After strapping on a back support truss, hooking on a rock climber harness and hiding a fake beard under my big blue sheet of a toga, I follow other actors on stage then walk across to the ladder. I climb the ladder as quietly as possible, lean onto the small plywood platform, swing my legs around and rest on my back for a moment.

Almost every time I do this, I am briefly fearful. It's not a rational thought of fear, just a feeling. I'm lying on my back in a space with little room to move around. A cubbyhole of sorts. I cannot sit straight up, and once I'm in position, there's only one way out. There's no ladder down that way.

And then I scoot nearer to the ropes with hooks, edge the farthest one closer with my foot and then pull both to give me room to hook up. My hands are sweaty. I slip the ropes through loops in the harness and then hook onto the loop in front of my crotch. I wipe my hands off on my toga. I'm ready. No I'm not, I have to pull the beard out and strap it to my face. I listen. A few more lines.

I wipe my hands off again, scoot closer to the edge of the platform. I try to toss my toga to cover my shorts and harness. My cue is coming up. I grasp the closest handle (attached to the ceiling over the stage) with my left hand, careful to keep the rope attached to my left side in the correct place so I don't get tangled or strangled.

There's the cue. Thunder and a swell of music.

The next motion is quick and causes most of the bruises and cuts I have sustained over the last few weeks. My feet are in the rafters, I duck under my left side rope and grab the other handle with my right hand. I slide, swing and drop, still holding onto the handles. I am dangling and feel my rope man tighten the ropes I'm hanging from.

I let go.

The ropes lower me to the stage ten to twelve feet down. I have my arms spread wide. My left foot is straight while I cock my right up a bit to land in a point. I step into the spotlight and hold while the audience applauds.

Ta-da! (It's God, are you there Margaret?)

I say my God lines (Zeus spiel), and the play continues. I unhook myself, set up the ropes (again with the help of my indispensable rope man, Roger) for the next run and walk off the back of the stage.

I will do this one more time (slightly different presentation) near the end of the play.

My brother decided he wanted to direct a big comedic circus after the intimacy of his last directorial effort ("Top Dog/Underdog"). Something that people would have fun watching. Something to laugh at. "God" by Woody Allen was his choice, and I told him if he ended up doing it somewhere, I'd play a part. There are lots of parts in the play.

I hadn't acted since I was Daniel in a church play. I might have been about fifteen. It's been a while.

Early on in the rehearsal process, my brother joked to the cast that the only person who might get hurt or die would be me. And his punishment would be having to call our parents to let them know the bad news.

I first ran the rope trick two weeks ago. That day I didn't have the protection of the back support truss thing. I ran it at least ten times and sustained large abrasions (which turned into ugly bruises) on my sides where the ropes cut in. Naively, we thought that the rope system was low maintenance and would run correctly in perpetuity. Or at least for the run of the play. The next day (a Monday, first full rehearsal of tech week), we found out this was not correct.

On my second run, I knew the ropes weren't tight, but didn't think much of it. I'd been in a lot of pain for a day (aforementioned bruises, cuts, etc.), but the ropes had pretty much been working. I let go and did a free fall until the ropes jammed, and I was swinging two feet above the stage. It took a couple of minutes to get me free.

And my brother almost had a heart attack.

After another mishap where I only fell a couple of feet, but then was hanging about eight feet above the stage (ladders eventually were involved in getting me down), we had to figure out if the stunt was going to work.

Eventually we got it worked out and made it safer. Recruited a dedicated rope man (who also checks the rigging before every performance). I run it twice during pre-show warm-ups, and then another two times during the play.

Who knew playing God was so dangerous?

Matt Worley doesn't have many lines, but the rope trick always gets applause.