There once was a man who managed to get himself stuck on a small, uninhabited island. Other than it being November and a little cold, it didn’t bother him much; he had always thought of himself as the self-sufficient type of guy, anyway. It wasn’t long, though, before he realized that the island couldn’t support him. There wasn’t enough food or fresh water.

When reality set in, the beginnings of humility soon followed and for the first time in his adult life the man began to feel the need for somebody. There was nobody there, of course, and he knew that there wouldn’t be. “What I need here is a goddamn miracle,” he thought and having no alternatives, he reluctantly decided there was only one thing left to do.

Even though he knew there was no way anyone could see him, the man spent several hours scouting around for a secluded place. Getting down on one knee and sort of folding his hands he prayed, “Okay, God, you really stuck it to me this time, so now I need your help. I sure hope you’re listening ’cause I only got a month or two worth of food and water left. Okay?” And with a somewhat cynical “amen,” he stood up and quickly walked away.

That night a terrific storm appeared out of nowhere and the man, having little shelter from the pouring rain, spent most of the night cursing himself for having been stupid enough to believe God would do anything, if there even was a God. Eventually, though, he managed to fall asleep and in the morning awoke to find the weather clear and unseasonably warm. In fact, if he hadn’t known that it was actually Thanksgiving Day, he would have sworn it was early spring.

It wasn’t long after getting up that he found a barrel sitting upside down just a few feet from the shore line. While he knew it hadn’t been there the day before, he didn’t expect there was going to be anything that special about it until he got close enough to read the words printed on the bottom lid. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said aloud to no one, “look what I did!”

Despite the fact that those words clearly said OPEN OTHER END FOR ANSWER TO YOUR PRAYER, the man was so impressed with how easy this God stuff was and how obviously good he was at praying to have received such a large and heavy barrel for such a small and half-meant prayer that he didn’t really think the directions applied to him. “What’s the point of turning it over?” he thought, “Any fool can see it’s easier to just open it the way it’s sitting.” And so, in the spirit of his favorite song, he decided “I’ll do it my way.”

After about an hour of fruitless effort, not only was he banged up, blistered and bleeding but he’d begun to think the barrel was a bigger problem than the one it was supposed to solve. A half hour later found him both certain he’d broken another finger and seriously wondering if God might have a really sick sense of humor. After two hours, aching and exhausted, he was pretty sure God in fact did. But when he finally got the lid off he was positive, for despite everything he had dared to hope was in that barrel (a big turkey dinner and a few bottles of wine being number one on his list), the incredible stench that greeted his nose told him his eyes could be looking at one thing, and one thing only.

Grabbing two oozing fists full of it, the man raised them at the sky and screamed at God, “I can’t believe you’d do this to me! I asked you for help. I actually got down on my knees and prayed for help, and you send me bullshit?” With tears in his eyes and feeling more anger and hurt than he ever thought possible, the man turned his back on the barrel and ran to the other side of the island vowing never to set sight on “God’s stupid joke” again.

But it didn’t seem to matter where he went in the following weeks. Every night he would find a new hiding place to sleep in and every morning he would awake to find “that damn barrel” right in front of him, upside down and all sealed up again. He took this as some sort of challenge and spent most of his waking hours trying to make the barrel leave him alone. He piled rocks on it, he dug holes around it in hopes that it would fall in one of them, he screamed obscenities at it, pleaded with it and pretended not to notice it, but he never turned it over and he never tried to open it again. Eventually, time and the lack of any real nourishment took their toll on the man, and the morning came when he found that he could do no more than lie there glaring at the barrel. That evening, his heart filled with bitterness, he died.

Sometime later, the captain of a passing ship noticed the island and decided, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, that he and some of his men should go ashore. Not far from where they landed the men found the man’s body with the barrel at his feet. The captain, noticing the words still there on the bottom lid, turned the barrel over and found an envelope attached to the top lid. Inside the envelope he found the following note:

Dear Son, 

I’m happy to see that you’re willing to follow my directions. Without that, I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. You’ll find two latches on the barrel lid. Pull them toward the center and the lid will lift off easily. Inside you will find gardening tools and a set of wheels. Directly beneath these items, you’ll find several packages of seeds. Last, but not least, you’ll find an ample supply of fertilizer sealed in at the bottom of the barrel. I suggest you don’t break the seal until you’re ready, it’s pretty potent stuff. (Sorry about the smell, but trust me, if you know what to do with it, it can work miracles.)

Attach the wheels to the barrel and move it to the center of the island. You’ll find a reservoir of rain water there, right next to a plot of level ground. I will take care of providing the right weather. All you need to do is plant and care for the seeds according to the enclosed instructions. This will provide you with all the food you need until the ship that I am sending comes to take you home.

Love, God

Author Bio:: Paul Pomeroy lives in California. He was raised Catholic, became a born again agnostic while in his teens, dabbled in atheism, recently swallowed his pride and has become a follower of Christ and a believer in the power of compassionate action to reveal the presence of the Kingdom here among us.

About Mark Van Steenwyk

Mark Van Steenwyk is a member of Missio Dei. He is a speaker, writer, educator, and grassroots organizer. With the support of the Central Plains Mennonite Conference, he travels to radical and intentional communities around the country to help network and offer support.