This short story is by Jessica Walters:
A Chevy minivan drove up to the drive-thru intercom,
“May I take your order?”
“Yes, I’ll have five communions and two baptisms please.”
“Will that be infant or adult?”
“Adult.”
“Full immersion or sprinkling?”
“Full immersion please.”
“Just so you’re aware, our baptismal tank is out of order, but we’ve rented a dunk tank from the fairground next door. Will that be amenable to you, sir?
“Yes, that’s fine.”
A father and his three children drove his minivan up to drive-thru window. His wife sat in the passenger seat.
“Here are your two-bite communions,” said the friendly, blonde woman at drive-thru window, then added, “Please pull into our parking lot where you’ll have your baptisms.”
The family peeled lids from their communions to reveal a wafer below. Once they’d eaten the wafer, they peeled off the second seal. In the small cup below was thick, sweet, Welch’s grape juice.
They were met at the dunk tank by a pastor in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. The father of the family got out of the minivan. He said,
“The baptisms are for my sons. They’ve been refusing to get baptized at a traditional church, so I promised I would buy them new iPhones if they agreed to do get baptized. That seemed to work, cause here we are.”
The first son sat on the dunk tank platform while the pastor said, “We thank you, God, for the gift of creation made known to us in water and word. Out of the waters of the deep, you formed the firmament and brought forth the earth to sustain all life. Amen.”
“Amen,” the family said in unison. The pastor pressed the dunk tank paddle and the first teenage son dropped into the water. Their teary-eyed mother stood next to her unbaptized younger daughter with a towel in hand.
***
Sundays were always the busiest days at The Drive-Thru Body. The store opened from 10-7 on weekdays and from 9-9 on weekends. Still, people had in their minds that Jesus only worked on Sundays. Of course, the Seventh Day Adventists came out on Saturdays. So, weekends were a busy time for the employees at The Drive-Thru Body.
Each employee was ordained, and each was ordained into different denominations. Father Anthony was Catholic, Pastor Brian was Baptist, Cynthia was an intercessory prayer warrior who was just ordained by the powers vested in a website called pastornow.com. She also answered the drive-thru intercom because studies showed that most people prefer a female voice when ordering. There was Bob the Mormon, Fred the Seventh Day Adventist, Stuart the Anglican, and Jackson the Pentecostal.
The Drive-Thru Body was founded by a philanthropist who wished to remain nameless because he did not want his right hand to know what his left hand was doing. He said when starting the company,
“Sometimes it’s just too hard to get out of bed and get to church on time, but you still want the good stuff. You still want the bread and juice with a side of Catholic confession for good measure.”
The Drive-Thru Body was located just outside the suburbs of Phoenix, Arizona. They served salvations, baptisms, marriages, last rites, confessions, absolutions, and come-holy-spirit prayers. The pastors used to sing hymns on demand but when too many congregants requested them, they found their voices grew hoarse and they were unable to perform their other duties. So, they bought an antique jukebox and filled it with hymns. “Amazing Grace” and “Abide with Me” were the hymns of choice.
***
During the week the team received typical requests for prayers or blessings. But one Monday morning a young woman driving a rusty Ford Taurus pulled up to the drive-thru intercom and asked,
“Do you perform unbeliefs?”
“Say it again sweetie, what was it you wanted?”
“Do you perform unbeliefs?”
“We perform salvations.”
“It’s not really the same thing, is it? Anyway, I’ve been saved, and I want to be unsaved.”
Cynthia said, “Why don’t you pull your car into the parking lot at the side of the store and someone will be out to speak with you in just a few minutes.”
That pastors and priests gathered to figure out if they could perform an unbelief.
“Has anyone received such a request before?” Asked the Baptist.
“Never,” said pastor Ted shaking his head.
“How does one take away belief?” Stuart asked. They talked for some time, wondering if performing an unbelief would go against their mandate, but they had vowed never to turn away a customer.
“I’ll do it,” said Father Anthony, “Or, at least I’ll think about doing it.” He walked out to the woman waiting in her Ford Taurus.
As he approached, he saw that her window was down, the driver’s seat reclined, and her eyes closed.
He cleared his throat as he approached her window, and she opened her eyes.
“Are you the one who wants an unbelief?” He asked.
“Ya, that’s me.”
“We don’t usually do those, in fact, we never do.”
“No customer ever wanted a return?”
“They don’t come to us if they do. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions first?”
“Sure, but don’t try to convince me out of it, it won’t work.” The priest took a notebook and pencil from his breast pocket.
“Name?”
“Rachel.”
“Reason for requesting an unbelief?” She closed her eyes and fell into a long silence. Finally,
“Belief is like trying to climb a mountain with weights tied to my wrists and ankles. It’s heavy and hard to move around in. When I step into a church I sweat through my clothes and my heart races. Who I am no longer fits with my beliefs.”
“Is there anything that would help — anything I could say or do?
“I don’t think so. I just want it gone. Can you do that, or not?”
“If you’ll wait just a bit longer, I’ll have a prayer of unbelief made up for you. Maybe you want to wait inside?”
Father Anthony went into the employee’s side of the building. Rachel went around to the customer entrance. “Sanctuary” was written across the double glass doors. She went in and found a mini church with 4 rows of pews and a little platform at the front. There were four large stained-glass windows on either side of the small sanctuary. Dappled, colored light fell across the pews. Rachel flipped through the hymns in the jukebox and chose “Shall we Gather at the River,” then sat and listened.
Finally, Father Anthony entered the sanctuary, with a piece of paper fluttering in his hand.
“I’ve done it! I have just the thing. A prayer of unbelief.” He flopped down beside her out of breath as if he’d just ran to find her. “Now, you’ll just repeat after me.”
“Sure.” She said.
“Dear Lord,” he said
“Dear Lord,” she said.
“I admit that I have said the sinner’s prayer which asked you to forgive me. I proclaimed belief in your son, Jesus Christ and asked that he take control of my life. But the burden of belief has become too heavy, and I kindly ask that you now remove all trace of yourself from my life. I am no longer in need (and no longer desire) to have Jesus living in my heart.” He paused. Then said, “And now, you add your own prayer either silently or aloud.”
Father Anthony waited in silence and was going to continue with his prayer of unbelief but Rachel, with her head bowed and eyes closed, said almost inaudibly,
“I love your creation, maybe even You. Thanks. Thanks for everything.”
“Amen,” said Father Anthony.
“Amen.”
The two sat listening to “Nearer my God to Thee.”
“Thanks Father, I feel lighter already.”
“A pleasure.”
They shook hands then she got in her Taurus. He watched her ease out of the parking lot. She had collection of dashboard bobbleheads in the rear window of her car. In between a waiving daisy and a dancing hula girl was a bobblehead Jesus. It was the last thing Father Anthony saw as the car sped off in a cloud of dust down the desert road.
