God Wondering if Pastor Almost Done With Sermon

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Pastor Perkins’ Sabbath sermon, a meandering odyssey through the Book of Numbers, had long ago passed the point of diminishing returns. Up in the heavens, God yawned. He’d heard this particular sermon, with its questionable exegesis and recycled jokes, enough times to wallpaper the New Jerusalem.

The angels, normally buzzing with celestial chores, had succumbed to the soporific sermon. Gabriel snored softly, his trumpet abandoned on a cloud.

“In conclusion,” Pastor Perkins intoned for the third time, his voice cracking slightly. A flicker of hope sparked in the heavenly rafters. But no, the man continued, launching into a digression about the symbolism of beard trimmings.

It wasn’t just the content that was trying. The delivery was painful. Pastor Perkins had the vocal stylings of a particularly monotone Muzak elevator, and his grasp of humor made a tax audit seem like a barrel of laughs.

God groaned, the sound echoing through the cosmos like a celestial foghorn. He checked his watch, a luminous sphere that pulsed with the rhythm of the universe. Time, even for the Almighty, seemed to be moving at a glacial pace.

Finally, mercifully, Pastor Perkins reached a genuine conclusion (the fourth one, if you were counting). The congregation, stiff and blinking, rose to their feet with the alacrity of long-dormant marionettes. As they dispersed, God shook His head, contemplating whether He should have included a “sermon duration” clause in the Ten Commandments.


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