God sets his recliner throne on warp speed and zooms
to the celestial spot where the best view of Memorial Stadium
is to be had. The Jayhawks and Bears are playing tonight,
mostly Christian lads, both sides requesting from Him
the strength to win, their pre-game prayers blasting
the bats from the eves of the heavens,
temporarily drowning out the tepid murmurings
of all His other children. God gets comfortable.
He is gratified by the incurious minds of ball players
who generally remain devout and aren’t inclined
to become confused by all those fossils He planted
at the last minute of the third day, just for fun. So cleverly done
they would almost fool Him. Now, which side, which side?
Any action He takes must operate within the tricky intersection
of free will and determinism, as well as reconcile Chaos Theory (His creation)
with His infallible knowledge of all future events. Odds strongly favor
the Jayhawks, who have practiced their hearts out and are deserving,
but it was the Bears who sent up the more reverent prayer.
God lets the game play out, enjoying half-time entertainment
while multi-tasking by attending to His plans for every other human
being on Earth. Then, with five seconds remaining, He decides. Down
on the field the Jayhawks’ wide-receiver stumbles over an invisible
object on the AstroTurf, dropping the ball. The usual pandemonium
breaks out. My Will Be Done, says God, and sees that it is good.
—from Rattle #38, Winter 2012
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