My Take On Judgement Day

I have a personal theory on our hour of judgement... when we face God to determine our eternal fate.

I believe we get one hour in front of God and we are treated as we have treated Him during church.

So, you're standing in the front of the church and you're on the clock. You start stating your case. God, however, waking up late and struggling to convince Himself he needs to attend your judgement, gets there late. Plus, parking was a pain, so He had to walk a long way and He walked slowly because He didn't really want to get up this early anyway.

Even though you've been doing your best to convince Him of your worthiness of eternal spendor in Heaven, God finally sneaks into the back of the church, upset that the person on the end of the pew won't scoot in, forcing Him to squeeze passed everyone and sit in the middle.

He fidgets and sighs as He finally settles in, flipping through your book of accomplishments, scanning, but really thinking about the ball game that He's missing so He can sit here and listen to your story. You're now up to your teen years, where things start to go south, morally speaking. God perks up. This is starting to get interesting. He quickly bores, however, and tries to hide a long yawn behind His hands.

As you prattle on about your return to the church and your acts of Christianity, God's thoughts start to wander again, thinking about creation and what He could have done better on the sixth day. Platypuses... what was I thinking? He glances at His watch... is this person STILL talking? Another sigh escapes His mouth. This hour seems like eternity!

You're finally at the point of your life where you have become the best you can be, the apex of your Christian existence. God, however, decides to leave early. Afterall, he had to park on the otherside of the parking lot and you know how bad the parking lot is after church, everyone fighting to get out and cutting each other off. It can get ugly out there! Plus, if He hurries, He can make it home in time to still catch the majority of the ball game.

He'll do better next time. He really wants to care, but there are SO many things to do... it's not that He doesn't WANT to spend an hour with you, it's just that Sunday mornings are so inconvenient.

He'll try harder next time. Maybe go to a different mass, earlier... no later.... yeah, after next week's game is over... unless there's a doubleheader.

Ah! He'll figure it out next week.

But your time is over. You finish your presentation to an empty church wondering how much more effort it would have taken to get to church every week, to pay attention for one hour out of every 168. You wonder how many minutes did you save leaving church early all of those years? And, for the eternal life of you, you can't remember what did you do with those minutes anyway?

Boy, you sure wish you had those minutes back now... unfortunately, it's too late.