Jesus Returns&Christians Think He's Nuts

                    Jesus Returns, and the Christians Think He's Nuts


         Spittle flew from the mouth of the Reverend J. J. Bilge, but he decided it would kill the mood if he stopped to wipe off his chin. Best let the congregation believe he was experiencing a moment of rapture. "And so it is written!" he continued, following the dictum he learned in community college: When in doubt, pad your homilies with a lot of quotations. "It is written that the heavenly Jay-sus shall have a second coming! The great, immortal Jay-sus shall walk the earth again and bless us with his teachings of love! And tolerance! And that gay marriage is a sin! All praise Jay-sus! Sweet, sweet Jay-sus! Hallelujah! Amen! Praise the Lord Jay-sus!"
         "Amen!" shouted various members of the flock.
         "Hallelujah!" shouted various others.
         "You're gosh-darn tootin'!" said Earl.
         But the widow Myra, sitting in the front row, was unusually disquieted. As the clamoring faded, she poked a fragile, withered finger in the air. "Excuse me, Reverend?"
         Bilge, his arms still suspended in the air, cracked one eyelid open as he located the source of the interruption. "Yes, widow Myra? Have you decided to contribute more financial support to the house of the Lord Jay-sus? Cuz we already cashed your last check."
         "Actually, I just had a question," she said, with an odd mix of timidity and determination. "I know it was written that Jesus will return—"
         "Hallelujah! Jay-sus shall re-turn!"
         "Yes, yes," Myra said, waving him down before the crowd could start in again. "But Reverend—and I hate to be a pain—could you be a little more specific as to when Jesus will return? It's not that I'm having doubts, mind you! It's just that, well, I'm kind of getting up there, and I'd like to be here on earth when Jesus returns. It's been over two thousand years now, and frankly, I'm getting a little tired of waiting."
         "Well, now, Myra, that's sweet. I know we are all eager to embrace Jay-sus in our arms, but you must realize that he lives with us now in our hearts—"
         "Oh, spare me the crap, Reverend!" Myra blurted out. "I want to see Jesus! I want him here right now!"
         Bilge cleared his throat. "Well, uh, Myra, one doesn't just summon Jay-sus—"
         "Hold on there, Reverend!" said Earl, rising from his seat in the third row. "I right think the wider's got herself a good point thar! We've been praying and praying long enough. Now I want some action! I'm allus afeared that Jaysus is gonna show up whiles I'm on the can or sumpin', and then I'll miss him! I want ‘im here now, so's I won't be late for the Monster Truck rally at seven!"
         "Unless," Myra put forward, "Jesus isn't coming after all."
         The crowd gasped.
         "Now, Myra," Bilge cautioned her with a stern finger, "don't you lose your faith in Jay-sus  now. I'm sure he'll come very, very soon."
         "Yeah, but when?" said Earl.
         "And how can you be so sure?" shouted Wayne from the back row. "Like the widah said, it's been two thousand cotton-pickin' years! We want Jaysus!"
         "Yeah!" said another. "Summon Jesus!"
         "Folks, please!" said Bilge, holding up his arms not in spiritual ecstasy but in an attempt to regain control. "Do you believe in the Bible? Do you believe in the Holy Word of God? Do you believe in the message of Jay-sus? Then you must believe, sure as I'm standing here, that the Lord Jay-sus will in fact return! I'm sure of that with all my heart and all my soul! I'm so sure of it, that I would not be surprised if the Lord Jay-sus just walked in through the door!"
         With that, Jesus walked in through the door.
         The congregation spun around to face the man who just entered. Dressed in a dirty robe and wearing only sandals on his feet, the dark-skinned man wore a long beard, while his hair was cut short, making him look almost bald.
         "Holy shit," Reverend Bilge said under his breath.
         "My children," announced the stranger in a bold yet mellow voice. "I have returned."
         A long pause followed.
         Someone coughed.
         Slowly, the crowd turned their gaze away, fiddling with their possessions as they looked quizzically about.
         The man named Jesus looked around. "What? What's the matter?"
         "Can I help you, sir?" said Bilge.
         "No, my child. Rather, I have come to help you." The voice, so commanding and reassuring, drew the eyes back to him. He continued, "You see, my children, two thousand years ago, I took your sins with me to the cross, where I gave my life so that you could be free. And now you repay me with your love, your prayers, your devotion, and by name-dropping me into the conversation about 600 times a day. And I just want you to know: You all make me kind of sick."
         Bilge said, "Excuse me, mister?"
         "You see," Jesus explained, "it has come to my attention that, despite all your affirmations of devotion to me, my lessons of love and tolerance are not being rigidly adhered to. My name and my teachings should never be used to justify bigotry, hatred, and intolerance. And that is why I have chosen to come here, to the Church of the Wife Who Must Submit to Her Husband, to teach you once again that good deeds are the path to Heaven, not just shouting my name in a cynical attempt to make me think you've been paying attention."
         Wayne shouted at him, "Get out of here, you nutball!"
         "I beg your pardon?" asked Jesus.
         "You clearly need help, boy," said Earl. "Dressin' yerself up and pretendin' to be Jaysus! That's downright heresy! I got half a mind to get my shotgun outta my truck and whup yer ass!"
         "Sir," said Bilge, a bit more diplomatically, "if you're done disturbing our worship, could you please leave?"
         "I don't think you understand," Jesus said. "I am Jesus, and I have returned, just as you asked me to."
         "That is a cruel prank, young man!" said Myra. "We all know what Jesus looks like, and you look nothing like him!"
         Jesus smiled. "Oh, I see. Yes, well, I am from the Middle East, after all, and my genetic makeup reflects that. Naturally, my skin and hair are darker than you see in most modern Western art. But it's not as though we had digital cameras two thousand years ago. I assure you, despite how you expected me to appear, I am in fact Jesus of Nazareth, returning in the second coming that I promised you, and that you all claim to believe in."
         "Get outta here, hippie!" said Earl.
         "Yeah, before we call the cops!" said Wayne, and the disgruntled crowd murmured its agreement.
         "Children, listen—"
         "We ain't the children here, hippie!" said Earl. "You're the one dressin' up like a fairy and goin' round claimin' he's Jaysus!"
         "Look," said Jesus, a little impatiently. "You all knew there would be a Second Coming. And now it's here. You all believed in it, so why can you not believe your own eyes? Why can you not believe that I have returned?"
         "Because Jaysus wasn't no stinkin' terrorist!" shouted Earl.
         "Look, Earl—"
         "Hey! How'd you know my name?"
         "Lucky guess. Now, look: In the first place, that's a very un-Christian comment to make. Not all people of Middle Eastern descent are terrorists. Secondly, this kind of relates to what I said earlier, about my teachings of love and tolerance not being rigidly adhered to? Remember when I said that? Because it was, like, a minute and a half ago."
         "See? You're a hippie!" said Wayne. "You're one of those America-hating, pot-smoking, funny-dressing, Democratic hippies!"
         "My child—!"
         "Yeah!" said Earl, walking over to Jesus. "Now if you don't mind, we're waitin' for the real Jaysus to show up, and we don't want no stinkin' hippie freak here when he does!"
         "Earl. Love and tolerance, remember?"
         "Get outta here, heretic!" said Earl, giving Jesus a shove.
         "That's really unnecessary," Jesus said.
         "No hippie freak pretends he's Jaysus around me!" said Earl, shoving Jesus again.
         "That's enough, my child—!"
         "Get outta here, looney toon!" Earl shoved him again.
         "Okay, back off!" Jesus snapped. "Seriously, Earl, I love you as I love all of God's children, but you're this close to being smited."
         "Ooooh, is that a threat there, Akhmed? I kin take you terrorists anytime! I'll give you a swift boot in the—"
         At that moment, a yellow and blue lightening bolt shot down, seemingly from the ceiling of the church, smiting Earl and reducing him to ashes.
         The crowd gaped at the burning, smoking hole in the church carpet. After a moment of shock, Wayne shouted, "He really is a terrorist! He blew up Earl!"
         The crowd rose menacingly to their feet, shouting denunciations that could be charitably described as un-Christian.
         "Okay, folks, please!" said Jesus, waving his arms to calm the angry mob. "Maybe I lost my temper for just a second there. But seriously—what a jackass, am I right? Trust me on this: I saw his future, and he never got any better."
         "I'll get the cops," said Reverend Bilge, heading for the phone. "Or better yet, the men with the white coats!"
         "For Dad's sake!" said Jesus. "Are you people stupid?! I'm Jesus! Jesus Christ!"
         "Stop taking the Lord's name in vain!" Myra shouted, and she was joined by several others, who shouted at Jesus, who shouted back, sweeping the room into a shouting match.
         The screaming and cursing continued until authorities dragged Jesus from the church and placed him in the psychiatric ward of the Holy Mother Hospital. However, they did not arrive before Jesus had the time to run to the church basement and overturn the Bingo table.
         
    [Taken from the book, "I'm an Idiot, You're an Idiot"]