“Just what this place needs,” thought the scientist. “The world needs updating.”
The air-cooled, featherweight camping gear had practically put itself together. The scientist opened a rare bottle of fine wine, and he poured himself a glass. On the stainless steel serving table he thinly sliced some baby gouda and placed it on an ironstone plate with his favorite table wafers. He pulled some apple slices from the portable, generator-operated refrigerator his crew had provided for him. He dusted the apples with salt. He looked out and saw that his world was good.
The scientist sat back in an air-cooled, comfort chair and awaited God’s arrival. Being a self-important scientist, he had no doubt that God would come.
It was one minute before midnight the single bush on the Mount caught flame.
“Ah, the miracle of the burning bush,” said the scientist. “I was hoping you’d do that one. That’s my favorite since I heard the story in 6th grade.”
The tiny, dry bush continued burning, but as in the story it was not consumed. The scientist continued eating and drinking. The wine, on the other hand, continued to be consumed.
After a time, the scientist heard, no felt, a voice. Though there was no noise to be heard from any direction, he knew in his heart what the voice was asking.
“Why do you seek me?” The voice was like music without sound. It was like the breath of a baby. It was love.
“You are the creator, God, and we want you to know we are very grateful for all you have given us.”
“What do you wish to tell me?” The voice was all colors. It was all living things.
“Well, God, if you take a look around. We have gotten pretty good at things. We learned from you, our creator afterall, and we’ve gotten quite creative ourselves. We’ve made buildings that almost touch heaven. We have sent humans to the moon. We’ve cured serious illnesses and are close to curing more. We’ve cloned pigs, a mule, and a cat. What I am saying, God, is that you’re getting older. We think you need more time off than just one day a week. We’d like to offer you early retirement. We can take care of things now.”
“You think you are creators?” The voice was the silent roar of an ocean. “Pass a test.”
“Hey that’s fair. You need to know that the whole world is in good hands.” said the scientist. He was getting uncomfortable with the fiery bush and the and the silently-reverberating voice. “Whatever you want, you got it.”
“Make a man and a woman—make an Adam and Eve.”
The scientist breathed out relief. He was prepared for this. He had human DNA and the equipment to make this happen with just water and dirt.
“Do it right now,” the scientist said, reaching down for a handful of dirt.
“Uh-uh,” God said. The bush flaming higher. “Make your own dirt.”
None of us can create, yet all of us are creative.
—me strauss Letting me be