Christ on a bike

So the fact is that, for some days now, the Lord Jesus Christ has been riding a bicycle up and down the short corridor between my bedroom and my living-room. Being a rather retro Messiah, he appears to favour the classic 1970s-style Raleigh Chopper bike, the tyres of which are beginning to make deep grooves in the cheap carpet so beloved of rental properties.

Jesus, as he allows me to call him - he merely calls me “disciple” in return - is carrying out this odd ritual as a slow means of cruel mental torture. You see, he wants me for a sunbeam. Jesus wants me for a sunbeam, and he’s not going to take no for an answer. I have told him repeatedly, though: “Jesus!” I have responded. “Listen, Jesus. I don’t want to be a sunbeam. That’s all there is to it.”

But Jesus is not to be diverted from his path - which is, being who he is, naturally a righteous path. He did forty days and nights in the desert with some tempting little devil, after all. In comparison, this must be a breeze.

So Jesus has taken action. He has given me a dose of the SADs in order to convince me that, hey, hanging around a large yellow shining object in the sky might not be such a bad deal after all. He tries to flatter me with his warm words. Tells me I would make a very good sunbeam. Why? Because. Because he’s Jesus, and he knows what he’s talking about. Don’t I remember how the teachers in primary school always used to say that I had a sunny disposition? They were wrong, of course. But Jesus just has this persuasive way about him.

For better or worse, I believe I might slowly be coming round to the Saviour’s way of thinking. Praise the Lord and pass me the factor 15. Being a sunbeam has been a lifelong ambition of mine. I just never realised it before.

Jesus is now doing wheelies in the kitchen. Bless him.