Prayer

Dear Lord, I know you’re very busy with all the wars and famine and strife in the world and I respect that. I couldn’t do your job; I wouldn’t know where to start. I don’t know how you manage. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have God-like powers. Would I be a wise and benign God or would the power corrupt me? Would I become a heavenly dictator, as you seem to have been in the Old Testament days, no offence, or would I do a lot of charity and humanitarian work? Would I be deafened by six and a half billion people talking into the air, begging for my help? How would I know who deserved it? I couldn’t get to know them all personally. Could I eliminate Romans and Jews, for example, since they seem to have given you a hard time when you were here on Earth? Or have you forgiven them now? How do you feel about Moslems?

I love your elementary particles, by the way. Leptons are my favourites, cheeky little blighters. I’m not so sure about the bosons but maybe that’s because they sound a bit nautical and I get seasick if I so much as look at a boat. I love what you’ve done with them too. Given a bucket of fermions, such unpromising material, what landscape designer would have thought - I could use these to make mountains and trees and sky? In the hands of a lesser God the whole universe could have ended up a fiery, uninhabitable mess with nothing to do, nowhere to do it, and no time to do it in. Rumour has it that it was a bit like that in the early days when you were just learning your trade but nobody can prove it. Mobile phones just didn’t have the resolution in those days. Did you keep any photos yourself? Kind of before and after pictures? It’s the sort of thing you’ll need if you want your bosses to let you bang another one. I’ve done all that at college, Publicity and Presentation, two pees in an iPod as we used to call it, so I could be a big help to you there.

My grandmother had a favourite joke. A vicar is leaning over a garden fence looking at the perfectly kept grounds beyond. “Isn’t it remarkable what God and Man can do together?” he observes to the gardener. “That’s as may be,” replies the gardener, “but you should have seen it when he had it to himself!” Which brings me to the main point of my prayer. It’s only my opinion, of course, but I think you could get a lot more done if you would just delegate a little. Ah, you’ll say, but I have nobody to delegate to. That’s where I come in. I’ve always thought I was the exception, things that happen to me seem so much more real than things that happen to anybody else. Now I’m beginning to see why. We have so much in common. I think you must be grooming me. Not like little girls on the Internet where there’s always a danger from their parents finding out. I see our relationship more like Alan Sugar and his Apprentice. Listen to this: I’m not a tricky pony, I’m not a showy pony, and I don’t go on Shanks’s pony, I have a car. You see? I can talk the talk even if I drive the walk.

I think I know what’s wrong with the world and how it can be fixed but I’m not absolutely sure. My uncertainty must surely count in my favour. I mean, you wouldn’t want somebody who was convinced he knew Your Will and was obsessed with setting fire to homosexuals, would you? Unless that really is Your Will, of course. If you ever had it in mind to make me your assistant, the Governor of the Earth let’s say, I hope you’ll give me the knowledge and wisdom I’ll need to do the job properly. Could I resist settling old scores? Maybe I could make a few people sorry for what they’ve done to me, perhaps give them piles or something small, surely that wouldn’t be too corrupting? Then I could put it all behind me and concentrate on Your Plan for the world. I’m sure I’ll agree with it once you let me know what it is. If not, we can always discuss it. I have a few ideas of my own that you might find interesting.

I’m not sure how can you respond to this. You could pray back, I suppose, but not when I’m driving because I find it hard to concentrate on two things at once and I might have an accident. That wouldn’t be a dignified way to begin my Premiership. So, here we go again. Dear Lord, I know you’re very busy with all the wars and famine and strife in the world and I respect that. I couldn’t do your job; I wouldn’t know where to start.