I have an apology to make. Im afraid Ive made a big mistake. I turned my face away from you, Lord.
I was too blind to see the light. I was too weak to feel Your might. I closed my eyes; I couldnt see the truth, Lord.
But then like Saul on the Damascus road, you sent a messenger to me, and so
I have had the truth revealed to me. Please forgive me all those things I said. Ill no longer betray you, Lord. I will pray to you instead.
And I will say Thank you, thank you, thank you God. Thank you, thank you, thank you God.
Thank you God for fixing the cataracts of Sams mum.
I had no idea but its suddenly so clear now. I feel such a cynic. How could I have been so dumb?
Thank you for displaying how praying works: a particular prayer in a particular church. Thank you Sam for the chance to acknowledge this omnipotent opthamologist.
Thank you God for fixing the cataracts of Sams mum. I didnt realize that it was so simple, but youve shown a great example of just how it can be done.
You only need to pray in a particular spot to a particular version of a particular god, and if you pull that off without a hitch, he will fix one eye of one middle-class white bitch.
I know in the past my outlook has been limited. I couldnt see examples of where life had been definitive. But I can admit it when the evidence is clear, as clear as Sams mums new cornea.
Thats extremely clear! Extremely clear!
Thank you God for fixing the cataracts of Sams mum. I have to admit that in the past I have been skeptical but Sam described this miracle and I am overcome!
How fitting that the sighting of a sight-based intervention should open my eyes to this exciting new dimension. Its like someone put an eye chart on the wall in front of me and the top five letters say: I C G O D.
Thank you, Sam, for showing how my point of view has been so flawed. I assumed there was no God at all but now I see thats cynical. Its simply that his interests arent particularly broad.
Hes largely undiverted by the starving masses, or the inequality between the various classes. He gives you strictly limited passes, redeemable for surgery or two-for-one glasses.
I feel so shocking for historically mocking. Your interests are clearly confined to the ocular. I bet given the chance, youd eschew the divine and start a little business selling contacts online.
**** me Sam, what are the odds that of historys endless parade of gods that the God you just happened to be taught to believe in is the actual one and he digs on healing, but the AIDS-ridden African nations, the victims of the plague or the flood-addled Asians, but healthy, privately-insured Australians with common and curable corneal degeneration?
This story of Sams has but a single explanation: a surgical God who digs on magic explanations. It couldnt be mistaken attribution of causation, born of a coincidental temporal correlation, exacerbated by a general lack of education vis-a-vis physics in Sams parish congregation. And it couldnt be that all these pious people are liars. It couldnt be an artifact of confirmation bias, a product of groupthink, a mass delusion, an Emperors New Clothes-style fear of exclusion.
No, its more likely to be an all-powerful magician than the misdiagnosis of the initial condition, or one of many cases of spontaneous remission, or a record-keeping glitch by the local physician.
No, the only explanation for Sams mums seeing: they prayed to an all-knowing superbeing, to the omnipresent master of the universe, and he liked the sound of their muttered verse.
So for a bit of a change from his usual stunt of being a sexist, racist, murderous ****, he popped down to Dandenong and just like that, used his powers to heal the cataracts of Sams mum of Sams mum!
Thank you God for fixing the cataracts of Sams mum! I didnt realize that it was such a simple thing. I feel such a dingaling, what ignorant scum!
Now I understand how prayer can work: a particular prayer in a particular church in a particular style with a particular stuff and a particular book for particular problems that arent particularly tough, and for particular people, preferably white, for particular senses, preferably sight a particular prayer in a particular spot, to a particular version of a particular god.
And if you get that right, He just might take a break from giving babies malaria and pop down to your local area to fix the cataracts of your mum!
Hallelujah!