TEATIME WITH GOD

There was knock at the door accompanied by the sound of trumpets. Peter opened the door. The shadows fled as blinding light filled the room. He squinted and saw a person floating in the air with wings on their back.

“Do not be afraid, for I am an angel of the lord,” they said.

“No thank you,” he said. He started to shut the door. The door resisted; the light flashed red.

“I bring good news.”

“I’m not interested.”

“God has chosen to visit you for afternoon tea.” Suddenly a host of angels appeared praising God.

“Sorry, I don’t believe in God.” he forced the door shut.

Bang! The door opened. It slammed into the wall cracking the plaster. He felt weightless. He flew towards the table. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was sitting at the table. A tablecloth, with little angels embroidered on it, placed itself on the table. He felt something bump into his hand. It was a teacup. He pulled his hand back. The teacup made huffing sound while turning its handle to him. The table was set, with a tea set, that he did not own. Beside him, there was a plate of angel cookies.

Another cup set in front of an empty chair. No, it was not empty; there was a presence there. It was like the whole of the universe contained in one person. He looked away quickly. It took another moment for his mind to return to the present. Look at it too long and you would be lost forever, he thought.

A voice came from the presence, “Try the cookies.” One of them started floating towards him.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in you,” he said, “I know for a fact that you don’t exist.”

“I exist for I am here.”

“I am never wrong,” his eyebrows were raised; he looked down his nose at the presence. The cookie reached him and starting bouncing off his head. Through the contact, he received a revelation. Deep down in his being, he knew that God was real.

“No!” he said as his face turned red, but then the color drained away and he slid into a hunched position. “No, I see the truth now.” For a moment, his head was bent and the side of his mouth twitched upward.

“Now thou can go and spread my word.” With that, there was a flash of light and the presence was gone.

Beep! He ran to his computer.

“I believe in God.” a person on the Internet said. Peter’s face was red, but no longer from embarrassment. He looked at the words, but he did not see the person on the other end.

“Let me tell you why you are not only wrong, but you should feel bad about yourself. God doesn’t—” he typed on the keyboard. Hitting each new key with more force. It groaned under the constant barrage.