Translator

It was an impressive golden room. Everything was carved or plated, painted and bright. It was just one shade from too much, a brush stroke from overwhelming. Her eyes couldn't take it in, only her soul and with that only if her spirit helped. She stood in a state of thankfulness, peaceful to her core, until the huge double doors opened with thunder and her colleagues came in with the paper. 

They wanted a translation. She scanned the sheet with more than a little surprise. The text was written in many languages, over and over again. It was a repeating proclamation, with the languages of Earth intermingled and working together. The words seemed to link arms to speak and those that had no apparent connection combined to deliver the message. 

What was it? 

They recognized several words here and there. It was about God, of course. They studied it. They asked her to pray. But every prayer had already been answered. She knew what it said and she'd been waiting for it. 

God is...

God is angry? God is coming? 

The nebulous "God is Love" that seems to cover all sins, but exposes them instead? 

It was a mystery to almost all in that shimmering room. 

Was it a warning? 

No, she told them. It is not a warning. And with a deep breath she revealed it. It says, "God is here."