Member-only story
My Bro Is In Abraham’s Bosom
Theology meets the twilight zone
I AM NOT DEAD
This is the text message I receive from my dead friend, Ben Nichols.
We just buried him a little over an hour ago and I have since slumped down on my couch, tears dried white as chalk on my face. We called ourselves the two Theo Bros since we graduated from Theology School together.
The only thing we couldn’t agree on, was women.
I see them as a ball of distraction. He almost married one, Tina McCoy. She sat front row, engagement ring shining. It’s been on her finger all of three months.
I am not dead.
Why didn’t he tell me he was sick?
Months. No.
Years of cancer, just eating away at his colon…then spreading. He still loved God and the Word of God. How, Ben? How, God? How can you let this happen to Ben?
I look at my iPhone screen and think maybe I drank a bit too much wine already. I had a few tall glasses of Silver Oak Cabernet, but not enough to hallucinate.
I text back: Is this ben?
Immediately I get a response that covers my neck in goosebumps.
WHO ELSE?
