one who spoke it into existence. You know how stories are. You get lost in them, they guide you, they provide you with a template for navigating the world. Why not embrace this one? It’s huge, it’s epic, and lots of people can share it together in unity.”

“So you’re telling me Christianity might just be a convenient fairy tale designed to make people feel less alone? Are you telling me it’s not actually fact?”

“Oh, you have no idea what a fact even means. You can look up “fact” in the dictionary, but all you get is more words. In the end, the words all just refer to themselves, separate and apart from the actual physical and spiritual world in which you live and breathe. You can’t understand jack squat through mere words like truth and fact and reality. You need a reference point. You need to commune directly with the existence I so generously provided you before you can start playing with words, and even then you should really tread a little more softly than you have been. Seriously, you have a really big mouth.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

“For what, your big mouth?”

“For providing us with existence.”

“I know. No sweat. Literally. No sweat. I’m God. I have no sweat glands.”

“You’re weird, God.”

“You’re weirder.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m weirder. I’ll give you that.”

“God, this is the strangest conversation I have ever had.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“…”

“Anything else on your mind, Will? I got all day and I don’t charge anything.”

“I don’t know, God. You just kind of blew my mind all to hell.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“I mean, you blew my mind. Full stop.”

“Hmm.”

“God?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for explaining about gay people and the bible and Christ and whatnot.”

“As if you even heard me.”

“Yeah, well, thanks all the same.”

“As if this knowledge I’m giving you is going to improve your life one bit.”

“It’s not?”

“Think about it, Will. How many times have you told someone a piece of information that, logically, should change their entire outlook on life, but the next day they’re doing and saying the exact same old things, repeating the exact same old patterns?”

“Too often, ergh.”

“You’re not immune, pal.”

“So why do you bother talking to me in the first place?”

“Because it comforts you.”

“Touché.”

“Get some sleep, little buddy. You’re an idiot but you’re adorable and I love you.”

“You love everyone.”

“True. Lights out. Hush.”

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “God Loves Fags

  1. Pingback: My First Sermon | The Cynic Testifies

  2. Funny!! Did you hear the Pope just did a press conference that he would be changing the direction of the Catholic Church to one of more compassion and less focus on abortion, contraception, and especially homosexuality? He said it was not his place to judge gays and he was touched by letters he had received from gays who were ‘socially wounded’ because of the church’s vocal condemnation of gays. THAT is how a religious leader should conduct himself, not spreading intolerance.

    • Thanks, ol’ friend! Yep, the bigots and hypocrites are a drag. I only recently joined a church and have only positive first impressions, but I expect I’ll encounter some dumbassery over the long haul. It’s probably statistically inevitable.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s