Prologue

Great, of all days, why did I have to spill coffee on my shirt today? Now my best white button-down designer shirt had a coffee stain so large, my tie wouldn’t be able to hide it. I’d received a phone call for a major interview. The conversation was brief and the person on the other end indicated I would have the opportunity to interview the Lord. I was skeptical and thought I was being punked, but my editor said it was a slow news week, so I accepted the invitation. I thought it would be a waste of time, but after doing thousands of interviews over the years I knew everyone had a story. I was intrigued by this person who claimed to be “God.” I did my usual leg work to prepare for the interview.

I looked around for a bathroom or a water fountain to try cleaning my shirt but I couldn’t find salvation. Interestingly, the walls were pale blue. I was expecting all white. I guess I had seen too many movies of what heaven would look like, and this wasn’t it. I was in a small strip mall off exit 10 in New Jersey. As I looked around for something to clean my shirt, I noticed numerous landscape prints in cheap plastic frames hanging on the walls and a rather nondescript waiting room with several beige couches. There was a coffee table with a handful of mundane magazines sprawled out, and some green plastic chairs. Nearby, a middle-aged receptionist in a discrete, but stylish dress was filing papers.

Soft background Muzac played, reminding me of a doctor’s waiting room or the lobby of a cheap hotel. I sat and ruffled through the magazines from a side table. There was Good Housekeeping, Sports Illustrated, Popular Mechanics, and even Highlights, though all had a portion of the front cover missing where the subscriber’s name and address had been cut out. Maybe they’d been donated by someone?

My attention was drawn to the receptionist. Was she a secretary or maybe an office administrator? I noticed she wore a name tag with Rebecca typed in large font, surrounded by several large red hearts that seemed to make the name tag glisten in the fluorescent light. Rebecca cleared her throat and announced, “He’s ready to see you Sam. Just go down the hallway and through the first door on the right. Oh, wait, Sam. Come here for a second.”

I walked over to Rebecca. I should have noticed her bright blue hair when I first walked in but I hadn’t before this exact moment. I also noticed the pictures of many children by her work area. She must have a very large family with all those pictures. Her dress was stylish, but not too fancy. I now saw that her nails were extremely long and bright red to match her lipstick. With all those colors she should have stuck out in a crowd- but she actually rocked her look. She reached into her desk and took out a little plastic-looking stick. She leaned over and wiped the stick over my stain. To my surprise it disappeared.

“Is that magic?” I stammered.

“No, it’s Tide Spot Remover, you should get one.”

I made a mental note to stop by the market on my way home. I guess I had my mind set that that there would be a lot of magic if this was the real “God.”  Maybe trick mirrors? Maybe some sleight of hand? If this was the Lord, how many people have ever seen him face-to-face? I thought of the miracles in Egypt and the desert. Nothing could be beyond the Lord, but that was a very intimidating thought if it was really him. My mind was so focused on miracles and how this interview itself could be a miracle. It dawned on me that many of the things I was expecting today might not be miracles, but simple solutions. But then I thought to myself that if the solutions are so simple, anyone could do them and why would I be asked to convey simple solutions?  My mind was racing.

My racing mind was understandable. Besides the fact that I was supposed to be interviewing God.  My mind swirled because I’d been specifically told it would be an informal interview. How did one dress informally for an interview with God? How was I to balance the formality of this interview with the knowledge that it was not designed to be anything other than a friendly chat? In truth, I didn’t know, but I was determined to at least look good and be in the best spirit possible for whatever I might face.

I headed back to my seat. Before I could get there, the door opened.

“Come on in, Sam.”