The Devil Goes To Heaven

Opening Up

Seeing Jesus Christ when no one else can see him is complicated. For instance, when you go through most of your educational career claiming that you can hear the voice of God, and you act like you're better than everyone else, then everyone tends to think you're a self-righteous asshole. Rightfully so. I don't openly talk about it anymore. If I could go back and tell that little girl not to be open about everything she's experienced, I would. But if I had, I wouldn't have become the man I am now. It's weird how that works.

I know some things we could avoid to save embarrassment

But everything that breaks you down can also build your character

NF said that. NF has inspired me to be the man I am today. We're both bipolar, so I find a lot of comfort and reliability in his music. That quote was directed toward a younger version of himself in a song called "Nate." Because of that song, I still debate with myself if I'd ever intervene in my past in any way or change things to avoid pain. But if I did, I wouldn't be the person changing the past in the first place: the grandfather paradox.

"What are you thinking about, my son?" Jesus asks. Jesus is sitting across from me in my bed while I have the Bible open to Proverbs.

I've been watching the sunset from my bedroom window when I shift to face him. "Like you don't know," I tease, closing the Bible and setting it on my nightstand.

"I still like to hear you say it, to see the words spoken."

I sigh. "This. You and me. It's hard. Don't get me wrong—I love you. And I know you love me. But I feel like if you were never here—in my life—it wouldn't be so ..."

"Troubling?"

"Exactly. I feel like I'd be better off without you. I don't know why I have you. And it's not like I can just whisk you away. We both know I've tried that. I just don't get why me."

"Why not you? I chose you, Judas. Like I chose Mary and Peter and Paul. We all have a purpose. We're all here for a reason. You haven't lived an easy life. And I would never wish ill upon you, but because of what you've experienced, you know firsthand how to prevent just that from happening."

"I know how to prevent kids from seeing a Jew in their beds?"

"You know how to prevent pain. You have a perspective that no one else has. You can stop the cycle. You can end it at the source."

"I think you're misplacing your faith."

"I can do no such thing."

Someone knocks at my door; then my mom cracks the door open and pokes her head in. "You ready, kiddo?" she says, a lit cigarette hanging from her mouth. I wonder how she'd react if she could see Jesus in bed with me.

"Yeah. Just reading up on some scripture," I tell her, getting up.

My mom closes the door, and I hear her heading downstairs.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jesus says.

"Oh, don't worry," I say. "I'm gonna get hammered, black out, and wake up with my clothes shredded to pieces and a dead guy next to me."

"If that happens, you'll have to leave town again."

My mom hums the entire way to Chick-fil-A. It's seven in the evening; the movie starts at eight, and it's about a fifteen-minute drive from Delilah. We'll have time to talk before the movie, and I can walk her home because the theater is pretty close to our houses. I just hope my mom doesn't humiliate me on the ride there.