How’s your relationship with God?
I talk. He listens. I ask. He provides. I repent. He forgives. I do my best to love. He returns the bounty tenfold.
Shaken, never stirred, by the fervor for God’s Grace awoken by the cognizance of my failures.
Not God-fearing, but a believer in redemption.
For I cannot fathom a God who would create us in His Image of sublime perfection and subsequently prohibit us from bathing in the smooth waters of His Benediction.
What does His Benediction grant you?
An opportunity to cleanse ourselves of sin.
To mold our hearts and minds into the primordial form of continual God-consciousness devotion.
He is Mine and I am His.
Being parted from My Savior renders me dumb, mute, and numb. I cannot cry out for any ecstasies.
He forgives my wandering astray from righteousness' path. For blaspheming, blustering, and bastardizing my faith into an absurd devotion-reward dynamic that spits in the face of His Message preaching unconditional love.
Then you do not practice what He preaches?
Sadly, I’ve yet to feel unconditional love for anyone. I don’t mean that I don’t love my family and friends. I just don't know how to give myself selflessly to the universal current of love and…
Of my ego.
My ambitions. My desires.
My fears, my addictions, my thoughts.
Of the many illusions that overshadow His Teachings.
Have you tried apologizing?
Lord, I’m sorry. Please transform me into a compassionate, mindful, patient, generous, and blissful soul. Ensure that love blossoms from my breast free of shame.
What do you think happens when we die?
I believe we ascend to join the angelic and eternally playful Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.
A bit too on the nose there with the LSD reference don’t ya think? What's next? Aligning your chakras? Rediscovering the well of creation that has laid dormant behind your third eye for innumerable lifetimes?
Hey, no heckling from the psychogenic peanut gallery.
George Washington Carver wouldn't have invented hundreds of peanut products had he known it'd lead to that horrendous colloquial comeback.
I’m pretty sure the father of the PB&J will forgive me.
Well, considering John Harvey Kellogg patented peanut butter, I’d say you’re outta luck there pal. However, the last three decades of Kellogg’s life were spent promoting eugenics, so we can probably award the credit for Jiffy to Mr. Carver.
It's Jif Peanut Butter and the J stands for Juru baby.
It's pronounced gif but I think that’s an argument best settled in a different, angrier Twitter thread.
Real G's move in silence like Gorgonzola.
Feta love of Christ, that's not how the lyric goes.
Gif you're done, I Havarti faux-deep pondering to resume.
Don't let me stop you.
I’m just another star burning brightly, extinguished by the morn. Reborn if I’m lucky. Or unlucky enough to have lost sight of the meaning of life.
Dissolving the ego by melding with the Universe.
Love at the anatomic, metaphysical level. Love without boundaries, demands, guilt, shame, self-loathing, impatience, fear, resentment, jealousy. Love, made beautiful by its selfless, compassionate purity.
What about you my friend, what do you believe in?
Free will, albeit constrained inconspicuously by divine design.
Doesn’t that make it only like 75% free will? It sounds like your theory was ghostwritten by Jim Steinman. I assume Sunday Service is just belting out “Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad” in the shower.
A vast improvement from worshiping at the sacrilegious altar of prosperity gospel wouldn’t you say?
Oh, we’re in full agreement there, my dude. We try to fill the void in our hearts with money. Indulging the desires lurking there with shiny toys.
Like car keys dangled to distract rambunctious toddlers?
Precisely. A glimpse of luxury and any thoughts of destiny and divinity are promptly billy-clubbed. Ready to be hauled away in the paddy wagon and quarantined in apostatic labor camps.
Even if your intentions are pure, how can you be sure He listens?
Because I want to believe in His Mercy. It’s the fundamental tenet of faith.
Faith aside, why do you let your life be controlled by dogmatic, religious-in-name-only hypocrites?
It isn’t. My conversations with God are strictly confidential. The sanctimonious preaching of drive-by, Facebook Evangelicals cannot possibly cloud my conscience.
Lucifer was definitely in God's MySpace Top 8.