Increasing visual and olfactory discomfort leads Mrs. Upper, with a consciousness of her own responsibility as head of the vestry, to go for the third option, addressing Jesus as Sir, and ask if he’d like to be shown the facilities.  You realize with relief that someone has made a decision and you’re off the hook.
When Jesus says sure, he’d like a chance to freshen up, once he’s on his way downstairs, you all dash to the restrooms and scruff yourselves up a bit, pull shirttails out, yank off ties so you can meet in the middle.  He’ll be a bit tidier, you’ll be a bit scruffier. Then you return to the room and sit down to wait.  And wait.  And wait. 
Since things seem to have loosened up a bit, someone puts the coffee on and that fragrant homey scent, plus turning up the ventilation system, does quite a bit to freshen the room. 
The waiting gets to be a strain so you’re all happy when you hear him coming back.  Even his stride seems to indicate the facilities offered have done him good.  You whisper, I think this is going to help quite a lot.  I just couldn’t see myself being judged by someone who smelled like that. 
You all nod your heads, feeling good you’ve offered hot water, soap and clean clothes to God.
Then he enters the room, having availed himself of what was offered.  In addition to now being clean, he has straightened up and grown a few inches, showered and shaved, seemingly been totally enamoured of the lotion and dumped it all over himself, unfortunately using the bottle of drugstore Joy instead of Brut.  You would forgive him not being informed about twenty-first-century fragrances but his total appearance is still dismaying and you wish you had the bum back.
He’s chosen a nice polyester cocktail dress in lime and magenta, complemented by a sequined powder blue sweater, and some six-inch spike-heeled gold strappy sandals.  I thought I told you to throw those out, someone whispers.  Jesus smiles at the person and he says he’s glad she didn’t because now he can see over the heads of the crowd. 
The beard is gone and he has inexpertly moussed his hair and fluffed it up.  He’s used too much and it’s spiked like the Statue of Liberty.  His makeup is far too bright although it’s a pleasure to see his gleaming white teeth and beautifully manicured nails, done the new way with little miniature pictures on each one.  He must have found the stack of fashion magazines and leafed through them.
You’re not sure whether you’re upset because he seems to have changed gender or because his fashion choices are so tacky.
He sits down right under the big crucifix on the wall and asks if there’s any coffee left.  One of the vestry rushes to get it for him, bringing the cream and sugar on a tray.  He pours in so much cream that the coffee is in danger of spilling over.  When he adds a few spoons of sugar, it does slop over on the floor. 
Damn, he says.  Sorry.  I’ve just got such a sweet tooth.  He starts to get up. 
I’ll get some paper towels in the kitchen. 
You say please to let you do it and rush off.  When you return, you bring some doughnuts on a plate, left over from the reception after the Bishop’s visitation.
Jesus eats the doughnuts, seemingly not even noticing they’re a little stale, unfortunately dusting his dress with powdered sugar that smears when he tries to brush it off, drinks some coffee, then looks around and says, well, isn’t this nice?
Everyone nods eagerly, then silence.  More silence that goes on until the normal time for lunch. Growling stomachs punctuate the silence.
Finally Jesus speaks again.  Ummmm, I don’t want to rush you (everybody sits up) but I do have the whole world to get to, so I wonder if you’ve made any decisions.
More silence.
Someone finally dares to speak up.  Decisions?  What do you mean?
Decisions, he says somewhat impatiently, so you can glimpse the god through the tarty exterior.  Decisions.  This is Judgment Day.  You were told two thousand years ago that it was coming.  Remember.  I told you in these exact words.  Crossing his long graceful legs in their pearly pantyhose and golden sandals, Jesus runs rapidly through all the signs.
Nation rising against nation, pestilence, famines, earthquakes, false prophets, abominations of holy places, etc.  All that’s well under way.  To be quite honest, I don’t even understand why you’re here.  That’s partly why I was late.  I spent a lot of time looking for you. 
When you saw all these signs, you were told to flee to the mountains, not stop to take anything with you, not even to go back to the house for your coat.  I had to include pregnant women to be fair, but  I didn’t say you couldn’t carry them.  Them and the crippled, the old, etc. I’ve been searching all the mountains and as far as I can tell, the only people there are the die-hard skiers who are enjoying the almost empty lifts.  I didn’t have the heart to summon them for judgment just yet.
I told you it might be in winter and here it is.  So far as I can tell, you didn’t pay attention to any of this.  You just kept working, playing, accumulating more stuff, thought your fur coats could keep you warm in my winter!  
Realizing he is becoming a bit strident, Jesus leans back again and takes a sip of his coffee.
Didn’t I say  to watch for my word becoming widespread? I said, and I quote, concerning this sign the Saviour says: “And this gospel of the kingdom, shall be preached in the whole world, for a testimony to all nations, and then shall the consummation come.” 
Wake up and smell the coffee, folks!  It’s all over cable any Sunday morning. 
Return of Enoch and Elijah? The Undead Prophets rock band, with singer Enoch and Elijah on bass.  They’ve been having a ball but I guess you’ve all been listening to Barry Manilow, which won’t count against you.  No one can be faulted for their musical taste.
The Great Apostasy.  No one in France has been to church for years and there are only about fifty Episcopalians left in the United States, probably most of them gathered in this hall.
Reign of the Anti-Christ.  This one should have been a dead giveaway.  I can tell you’ve all been neglecting your numerology or you would have figured out which world leader’s name qualifies for the Beast 666.  Look here. 
Jesus walks over, hips swaying in that way you can’t help in six-inch spikes, to the big tablet on an easel used in Sunday school.  Selecting a bright purple marker, he draws the following.