You're in a park, sitting on a rock ontop of a mound listening to this lunatic, a freak with long hair and beard, who calls himself Dog, excuse me, slip of the tongue, I mean God.
You think he must be some kind of nut case, high on drugs. He rants on and on, like he's full of wind, standing on a soap box preaching, about how to live your life. How you should dedicate your life to him, because he says that his father is the real God. The only God. You don't notice his hand behind his back with his fingers crossed.
He's caught others who have stopped on their busy paths to listen, blessing this, blessing that. That we were once salty and now are losing our salt, what is he talking about? To be trampled on by others. Who? To obey the law that persecutes you. Not to be angry, or kill anyone. Or, be lusty and commit adultery. Don't divorce. You laugh again, he should see your wife! Don't break promises, he says. No one likes an Indian giver, even though you've been taught all your life that promises are made to be broken. An eye for and eye, a tooth for a tooth? Turn the other cheek if someone hits you. You can't help but chuckle.
You think this guy is really crazy. To love your enemies? How is that possible, when they have knives at your throat, ready to take your head off?
Give and give until you have no more. You laugh some more, you have nothing, you can't get blood from a stone, the government and credit card companies have all your money. It wasn't much anyway.
He actually has the nerve to tell you how to get down on your knees, telling you how to pray and to whom. How, when and what to eat and drink! You feel for the bottle of Southern Comfort stashed in your inside pocket and can't find it, then you remember it's in the bag with your lunch that you bought at the deli, a fat juicy, pork pulled sandwich.
Don't worry about your measly life, the preacher says, there are treasures in Heaven awaiting for you. He crosses his heart. The crowd nods, anticipating a Garden of Eden, called Heaven.
He tells you not to worry, everything is going to be okay. Not to judge, or be mean spirited. Ask, seek, and knock. Do unto others as you would do unto them. Like sheep all the men around you grab each other and hug, including you. You kinda like it!
He scares you telling you the gate is small and only a few will get through, like a lottery, or first come first serve, or who has the most money. So, hurry up he says and make up your mind, and don't listen to anyone else because what he's telling you is the truth, the others are liars. He makes you chuckle, again. So many others have said the same thing. You wonder why he isn't asking for money, then you see the collection plate on the ground in front of him.
He brings up the story of the three little pigs, where the wolf is huffing and puffing at the door. I'm not drifting am I? The people that obey and build a safe house will be safe, while the ones that don't, will not be safe and will go to hell. No? Close but not the same story?
At the end of God's speech, that he happily named, "The Sermon on the Mount," and has taken hours, the crowd is in awe.
Man can that guy talk, one man says to another.
Right on! another man says, squeezing you pulling you in close, using both arms, wrapping them around you, hugging and kissing.
You sit and listen to this guy spew his views for another three hours. You can't help it! He has so much charisma.
Just another day in the park. All you can do is smile.
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Ref: Matthew 5-7:28