A good friend recently moved from a stand-alone home to a unit inside a building to prepare for his aging needs. He is not in need of immediate regular assistance, but the new dwelling for him is closer to help if it becomes necessary.
A month or so ago, we were driving in the car together and he remarked about the new arrangement, “I feel like I’m in God’s waiting room.” The comment is sad on the surface. It implies a downhill slide, not necessarily looking for the next good or positive thing in a life well-lived. I understood his meaning.
At the same time, in the spirit of Saturday Night Live (SNL), there’s a humorous skit in there about “God’s Waiting Room.” The room is full, people are frustrated. They can’t wait to meet with God.
Chad, the new arrival, checks in at the front desk, “Hi, I’m here for my appointment with God. How long will the wait be?”
“I’m sorry, God is running a bit late this morning. His car broke down on the way to the office. Please take a seat and we’ll let you know when he arrives.”
Chad sighs, sinks into the incredibly soft leather sofa and picks up the Christian Science Monitor to see how earth is doing now that his spirit has left those confines. Volcanic eruptions, hurricanes and forest fires dominate the news, and Chad shudders, thankful that he will soon hear from God what’s next for him.
Maura enters the waiting room in a rush, “Sorry I’m late.” She looks and sees 15 others waiting in a line to see one of God’s angels first. “Is that where the sinners get in line? I belong there. Particularly if it includes liars and thieves.”
“Yes,” replies the attendant. “It shouldn’t take long. The angels keep the line moving quickly. If you have some more serious sins, please take a seat in the back of the room.”
Maura looks around to where the attendant has indicated and is surprised to see multiple men in business suits looking quite professional. “There?,” she asks, pointing at that men.
“That’s correct,” the attendant nods. “Here, fill out this paperwork and read some 2-year-old magazines about what’s going on back on earth. See if anything changed. God’s running his usual 35 minutes late, but will be here soon.”
“Larry Dinkelman?,” the attendant says loudly to the room, “please come to the front desk. We need your driver’s license and heaven insurance card please.”
“I’m sorry,” Larry says, “I never bought insurance.”
“Oh no,” the attendant replies, “you have to go on the hell elevator if you’re not covered.”
Larry fearfully looks at the Hell Elevator. “How many buttons are on the control panel?,” he asks, “Can I stop in purgatory?”
Luckily, yes, there is a purgatory stop. “Good call, Larry,” the attendant says, nodding.
Gingerly and apprehensively entering the Hell Elevator, Larry looks closely and sees Dana Carvey is the operator. “All aboard,” Carvey says, making “choo choo” sounds.
The fire alarm goes off. Flames rise into the elevator. Everyone looks perplexed.
Carvey smiles devilishly, “Ha ha, that’s not just for effect, Larry, this is the real deal. Feeling a little warm, are you?”
“But I’m looking for purgatory first. Can’t you take me there?”
“Not with your sins, Larry.”
“Wait, are you God?’
“No, but I like to act like I’m in charge all the time and know what’s best for everyone.”
“Isn’t that the biggest sin?”
“Why do you think I’m stuck operating the Hell Elevator,” Carvey replies.
(Elevator fades into flames as Larry continues to look perplexed, while Carvey graciously accepts his fate.)
A month or so ago, we were driving in the car together and he remarked about the new arrangement, “I feel like I’m in God’s waiting room.” The comment is sad on the surface. It implies a downhill slide, not necessarily looking for the next good or positive thing in a life well-lived. I understood his meaning.
At the same time, in the spirit of Saturday Night Live (SNL), there’s a humorous skit in there about “God’s Waiting Room.” The room is full, people are frustrated. They can’t wait to meet with God.
Chad, the new arrival, checks in at the front desk, “Hi, I’m here for my appointment with God. How long will the wait be?”
“I’m sorry, God is running a bit late this morning. His car broke down on the way to the office. Please take a seat and we’ll let you know when he arrives.”
Chad sighs, sinks into the incredibly soft leather sofa and picks up the Christian Science Monitor to see how earth is doing now that his spirit has left those confines. Volcanic eruptions, hurricanes and forest fires dominate the news, and Chad shudders, thankful that he will soon hear from God what’s next for him.
Maura enters the waiting room in a rush, “Sorry I’m late.” She looks and sees 15 others waiting in a line to see one of God’s angels first. “Is that where the sinners get in line? I belong there. Particularly if it includes liars and thieves.”
“Yes,” replies the attendant. “It shouldn’t take long. The angels keep the line moving quickly. If you have some more serious sins, please take a seat in the back of the room.”
Maura looks around to where the attendant has indicated and is surprised to see multiple men in business suits looking quite professional. “There?,” she asks, pointing at that men.
“That’s correct,” the attendant nods. “Here, fill out this paperwork and read some 2-year-old magazines about what’s going on back on earth. See if anything changed. God’s running his usual 35 minutes late, but will be here soon.”
“Larry Dinkelman?,” the attendant says loudly to the room, “please come to the front desk. We need your driver’s license and heaven insurance card please.”
“I’m sorry,” Larry says, “I never bought insurance.”
“Oh no,” the attendant replies, “you have to go on the hell elevator if you’re not covered.”
Larry fearfully looks at the Hell Elevator. “How many buttons are on the control panel?,” he asks, “Can I stop in purgatory?”
Luckily, yes, there is a purgatory stop. “Good call, Larry,” the attendant says, nodding.
Gingerly and apprehensively entering the Hell Elevator, Larry looks closely and sees Dana Carvey is the operator. “All aboard,” Carvey says, making “choo choo” sounds.
The fire alarm goes off. Flames rise into the elevator. Everyone looks perplexed.
Carvey smiles devilishly, “Ha ha, that’s not just for effect, Larry, this is the real deal. Feeling a little warm, are you?”
“But I’m looking for purgatory first. Can’t you take me there?”
“Not with your sins, Larry.”
“Wait, are you God?’
“No, but I like to act like I’m in charge all the time and know what’s best for everyone.”
“Isn’t that the biggest sin?”
“Why do you think I’m stuck operating the Hell Elevator,” Carvey replies.
(Elevator fades into flames as Larry continues to look perplexed, while Carvey graciously accepts his fate.)