My brothers and sisters, I have one question for you today. Is the safest place on Earth no longer safe? In this new day and age of time we have embarked on an era of deception, ridicule, blather and lies. Sadly, we aren’t talking about the normality of water cooler gossip. We instead are talking about the deep roots of the fallen church, better known to some as the Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle.
Christian Brother suits, Armani neckties, and Donna Vinci suits for the misses with matching handbags are what a lot of microwave church goers are more concerned with these days rather than the good news of the great Word. Today, church members are less impressed by the [church] bulletin and more intrigued by the garments that wrap the toned bodies of the deacons and trustees and their lovely wives. But if you haphazardly remove those expensive tailored suits, the one thing you are left with is the dirty old bones that the instant brothers and sisters in Christ paid so much money to hide.
No matter what church or denomination (however we can’t possibly be referring to any other church other than the Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle because everyone else’s place of worship is too holy for the sins of heathens), preachers are preaching one thing and are secretly getting away with the stuff they tell us are unholy; deacons are co-signing their preacher’s teachings in an effort to get promoted to pastor’s ace-boom-koom; trustees aren’t to be trusted with the funds that pour into the collection baskets and seemingly all goes down the drain; the nurses are too hungover to tend to the sick and shut in; the choirs are too tired from popping that thang in front of the pulpit; the security ministry can’t be found because they’re out on the corner making a transaction for their nameless glaucoma issues; and the ushers can’t make it to church on time to separate the full blown heathens from the heathens-in-training.
What has the church come to?!
First our babies are having babies, then clergymen are laying hands on young boys; holy women are doing unholy things under linens that aren’t pure as snow; tithes are paying light bills that refuse to shine on the truth, and the free-will offering comes with a price tag. Pretty soon dirty laundry will be aired out over the pulpit or duked out over a battle of the bands from beyond the choir stand.
Has it really come to the point where church goers only attend church for fear of missing out on the latest Sunday-worthy “Do Tell”? How many people can answer the questions, “What’s the first and last book in the bible?” or “Which book rests in the center?” “What’s the difference between the Lord’s supper and the last supper?” or “What time does 8 o’clock service begin?”
Well at the Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle, 8 o’clock service begins any time you open your eyes after getting in from the club, or dismissing the stranger you met last night on Easy Street from your bedroom, or after you’ve belched up your last residual gassage of Hennesy and coke. Holy Hood Church of Mount Mattress Bedside Tabernacle is the worship center where all are welcomed and none are judged. At least that’s what they’re printing on their mass mail orders for monetary donations to the “Get John John & Lil Man Out of Jail” fund. Thank heavens 90% of any effort is getting started, otherwise where in the hell would we be? Let the people of the church say, “Amen.”
Quote of the week: “A man is accepted into a church for what he believes and he is turned out for what he knows.” – Mark Twain