Nate for President

John never thought that he was crazy until he was 25. 

He had no reason to think he was different from any one else in the world, because up until he turned 25, he wasn’t. From the ages 1-24, he was, quite frankly, normal. Sure, when he was 14, he experienced the insecurity and self loathing that any kid feels as they pass through puberty. But he still played sports with his friends during the summer, got in fights with other freshly-testosteroned young men, and once got drunk off two whole beers he stole from his neighbor’s garage. 

Then in high school, at the age of 17, he became editor of the school newspaper, tried smoking marijuana twice, and told his parents he was joining the military instead of going to college. But of course, John then went to college, where he joined a fraternity, studied Political Science, frequented bars, parties, and concerts, and by the age of 22, had lost his virginity at least three different times to at least three different women. Not a terribly unique story by any means. Until one evening when he was 25. That’s when John first heard the voice of God.

“Where are you going?” God asked.

It was a Tuesday evening and John was driving home from work in his silver Mazada. The voice of God came down from the heavens and surrounded him like a blanket. It didn’t crash like thunder, or blast his ear drums like it was being delivered from a bullhorn. It was as if every single thing, all noise, all life around him had been paused. The radio volume was smoothly turned to zero and the entire world outside of John’s car, as if instructed by a kindergarten teacher, had been politely but firmly told to “shhhhhhhhhhhhhh”. There was nothing else but the voice.

Like any other human being who had never had previous contact with a celestial, supernatural, or even extraterrestrial life form, John was caught off guard. He wasn’t startled or frightened, and didn’t frantically slam on the breaks or even swerve into oncoming traffic like one might envision when an unsuspecting person thinks there is someone in their backseat- a uninvited hitchhiker or serial rapist, for example. 

It wasn’t even like those times when you’re walking through a grocery store and you mistakenly think someone at the end of the aisle is calling your name. John knew this voice was directed towards him, and he knew it wasn’t a common Tuesday afternoon rush-hour occurrence. 

So naturally John hesitated to answer. Waiting to see if the voice would say something again.

It did.

“Where are you going?” God repeated.

Another minute passed as John, as if in a stupor, continued to drive.

John eventually responded in a meek voice,”Ummm…hello?”, realizing that responding to the ominous voice validates the weirdness of thinking he heard the voice in the first place.

Almost immediately, as if to not lose the suspension of disbelief that John was currently feeling, God answered.

“Hello, Jonathan Michael Armstrong, son of Michael William Armstrong. This is the God of the heavens and the earth, and I’ve asked you twice now where you are going.”

Confused, flustered, etc. John responded, “Hey…huh…hi, hello Lord. I’m um, I’m presently going to…church.”

“No you’re not.”

“Haha umm…yeah, I mean I wasn’t planning on it, right now per say, but if you’d like me to….”

“You are, if I’m not mistaken from your thoughts before leaving work today, driving to the grocery store in order to purchase, as long as it’s under eight dollars, a six pack of Miller Lite.”

John paused, and cleared his throat. For whatever reason, the shock that took over his body didn’t leave him scared or even debilitated. He was stripped of all fears, and preconceived thoughts. He was just there, in his car, driving home from work on Tuesday, and also having a conversation with the one and only God of the universe.

“God?” John asked.

“Yes, Jonathan?” 

“Does this mean I am going insane?”

“No.” God responded in a firm, but also comforting voice.

“Well, if that’ the case, God…. can you tell me if the beer going to be under eight bucks or not?”