The Deacon's Bench - October, 2010

I was walking around the block the other day, admiring the loveliness of autumn, when God showed up and joined me. I said hello and we struck up a conversation.
“Does autumn remind you of anything, Tim?” God asked.
“Lots of things, God,” I said. “What would you like me to see?”
“I’d like you to see that you’re in the autumn of your life, Tim,” God said. For some reason that sent a chill up my spine.

“Why are you afraid, Tim?” God asked.
“I’m not afraid,” I replied quickly.
God wasn’t buying that and just gave me one of those looks.
“Well, OK,” I said, “I’m a little afraid. Sometimes I feel as if I haven’t accomplished much in life, and that time’s running out.”
“And you figure I’ll be waiting for you with your report card in one hand and a baseball bat in the other when you show up at the pearly gates?” God inquired.
“If I were you I would be,” I said.
“Good thing you’re not me, wouldn’t you say?” God observed.
I agreed, and we walked along quietly together for a while.

“Where does that fear come from, Tim?” God asked.
“Well” I told God, “when I see all the kids go back to school, I remember my own youth and how everything we did was graded. Later on it was performance reviews at work. It was always about other peoples’ expectations, results and judgment. I hated it when it was phony and I feared it when there were real consequences.”

God was quiet for a bit as we walked along. “Maybe it’s not like that with me at all,” God said. “Maybe what’s really important is what you’ve become rather than what you’ve done.”
I was puzzled and asked God to explain a little more.
Always agreeable, God said “Sure. Have I ever shown you the book I’m writing?” I innocently said “no” and in that moment sensed a suppressed laugh. Then God handed me a small sliver of paper. “This is from a part closer to the end than the beginning,” God said. “Read it aloud.”

It wasn’t even a full sentence. It just said, “…everything he could to ease the suffering of his beloved, and tasted suffering himself. They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes with love and realized that without consciously knowing it they had become one.”

I handed the slip of paper back to God and as I did so, God said “Tell me what the book’s about Tim.”
“From one slip of paper?” I exclaimed. “I can’t do that!”
“Good observation,” God said. “Can you tell me what kind of story it might be though?”
“Sounds like a love story of some kind,” I guessed.
“Right,” God said, “those are the only kind I write. Would you like to be one of the characters in it?”
“I think so,” I replied.
“Good thing,” God said, “Because you already are. This is your story, Tim.”
I stopped in my tracks, shocked. Then I asked God, “Umm…just how close to the end of the story was that little passage?”
“That would be telling, Tim,” God said with a smile. “Will you let me create the character in you that I need in my story?” I was too awestruck to respond so God just said “I’ll take that as ‘yes’.” I felt God’s arm around my shoulders and we finished our walk in together in happy silence.