My impropriety is surpassed only by my blasphemy

The Wife and I went up north to see the folks yesterday. The in-laws were there as well as my long lost sister. It was a nice get together. It's Christmas, and that is the about only thing I like about Christmas.

My mother is a devout Southern Baptist. I came to know the faith by her will. Much like my dad, my faith has waned. Perhaps even more than his. My sister is between me and my mom.

My mother's latest Christian book is by a pastor named Don Piper. Don is touring the country and has a story to tell. One that really got my attention. You see, Don Piper died in a car crash.

I just have to let that sink in for a bit...

Okay. Here's the rest of the story. Don was driving across a narrow two lane bridge in Texas, there was a heavy rain, and an eighteen wheel tractor-trailer, driven by a trustee from a nearby prison, a man not licensed to drive a large commercial vehicle, swerved into Don's lane and ran Pastor Don over. The good Pastor was driving a Ford Escort, so the winner in this contest of physics was the big truck.

Another Christian came to the scene of the accident and felt 'strongly compelled by God' to pray for someone at the scene. That someone was Don Piper, who was pronounced dead ninety minutes ago. The Trooper warned this man that it was a very bad sight under the tarp that covered the car. "The body is badly mangled, there's blood and glass everywhere." The Christian man told the Trooper he was a medic in Vietnam and had witnessed many gruesome sights. The Trooper warned him one last time and let him proceed.

The man went into the car from the rear, lay his hand on Don's shoulder and began to pray. He sang a hymn. He prayed some more. He sang another hymn.

Don came back from the great beyond.

Don began to sing along with the man. I thought, hold on, wait a minute. This guy had been run over by a very large truck, was in a condition that surpassed the carnage of Vietnam, and now he's singing? Is that Southern Baptist or what? I backed off a little. Come on, Mr Terrorist, it wasn't A Chorus Line. Maybe it was a little muffled and a lot off key. There is some genuine miracle healing taking place there. Things are coming back online.

Anyway, I had to stop there, it was Christmas and we're supposed to chat and reminisce, and so on. But I looked at the book again. I got a little worried. He's dead, in Heaven, and back again by chapter two. Hey bud, what the hell goes on for the rest of the book? Well, maybe there are flashbacks to the hereafter? I don't know. I do know that he saw a large gate and dead relatives. There was music. I was dying to know if Heaven is the kitchy boring thing Southern Baptists make it out to be. You know, singing the same hymns I've heard for years for all eternity. While it's better than roasting in Hell, it still stinks.

While I respect pastor Don's story, I couldn't help but think how it would come off a little different if that were me. I'm sure it would be life changing, so maybe I wouldn't grumble, "I died, went to Heaven, got pulled back by my fellow Christian, so all I got was this lousy hospital gown."

Don't expect me to show up around Easter either.
"Jesus rose from the grave." They would say to me.
"Been there. Done that. Wrote a book about it."

I quail from those thoughts slightly. When you're raised by a Southern Baptist, and you think thoughts like that, you worry about divine retribution. All kidding aside, I do want to get that book, on the cheap, and see what else is in there. Like I said, it got my attention.

A final thought. Final like, for the night, not final. If you see me dead in the street (I'm a cyclist, it can happen) feel free to pray and sing something, even if God doesn't tell you to. I could think of a better choice than those old hymns, though:

Born to be Alive
Staying Alive
Don't Leave Me This Way

And, if you think your efforts are failing,

Someday, We'll be Together

Of course, if the effort is successful, MacArthur's Park comes to mind.
A variation at least...

I remember the yellow cotton robe
Flowing like a wave on the ground beneath my feet
Birds like tender babies in my hand
Peter and John playing checkers on a golden street

The Almighty's park is glowing in the dark
The new Jerusalem is coming down
Someone prayed over my body in the rain
I don't think that I can take it
That barrier, so hard to break it
And I may not get admitted there again
Oh NO!!