This column is in a position to reveal the story behind Tebow’s dalliance with destiny.
The Christian quarterback was in his Florida home, packing his bags for Ohio, when Jesus appeared to him.
“Jesus!” Tebow exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in years!”
“Just here to give you the Word, Timmy. Got any beer?”
“My Lord, you know I don’t sully the temple of my body with alcohol.”
“I was hoping you’d changed your mind about that. If you’d keep a cold sixer in the fridge, I might drop by just to chat once in awhile. As it is, I’m here on business. Ix-nay on Cleveland, my child.”
“Jesus! Don’t say that! Speaking at the Republican Convention is going to be the beginning of my political career. I need another job, since it is Your will that I don’t get any more tryouts with NFL teams so desperate for a quarterback they’re willing to take a chance on a white guy who tosses the ball like it was a cinderblock.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you to try the CFL, Timmy, but I haven’t got around to it. Being the Redeemer of the World keeps me busy sometimes, if you can believe that.”
“That sounds like sarcasm, oh Jesus. I didn’t know that was allowed.”
“With Me, all things are possible, Timmy. So let’s cut to the chase. Keep your butt out of Ohio.”
“But My Lord! The Republicans are the party of God.”
“My Dad hasn’t voted Republican since Eisenhower, Timmy. And that’s not going to change this year.”
“Does that mean you support Hillary Clinton, oh Jesus? How can you? What about Benghazi? Whenever I think of Benghazi, I imagine how those poor victims felt. Alone and helpless. I felt the same way when I was traded by the Broncos and cut by the Jets and the Eagles. Nobody came to rescue me, either. Hillary Clinton slept right through those tragedies, too. For that reason alone, I couldn’t vote for her.”
“Um, yeah, Timmy. Well, you still don’t have to…”
“And what about the emails, oh My Lord?”
“What about them? I hate email. After spending all eternity listening to people’s prayers, you think I want to start reading all their emails? Email is a creation of Satan, Timmy, and his most insidious one since he invented cable TV. Every time you open your inbox, you’re opening the gates of Hell.”
“But Jesus, everyone says Hillary is a secret lesbian.”
“So what? My Father created lesbians for His own reasons. Lesbians do many important things in this world. For one, porn would be a lot less interesting if it weren't for lesbians. But you know that, Timmy. Don’t look so surprised. I know everything, including your browser history.”
“I always pray for forgiveness afterwards, My Redeemer,” the quarterback said shamefacedly.
“And I always give it to you. But chatting up the Republican National Convention is another matter. Everyone who attends it is going to Hell. Not just the obvious ones, like Melania and Newt Gingrich. Everyone. My Father has made up His mind.
“But if I refuse, the Donald might Tweet something nasty about me, My Lord.”
“Hell, Timmy. Hate to see you there. Especially after you’ve been sucking up to me publicly for all these years. Sends the wrong message.”
“I don’t want to be called ‘sad’ or ‘pathetic,’ Jesus.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re out of football, Timmy. That’s Me working in mysterious ways again. Are you feeling Me now? But I’ll open another door. If Trump loses, and they have another season of Celebrity Apprentice, you can go on it again.”
“Thank You, Lord.”