“YOU GO, DAD!”
Somewhere in Heaven, presumably just beyond the bit with the pearly gates, there is a staff room.
Nobody talks about the staff room.
It isn’t in the Bible.
Michelangelo never painted it.
The great theologians somehow missed it altogether.
Nevertheless, I am convinced it exists.
There must be somewhere up there where everybody can put their feet up after several thousand years of listening to humanity asking for lottery numbers, parking spaces, football victories, revenge upon irritating neighbours and divine intervention concerning people they themselves married voluntarily.
On this particular afternoon, Jesus was having his tea break.
Feet up.
Sandals off.
Cup of tea beside him.
iPad balanced comfortably across his knees.
He had finally discovered online games and was thoroughly enjoying himself.
After two thousand years of people arguing about precisely what he’d said, what he’d meant, what he’d worn, what he’d eaten, what he’d looked like and which particular denomination he apparently preferred, the poor bloke deserved twenty minutes to himself.
He was halfway through a particularly promising game when the staff-room door opened.
Jesus looked up.
Dad.
God wandered in.
Now, when your father happens to be Almighty God, casual visits are rarely casual.
Jesus immediately became suspicious.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Hello, Son.”
Pause.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one you had before Bethlehem.”
God smiled.
Jesus slowly placed the iPad beside him.
“What do you want?”
God cleared His throat.
“Well…”
“Oh no.”
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I’ve been looking at Earth.”
Jesus picked the iPad straight back up.
“No.”
“Son…”
“No.”
“I think perhaps it’s time”
“No.”
“ You paid another little visit.”
The iPad hit the floor.
Jesus stared at his father.
“YOUR BLOODY JOKING, RIGHT?”
“No.”
“Dad!”
“Things are getting rather messy down there.”
“Rather messy?”
“Yes.”
“Have you actually LOOKED?”
“I have.”
“Then you go!”
God sighed.
“Son, but you did such a good job last time.”
Jesus stood up.
“GOOD JOB?”
He pointed dramatically at himself.
“Have you forgotten how that particular performance ended?”
“Well…”
“Let me remind you.”
He held out his hands.
“Scars.”
He pointed towards his feet.
“Scars.”
Then towards his side.
“BIG SCAR.”
“Yes, but—”
“Last time they only had stones, spears, arrows, swords, nails and a couple of pieces of wood!”
Jesus began pacing.
“Have you seen what they’ve got NOW?”
God remained quiet.
“AK-47s!”
“Yes.”
“Tanks!”
“Yes.”
“Drones!”
“Yes.”
“Missiles!”
“Yes.”
“Atomic bombs!”
“Yes.”
“So you want me wandering around in sandals telling everybody to
LOVE ONE ANOTHER?”
“Well…”
“NO THANKS.”
Jesus picked up his tea.
“YOU GO.”
⸻
THE SECOND COMING HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY POSTPONED
You can perhaps understand his reluctance.
Because if Jesus did return tomorrow, there is one rather uncomfortable question we don’t often ask.
Would we actually recognise him?
Not the Jesus in stained glass.
Not the immaculate European-looking Jesus painted with perfect hair, glowing skin and freshly laundered robes.
Not the domesticated Jesus we’ve had two thousand years to turn into whatever makes us comfortable.
The actual troublesome fellow.
The wandering preacher.
The man without a palace.
Without political office.
Without a personal fortune.
Without security guards.
Without designer robes.
Without a private jet.
Without a cathedral.
Without even somewhere permanent to sleep.
Imagine him arriving today.
No advance publicity.
No blue tick.
No media team.
No publicist.
No book deal.
No verified social-media account.
Just some dusty bloke wandering through town saying:
Feed the hungry.
Care for the poor.
Welcome the stranger.
Forgive people.
Stop worshipping money.
Stop judging everybody.
Love your enemies.
Perhaps most dangerously:
Stop using God as an excuse for behaving badly.
How long before somebody called security?
Twenty minutes?
Ten?
⸻
“BUT LORD, WE BUILT ALL THIS FOR YOU!”
Imagine Jesus walking into one of the great religious buildings erected in his name.
Gold everywhere.
Marble.
Paintings worth millions.
Jewels.
Treasures.
Land.
Property.
Bank accounts.
Investments.
Beautiful robes.
Wonderful hats.
Excellent shoes.
Jesus looks around.
Then looks outside.
A homeless person is sleeping in a doorway.
A child is hungry.
A family cannot afford medicine.
An elderly person is choosing between food and heating.
Jesus turns back towards the enormous gilded building.
“What’s all this?”
A nervous official smiles.
“It’s yours, Lord.”
“Mine?”
“Yes!”
Jesus looks around again.
“I didn’t ask for it.”
Silence.
“We built it to glorify you.”
“Why?”
“Because we love you.”
Jesus points outside.
“Who’s that?”
“A homeless man.”
“Does he have somewhere to live?”
“No.”
“Then sell this.”
Shock.
“Sorry?”
“Sell it.”
“But Lord!”
“Feed him.”
“But this building is Scared!”
Jesus looks puzzled.
“I thought HE was.”
Suddenly the room becomes terribly quiet.
Because that’s where our comfortable religion begins getting uncomfortable.
It is easy to worship a statue.
Statues don’t ask awkward questions.
Statues don’t examine accounts.
Statues don’t ask why there is enough money for another chandelier but apparently not enough for the hungry family three streets away.
Statues stay exactly where you put them.
Jesus, unfortunately, had a habit of moving around.
Talking…
That was the problem.
⸻
THE COMMITTEE MEETING
Within hours of Jesus returning, there would undoubtedly be an emergency meeting.
Because humanity loves a committee.
Especially when something actually needs doing.
Representatives would gather around a large polished table.
Religious leaders.
Politicians.
Economists.
Military advisers.
Corporate executives.
Media consultants.
Public-relations experts.
Possibly somebody from Human Resources.
The chairman would open the meeting.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we appear to have a Jesus situation.”
Concerned murmuring.
“Is he definitely Jesus?”
“We’re investigating.”
“What does he want?”
“Well… apparently peace.”
Silence.
“Anything else?”
“An end to hunger.”
Someone coughs.
“He wants us to care for the poor.”
An economist begins sweating.
“He says excessive wealth isn’t terribly good for the soul.”
A billionaire faints.
“He’s also mentioned forgiveness.”
Several politicians leave immediately.
“ Apparently we’re supposed to love our enemies.”
The military representative slowly closes his folder.
“That’s going to be a problem.”
Quite.
Because Jesus returning would not merely be a theological event.
It would be an administrative NIGHTMARE.
⸻
BREAKING NEWS: MAN CLAIMS LOVE MAY BE THE ANSWER
Imagine the television coverage.
BREAKING NEWS
Unidentified Middle Eastern man causes disruption after suggesting humanity should stop killing itself.
Experts would immediately be assembled.
“Is this man dangerous?”
“Well, he’s advocating radical changes to society.”
“What sort of changes?”
“Sharing.”
“My God.”
“There’s more.”
“Go on.”
“Compassion.”
“Good grief.”
“Forgiveness.”
“Can somebody confirm whether he’s been arrested?”
Within twenty-four hours, social media would be magnificent.
#FakeJesus
#RealJesus
#JesusHoax
#Jesus2026
#NotMyMessiah
#MessiahGate
Someone would announce that Jesus was secretly working for the government.
Someone else would claim he was an Alien.
A third would freeze-frame a video and discover that his left sandal contained the symbol of an ancient secret society.
TikTok would have the dance challenge ready by lunchtime.
Inevitably somebody would sell:
OFFICIAL SECOND COMING MERCHANDISE
T-shirts: $39.99.
Mugs: $24.99.
Limited-edition Messiah trainers: $699.
Jesus would stare at all this.
“Dad?”
“Yes, Son?”
“You’re seeing this?”
“Yes.”
“I want to come home.”
⸻
WHICH JESUS DID YOU ORDER?
The fascinating thing is that almost everybody would expect Jesus to agree with them.
Every political faction would confidently announce:
“Obviously Jesus supports us.”
Every denomination:
“He’s basically one of ours.”
Every nation:
“Jesus loves our country particularly.”
Every commentator:
“If Jesus were alive today, he’d definitely agree with me.”
Meanwhile Jesus himself might be standing quietly at the back saying:
“Actually…”
Nobody hears him.
Because we’ve become extremely good at speaking for people we’re not terribly interested in listening to.
We even do it with God.
Perhaps that’s humanity’s greatest spiritual magic trick.
We create God in our own image…
…then congratulate ourselves because He agrees with us.
Amazing coincidence.
⸻
“WHAT PART OF LOVE ONE ANOTHER WAS CONFUSING?”
At some point Jesus would surely become frustrated.
Not angry perhaps.
Just baffled.
He might gather everybody together.
“Right. We need to clear something up.”
Humanity falls silent.
“I left you fairly simple instructions.”
Someone raises a hand.
“Yes?”
“We’ve had some theological disagreements.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
Jesus gets out a celestial whiteboard.
He writes:
LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
“There.”
Humanity stares.
“Any questions?”
A hand rises.
“Yes?”
“Which ones?”
Jesus sighs.
“All of them.”
“Even foreigners?”
“Yes.”
“People from other religions?”
“Yes.”
“People with no religion?”
“Yes.”
“Gay people?”
“Yes.”
“Trans people?”
“Yes.”
“Poor people?”
“Yes.”
“Rich people?”
“Yes.”
“Immigrants?”
“Yes.”
“People who vote differently?”
“Yes.”
“People we really, really dislike?”
Jesus rubs his temples.
“That’s rather the point.”
Another hand.
“What about our enemies?”
“Especially them.”
The room erupts.
“This is political correctness gone mad!”
Jesus looks towards Heaven.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Beam me up.”
⸻
GOD CHECKS THE WARRANTY
Back in Heaven, God might reasonably be wondering where it all went wrong.
Perhaps He finds the original paperwork.
PRODUCT: HUMANITY
Features:
Free will.
Intelligence.
Compassion.
Creativity.
Curiosity.
Capacity for love.
Expected lifespan of species: promising.
God looks down at Earth.
War.
Pollution.
Poverty.
Hatred.
Nuclear weapons.
Reality television.
Internet comment sections.
He turns the paperwork over.
WARNING: FREE WILL MAY CAUSE UNEXPECTED RESULTS.
“Ah.”
That explains a lot.
Because Humanity is extraordinary.
We can split the atom…
But cannot share a loaf of bread.
We can photograph galaxies billions of light-years away…
But fail to notice the lonely person next door.
We can build machines capable of thinking…
while frequently refusing to think ourselves.
We can accumulate enough weapons to destroy civilisation several times over…
Yet call ourselves intelligent.
We can spend billions preparing to kill strangers we’ve never met…
then claim there isn’t enough money to feed children we can see.
Perhaps Jesus wouldn’t need to perform miracles this time.
Perhaps he’d simply need a calculator.
⸻
THE MIRACLE OF THE LOAVES & FISHES — 2026 EDITION
Jesus arrives at a gathering.
Thousands are hungry.
Excellent.
He knows this one.
“Bring me the bread.”
“Sorry, Lord.”
“What?”
“It’s privately owned.”
“The fish?”
“Corporate fishing rights.”
“Fine. We’ll buy some.”
“Inflation.”
Jesus sighs.
“Where’s Judas?”
“He’s in finance.”
Of course he is.
⸻
WOULD JESUS PASS THE SECURITY CHECK?
Here is another uncomfortable thought.
If Jesus arrived at certain borders today looking approximately as a first-century man from the Middle East might have looked, would anybody recognise the Son of God?
Or would they demand identification?
“Passport?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Permanent address?”
“Not exactly.”
“Occupation?”
“Carpenter. Teacher. Messiah.”
The official looks up.
“Messiah isn’t on the dropdown menu.”
“Teacher, then.”
“Purpose of visit?”
“Saving humanity.”
“Business or leisure?”
Jesus closes his eyes.
“Dad…”
⸻
THE PEOPLE IN CHARGE
Eventually Jesus would presumably want to meet the people claiming to represent him.
This could be awkward.
They arrive beautifully dressed.
He arrives in sandals.
They have titles.
He doesn’t appear terribly interested in titles.
They have official residences.
He remembers saying something about having nowhere to lay his head.
They possess enormous institutions.
He started with twelve blokes and a fishing boat.
They have accountants.
Lawyers.
Investments.
Property portfolios.
Public-relations departments.
Television networks.
Security.
Jesus looks around.
“Things have certainly grown.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“How many hungry people did we feed today?”
Pause.
“Well, Lord, that’s complicated.”
“Why?”
“We have administrative costs.”
“How many homeless people did we house?”
“Well…”
“How many refugees did we welcome?”
Silence.
“How many lonely people did we visit?”
Someone becomes extremely interested in the carpet.
Jesus smiles sadly.
“I see.”
And perhaps that’s when we’d discover something rather frightening.
It isn’t difficult to build a religion around someone.
The difficult part is doing what they said.
⸻
THE SECOND CRUCIFIXION WOULD BE DIGITAL
Perhaps we wouldn’t crucify Jesus physically this time.
We’re far more sophisticated now.
We’d crucify him online.
We’d search through every sermon he’d ever given.
Take seven words out of context.
Create a furious headline.
JESUS SLAMS TRADITIONAL VALUES!
Another outlet:
JESUS SECRETLY SUPPORTS RADICAL CONSERVATISM!
Another:
EXCLUSIVE: MESSIAH REFUSES TO DENY HE CAN TURN WATER INTO WINE
Then the internet would do the rest.
Within hours millions of people who had never met him would know precisely what sort of person he was.
“Fraud.”
“Communist.”
“Fascist.”
“Liberal.”
“Conservative.”
“Cult leader.”
“Illegal immigrant.”
“Religious extremist.”
“Atheist plant.”
“Alien.”
“AI-generated.”
Poor Jesus.
Last time he only had Pontius Pilate.
Now he has the comments section.
⸻
THE ATOMIC BOMB PROBLEM
This brings us back to Jesus’s original objection.
“Dad, last time they had swords.”
Because we’ve made astonishing progress.
Our weapons are magnificent.
Absolutely magnificent.
Human ingenuity at its finest.
We can now destroy cities without entering them.
Kill people we’ve never seen.
Launch missiles from thousands of miles away.
Construct bombs capable of erasing generations.
All this from a species that still hasn’t mastered disagreement without shouting.
Imagine explaining nuclear deterrence to Jesus.
“So you have these bombs?”
“Yes.”
“They can kill millions?”
“Yes.”
“Everybody agrees they’re horrific?”
“Yes.”
“So you got rid of them?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“To keep us safe.”
Jesus pauses.
“You keep yourselves safe by possessing machines capable of destroying yourselves?”
“Yes.”
“You call yourselves Homo sapiens?”
“Yes.”
“What does that mean again?”
“Wise human.”
Long silence.
Jesus looks at Dad.
Dad shrugs.
“I let them name themselves.”
⸻
PERHAPS GOD SHOULD GO
Which brings us to Jesus’s alternative proposal.
“You go.”
Imagine it.
God Himself arrives.
No ambiguity.
No theological debate.
No interpretation required.
God appears simultaneously across every television, phone, tablet and computer on Earth.
“HELLO.”
Eight billion people freeze.
“I’ve been watching.”
Politicians suddenly develop urgent appointments elsewhere.
Religious leaders adjust their collars.
Billionaires begin moving money around.
Internet search traffic for how to repent quickly crashes Google.
God continues.
“I have a few questions.”
Oh dear.
“Why are children hungry?”
Humanity begins explaining economics.
God raises one eyebrow.
“Why are people homeless when buildings stand empty?”
More explanations.
“Why are you poisoning the planet you live on?”
Silence.
“Why are you killing each other?”
Someone begins explaining history.
God interrupts.
“I know. I was there.”
Awkward.
“Why do you hate people you’ve never met?”
No answer.
“Why, whenever you do something particularly appalling, do some of you insist I told you to do it?”
Now the room becomes VERY quiet.
⸻
PERHAPS WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THE WRONG PERSON
For two thousand years people have waited for Jesus to return and fix everything.
Perhaps that’s the joke.
Maybe he’s waiting for us.
Waiting for us to realise we already know what needs doing.
Feed people.
Shelter people.
Stop killing people.
Look after children.
Care for the elderly.
Treat strangers like human beings.
Protect the Earth.
Share.
Forgive.
Listen.
Love.
None of this requires another Messiah.
It requires participation.
Perhaps Heaven’s greatest frustration isn’t that humanity doesn’t know what to do.
Perhaps it’s that we know perfectly well…
Keep waiting for somebody else to do it.
Governments.
Churches.
Charities.
Scientists.
God.
Jesus.
Aliens.
Anyone.
Anyone except us.
⸻
BACK IN THE HEAVENLY STAFF ROOM
God sits down beside Jesus.
Jesus retrieves his iPad.
“So?”
“So what?”
“Are you going?”
Jesus looks at Earth.
Wars.
Hunger.
Hatred.
Greed.
But also…
A nurse holding someone’s hand.
A stranger feeding another stranger.
Someone adopting an abandoned child.
People rescuing animals.
Volunteers rebuilding homes.
A neighbour checking on an elderly neighbour.
A teacher refusing to give up on a difficult child.
Someone forgiving somebody who doesn’t deserve forgiveness.
People planting trees they’ll never sit beneath.
Millions of tiny acts of goodness occurring without cameras, applause or reward.
Jesus watches.
His expression changes.
“Interesting.”
God smiles.
“What?”
“They’re not completely hopeless.”
“No.”
“They do make it difficult.”
“They have free will.”
“That was a brave decision.”
“I was younger.”
Jesus laughs.
He looks down again.
Perhaps that’s where the answer lies.
Not in palaces.
Not in governments.
Not even necessarily in religious institutions.
But in ordinary human beings deciding, quietly, to behave extraordinarily.
Jesus picks up his tea.
“Maybe I don’t need to go back.”
God smiles.
“Exactly.”
Jesus looks suspicious.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Was this whole conversation another lesson?”
God says nothing.
“Dad!”
God gets up and heads towards the door.
“Enjoy your game, Son.”
“DAD!”
The door closes.
Jesus shakes his head.
He picks up his iPad.
Looks once more towards Earth.
And mutters:
“You lot really are bloody hard work.”
Then, after a moment, he smiles.
“But perhaps you’re worth it.”
Maybe that’s the real Second Coming.
Not Jesus descending through the clouds surrounded by trumpets and angels.
Not some spectacular celestial rescue mission.
Perhaps it happens every time somebody chooses kindness when cruelty would have been easier.
Every time somebody feeds a stranger.
Every time somebody refuses to hate.
Every time somebody sees a human being instead of a label.
Every time wealth becomes generosity.
Every time power becomes service.
Every time religion becomes compassion rather than judgement.
Every time we stop asking God to fix humanity…
Start behaving humanely ourselves.
Maybe Jesus doesn’t need another cross.
Maybe God doesn’t need another prophet.
Maybe humanity doesn’t need another miracle.
Maybe the instructions were perfectly clear the first time.
Somewhere in Heaven, Jesus can finally finish his bloody game.
Without Dad interrupting his tea break.
THE END
Or, considering humanity…
TO BE CONTINUED.
(🤞🤞🤞)
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