Billy Graham’s otherwise unemployable dumb kid is probably annoying the holy bejeebus out of God right now:

Last Sunday the president of the United States came to visit my 91-year-old father, Billy Graham, and me at my father’s home in North Carolina. If either of us wanted to visit the president at his home or even just to speak with him on the phone, we would have to navigate one or more telephone operators, receptionists or executive assistants–and still might not be successful in reaching him.

This morning, and numerous times throughout the day, I spoke directly to the God of this universe–no switchboard, secretaries, call screeners or voice mail. What an amazing thing! Even more amazing, God was waiting on my call and anxious to hear from me and talk to me, no matter how many times I called. Prayer–talking to God–is a vibrant and vital personal practice; but it is also a very real part of our national history.

God has enough to do these days (making little green apples, directing episodes of Saving Grace, teaching Tim Tebow to throw off of his back foot, and moving in mysterious ways) without some needy Godstalker calling him up every few minutes to ask if He “loves him” and “how much” and shit like that, so I imagine that the Big Guy is probably outsourcing this to India.

I still subscribe to Lily Tomlin’s notion that “when we talk to God we’re said to be praying, but when God talks to us we’re schizophrenic”.

TBogg

TBogg

Yeah. Like I would tell you....

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