Tiny Jesus

I woke up this morning and found tiny Jesus standing on my night table.

”Funny,” He said. “He told me I’d be coming back, but I thought my second coming would be a little more auspicious. That I’d descend from the Heaven’s with much pomp and circumstance. Or at least pop out from behind a tree and scare the bejeezus out of a sheep herder or two. This is more than disappointing. What am I standing on?”

”My night table.”

”It appears to look like wood,” He said. ”But I suspect it‘s not. I was a carpenter, you know.”

”I know. I read the book.”

”What book?” He said.

”The Bible. The New Testament to be precise. It had your whole life story.”

”My life story?” He said. ”I lived a pretty sheltered life. I didn‘t do much living I‘m afraid.”

”Didn‘t do much living? Are you kidding me! You‘re the most famous man in history!”

”Famous for what?”

”You can’t be serious! All those miracles!Turning water into wine. Multiplying loaves of bread and fish to feed the hungry. Healing the sick. The sermon on the Mount. Hung on a crucifix. Rose from the dead. Your posse wrote all about it.”

”You mean my apostles?”

”Whatever. All I know is that you are the King of Kings! Only, I thought you’d be bigger.”

“Bigger than what?” He said.

“My lamp for starters.”

“It was a smaller world back then,” He said. “And as far as multiplying food for the masses? And turning water into wine? It never happened. I was up for forty days and forty nights, baking, fishing and squashing grapes. Just good old fashioned elbow grease. It was exhausting, but no miracle. The same goes for the crucifix and rising from the dead business. It never happened. Those apostles! Always with the stories. The truth is, I retired after the sermon on the mount. ‘Go out on top’, Dad told me. ‘And I’ll bring you back when its time.’ The apostles were perturbed as all hell, though. ‘What about us?’ they asked. ‘Relax,’ I said. ‘Go out in the world and make something of yourselves. Stop hanging onto my garment hem.’ I guess they wrote a book instead. It was a big hit, huh?”

”It‘s holding its own,” I said. ”There‘s a copy right next to you.”

Jesus bent down and ran his fingers over the gold lettering of the leather bound book.

“All this fuss over me?" he said. “Believe me, if I could have made wine from water I wouldn’t have been so quick to pack it in. But pack it in, I did. I built myself a humble home near the sea and became a fisherman. I married Mary Magdalene and had seven lovely children. Then, at the tender age of sixty, I choked on a darn fish sandwich! Can you believe it? Talk about irony.

“But I see He’s brought me back. I wonder what the fuss is this time. The last time, it was to spread the word. Which I done pretty good, no?”

“You done great,” I said. ”But they‘re still not listening? Haven’t you been watching.”

“That’s His job. All I know is that one day I’m eating a fish sandwich and waiting for Mary to pour the wine, and the next thing I know I’m standing here talking to you. Any ideas?”

“Any ideas?” I said. “About what?”

“My next move. It’s obvious that Dad sent me to you for a reason. Maybe you’re my new apostle. What say we hook up and see what’s going on out there. Do a little rabble-rousing?“

“That might be a little difficult,” I said. “You see I’m sort of committed to this place.”

“Where’s here?”

“The John’s County Psychiatric Hospital. You see, they think I’m crazy.”

“Hey, they said the same thing about me,” He said. “I can’t blame them, though. Believing someone to be the son of God is a pretty hard thing to swallow. What makes them think you’re so crazy?”

“Well,” I said. “This is a bit embarrassing. But I’ve been telling them that I was you.”

“Oooh.”

“I just needed a break from reality for a while. That’s all. And they treat me real good here, Jesus.”

“I think it’s time you faced the real world, young man. Let’s see what I can do to help."

I then watched as Tiny Jesus made His way from the night table to the bed and then shimmy His way down the corner post.

“Where are you going?" I said.

“I’ll be right back!" He said.

I watched as Jesus crawled his way under and out of the door, only to return an hour later dragging a key behind him.

“Here you go, young man," He said. “I was watching one of the guards. She was using this thing to open doors. Then she sat down and started reading a Bible just like yours. I stood at her feet and yelled up for her to give me her key or I would turn her into a loaf of bread. Amazingly, it worked. Then she ran off screaming."

"Way to go, Jesus," I said.

"Are you ready to face the world?" He said.

"Ready," I said.

I then picked up tiny Jesus and placed him in the top pocket of my sport jacket and made my way out into the world. Hell bent on salvation.