Grizzly Love stood at the tree line, arms crossed, watching the bulldozers in his mind like ghosts that never left.
Josey Wales leaned against a post, hat low, chewing on a thought the way men chew on tobacco.
Grizzly Love:
Oka wasn’t about golf. Never was. It was about land pretending it didn’t remember who it belonged to.
Josey Wales:
That’s how it always starts. First a flag. Then a fence. Then someone tells you it’s progress.
Grizzly Love:
Progress for who?
Josey Wales (snorts):
Same crowd every time. Billionaires with clean shoes and dirty maps.
Grizzly Love:
They wanted fairways over graves. Green grass over roots.
Josey Wales:
Funny thing—you hear what Donald’s saying now?
Grizzly Love:
I can guess.
Josey Wales:
He wants a golf course on Mars.
Grizzly Love (laughs, then stops):
Of course he does.
Josey Wales:
Not just golf. Casino too. Starbucks. McDonald’s. Red planet, golden arches.
Grizzly Love:
No water, no air—but somehow there’s room for tee times.
Josey Wales:
That’s the dream. Escape the mess they made here and recreate it somewhere no one can object.
Grizzly Love:
And when someone does?
Josey Wales:
They’ll say Mars was empty. Just rocks. Same story, different planet.
Grizzly Love:
That’s not exploration. That’s exile with better branding.
Josey Wales:
I call it billionaire apartheid. The chosen one and his chosen zip codes—now interplanetary.
Grizzly Love:
So Earth burns, and Mars gets valet parking.
Josey Wales:
Yeah. And they’ll call it destiny.
Grizzly Love (quietly):
Oka taught us something, though. Land remembers. People remember.
Josey Wales:
And no matter how far they run—
you can’t fence the truth. Not on Earth. Not on Mars.
Scene: A quiet church in East Vancouver. Late afternoon light pours through stained glass. G.I. Joe sits across from Delilah Paz in a wooden pew.
G.I. Joe:
You used to say God was just a story. A crutch. So what changed, Delilah?
Delilah Paz:
I didn’t lose faith because of science… I lost it because of pain. When my dad died, I couldn’t reconcile a loving Father with silence. I stopped praying. Stopped believing anyone was listening.
G.I. Joe:
Yeah. Silence can feel like abandonment. Even Christ cried out, “My God, why have You forsaken me?”
Delilah:
Exactly. But that line… it haunted me. I started reading again. Not just verses posted online — the whole narrative. Especially the part where Jesus calls God “Abba.” Father. Intimate. Not distant.
G.I. Joe:
So you came back to God the Father through the Son?
Delilah:
Yes. I watched The Passion of the Christ again. I couldn’t shake the idea that if God would enter suffering instead of avoiding it, then maybe He wasn’t silent — maybe He was present in it.
G.I. Joe:
That’s heavy. Most people run from suffering.
Delilah:
I did. But then I started volunteering. Real people. Real pain. Addiction. Homelessness. I kept seeing something — when people forgave each other, it changed the air in the room. It felt… supernatural.
G.I. Joe:
Like grace.
Delilah:
Exactly. And I thought — if forgiveness is real, then justice must be real. And if justice is real, then there has to be a source. A moral center. A Father.
G.I. Joe:
Some would say that’s just psychology.
Delilah (smiling softly):
Maybe. But psychology doesn’t explain why love feels eternal. Or why we hunger for meaning beyond survival. I started reading thinkers like C.S. Lewis. He said if we have a desire nothing in this world can satisfy, maybe we were made for another world.
G.I. Joe:
So you believe again because it makes sense?
Delilah:
No. I believe again because it makes sense and it transforms. When I pray now, I don’t feel fireworks. I feel alignment. Like I’m stepping back into relationship.
G.I. Joe:
With God the Father.
Delilah:
With a Father who doesn’t prevent every storm — but walks through it. I stopped demanding explanations and started seeking presence.
G.I. Joe:
And you’re not afraid of doubt anymore?
Delilah:
Doubt isn’t the enemy. Indifference is. Faith isn’t pretending you’re certain. It’s choosing trust despite uncertainty.
G.I. Joe (nodding):
In the field, we call that courage. Not the absence of fear — but moving forward anyway.
Delilah:
Exactly. I believe again because I realized I was never really alone. Even in my rebellion, even in my anger… I was being carried.
G.I. Joe:
So God the Father wasn’t silent.
Delilah:
No. I just didn’t know how to listen yet.
The church bells ring in the distance. The light fades softer.
End Scene.