The time I gave God a headache

Whilst I was recently perusing the latest LOL Cats pictures, a benevolent and omniscient voice came into my head. “Maggie,” the voice simply said, “this is God.” Needless to say, I crapped my pants. I quickly changed into a clean pair (because who wants to speak with their Creator in soiled skivvies?) and responded, “I’m here, God. Would you, um, like something to drink? I have some Coke in the fridge. It’s been open for a couple of days, so it’s kind of flat, but—.”

“There will be time for libations later!” God boomed. “You must listen. I have brought you good news!” My stomach flipped in anticipation. “Wait wait, don’t tell me! You’ve solved world hunger! No, wait, you’ve stopped the genocide in Darfur. Oh no, wait wait, you’ve brought peace between the Israelis and the Palestinians!”

There was an awkward silence. I thought maybe we had a bad connection. But then the Almighty told me those were all on the To-Do List. I asked if the Lord had been procrastinating about said list. God admitted Facebook had been really addicting since they added the Twitter feature. But back to the good news! “Maggie,” God said, “after hearing the prayers of a local Christian rock band, I have decided to purge you of your homosexuality.”

I asked if it would hurt. “No!” cheered God. “It will be a spiritual Ex-Lax for your soul!” I was intrigued. Ex-Lax had been effective for me in the past, but I still had a lot of questions for the first third of the Holy Trinity. I figured now was as good a time as any to ask them. “God, why exactly is homosexuality a sin?”

“Um, it’s in the Bible. Ever heard of it?” drawled God. God can sound a lot like Dave Christians when feeling snarky.

“But God,” I protested, “didn’t the movie For the Bible Tells Me So prove academically and historically that the passage in Leviticus declaring homosexuality to be an abomination is often quoted completely out of context and misused by people to fit their particular social agendas, just like Hitler’s propaganda machine did in WWII?”

God sighed in frustration and told me not to funk with the Lord’s head; I was making this way harder than it needed to be. I apologized to my Creator, but then I asked another question. “God, hasn’t homosexuality been removed from the lists of mental diseases by nearly every credible academic psychiatric association in the Western World? It’s about as much a mental disease as someone’s race or religion. This seems like the equivalent of going to Tuskegee Institute and praying for the purging of the black people.

“Besides,” I continued, “haven’t some of our world’s leading philosophers, politicians, professionals and artists been queer? Leonardo DaVinci, Walt Whitman, Oscar Wilde, Virginia Woolf, Angela Davis, Baynard Rustin, even Sophocles himself! In fact, isn’t the term ‘homosexual’ simply a social-construct we’ve developed in the last century, but really it’s been on record since Ancient Egyptian times?”

God groaned and muttered something about needing a Heavenly-strength Advil. “Look, it’s not natural. It doesn’t make babies, OK? No babies equals not natural, comprende?”

“If the entire purpose of procreation is to create babies, than do sterile couples fall under the ‘unnatural’ category, too? And what about animals?” I persisted. “Why are there so many documented cases of animals engaging in homosexual behavior, particularly among sea mammals and primates? They’re not influenced by gay celebrities or liberal television programming out in the wild. Don’t their displays of homoerotic courtship somewhat undermine the argument that homosexuality is unnatural?”

I could hear holy fingers massaging holy temples. “I’m trying to help, all right?” the Great Spirit sighed with frustration. But then I politely pointed out that many “healed” homosexuals end up trapped in unfulfilling marriages that make both parties miserable. Some even slip into depression and contemplate suicide, just because they’ve been indoctrinated with the belief that homosexuality is wrong.

“Besides,” I stated, stretching out on my bed and looking at the heavens, “this dinky little band that stopped by and made the remarks doesn’t even go to this school! The only person who can purge me from Gustavus is my parole officer. Well, that and my parents, because they pay my tuition.”

God breathed out slowly. “You know, Maggie, most of the time people jump at my offer of a clean slate. But if you’re really sure you don’t want it. …” I thanked God again for the thoughts, but really, addressing some of the items on the most holy “To Do List” would probably be a more efficient use of the Lord’s saving graces.

“So no more Facebooking!” I called, wagging a a finger.

The Almighty Creator didn’t respond.