I like blaming my long-suffering girlfriend for everything that goes wrong, and right, in my life; it’s as if she’s the center of a large intricate weave of occurrences that somehow become effortlessly networked. Lest you think that I’m a bit crazy, I suppose that I should share the (blasphemous) logic behind my conclusion.
My girlfriend is the physical personification of God on earth. Now, here’s the clincher: she’s not the only one. Barring Jesus, I think that there’s an invasion wave of God’s People on this planet who aren’t irrevocably Christian. Like how the Gentiles became God’s second wave over the Jews, I believe that there’s a new wave of Gentiles who’ve been picked, plucked and dried.
I’m not saying that she’s blameless or guiltless. It’s just that she’s got a rack that’s not too shabby (though I’m never around to paw at it), a fit pair of legs (that I’m never around to bite) and a good head on her shoulders (that comes packaged with a bad case of acne). And she’s also smart, witty, and diligent, to boot. And she cooks. Is that not Heaven on Earth?
Though she has done the odd dirty deed every now and then. And at times, her logic is baffling. She’s a patsy, whereas I am a pansy. She’s incredibly gullible, yet not overly naive to ditzy proportions. And in her, I find an equal in terms of knowing about the things that matter that don’t matter to everyone else who think that they do matter.
Then again, I don’t really care about the augmented product because in my own eyes, she’s rather fetching. Though it’s a pity that she doesn’t really believe that I think so. An apple of one’s eye could be a prune in another’s. No doubt.
Let’s say for instance that God did spawn a new invasion wave; a wave so big that’d delay the Rapture even further…what would that mean? Would the people who now frequent the churches so religiously (pardon the pun) accept that fact that they’re last season’s congregation? Or would they buck up, suck it in and assume their new roles as the stewards of Ye Olde Faith? Would it segregate the denominations even more? Would it bring them together?
However, take solace in this: no matter what denomination you belong to, God’s street team comprises largely of immensely nubile, unthinkably attractive, incredibly intelligent girls who’d whisk you away at a snap of a finger and a toss of long, straight, luscious hair.
As for me, I give three cheers to the invisible church, where there’s nothing to prove. It’s a place that’s truly ours. And ours alone.
I do feel guilty. But I’ll leave the judging to the Big Man Up There.