DAMN!!

The Lord Jesus Christ revealed himself to me forty-two years ago on a dim stretch of Route 17 about 14 miles east of Corning.

I haven't heard from him since.

Not that I expected to, though it would have been nice to check in with me once in a while. 

A lot of other people seem to be keeping in contact with him but not me.

I know what you're thinking but it's not for lack of trying.

I attend church, though not as often as I used to. I pray but not with much conviction. It's not that I have doubts, though I do (who doesn't?) It's more that I don't feel like taking up the Lord's time.

Besides, what should I pray for? World peace? Now that's a laugh. If the Son of God had a dog in that fight we'd all be singing Kumbaya around our lava lamps by now. Praying for my personal well being seems, well ... a bit presumptuous, don't you think? I mean, would you call up Bill Gates to ask for tech support if you forgot the password to your email account?

So it's been like that with Jesus and me. He leaves me alone and I basically return the favor.

Unless of course I cut my finger while slicing a tomato.