On my first official day of work as a religion reporter, I saw Jesus.
He was heading west on Seventh Street in downtown Little Rock, wearing his long brown cloak and sandals, dragging his cross, blessing those who would accept it. He was across the street from the Catholic cathedral. In another block he would pass First Methodist Church and the Cokesbury bookstore.
I had covered religion for a daily paper temporarily for three months, and was on my way to lunch with a friend to celebrate the job becoming permanent. And here was news.
What to do? Go on to lunch? Call the office, alert the media? Pull over and ask Jesus for an interview?
I drove on while speed-dialing my editor, got her voicemail and left a message: “I’m on my way to lunch, but I saw Jesus rolling his cross down Seventh Street. Do you want me to interview him?”
By the time I’d covered the five blocks to Vino’s Pizza, Nancy had called back laughing:
No, no, enjoy your lunch. There will be other opportunities to meet Jesus.
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