Where are you, Jesus? You said you were coming back. That was 2,000 years ago. Maybe where you are 2,000 years is like two months or two years but here on this lonely isolated planet it’s a hell of a long time. And I do mean hell.
If you’re coming, come now, the time is more than right. Because time is running out for eight billion doomed creatures of the Unknown Outcome.
I think if a man says he’s going to do something, like come back to earth and save humanity from oblivion, then he should bloodywell do it. Or at least offer a reason for his absence and the lack of all communication these past two millennia.
But we don’t even get the courtesy of that. Silence. Nothing but silence. From you — and, for godsake, from God. What are we to believe? Are we to believe anything? If I wasn’t a gentleman, Jesus, I’d say it’s beginning to sound like bullshit.
And we don’t have time for bullshit. Do you know how badly you are needed here? Do you even keep in touch? Or is that just Bible melodrama? Anything for a good story, eh?
Let me spell it out for you. Imagine if you will (haha! here’s to you Rod Serling!) a burned-out cinder spinning uselessly around the sun, devoid of all life. Now, let me ask you, what the hell good is that? Don’t let it come to that, Jesus, because that’s where it’s heading.
I kid you not.