September 12, 2008 § Leave a comment

Davis wants to have dinner with Jesus

On the bus I put my hands calmly in my lap and recite what I would say over dinner with Jesus. How I would ask him how he is doing, how I would say it exactly like this: “Hello Jesus, how are you?” How I expect he will smile and nod politely, and be thrilled to be having dinner with a man in the twenty-first century. How I will ask Jesus to pass the salt and he will say something funny, a simple joke about how I’m already the salt of the earth. How I will laugh at the joke and Jesus will smile because he appreciates the laughter.

How I will say “Look! I think I see the pattern of Jesus in the window condensation! But– oh, it’s just His reflection!”, and we will all laugh again, and then, ice firmly broken, finish our meals.

How, when we are waiting for the plates to be cleared, I will look at Jesus in the eyes and say, “Oh, Jesus, what was it like being dead?” and his eyes will brim up with tears and understanding, and he will say “It was terrible.” I will know exactly what he means, and Jesus will know that I have a good, kind, heart. At the end of the meal I will offer to pay the bill (I do not want to look cheap for Jesus), but Jesus will wave me off and pay by converting a big jug of water into expensive, delicious, wine. The wait staff will cheer and jump, and Jesus will take me by the shoulder and lead me outside.

How he will give me a pat on the back and a wink and say “Just do good by others, is all,” and I will understand, I will understand everything, and I will know that Jesus thinks I am a good and worthy man.

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