Dear Lord,
Allow me to finish this letter that seems to have been left incomplete.
How are you? I hope you are fine. If you ask about humanity — of course you already know, you don't need me to tell you, but I want to anyway — well, it has been quite a long time since you last sent a book and a prophet. One thousand four hundred years, to be precise. And in that gap, humanity has made enormous progress. We are more civilized, more modern. Slavery has been abolished — I know that was something you wanted, it is there between the lines, we just needed a few millennia to figure it out.
We have also developed entirely new ways of communication, far more advanced than a single book delivered by a single messenger. The internet age, my Lord! With these new tools, it is now possible — quite literally — to reach every human being you created. Every single one. I thought you should know.
I also suspect it bothers you — and I say this with the greatest respect — that so many people, in every age, have made careers out of interpreting your words. Building fame, authority, and comfortable incomes by declaring this is the correct reading, this is what pleases you. And it must sadden you that your book, though perfectly clear perhaps to the first Arabic villagers you addressed, has since produced countless competing creeds, each fighting the others for your approval, each certain they alone have your ear.
So allow me to humbly offer a solution.
A Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter account, my Lord. Think about it. You could personalize your message to anyone you wish — and that is what you want, is it not? You love every creature uniquely. Why burden them all with one book when you could have the pleasure of private messaging each of them, whenever you wish, whenever they need you? This would surely increase the number of people finding their way to heaven, which I know is your preference.
And please, do not worry about hell sitting empty. You, as an all-powerful and endlessly compassionate God, could create a category of beings who genuinely enjoy it. Nothing is impossible for you, my Lord. It seems like a reasonable arrangement.
You happy. We happy. Satan sad. I cannot think of anything better than that.
Yours sincerely,
Your everlasting humble servant.