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The following exchange is a conversation with God, as expertly alluded to the title.

Inflatable Church

Me: So God, what do you think of the churches of Memphis? I recently heard that we have more per capita than even Rome. Impressive, huh?

God: Yes, there certainly are a lot of buildings here, and some have really interesting architecture. Then again there’s some that look like converted catfish restaurants. The truth is, Brent, ever since I finished the universe, I’ve pretty much stayed out of construction. These days I’m a lot more interested in the service sector.

Me: Really? I can’t say that I noticed.

God: (sigh) Yeah. Good help is hard to find.

Me: Help?…Oh right, christians. I know what you mean. They can be kind of weird; kind of freaky. Scary even.

God: They had a rough childhood, you know. Always getting beat on and fed to the lions and such. But they never stopped feeding the hungry or taking care of the poor in those early years, they made me really proud.

Me: What happened?

God: You know how kids are. They get to a certain age and they start thinking they don’t need you anymore. That they’ve got it all figured out. Of course, I’m supposed to keep providing the blessings: the sun, the rain, cheap labor in the third world. Other than that they just want me to not bother them while they sit in their rooms and talk to their friends about me.

Me: So basically, you’ve got teenagers?

God: Yeah.

Me: Sorry.

God: I know. I forgive you.

Deflated again

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