When we were kids, my brother and I were closer than most friends, and I’ve never had many friends so that meant a lot to me. We went to ball games, we joked around, skipped church together, and talked about anything, everything.Then he accepted Jesus into his heart, and fifty years later his Christianity is still the most important thing to my brother. He reads his Bible constantly, and reads other books about the Bible. He leads midweek Bible studies at his church, teaching about Ecclesiastes. He prays about major and minor decisions. He says grace before meals, and before snacks, even if he’s alone. His car’s vanity plates read “IS 41 10” (the IS stands for Isaiah). Thankfully, he’s stopped pushing God at me, because I push back. For my brother, though, a conversation about God is always spring-loaded, for family, friends, strangers, anyone he talks with. At breakfast once, he tried to discuss God with the waitress.He’s happy as hell with God running his life, and I am sincerely happy that he’s happy, but his Most Important Thing is not even my Least Important Thing; it’s not on my list at all.I don’t “hate” God, as my family
sometimes slanders. I just don’t care.

Which means, my brother and I can’t talk like we used to, can’t go deep on most topics. If he talks about what matters to him, I struggle to stifle a yawn. If I talk about what matters to me, he’s offended, or he quotes a Bible verse. So we talk about movies, long as they’re rated G or PG. We talk about baseball, and family, and how’s the weather out there?
When we were young, there were no limits to what we could talk about and laugh about — the more outrageous the better, and funnier.Now, he sends videos of “clean comedians” doing stand-up. And some of it’s funny, sure, but I wish I could tell him the joke about the priest and the rabbi and the mullah who walk into a whorehouse together.Jesus Christ, I miss my brother. Thanks a lot, God.

10/14/2019  
Republished 4/7/2024