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The Paparrazi Of Heaven


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Yesterday afternoon I attended the funeral of the father of one of my work colleagues. One of the songs that the choir sang was "I Bowed On My Knees and Cried Holy." The song contained the following lyric…


I saw Abraham, Jacob and Isaac,

Oh with Mark and Timothy.

Oh but I said, "I want to see Jesus,

The One who died for me."


Despite the somber occasion, the vision that popped unbidden into my head was that of millions of heavenly tourists trying to catch a glimpse or get a photo or autograph from various celebrities. First, you’ve got your A-List celebs – King David, the Apostles, etc. You’ve got a few minor biblical celebs, such as Esther and Job (yeah, but who wants to hear his sob story), then you’ve got the third tier – various popes, evangelists, saints, etc.


-- Ooo, look, Harold! There’s John the Baptist! I wonder if we can get close enough to chat for a bit. And I want to stop by to see that nice widow women that helped Elijah.


-- Marge, it’s not like you don’t have all the time in the world to see them. And stop trying to touch the hem of Peter's robe everytime you get close enough. Geez!


Yep, hounded for all eternity by the Faithful – not exactly my idea of paradise.

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It is actually sad to know that even if they make it to heaven, they don't think they merit God's presence. Pure enough for the good afterlife, but not good enough for Jesus to make an appearance.


Just makes me wantto break out in song:


"I saw Hitler, Buddha and Sagan,

Oh with Khan and Socrates.

Oh but I said, "I want to see Satan,

The One who lied to me."

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