Jesus Calls Me on My Cell Phone

I was out taking a walk on Sunday. It was beautiful, a day that was what God intended, I think, when he created them. I was walking along a road about two miles from my house, with nice upper-middle class homes on both sides and trees scattered here and there that were about six shades more vivid green than they should have been. I expected that it was a nice day where the houses weren't as affluent or the trees as well cared for, but it probably wasn't quite as pretty.

It was still cool enough that the humidity didn't require you to shower immediately on re-entering the house, and there was a pleasant breeze. In short, it was a day that the Chamber of Commerce would make a mint on if they were to bottle it and send it up to the snowy northeast.

I smiled at a lady walking her dog back by. It was a short-haired mutt that could have looked scary and mean, but was too excitable and too happy to see whoever happened to be closest.

"Herman!" she scolded at him, "let the man go by."

Herman looked sad as I walked by him and it became apparent that I wouldn't be able to play with him.

About five minutes later, as I rounded the corner so I could see the strip mall and the end of the street, my cell phone rang.

"Hello."

"Hi, Chris," Jesus said. "It's me."

"How are you?"

"I think I'm fighting off a cold. I'm tired and my throat feels a little raw and I've been sneezing up a storm."

"You ever try Zycam?" I asked.

"What's that?"

"It's like Coldeeze, but you spray it in your nose."

"I don't like nasal sprays," Jesus said. "I get all that gunk up in my sinuses and it drives me crazy."

"This just coats your nose. It gives you the zinc without everything tasting like crap," I said.

"Cool, thanks," Jesus said. It was somewhat surreal giving Jesus suggestions about how to fight a cold.

"I was thinking about what we talked about last night," Jesus said. "You were thinking about how you didn't want your son to go through some of the things you've gone through."

"Yes, I was," I said somewhat defiantly. "As you recall, I have depression issues. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

"It's too late," Jesus said, "your worst enemy has suffered with depression for a long time and you have missed a lot of opportunities to reach out to her."

"Her?"

"Another discussion for another time," Jesus said. "But you know that your kids are going to suffer from depression or something equally as weighty in their lifetime. You understand this, right?"

"Yeah," I said.

There was quiet on His side of the phone. I looked up at the sun, so that I could bask in its warmth.

"If you prevent them from experiencing this stuff...if you hide it from them, they will never be able to deal with hard things."

"They're going to get enough of that without my adding to it," I said. It had been a nice day for a walk and I didn't really want to cover this territory now.

"Paul prayed three times for God to remove the thorn from his flesh," Jesus said. "And it wasn't a typical prayer. He begged God to do it. He wept bitter tears and became angry. Some of those prayers lasted weeks. It ripped at his soul."

"And I am supposed to wish this on my children," I said, the edge of sarcasm creeping into my voice.

Would you rather have your children be happy here or after here?"

"I choose that it is not mutually exclusive," I said.

Jesus laughed at me. Always nice, when the Creator of the Universe laughs at you.

"That is not something even I was able to pull off," He said.

"I can't wish my kids the pain that I have had."

"Paul's thorn is the thing that drove him to My Father," Jesus said. "Without it, he would have never realized that he needed me. If it had been removed, he wouldn't have had to rely on My Father. Paul had a raging ego, you know."

I smiled.

"I noticed."

"I want your children to be dependent on Me," He said. "It's the best way for them to get to where they need to be in the Long Term. That's what they need to learn from you. Not about depression or whether you are good or bad, but that My Father loves them and will always provide them a home if they just ask. You need to worry about that, not whether they have pain."

"It's easy for you to say," I said. "With all respect, you don't have kids. I can't wish them pain and agony. Particularly not mine. You can't wish that on your kids if you love them. Especially if it comes from you."

"Whether it comes from you or them, it's going to come. You need to be there for them and let them know that they are yours no matter what, even if you disagree with what they did. You can't do that if you are getting wrapped around yourself and drinking too much."

I nodded, which, of course, Jesus couldn't hear on the phone.

"And I would say that you are on the receiving end, as well. Chris, you are going to do some incredibly stupid things. You already have. And you aren't bad or unworthy because of that. Because your Father will not walk away from you."

"Are my kids going to go to heaven?"

There was silence on the phone. I knew the answer, but that didn't stop me from asking the question.

"That's between them and God; you know that."

"Yeah," I said. "I know. But I love them and I can't think of them not being in heaven. "

"Now you know how He feels."

I walked for a while and didn't say anything.

"You like me," I said.

"Yes, I do."

I said good bye and walked and smiled.