He sat down at one of the tables.
A merry dance began in an area to the side of the room, one more splendid than any marriage dance ever done.
Mark stayed in his seat, looking at Jesus. "I'm still frustrated. What was it you wanted me to do with my life? And don't give me that line about serving you, because it didn't give me any damn specifics. I want specifics! What job was I supposed to do? I tried the wrong ones. I want you to tell me what one you designed for me. The one where I'd be a success and wouldn't have to worry about finding a job every two weeks. Was it pastor? Was that what I was supposed to do?"
Jesus told him the answer.
"What about all that stuff the college guidance counselors told me? Was there any merit to that, or were there truly no jobs in that field?"
Jesus gave the answer.
"What companies should have I applied to? Which ones should have I struggled with a bit and gotten a job with? Which ones did I not try hard enough on?"
Jesus handed him a stack of papers.
Mark stared at it, reading it for several minutes. He threw it on the floor. "It's too late to do anything about it now."
"Exactly," said Jesus.
Mark frowned. "Well, I'm here now. I guess that's what counts." He stared at him. "You're not going to condemn me to hell, are you?" He sighed. "I'm probably going to get docked several points at least. I know I didn't exactly do what you commanded on earth." He shook his head. "But I always thought I'd have an easier time doing what you commanded if you had allowed me to get a job. Honor thy father and mother! Ring any bells? How was I supposed to honor either one of them if I couldn't even find work?"