My little sister posed me this question yesterday: if God calls you to die, will you be ready? I told her quite blatantly, no. For how could I, or anyone, know that it is truly God whom has called out to you? If we wish to believe that it is in fact God, then we must first believe that there is no way by which our senses might deceive us – no way it might conjure phantasms by casting into the air the fairy dust of emotion, or implant a mystical fervor by stirring and mixing the motley of past experiences. I, for the life of me, cannot believe this proposition. I know that when I am afraid or terribly anxious, I do not think straight. I lose hold of reason and begin to imagine the most terrifying of eventualities – or even, if desperate enough, implore the help of the supernatural. Thus, I suppose that if I felt a hundredfold more afraid or anxious, then there shall be nothing to stop me from delivering myself into the circus of non-reason, and there witness a variety of whimsical, magical, phantasmagorical performances. The question really ought to have been: how can you know if it is God who is calling you? And this question I think lies at the heart of all my doubts.