Sick and tired of how my life was going, I decided to hire a new manager.
I put an ad on Kijiji — Wanted: Someone to run my life — and waited for my phone to ping.
When the first applicant arrived, I was so busy perusing his resumé that at first I didn’t take a good look at him.
“Name?” I asked absently.
“Mike Mason. Esquire.”
Surprised, I looked up. Sure enough, it was myself.
Or was it? He looked like me, but there was something different about him. And he was all dressed in black.
“Some nerve you have,” I said, “applying for this job. Don’t you realize I’m looking for someone new?”
“Yes, but I don’t feel you’ve thought about this sufficiently. Maybe I haven’t always done things perfectly. But after all the years we’ve been together … ?”
“Not perfectly is an understatement,” I said. “You’ve made a royal mess of things.”
“In your jaundiced view. What’s to say we haven’t just hit a bad patch? I’m here to ask you to reconsider.”
I drummed my fingers on the desk.
“Here’s the thing,” I said. “What exactly do you propose to change? Going forward, how will you run my life?”
“Oh, as usual, you’ll do the running. You’ll be run ragged.”
“Yes, I’m sure I will. So nothing will change?”
“Faster. You’ll run faster.”
“I see. And what wages will you require?”
“Quite steep, I’m afraid. More than you can ever pay.”
“Well, then, that settles it. I can’t afford you. Out you go.”
And I showed him the door.
Moments later, at that same door there came a knock.
“Yes? Come in,” I called.
Nothing.
“Come in,” I repeated.
Still no answer. Nothing would do but I had to get up myself to open the door.
And there stood a man who looked like a tramp. Long hair, long beard, an unusual striped garment like a housecoat.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Exactly my question,” he replied.
When I looked flummoxed, he added, “I saw your ad.”
“You? You think you can run my life?”
“You might wish to glance over my resumé.”
He handed me a large book with gold lettering on the cover. Rattled, I waved him to a chair, sat at my desk, and opened the tome.
It was heavy reading, but pretty quickly I got the gist.
“It says here you manage the whole universe.”
“That’s right.”
“Never mind what an outlandish claim that is. But there are those who would say you haven’t done a good job.”
“They’re looking at interim reports,” he replied. “It’s the bottom line that counts.”
“Bottom line?”
Skipping over the first part of the book, I glanced at some pages toward the end.
“Hmm. Miracles, wisdom, kindness … It’s all pretty impressive. Why should I believe you?”
“Because it’s true, and truth is what you need. For a change.”
“Truth? From the likes of you?”
I shoved the book away.
“Who are you, anyway?” I demanded. “What’s your name?”
But even as I asked, I knew.
“The Jesus? Jesus Christ?”
“The same.”
“And you want to … run my life?”
“You could do worse. Have done, actually.”
“So tell me: What would you do differently?”
“Everything. You need a proper shake-down. A total remake.”
“That’s pretty drastic.”
“Like I say in the book, Come unto me, all you who are heavy laden, and I’ll put you to death.”
He handed me a sheet of paper, and a pen.
“Wait,” I said. “Isn’t this how the devil does it?”
“He got it from me. Except his is a contract, mine is a covenant.”
“What’s the diff?”
“Love.”
Long story short, I signed. And ever since then, yes, my life has been different.
Ever so different.
And why? Why did I do it?
Well, in the end it was either Him, me, or the other guy. And I’d had it with the last two.
Beyond that? A certain gleam in his eye. A light.
Yes, that’s really what it was.
But not just any light.
It was the light of life — the true light that gives life to everyone.
