April 23, 2005

Yesterday I saw God wander down the highway clothed in a pillar of cloud. He seemed shaky and unsure of himself, his essence spinning and spewing forth across the asphalt. He hummed gently as he drew near, and my heart trembled, touched by a mystery almost understood.

“I am Craig Radcliffe’s personal Jesus,” I said, confessing my sins. “I have two warts on my feet and a hole in my soul. I believe in postmodernity and nihilism. Tomorrow I will flunk my last exam ever.”

He continued to hum, largely indifferent to my anguish. By night he’s a pillar of fire walking through deserts, and I wanted to follow him for 40 years if he would let me. At that moment, I forgot the ancient admonitions, and brought out my camera to take his picture. Encounters with God must always be mediated by technology. Displeased, He paused, stopped humming, and transformed himself into ordinary eternal machinery.

And life suddenly seemed meaningless and demented — God became a little tractor that dusts the sidewalks and leads us not into temptation.