Every parent likes to think their child is special, and they take every opportunity to brag about it to the world. It’s evident by the millions of cars sporting bumper stickers that read, "My Child is an Honor Student", or "My Child is a Mensch."
Out of all of the world's bumper stickers, there’s only one that reads, "My Child is the Second Coming of Christ". I know this because I made it myself. That bumper sticker is on my car. That child is my son, J.T.
When my girlfriend revealed to me that she was pregnant, I was shocked to say the least. We were both waiting to lose our virginities on our wedding night, so it didn’t make any sense how this could have happened.
I began to suspect an act of adultery, but before I could even finish the thought, she explained everything. I remember her exact words:
“No, it wasn’t another guy! It was…um…an angel! Yeah, that’s right! An angel! An angel came to me in a dream, and he said that I was gonna have a baby! God’s baby! The angel said I would become pregnant with the son of the Lord!”
It was just like a monologue from a Shakespearean play.
We got married, and a few months later our little miracle was born. My wife insisted on giving him a standard name, but how could anyone worship a Ricky or a Kevin? It was only appropriate that he be named Jesus Two, or J.T. for short.
J.T. seemed like an average child, maybe even a little below average, but I knew that there was a savior inside him just waiting to get out.
On his tenth birthday, I told him all about his real father and his destiny. It was time for his training to begin.
Our first stop was the lake. I never bothered signing J.T. up for swimming lessons, cause what was the point? He was gonna walk all over that shit.
Just like a mother bird pushing her babies from the nest and forcing them to fly, I pushed J.T. into the lake as hard as I could. To my surprise, he sank right to the bottom. I began to wonder if maybe it had something to do with his footwear. After all, Jesus wore sandals, not Crocs. Then I remembered my boy was drowning, so I dove in and fished him out. After about a dozen failed attempts we decided to call it a day.
As time went on, J.T. showed very little improvement with his miracles.
When J.T. tried to cure a blind man, the man said he felt a little blinder. When he attempted to turn water into wine, the water just became Coke Zero.
Despite these disappointments, there have been some redeeming qualities to raising J.T. For example, I learned a lot about my religion. I learned that Joseph deserves more credit, because he is responsible for raising Jesus into the Lord and Savior. I learned that no one is perfect, and if the Son of God isn’t perfect, then maybe God isn’t either. That would explain retards. Above all, I learned that my image of God was completely wrong. He is not a large white man with a big white beard and a long white robe. He’s a black guy.
So next time you’re driving on the highway, look out for the olive green station wagon with the "My Child is the Second Coming of Christ" bumper sticker. Just remember to drive a little more cautiously. There’s a savior on board.
