You don’t even need bother wasting your money buying a Mega Millions lottery ticket.
I’ve already won.
It’s mine.
Tonight I will clutch my ticket with the winning numbers. I will pray for God to help me win. If he helps me win, I promise to pay him 20% of the winnings. Twenty Percent to the church. Who else gives Him a deal like that? That’s like twice the normal tithe. He can’t pass that up.
The first number matches!
Oh, God! If you just help me win, I’ll obey all the commandments. I promise not to kill anyone. I promise not to, um, kill, um, my mom and dad. I promise not to kill, um, God. Something like that. And 15%. Fifteen percent donation to the church if I win!
The second number matches.
Holy Crap! God, you’ve got to stay with me on this. Three more numbers to go. I promise I’ll learn the Commandments. How many are there? Ten? I only need three numbers. And the Megaball. Four numbers, God. I can do ten commandments. I promise I won’t steal anything. I won’t have to if you give me four more matches.
Another match!
Thank you Lord Jesus! Daddy needs a new set of running shoes. And I’ll still donate 10% to the church. I’ve never tithed before, but by God if those numbers match, I am so there. I’ll go to church every Sunday for the rest of my life!
The fourth number matches. I bet you knew that already. It’s like you’ve had a Revelation!
Thank you, thank you, thank you, God. Two more to go and I promise that I’ll donate five percent of the winnings to the church. Five whole percent. The jackpot’s like half a billion dollars. That’ll be, um, carry the one, um, well more money than I ever would have donated before. You can do this God. And I’ll still go to church every Sunday for a year. And You know I’m good for at least 8 of those commandments. Seven on a bad day.
The fifth number matches. An angel got his wings.
My hand is trembling now. I can barely hold the ticket. I’m afraid my sweat might smudge the numbers but I’m too afraid to put it down. All we need, God, is the Megaball. Megaball. Megaball. Megaball. Come on, Lord, let’s do this. Be the Megaball. I’m all over that 1% donation to the church. And you can count on me being in that pew every Sunday for the rest of this year. Or at least until football season, when I might need to call on you again. No. That’s wrong. That is so very wrong. If you make this happen–one Megaball match–just one–I’ll never ask you for anything again. Except maybe a very long and healthy life. Why give me all that money if I don’t live long enough to enjoy it. I don’t need to tell You that. You’ve got me covered right?
And the final number is . . . .
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