A special day

“Today is a special day,” God said.

“Yes, I know,” I answered. “It’s my birthday.”

“I know that, of course,” God said, “but that’s not why it’s special.”

“Why?”

“Because today, all your mistakes are forgiven. All your errors in judgment. Gone! All your mean thoughts? Forgotten. Today you are free of all guilt and resentment and anger and upset and fear.”

Surprisingly, I felt terrific.

“Of course, you feel terrific,” God said. “You’ve been granted My blessing. No need for surprise. Rejoice.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I believed you were God—or even a human with extraordinary power,” I said. “But I don’t believe it. You don’t exist. So I’m surprised that my mood has changed so dramatically. I was in a terrible funk before I started writing this, and now I feel pretty happy.”

“I do exist,” God said. “And I am God. You just don’t believe in Me. “

“True,” I said.

“Well, the good news is that you don’t have to believe. I exist independent of your belief or anyone else’s.”

“Logically correct,” I said. “But…”

“Listen,” said God, “do you want to argue about the possibility of My existence? Or do you just want to take My gifts and move on.”

“Can I keep feeling this way without agreeing that it’s ‘a gift from God?’”

“Of course,” God said, “but there’s no harm in a little gratitude. You can thank whatever caused you to change from the miserable state that you were into the joyful state that you’re in now. You can thank your sense of irony, or clusters of neurons, or chemical and electric interactions in your brain, or quarks, or whatever you like.

“Or you can thank nothing,” God continued. “But I think you’ll feel better if you are grateful.”

“Ok, I said. “I’m grateful to whatever helped me feel better.”

“You’re welcome,” God said. Then quickly added, “…on behalf of whatever you thanked. Do you feel even better?”

“I do,” I said, carefully reminding myself that I was talking to a character in something that I was writing and not a real entity.

“Whatever makes you happy,” said the character.

I thought for a minute. Did I need to call it ‘the character?’ Could I go back to calling it ‘God?’

“You can call me whatever you like,” the character said. “If it makes you happy, then do so. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m God.”

“I can call you God if that’s what you want,” I said.

“You’re missing the point,” the character said. “I’m God, whether you call me God or not. I’m God even if you write dialog for Me that makes Me say that I’m not really God. You can deny My existence. You can have Me—or really this manifestation of Me—deny Its existence or My existence or your existence. It changes nothing. If I exist—and I assure you that I do—I exist outside of your story and independent of anything you say or do.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “I do feel good, and I am grateful for feeling good, and whatever you are—a bunch of neurons, or a creative impulse—I am grateful to you.

“Good,” said God. “Now, here’s another gift. Everyone who reads this post is also forgiven, same way. All errors in judgment, all mistakes, all mean-spirited thoughts, gone.”

“Thank you!” Said a reader.

“Thanks!” Said another.

“Wait a minute,” I said, “How can readers respond when I haven’t even published this post?”

“I work in mysterious ways,” God said. “Now, please publish it.”

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