God was feeling content. The ambrosia had been particularly fine today, and with his belt loosened, an afternoon nap was just what the doctor ordered.
He’d already sent the angels away, and had settled in to his armchair, with his feet up and a blanket over his lap. His eyelids were heavy, and his brain was in that half way point between consciousness and sleep.
He was in the Garden of Eden, in the days when Adam and Eve were still walking around naked, and he could happily chat to them and come and go as he pleased, before that damned serpent went and ruined everything. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, birds were singing and the rivers were flowing with pure, crystal clear water.
It was his happy place, somewhere to go to when he was feeling down. Not that he was down at the moment. It was just his subconscious taking over as he drifted off into quiet slumber. The peace and quiet of the room was soon replaced by the sound of a gentle snore.
“Hi, Dad.”
He jolted awake, bleary eyed and not quite sure where he was. It didn’t take long for him to focus on his son, standing in the doorway looking a little embarrassed and rather dishevelled. There was dried blood all over his hands and feet, and a nasty looking gash in his side.
“Jesus, what are you doing here? You’re not due back for a few years yet. You look dreadful. What on Earth happened?”
“Did you not get my messages? What’s the point of praying, if you aren’t going to listen?”
“Sorry. I’ve been a bit distracted lately, what with Gabriel being all upset about the incident with the sixteen year old girl. Mary, that’s her name.”
“You mean Mum? The one you knocked up, and then left on her own to face her father, her fiancé, and the rest of the community? What in God's name were you thinking?”
“Yes, well, a bit of a cock up there, to be honest. I got a bit carried away, and then didn’t know what to do. Dear old Gabriel said he’d sort it for me, but then he went all emotional, and refused to come out of his bedroom. I’ve been trying to get him to talk to me for the past thirty years. Maybe you could have a word with him.”
“Sorry, Dad. That’s your business. It’s bad enough that you abandoned me down there. I don’t see why I should have to sort out your problems for you. I think I’ve had enough to deal with, thank you very much.”
“Fair point. So, how was it?”
Jesus sat down in a chair next to God, to his right. “This feels nice. I could get used to sitting here.”
“Well, it is reserved for you. But not yet. You’re supposed to be down there saving Humanity.”
“Yes, well, I never really did understand that bit. I go down to Earth, tell everyone what a great guy you are, I die, and somehow they’re all saved. Doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“I’ll explain it someday, when we've got more time. In the meantime, tell me everything.” He clapped his hands, and an angel appeared in the doorway. “Ah, Julian. Can you get us a tray of ambrosia, and a jug of nectar? Thanks ever so much.”
Over drinks and nibbles, Jesus explained to his father what had happened in the thirty odd years he had been a human, walking and talking with people, convincing a few that he wasn’t mad, and thoroughly upsetting the majority who thought he was.
“And then it all came to a head when that backstabbing Judas kissed me on the cheek. There I was, minding my own business, doing a bit of praying, and the next thing I know, I’m being dragged through the mud, nailed to a cross, and poor Mum is crying her eyes out. And not one of my friends did anything to rescue me. The only chap who tried to help was Pilate, but his hands were tied. I don’t think he wanted the mob to start rioting. I can’t say I blame him, to be honest.”
God took a drink, and shifted nervously in his seat, while he thought of what to say. He’d been silent all the way through, but knew he should say something now.
“OK. This is not how it was meant to be. Yes, you were supposed to die, but it could just as easily have been through old age. I don’t think I ever specified the method. I can’t remember, to be honest.”
“What do you mean, you can’t remember? I’ve been stoned, spat at, denied and eventually crucified. And you can’t remember? Well, thanks very much, Dad.”
“OK. Let’s have a think about what we should do. I can understand the Romans not being happy, what with all their gods to worship and everything. But the Jews? They’re supposed to be on my side. I did this for them. I guess there’s no pleasing some people.”
“Some people? Just about all of them, I’d say.” Jesus took another piece of ambrosia. Death had given him an appetite. “Haven't got any wine, have you? I got quite a taste for it while I was away.”
God ignored the wine comment. “Right, it’s Saturday tomorrow. They’ll all be worshipping me, and won’t be very receptive to anything else. You go and shower, and put some clean clothes on. Let me sleep on it, and I’ll let you know in the morning what I’ve decided to do. Actually, you don’t fancy popping back down for a few weeks, do you? I think I’ve just come up with a solution.”
