A Modern Day Prophet

Resi Dent
6 min readNov 20, 2020

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A painting from Michelangelo’ Sistine Chapel depicting the prophet Jeremiah

In the 11th month of covid-19, in the era of Trump, I, Resi of Portland, son of James the Devout, while lying in a bed of my own making, did receive unsolicited texts from God.

I am your Lord and

I have a message for you.

Tell my people this:

My people you’ve sinned

I’m not a happy camper,

so this will be blunt.

You’ve poisoned my sweet

water, cut down my trees, and

the air’s hard to breathe.

Your children eat foods

causing all forms of disease.

My dirt cries for help.

How’d you get this number, I asked? Trust me, if you’re God, you know I already have a job, and it doesn’t include poetry or preaching. Besides, I’m going to be late for work now so find someone else please.

But another text arrived.

Don’t forget I am God

and you can run but not hide.

Would you like to try?

Stop with all the haikus, I wrote back. I’ve studied your HB so I know what is happening here. Now that I’ve objected, how about we skip to the parts where you tell me how you’ve already given me the tools I need, how all I have to do is do what you say, and that way I can just resign to my fate and get this task out of the way. Now I AM late.

Again my phone beeped as the next message appeared. I sighed, shook the dust from my boots, and read what the Lord had texted.

I’m no patient God

and not a happy camper.

Quit your job right now.

Fire up your laptop;

social media awaits.

Spread my word on it.

I’m stern, emphatic.

Just let me guide your typing:

Behold: the words flow.

Alright already Almighty I said, putting my lunch back in the refrigerator. I called to quit my job, then texted God back. I started typing to let him know I was dropping the rest of my affairs to devote my attention to him when I just blacked out. When I came back, I wasn’t really sure if I was back or not because what I saw was not what I expected.

What stood before me was an unhappy camper, vaguely disguised as a bearish man wearing combat boots and a ranger hat, replete with a shovel. Quite confused, I noticed myself holding a ripe blood orange with a sticker on it indicating “produce of Israel”. “What is the meaning of this, I asked? And the Unhappy Camper lamented:

I yam who I yam

just as you are who you are.

BUT YOU’RE KILLING ME.

Stop burning palm trees,

leave me some fish in the sea,

and no more plastic!

I promised you earth,

sweet water, clean air, fresh fruit.

Yet, you destroy it.

I too can destroy

which I’ll do to you unless

you atone, pronto.

An Israeli orange

And with that, the orange in my hand turned black and moldy.

So, I turned on my computer and logged into Facebook. There was no way I could fit this message into 144 characters for Twitter. Still. the Lord guided my fingers as I typed a new status:

“Man’s a filthy creature, I wrote. We rape the land water and air as if we don’t care, and the government encourages us because it helps the economy quarterly. It’s time now to be aware that what we’re doing isn’t fair to our kids. Nature’s disappearing. Pollution and death are coming, lakes and rivers are stagnant and nothing lives or grows as it once did. It’s high time to be aware of the garbage dumps approaching our front doors. Nature’s disappearing and the earth we take for granted soon will be no more. Aluminum, glass and plastic are indestructible. We’re of a generation that may survive our time, but the planet we leave to others will just be human slime. Yes, nature’s disappearing and it’s our fault.

But wait, there’s more!

God says he’s an Unhappy Camper because of what we’re doing, and unless we stop nature disappearing, he’s going to disappear us instead. So read about pollution, stop changing the climate. Make manufacturers uncomfortable by boycotting products that are not recyclable. NOW is the time and if we continue to ignore God, he’ll destroy us for our massive crime. Nature’s disappearing, so fear the Unhappy Camper.”

Twenty four hours passed and I had a couple of likes and one comment. Zero hearts. The comment from my friend David said something to the effect that I seemed off and “Are you ok?” So I wrote back to say: “Hi Dave. Actually, I am a bit off. God’s been texting me, for one. Then, I kind of blacked out in the kitchen and when I came to, I had a blood orange in my hand. I don’t even like blood oranges. So there I stood with this orange, facing God the Unhappy Camper who tells me that people are destroying the earth. And, he doesn’t like it. And, if we don’t stop, he’ll destroy us first. And, then the orange I was holding turned all black and moldy. I’m thinking this was the Unhappy Camper’s way of showing us that the orange represents mankind, and the fate that awaits us.”

Dave unfriended me.

Again the Lord issued a text:

Nice try, Son of Man.

I spoke, you wrote, no one heard.

Not one really cared.

The time, it draws near

and this is bound to happen

unless man listens.

I will stop the rains,

the trees you will see no more:

you’ll all be deceased.

But if they repent

and respect what I gave them,

then I may relent.

So again I booted up my laptop and logged into Facebook. One more time, God guided my typing.

Hey big oil! What do you say? Let’s all save Alaska and may the caribou stay. Hey lumberjacks! What do you see? Those huge stacks of logs don’t mean shit to a tree. Hey 3M and Monsanto, Hey Delta and Dow, why can’t we breathe? It’s smog in the air that makes the Lord grieve.

God sees what we’re doing, God sees what we’ve done and the Unhappy Camper is not amused. He’s told me point blank so I’m telling you: If we don’t correct and make his earth well, all I know is I’ll see you in hell.

I haven’t logged back into Facebook since, and I haven’t gotten any more unsolicited texts. Not entirely sure about it, but looks like a hard rain’s gonna fall.

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Note: I wrote this for a class I am taking which studies the Hebrew Bible as literature. The task was to write as if I was a modern prophet for Yahweh. Medium doesn’t seem to make it easy for footnotes, so I was forced to leave them out, which is unfortunate because I used a lot of song lyrics to compose this. Within, a discerning reader might notice words from Quicksilver Messenger Service, John Mayall, Frank Zappa, Popeye the Sailorman, Neil Young, Kingdom Come, Jefferson Airplane, and Bob Dylan.

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Resi Dent
Resi Dent

Written by Resi Dent

Blue Collar Satirist. Or, as his mother used to say before she died, “Why aren’t you more like your brother?”