Traveling with God: The Musings of a Fallen Deity

“I don’t know exactly what happened,” God said to me one Saturday morning as we marched along the sidewalks of Austin.

Early September came on beautiful in Texas. The sun had risen into a cloudless sky providing warmth. A slight breeze washed through my hair kneading my face and ears. The trees were dressed in tall formal dresses splashed with reds, greens and yellows. God spoke to me, but about exactly what I could not quite figure. It had something to do with Mankind’s past (not the WWF wrestler), God’s past, the present and future and which, if any, was most important.

God, my father, had taken to long walks on the weekends. He would typically pick one of us kids and together we would head off through the neighborhood talking along the way but often just strolling and listening to the gossip of trees. God had to carry Little Mary and Jesus. I was old enough to hike by myself. Initially God tried to make each journey unique, turning down different lanes with a calculated randomness but after about five or six times he developed a standard route. Dad pointed out the same bush or home style with each passing as if he was seeing it for the first time. We would come to the school, which was about seven city blocks away, and then we would head back towards home.

On this Saturday, Jesus and Little Mary began crying shortly after breakfast and God decided that it was a good time to head out for a break. Mom didn’t appreciate this, but God said that he thought he needed to spend some quality time with his eldest daughter. We all knew it was an excuse for an escape and more specifically, a walk.

God said that a walk nourishes the soul in a way that few other spiritual morsels could. He said this is why Jesus N.T. could always be found walking.

I skipped along his side (skipping was okay but God said that power walking was a creation of Satan) while God walked with a determined stride. We covered the first three blocks without sharing any words and then he just started speaking. The words started slowly, like sleep sneaking up, but then gathered speed as the blocks passed us by and the pieces became concrete in my father’s mind.

“I used to rule this world with an iron hand,” he sighed. “People prayed to me, and not just on Sundays. I was tough and people respected me.”

“Respect and fear are not the same thing, Dad,” I repeated something that he had said to me many times in the past.

Dad smiled. “You are right there, Jellybean, respect and fear are not the same thing. For some their adulation grew from fear. The true follower, however, held a genuine respect and love for God. The disciples knew that if they put their faith in God then he would provide for them. They did not fear their Lord. When I look back, I have no regret for the days in which I provided for my followers; it is the devastation that causes me to pause. The days in which, rather than showing compassion, I wielded my sword are the days that bring me sorrow. I once destroyed the whole world just because people stopped paying attention and that occurred before television was the big distraction. Do you realize that humans spend more time worrying about fictional characters flickering across a glass tube than they do their own souls?”

“I think it is because people can see those characters on the television, but they can’t see their soul,” I said.

God stopped walking and looked at me. “How did you get so smart?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

God started walking again. “People could see souls if they just looked more closely,” God said. “Not only can they see the soul, but feel it. A person could reach out and grasp the soul’s power if only they opened their mind to its light. Souls are really quite beautiful. They carry a phosphorescent halo in a multitude of colors that varies on their keeper. Although keeper is not quite the right word; we are more like companions to the soul.”

“Noah’s soul was green,” God said. “His green was of a young pasture of wheat at dusk. I told Noah that his next door neighbors were lazy; that all they cared about was the pursuit of immediate gratification.” I looked at a redbird sitting up high on a tree branch and wondered if I pursued immediate gratification. “Noah argued that his neighbors weren’t evil people. He said they just had poor coping mechanisms. Can you believe that?” God laughed. “Poor coping mechanisms, that Noah was way ahead of his time. That’s how I knew he was the one. He was thoughtful, caring and hard working. He loved his neighbors even though they laughed at him for his righteousness, which he did not flaunt like some of these so-called Christians today. I thought Noah was a man that I could rebuild the world around. So even with Noah coming to their defense I took them all out, animals and all. I was frustrated and thought that starting fresh was the best idea.”

“But the animals,” I uttered.

“Exactly,” Dad went silent and I could tell that he was hurting. “The animals were doing just fine. They were living the lives that I had designed for them but still I destroyed most of them. It definitely was a good month to be a fish.”

“Or a bird,” I added.

“Well, lets just say that it was a good month to be a fish and leave it at that,” God said.

I thought about the birds and wondered if they were able to maintain flight until the waters receded.

“I can look upon it now and realize that it wasn’t the best reaction. I had just finished doing battle with Lucifer in Heaven and I guess I just sort of displaced some of that frustration on Man. It seemed as though everybody was turning against me, in Heaven and on Earth. It was all a new experience for me, being God and all, and I guess I didn’t handle it so well. No wonder the Old Testament paints me in such a harsh light.”

“The whole thing with Egypt really upsets me also. Locusts, frogs, turning the Nile red: those were just parlor tricks. They were supposed to convince the Pharaoh of my true power. Scare him a little. But the Pharaoh was a stubborn man; he figured me for just a little, old, fat, bald man standing behind a curtain pulling levers and pushing buttons. And again I just lost it. Became irate by his insolence and sent the Angel of Death down to take all those first born sons.” God stopped speaking as if there could be no right way to complete this thought.

The school approached and I expected to turn around but God kept walking. I watched our school pass away behind us.

We walked in silence for the next couple of minutes. We were now moving into a part of town that I didn’t recognize. My legs were starting to get tired but I didn’t know what to say. Even though I wasn’t sure exactly what God was talking about, it seemed important.

“Those kids had nothing to do with the Pharaoh’s stubbornness,” he finally said. “Neither did their parents. Most of the children killed belonged to the working class Egyptians who knew little of the Pharaoh’s battle with Moses. I sent the Angel anyway. Do you have any idea how many children died on that day?”

I shook my head in answer.

“I do. I know exactly how many because I had to face all of their souls afterwards. Can we ever make up for the trespasses of our youth?”

“Sure we can, Dad,” I replied.

God looked down on me in shock. I don’t think he was expecting an answer. “Come again,” he said.

“I said sure we can Dad,” I picked a leaf off the ground and twirled it in my hands. “When I started the second grade Becky Stadler and I were enemies because she had a Flight Attendant Barbie she thought was too good to play with my Ken doll pilot. We never even spoke to each other except to say something mean. Then, at the beginning of Third Grade, Sister Agnes of Agony made the two of us partners on an art project. We used our Barbie and Ken dolls in a diorama depicting Jesus healing the ten lepers. Becky even cut the nose off of her Flight Attendant Barbie.” I dropped the leaf and watched it glide back to the earth. “Ever since then we have been best friends.”

“And the dolls that initially tore you apart actually played a pivotal role in bringing you together,” Dad said.

“No, Sister Agnes of Agony brought us together. Dad, were you even listening to what I said. Just because Becky was too stuck up to play Barbies with me in the second grade didn’t mean we had to stay enemies for ever.”

“Yes, I was listening Jellybean,” God rubbed my back. “Maybe you are right. While we can not alter the past, we can change ourselves and therefore the future we create.”

I looked at God thinking that we had just said two different things, but he seemed pleased so I kept quiet. I thought now would be a good time to turn around. My calves were complaining. We had headed past the big road we always drove to and crossed it on a walking bridge. The cars raced below us, all heading off towards their futures.

“I didn’t come to a revelation with Noah or Egypt. Unfortunately sometimes we have to fall two or three times before the lesson is learned. After turning Lott’s wife to salt, I just started wondering what I was doing. I had transformed from the Supreme Creator into some sort of mass serial killer. I had to sit back and think awhile. What was the purpose of this world I created and what did I really want for the people I put in it? I came to the realization that humans to me were like my children. They never asked to be here. I formed them so I had to have a purpose for them, a reason for their existence. I determined that I was obligated to them because I was their creator, not the other way around.”

“Well, the reason for their existence was really quite easy. People are constantly looking for a complex meaning to life. They long for immortality of the physical life and measure importance by way of power and fame. The answer to their longing is so simple. So obvious.”

“Be kind,” I said.

God looked at me and smiled. “You are wise beyond your years, Jellybean. You understand the path, which is inseparable from the destination. The purpose in life is for people to create a Heaven on Earth. Despite what many have said, it is possible. People achieve this by living in peace and harmony, in essence by being kind.”

“My experience had taught me that I could not force Eden upon people,” God said. “Just ask Jill. After much deliberation I decided to let people choose their own life. I mean really choose. Jack and Jill were not thrown out of the Garden of Eden; they walked out. Living in the Garden, did people really have the freedom to find heaven? I mean any dime store psychoanalyst could see that I was trying to force people to act in a way that I wanted. Well they showed me, didn’t they? Even faced with the threats of death, sorrow and pain, people followed their own will. They still do that today. People live to take a bite from the apple.”

“Independence,” God exclaimed. “I made that spirit strong in humans. And I have to say that I don’t regret it even though it has given me some headaches. I should have made them a little more humble and it wouldn’t have hurt if I could convince them that it is not a sign of weakness to be dependant on others; that it truly is a wonderful thing when you need others. But, who is perfect? Even Barbara Streisand couldn’t convince people of that one and she is a Siren.”

At this point I decided that God was not really talking to me, but using me as a way to not appear insane as he walked down the street mumbling to himself. We came to a small blue house and as we passed I looked at the trees that were beginning to change colors. Soon the leaves would fall, blanketing the grass in a kaleidoscope. There were two people coming out of the house dressed really nice. One was carrying a baby. They looked happy.

“Did you know Lott loved his wife?” God said.

“The one you turned into salt?” I asked.

“Yes, that one,” God looked like I just poured some of Lott’s wife into his wound. “Salt. What was I thinking? They lived in a desert. It wasn’t even useful to him,” God laughed.

God often told jokes for his own benefit then laughed quietly all alone. It was one of the things I really loved in my father: the ability to amuse himself especially when he was feeling sad. God truly wanted what was best.

“It wasn’t until I became human that I really understood what a harsh God I had been. Lott had begged me to spare Ellen from the destruction of Sodom. He told me she was the world to him and don’t think that didn’t bug me. I should have been the world to him, not his wife. Initially I spared her, but once again just like the apple hanging from the tree in the Garden of Eden I dared her to defy me. I made her. I could see the blaze of her soul. I knew she would turn around and when she did I was too vain to back down from my threat. To turn the love of one’s life into a column of salt; I know now just how cruel that was.”

“Well, I gave up and decided that I wanted humans to love me because they wanted to not because I had forced them or coerced them with threats of a blazing hell. I decided to let people develop on their own, and damn if those Romans didn’t create a world of chaos and havoc. They conquered, oppressed and tortured everybody to the point that once again everybody thought I was punishing them. ‘Oh, God sent the Romans to punish us’ they would cry.”

“You know, Jellybean, some people give me credit for everything good; others blame me for everything bad. Why is it all or nothing with people? Of course I wanted people to worship me so I guess it’s partly my fault too. I took credit for beautiful sunsets even though that was just a fluke.”

“You didn’t make sunsets?” I asked surprised by this revelation.

“Well honey, when you get older you’ll realize that the Universe is a rather large place. I really couldn’t be directly involved with every aspect so I delegated certain responsibilities to my underlings. I mean I really enjoyed sunsets and thought the whole star thing was really cool, but I didn’t come up with them myself. Actually, it was Lucifer who created the sun quite by accident; he was always playing with fire. I did have final approval though.”

“What else didn’t you directly make?” I asked.

“Honey that’s not really the point. As the Chief Executive Officer of Heaven I oversaw the construction of the entire Universe. You can say that I kind of put it all together. Everything you see carries a part of my soul.”

“Sounds to me like you’re trying to take all the credit again,” I said while looking at a rose bush that we were passing and wondering if God designed flowers.

“Well Mary, what I did or did not directly produce is not what’s important. What is important is that I wanted to set things right. I wanted to make amends for my past. So, I sent Jesus down two thousand years ago. He was supposed to let everybody know that their God loved them. His message, that I wanted this world to be a wonderful place where people care for and help each other, was simple and clear. I want people to see each other as I see them: members of the same family; parts of the same body; elements of one glorious molecule.”

“Molly Cue?” I asked.

God must not have heard me because he didn’t answer my question. Instead he kept speaking about his first son. “They didn’t have to crucify Jesus, you know. When I sent him down it was not preordained. I do not write the scripts, as everybody would have you think. I simply put the actors on the stage, where they choose to go with it is up to them. Life is improvisation. However, understanding the nature of mankind and human frailties, the crucifixion did seem inevitable.”

“People just weren’t ready for the truth. Life under the Romans was too hard and there was so much dysfunction. People wanted something greater. They need to know that there is something that they are working towards. Jesus failed to give them it. They were waiting for God’s imminent rescue, a God in a golden chariot to bring them to another place, a futuristic heaven. They did not want to hear of heaven on earth. People did not want the son of a carpenter to tell them that only by giving up all of their material possessions and walking from town to town helping people would they discover fulfillment and happiness. To the Israelites, earth was an imperfect place. The idea that the whole purpose of this life was to work towards a heaven on earth, that to love each other and the wonder that arises from life would be more than enough, for some reason for many people, it was not enough.”

We came to another curb and God stopped. We waited for a car to pass and then God stepped off the curb and into the street. I went with him, wondering when we were ever going to turn around and head home.

“That message got all messed up,” God shook his head. “I never thought that the insecurity of man was so great that he would actually nail someone to a cross for suggesting that peace was a good thing. But then almost two thousand years later they did it again to John Lennon. Unfortunately, not only did people misunderstand my son’s message but also many twisted it all up and started using Jesus’ words as weapons. I just got so frustrated I had to get out.”

“So I came here and I have you and your mother and Jesus and little Mary and I love you all. I tell you, it would be very hard for me to love someone who turned your mother into a pillar of salt. Or took one of you from me as a way to punish the President of this country. You are my world. While the message may be difficult for the entire planet to grasp, I find that in smaller units it is already a reality. Within this small part of Earth we have harvested Heaven, Jellybean. While I know that it is not always so easy to love those that we are close too, it is always worth it.”

God stopped. We had come to the end of the road and looked out upon the river that ran along the edge of our city. I thanked God or whichever one of his underlings for placing it there. The water was deep and dark and rushing past us. I reached down to rub my aching legs.

“Oh my,” God said looking around and for the first time realizing how far we had come. “We seemed to have walked much further than I thought. I’ll tell you what, Jelly bean.” God crouched down and reached an arm around my waist. “Why don’t you jump up on my back for a little piggyback ride? Remember, God only asks that you walk half way; I will carry you the rest.”