Advance Praise for
THE TROUBLE WITH GOD
“What’s the fastest way to become an atheist? Read the Bible. What’s the funnest way to become a know-it-all-smartass atheist? Read Chris Matheson.”
—Penn Jillette, Emmy Award–winning magician and New York Times best-selling author
“Chris Matheson plumbs the Bible, Koran, Book of Mormon, and the works of L. Ron Hubbard for their patent silliness, ugliness and contradictions just so we can hear God’s take on it all. He is not amused—but we are.”
—Robyn E. Blumner, president and CEO, Center for Inquiry
“A raucous ride, stand-up theology.”
—Dan Barker, co-president, Freedom From Religion Foundation
“Chris Matheson apparently plans on uniting all the Abrahamic religions in their hatred of him. Funny as hell.”
—Peter Boghossian, author, A Manual for Creating Atheists
“Chris Matheson’s egocentric, homophobic, misogynistic, insecure, vengeful god is back and he’s as hilariously wretched as ever. Matheson once again rewrites the so-called holy scriptures … with a brutally honest eye and his trademark raucous humor. I laughed out loud at every paragraph. Required reading for the overly pious.”
—Natasha Stoynoff, New York Times best-selling author
Pitchstone Publishing
Durham, North Carolina
www.pitchstonepublishing.com
Copyright © 2018 by Chris Matheson
All rights reserved
Printed in the USA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Matheson, Chris, author.
Title: The trouble with God : a divine comedy about judgment (and misjudgment) / Chris Matheson.
Description: Durham, North Carolina : Pitchstone Publishing, [2018]
Identifiers: LCCN 2017060263| ISBN 9781634311502 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781634311519 (epub) | ISBN 9781634311526 (pdf) | ISBN 9781634311533 (Mobi)
Subjects: LCSH: God—Attributes—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Humorous. | FICTION / Religious. | GSAFD: Humorous fiction. | Bible fiction. | Satire.
Classification: LCC PS3613.A8262 T76 2018 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017060263
To my father
Note: This is a work of fiction. The character of god as portrayed in this book is a product of the author’s imagination and is not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to an actual god or supreme being, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
GLOSSARY
Old Testament (OT)
Gen.—Genesis
Ex.—Exodus
Lev.—Leviticus
Deut.—Deuteronomy
Jud.—Judges
1S—I Samuel
2S—II Samuel
1K—I Kings
2K—II Kings
Job—Book of Job
Ecc.—Ecclesiastes
Song—Song of Songs
Isa.—Isaiah
Ezek.—Ezekiel
Dan.—Daniel
Jon.—Jonah
New Testament (NT)
Mat.—Matthew
Mar.—Mark
Lu.—Luke
Jo.—John
Acts—The Acts
Gal.—Galatians
2T—II Timothy
Rev.—Revelation
Koran (K)
2—The Cow
3—The Family of Imran
4—The Women
5—The Feast
6—The Cattle
7—Wall Between Heaven and Hell
15—Al-Hijr
16—The Bees
17—The Children of Israel
19—Mary
21—The Prophets
22—The Pilgrimage
23—The True Believers
25—The Criterion
26—The Poets
27—An-Naml
33—The Allied Troops
34—Sheba
35—The Originator
37—Who Stand Arrayed in Rows
38—Sad
45—Kneeling
47—Muhammad
54—The Moon
55—Ar-Rahman
76—Time
90—The Earth
98—The Clear Proof
109—The Unbelievers
111—Abu Lahab
114—Men
Book of Mormon (BOM)
1N—1 Nephi
2N—2 Nephi
Jac.—Jacob
Mos.—Mosiah
Al.—Alma
Hel.—Helaman
3N—3 Nephi
4N—4 Nephi
Mor.—Mormon
Eth.—Ether
Dianetics
TC—The Clear
TRM—The Reactive Mind
TCATO—The Cell and the Organism
TD—The “Demons”
PD—Preventive Dianetics
TMP—The Mind’s Protection
P-SI—Psycho-Somatic Illness
PEAB—Prenatal Experience and Birth
COA—Contagion of Aberration
K-ITE—Keying-in the Engram
ROC—Release or Clear
TLOR—The Laws of Returning
EATLF—Emotion and the Life Force
STOE—Some Types of Engrams
MAAOT—Mechanics and Aspects of Therapy
RTFCATTT—Returning, the File Clerk and the Time Track
D-PAF—Dianetics-Past and Future
CHAPTER ONE
God walks through heaven.
His footsteps echo. Heaven is deserted and he is alone again, exactly as he was at the start. Or, that is, almost alone. Not quite. He’s working on it.
It is dead silent and very bright. It’s never dark in heaven. (NT, Rev. 22:5) Because it’s always so bright, God never sleeps well and he is often tired. Also, he is hungry. Earth ceased to exist a long time ago. God wants a grilled steak, but there are none. There is nothing to eat. He feels like he is slowly starving.
What year is it? It’s hard to say. “Time” officially ended with Judgment Day, which occurred, what? Twenty years earlier? Fifty? One hundred? God honestly can’t tell anymore.
God is headed for a place he calls “The Big Bridge.” Once it had connected two beautiful parts of heaven, linking a flowery meadow to a pristine lake. Now the flowers are all dead and the lake is dry and cracked. Everything in heaven is both overgrown and dead; first it grew uncontrollably, then it died. But God is glad the lake is gone. He’s always hated water.
If God is lucky, there will be dozens of angels clumped underneath the Bridge, hanging upside down like bats. After especially crazed periods of violence, during which the angels would attack and kill each other for weeks at a time, lopping each other to bits with their massive swords, they would finally need to rest. These were the times when God could most successfully exterminate them.
He’d created far too many angels, God now conceded to himself. “I didn’t actually need two hundred million of them. (NT, Rev. 9:16) Two million would have been more than enough to butcher mankind. I got by with a handful of angels for a long time, why did I think I needed two hundred million?” Once the angels had turned against God (which they had, of course, because in the end everything turned against God, nothing and no one could be trusted), God had started hunting them down and destroying them. When God was honest with himself, however, he had to admit that his angels hadn’t been trustworthy almost from the start. How long had they even existed before they were sneaking down to Earth and having sex with human women, who then gave birth to freaky oversized children? (OT, Gen. 6:4) “I didn’t create you to fly down and have sex with whores!” God had screamed at a fe
w of the angels. “That’s pretty much the exact opposite of why I created you, in fact!” The resulting angel-human hybrids had been goggle-eyed monstrosities. “Zamzummims,” the Ammonites had called them. (OT, Deut. 2:20) “Kill the Zamzummims,” they’d shrieked as they giddily chased the spindly creatures off of cliffs.
God had managed to kill 99.9% of his angels by now. Smallpox had been extremely effective; angels had zero immunity to it. Quicksand had also worked surprisingly well. Angels had idiotically walked right into it, then slowly been sucked down and died. Or, to be honest, “died.” All that really happened to them was that they were sent down to hell where they were ruled over by God’s archenemy, Satan. That was another flaw in his plan, God now conceded. Next time things would be different, he vowed to himself. Next time, there would be justice. Next time people would get what they deserved. (This thought both excited and unsettled God; he was never sure why.)
God is down to the last few hundred angels now, but these final survivors do seem to be slightly more intelligent than the rest. Angels in general are extremely stupid creatures—“like psychotic male models,” God has often said. Lately, a group of angels has been flying closer to God’s palace, hovering menacingly over it and staring balefully down at him. It’s time to take them out.
Crossing the Big Bridge, God moves stealthily. Angels sleep lightly. If they hear him approaching they will instantly stir and fly away and he might only get a few of them. He wants to finish this group off. Making a sharp right turn, God starts down a steep little trail that winds its way to what had once been a lush creek bed but is now hard like concrete. Reaching the bottom, God turns and looks up. There they are, a thick clump of angels, sleeping with their wings wrapped around themselves like cloaks.
Bracing himself, God raises his arms upward. An angel stirs and gazes blankly down at him, its eyes inky and cold. Nearby, other angels slowly begin to move. God suddenly thrusts his hands upward forcefully and begins to shoot fire out of them, bathing the angels with flames. As angels sizzle and burn, flapping and fluttering to their deaths all around him, God steps over their charred bodies and continues firing upward.
Angels fly like massive hawks. It takes them a moment to get airborne, but once they do, they are expert fliers. You have to get them early or they will escape you. God speeds up his pace now, fire-blasting as many angels as he can. Because angels are “ethereal beings,” what falls on God is something like wet, pink confetti. It smells terrible, though; “Like rotten eggs mixed with dog feces,” is how God puts it. God sprays a final massive burst of fire at the roof of the bridge, then stops. Everything is silent and still for a long moment. “Have I gotten them all?” God wonders.
Then a hand slowly emerges from a hidden crevice; it is followed by a large black wing. An angel, who has been hiding in the crack, quickly unfolds itself and stares down at God. “Gabriel,” God whispers to himself. Once Gabriel had been his favorite angel, his ally and messenger (OT, Dan. 9:21, NT, Lu. 1:11), the one whom God had trusted enough to send down to talk to … but no, never mind her, God didn’t want to think about her and he wouldn’t.
Gabriel gazes down at God expressionlessly. A moment passes between them. God suddenly raises his arms again and fires. Gabriel is a brilliant flier, though; he easily dives and twists out of the way, then swoops down and suddenly lands directly before God, his massive sword raised.
God falls back onto the ground, fires up at Gabriel again. But Gabriel is elegant, nimble. He dodges the flames once more. He lifts his giant sword high, about to bring it down on his creator. But just as the sword drops, God rolls out of the way and kicks violently, connecting with Gabriel’s lower leg and knocking him off balance. As the angel wobbles, God takes advantage of the opening to leap to his feet and knock the sword out of Gabriel’s hand. God lunges forward, seizes Gabriel by the throat and begins to squeeze. Gabriel is athletic but God is strong. Pressing his powerful body against Gabriel to prevent the angel from raising his wings, God squeezes harder. Gabriel struggles—his face turns red, then blue, then white. Gabriel is dead.
God lets the limp body drop heavily to the ground. He looks down at it, hesitates, then kicks it—and kicks it again—and again—and yet again—until he is exhausted and completely out of breath.
Staring down at Gabriel’s motionless body, a question suddenly crosses God’s mind: “How did I end up here?”
And with that question, his mind drifts backward.
CHAPTER TWO
One problem, the biggest one probably, right from the very start, had been women. “I never ever should have created them,” God curses under his breath, now slowly trudging back toward his distant palace. “Why on Earth did I create woman out of myself? I never should have done that, never.” (OT, Gen. 1:27) God stops, considers for a moment, vigorously shakes his head. “And you know what, I actually didn’t. I made man in my own image, that’s perfectly true, but NOT woman and do you know why? Because I’m not a woman, okay? (I shouldn’t even have to say that, obviously I’m not a woman.) No, I made man and then, and only after seeing whether he could be satisfied with the company of animals (OT, Gen. 2:18–19), did I make woman. Out of him. Him, not me. I tried to spare the man, when you think about it. ‘Be happy with the animals, Adam,’ I was trying to tell him. ‘Don’t make me bring woman into this world because she will be far tougher than you, filled with hidden dangers which you will never fully grasp; believe me when I tell you that she will inevitably destroy you.’” (One thing that had caused God to feel occasional pangs of guilt over the years was having left Adam alone with the animals for perhaps a bit too long. “Poor goat,” God murmured every single time he witnessed human-goat sex in years to come, which was a lot. On the other hand, God comforted himself, some of those goats had obviously been begging for it [OT, Lev. 20:15–16], and those goats God didn’t feel sorry for one little bit—they had been slutty goats who deserved to be stoned and then barbecued.)
Stopping for a moment, halfway up a rocky hill, a question occurs to God: “Why didn’t I start with a woman and then impregnate her? I knew I was going to do that at some point, why not at the very beginning? Wouldn’t that have made more logical sense than starting with a man, surgically removing his rib and then essentially ‘cloning’ a woman from it? Also, why did I place the ‘seeds’ for the woman in the man’s rib? Wouldn’t it have been easier to put them in his fingernails or his hair?” God was not a trained surgeon and because all he’d had was a sharp rock, the man had nearly bled out because removing one rib? It’s not that easy, okay? But the hardest part of the procedure had turned out to be “speed-growing” Eve from a single bone. (OT, Gen. 2:22) “Who grows something out of a bone, you know what I’m saying?” God later asked Gabriel.
Adam had looked elated when God had led Eve over to him. “She is made of my bones!” he had cried happily (which God had found overt and literal), followed by “I will call her ‘woman’ since from ‘man’ was she taken” (which God had found pretentious). “A man leaves his mother and father and goes with his wife,” someone had then announced. (OT, Gen. 2:23–24) “At first I wasn’t sure who had said it,” God later recalled, “but then I decided that it pretty much had to have been Adam because why would I talk about ‘leaving the father’? I definitely wouldn’t.” It was a presumptuous thing for Adam to have said, though, God remembered thinking. “You’re not the one who makes the rules around here, okay, Adam? Also, what are you even talking about? You had no mother. Maybe you wish you had one, maybe we all wish that, but that doesn’t mean we actually did!”
“Next time,” God tells himself, starting up the rocky hill again, “I will do things very differently.” (It went without saying, by the way, that there would be a next time. Reality was eternal, after all. No matter how much God wished that it would end … well, it wouldn’t. It would go on forever because that was obviously the way God had made it, even if he had no idea why anymore. Other than eternal punishment, that is; there was always that.)<
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“Next time,” God mutters to himself, “there will be no women!” Female animals, yes, fine, but no female humans. “Think about it: If Eve doesn’t show up, does Adam betray me?” God shakes his head decisively. No way. Adam was a weakling; he’d have stayed in line. “Next time,” God announces, “I will create a limited number of men who I will allow to eat from the Tree of Life and thereby live forever. However,” God quickly adds to himself, “I will not permit the unholy allure of homosexuality to take hold of them. (OT, Gen. 19:4–9) These men will not be so damned interested in penises and balls!” God’s “garden-men,” as he liked to call them (and there wouldn’t be many of them, by the way, twenty at most), would work quietly in the Garden of Eden for all eternity, while the rest of the earth stayed completely empty. Twenty male virgins in white robes with God’s name tattooed in big block letters on their foreheads, gardening quietly forever, yes, now that sounded perfect. “No women,” God grumbles to himself. “No women at all.”
But let’s be honest. Women hadn’t been the only problem for God. No, men had been a problem too—specifically, God’s men—more specifically, his supposed friends. “They were all disloyal, every damned one of them,” God growls under his breath. Solomon, for instance, had been almost like a son to God. “That’s how I looked at him, it truly is,” God recalls. (OT, 2S 7:8) Their friendship had begun when Solomon had asked God for the ability to know good from evil. (OT, 1K 3:9–12) This was a privilege that God had never given to anyone, right from the Tree of Knowledge onward. God hadn’t wanted humans to possess this kind of wisdom. He hadn’t wanted humans to possess wisdom of any kind, when you got right down to it. (That had been the basic problem with the Tower of Babel, by the way. By working together, humans might have done amazing things. They might have invented—who knows? Electricity … automobiles … even computers! Since God didn’t want any of those things to happen, he had to split mankind up. [OT, Gen. 11:6] Also, God had an additional tiny little problem with Babel which pertained to his foreknowledge that in time it would turn into a seed-guzzling whore of a city called Babylon!) Because God had liked Solomon so much, however, he had decided to give him the deep insight he asked for. “I gave him wisdom as vast as the grains of sand on a beach, which is a lot, okay? Maybe not infinite, like mine, but a lot. I made him smarter than all of the Egyptians put together and fine, Egyptians are basically idiots, but still, I’m talking about literally all of them put together!” (OT, 1K 5:9–10)
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