Standing in front of my refrigerator, a bowl of Corn Flakes on the table, I've just discovered I'm out of milk. "Dear God in Heaven," I intone, "O Lord, my refuge and my fortress, King of the universe, blessed art Thou who shines His countenance upon me and gives me milk."

And lo, did milk verily fill the empty carton. Hallelujah, praise God, amen.

My life has grown generally easier since I realized that God answers my prayers. I don't have to go out for groceries any more, for one thing. And the other day I tore my favorite sweatshirt, and God answered my prayer for the knowledge to fix it, as well as a subsequent prayer for the needle and thread I suddenly had the knowledge I needed.

It's only been a few weeks since I came to understand my relationship with God. At first, suspicious it might be some kind of test, I tried not to pray too much -- I still paid my rent, and I still went to the bathroom, and if I couldn't finish the crossword, I still gave up.

But as time passed, my confidence in Him grew, and I came to understand that unconditional love is just that -- He heeds my prayers, and because He's God, there's no such thing as taking advantage of Him. Long story short: riches, fame, happiness, love, health, and, most recently, a quart of skim milk.

So now, having everything a person could possibly want, I'm pretty content. Some people in my position might start seeking spiritual fulfillment, like praying for the meaning of life, or for knowledge of the true nature of God, or whatever. I'm not sure if I'll get to that -- the other day I prayed for digital cable, so for now I've got like seven HBOs fulfilling me.

You should know, however, that I am planning to make a few altruistic prayers soon. I'm aware there is suffering in the world, and sometimes I feel like maybe I can do something about it. And I will, in July. Right now the Nuggets are 64-0, and I don't want to break His concentration -- some miracles may be harder than others.

In fact, I had just started thinking about getting ready to determine how I should go about deciding what to pray for when the doorman buzzed up that God was here. I was surprised -- in spite of all the attention He pays to me, I never expected Him to visit. I met Him at the door and, with all appropriate genuflection and aversion of gaze, ushered Him in, asking Him to wait briefly in the foyer while I ran into the living room and prayed for a nicer couch.

As God settled into my new Herman Miller crushed red leather sofa, I marveled that after thousands of years of keeping humanity waiting, God had chosen to manifest Himself in my very presence. Realizing my awesome duty to mankind, I got all psyched up to ask Him to reveal the secrets of the universe, but then I realized that once everyone found out, they'd want to turn this place into a shrine or something, and I just moved in. So I offered Him a drink instead.

God asked for a Harvey Wallbanger. I went into the kitchen and prayed for the knowledge of how to make a Harvey Wallbanger and, that granted, prayed again for some vodka, some orange juice, a splash of Galliano, some ice shaped like little crosses and stars and crescent moons, a really really nice Collins glass, and a coaster.

I returned to the living room. God sipped His drink, protesting that there was no need for me to go to all that trouble. I prayed His forgiveness, and He forgave me.

God studied His drink for a moment, shifted in His seat, and then smiled awkwardly. "Dave, as you know, My love is unconditional, and My power infinite," He began. Suddenly, I knew what was coming. I had gotten too greedy. I had prayed for too much. He was going to cut me off, or worse -- what if He really is a vengeful god?

Frantic, I started preparing justifications and counter-arguments. But then I remembered that He's omniscient -- He'd probably already thought of them. There was nothing I could do. As He cleared His throat, I desperately prayed He wouldn't bring up the subject.

"So how about those Nuggets?" He asked. "Tell me Jordan's not playing the best ball of his career! And I'm so stoked that Bird and Magic both 'chose'" -- He made little quote marks with His fingers -- "to come out of retirement." I agreed the team had a solid squad, and thanked Him for His influence in the matter. We talked some more sports, then a bit about the weather, and after I gave Him a tour of the apartment, we shook hands and He left.

I prayed His empty glass into the dishwasher and sat stunned. It's one thing when God answers your every prayer, but it's another to change the will of God... or is it? Needing some guidance, I called my sister's father's roommate, a rabbi. However, he asked more questions than he answered -- "What did He look like?" "What was He wearing?" "Did He say anything about me?" -- so he wasn't much help.

Deciding I should just get my mind off the subject, I picked up the crossword. After all, it's always easier to take things at face value -- my prayers get answered, no one gets hurt, why rock the boat? A few seconds later I finished the crossword and turned on the TV, praying for something good to be on.

Since then, everything has been great. I haven't heard anything else from God (which I take as a good sign), and I even did something good for my fellow man by praying for it to not get so cold in the winter anymore. In fact, the only problem I've had was one attack of theological doubt last Saturday, when I awoke in the middle of the night, terrified, in spite of all logic, that I wouldn't get into Heaven. What if I died tomorrow? How would I be judged?

I realized shortly that God was the answer, and began to pray. "Dear God in Heaven," I intoned, getting down on my knees to show I was serious, "O Lord, my refuge and my fortress, King of the universe, blessed art Thou who shines His countenance upon me and grants me entrance to Thy kingdom of..." Then I thought better of it, prayed not to ever die, and, my soul at peace, went back to sleep. Hallelujah, praise God, amen.

Dave Prager . 9/01

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