Finding God

How on earth should I characterize this? Some years ago, while writing morning pages, I decided that I didn't want to just mindlessly transcribe my thoughts. Instead, this thing fell out of my head and onto the screen. I ended up really liking it and then…not really doing anything with it?

And so, I post it here because this whole site without regard for whether it fits with anything else I'm trying to do here.

I found God last Tuesday at 6:38 p.m. Actually that's a bit of a dramatic statement. Depending on your viewpoint, God either found me or we just sort of found each other through a quirk of fate at the pub just down from my office. I didn't know of course that I had found God. He was looking to break up a ten-pound note, and I happened to have a pocketful of change from the bar. We got to talking about one thing or another. He asked me what I did, and I said that I was an business analyst in the city. I asked him what he did, and he explained that he was God.

Curiousity piqued, I couldn't help but ask, “So what are your job responsibilities like...errr...”
“You can certainly call me God if you like. Of course, I've been called all sorts of names in my time, but you know. Feel free to call me something comfortable for you,” he said with a comforting and easy smile.

Impressed for a minute by the absurdity of the spectacle when I looked from outside my own perspective (which of course I quite simply can't do), I paused for a moment before adding, “Well, to be honest, calling you God feels a little strange.”

With just the slightest of quizzical looks, he said, “Well, then. Call me Nigel then.”
“I've always rather liked the name.”
“So then, Nigel, what's work like?” I said slipping casually back into our conversational pub banter.

With a motion to unbutton his top collar button, he said, “Oh, I do practically everything. Practically everything. Which is really nothing at all. Nothing at all.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Well, it's sort of front-loaded work, you know. You sort of set up the environment with all the right variables and then let the thing run. Not really that many corrections to the whole thing, so it gets much easier with time. From a linear perspective naturally.”

I nodded my head knowingly. “Don't I know how that works. Same thing with business analysis really. A lot more iteration though. Gotta correct the problems with workflow and such,” I said just as it hit me that of course Nigel knew because he would presumably know everything there is to know.

“Well, yes, I do of course, but it feels rather boorish to constantly know it all. So I forget things all the time. Mainly for politeness, you understand.” He punctuated his statement with a generous gulp of his pint. “You'll have to excuse me for reading your mind a bit there. I forgot that I was trying to forget to do that. Meta-forgetfulness really.”

Nigel of course reminded me of someone I had seen before, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He had a rather nondescript face, was roughly middle-aged, and wore a rather comfortable looking grey blue cardigan over the top of his now loosened tie and white collar shirt. His pants were a rather standard-looking business casual affair with a pair of nicely worn creamy blue canvas sneakers.

He apparently noticed my cursory examination of his attire because a spark of recognition crossed his face, and he said, “Oh, I only wear this when I'm off from work.”
“But you're God! You have to be working all the time, right?”
“Well, to a degree, yes. When you're omnipresent in spacetime, both space and time tend to mean very little. I'm simultaneously infinitely working and infinitely resting. Except for Saturday. On Saturday, I watch football.”
Sensing an opportunity to learn more about the universe, I asked, “Well, who do you support?”
Without hesistation, he said, “Beitar Jerusalem. They really are my chosen people.”

I felt betrayed by the fact that God wasn't, in fact, a Gunner, but had scarcely a moment to wallow in this before he added, “But I support Barcelona in the Champions League. I was pretty thrilled with final this year of course.”

“You! That offside first Barca goal was your doing, wasn't it?”
“Hardly. That was a referee not seeing the situation. But honestly now, you didn't have to be omnipotent to see that the free kick that gave you that first Sol Campbell goal was down to pure diving. In any event, I never get involved in football matches. They're too important for divine intervention to foul up.”

The conversation sort of faded after that as such conversations are often wont to do. Nigel headed to the bar for another pint, and I headed off toward home for no reason in particular. Pulling my to-do list out of my weekly planner, I deliberately put a check mark out beside, “Find God.” If only all the items on my list were so easy.