Question isn't how could God care about just one person. Feels my pain, your pain, like it was His own." Jake shook his head. He knows what you're feeling, how you're hurting. Seems to me that He's supposed to be everywhere, know everything." He put the lid back on the trash can. "That God sees the world like you do one thing at a time, from just one spot. "I never been to much school, you understand, but it seems to me that you assuming something that you shouldn't assume." He replaced the liner with a thoughtful look on his face. Jake tied off the trash bag and tossed it in the bin. How could God really care about what's happening to one little person on one little planet among a practically infinite number of them?" "Probably so many different kinds of people out there that we couldn't count them all. I mean, this whole universe, right? All those stars and all those worlds," I continued, maybe sounding more bitter than I had intended.
I don't know why everyone thinks He does. They talk for a moment, and then Harry says this to Jake about God. Harry is then interrupted by a janitor named Jake coming in to clean the chapel. I stood up and jabbed a finger at the podium, suddenly furious, and screamed, “The Prince of fucking Darkness gets to cheat and unload his power on the earth-twice!-and You just sit there being holy while my friend, who has fought for You his whole life, is dying! What the hell is wrong with You?” And I can only think of one of those guys who would have been helping that crew.” More than I could ever have had, even with Lasciel. But I’ve been running some figures in my head, and when the Denarians pulled up those huge Signs, they had to have a lot of power to do it. And Your angels aren’t allowed to stick their toes in unless the bad guys do it first. You don’t get involved as much as You used to, apparently. “And while we’re on the subject,” I said, “I think the rules You’ve got set up suck. If You want to bill it to me, I’m fine with that. And if after all he’s done, it ends like this for him, I’d think less of You. But I thought You should know that Michael makes You look pretty good. "I know that we don't talk much," I said, speaking out loud to the empty room. I'm reading Small Favor, a Dresden Files novel, and I'm at a point where Harry the wizard is in the empty chapel at Stroger Hospital, worrying about his horribly injured friend Michael (Michael is a Knight of the Cross, one of those who fight evil with a sword that has a nail from the crucifixion worked into their swords, and their enemy is a group called the Knights of the Blackened Denarius, thirty fallen angels haunting the thirty pieces of silver Judas received for betraying Jesus).
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