Micro Messiah

June 24, 2009 // 7:54 pm

Micro-Mesiah

By Michael James Nelson

In my spare time, sometimes I find myself thinking about Jesus. We all have a general idea of how Jesus passed his time here on Earth, but how is he spending it now? Is he lounging around Heaven, enjoying life at a level the living cannot possibly comprehend? Or, is he a very busy man? You know God has a lot on his golden plate, dealing with all the different galaxies and universes and dimensions, not to mention the battle that is about to erupt between the Talaxians and the Bajorans of the Triangulm Galaxy (don’t even get me started).

So, while God’s focus is often distracted by all of the activity abroad, who keeps an eye on Earth? The answer is Jesus. And Jesus doesn’t take a lunch break or show up late or spend most of his office hours searching for old flings he had here on Earth via Facebook. No, I imagine Jesus as a workaholic. Jesus doesn’t miss a nanosecond of the activity here on Earth. Jesus is a micromanager.

God might still be the boss, but the people stationed at Earth’s Control Center on the eastern side of Heaven answer directly to Jesus. They sit in front of thousands of screens in a huge room, monitoring everything. These monitors have no plugs, no wires, and are one thousand times the clarity of High Definition. These people work the controls and monitor everything. Then, in walks Jesus. White robe, long hair, with a coffee and cigarette in the same hand, He begins his pacing back and forth behind the row of chairs. He has a big chair for him, but He never uses that chair.

“Status report,” Jesus says, after a long gulp of coffee. The guy pounds the stuff. “Good morning, Jesus. Today the cease-fire is barely holding in the promise land, Earth’s economy is on a downward spiral, and Zimbabwe is still starving.” Jesus thinks. He paces. None of his people ever question his decisions. Every action ripples into something else, causing the most complex and delicate chain reaction ever created. A small decision like keeping little Timmy’s parents from getting a divorce could ripple out to unimaginable distances, causing China to bomb Japan and lead to rapid climate change. His people don’t understand it, they could never understand, so they just trust him. Not a birthday wish goes by without Jesus knowing. When people end their prayers with, “Through Jesus Christ our Lord”, they have no idea to what degree that request is actually executed.

Jesus kind of walked into this whole thing. After returning to Heaven, Jesus never shook his fascination for Earth. Yes, it had been a bumpy ride and in the end Earth’s habitants completely ripped him a new one, but he grew to love them, just as his father did. And as things started to exponentially expand on the horizon, God finally transferred the managerial control of Earth over to his son. Sure, God still feels the individual incidences and changes of Earth and its people, but he can smile and relax because he knows that his children are closely watched by their Big Brother.

“Jesus Christ!” someone screams. “What is it,” Jesus asks, dashing to the spot behind Thomas. “Too many multiple alerts.” Thomas explains, turning invisible dials in the air about a foot in front of him. “List them out for me,” Jesus says, head down, ready to receive the information.

“The Israelis are going to come to a decision to ignore the cease-fire. A restaurant in Syria is killing cats and cooking them as chicken tenders. An airplane is hailing a mayday call over Nashville. A volcano is about to erupt on the main island of Hawaii. A man is drowning off the coast of Sri Lanka. A Daryl Smith in Tucson, Arizona is praying for world peace. A group of rebel soldiers in Congo are sneaking up behind a UN aid convoy. Oliver Stone is out drunk driving again. A walrus cannot find its pup. A man just crapped his pants in the bathroom at a Tony Robbins seminar and is praying for it all to go away. And Annie Holcomb of Maitland, Florida is praying that her father make it home safely.”

Jesus rubs his beard covered chin. His disciples keep their eyes on the screen, knowing that their orders are about to fly at them like bee-bees exploding out of a shotgun shell. A moment.

“My father will visit Olmert in a dream tonight. Give the pilots the focus to land the plane safely, but have them land in Knoxville. And make sure the pilot meets a woman waiting for her son to return from California. Let the volcano erupt, but only half its full force. The lava can only take out seven homes, but they must be empty except for one, which will unfortunately hold a cat. The man will realize that the bottom is about three inches under him, and make sure he talks to the homeless man as he crosses the beach back to his hotel. One of the rebels will start gagging violently from the cat tenders he had for lunch, alerting the UN aid convoy in time to get away. A man in that convoy is Annie’s father. Unfortunately Daryl, that is not how it works. The pup is with us now. The mother will fill the void with another child and live a long, lovely life. The man will have to figure out how to get back to his room on his own. No one should praise Tony Robbins. Give Oliver Stone another movie to keep him off the roads.”

Immediately the disciples go to work. In mere seconds it is all done. And Jesus stands still for a moment, nodding his head. He then sips his coffee.

“We are good across the board, Jesus.”