Pricey Preacher Parables

by Patricia Backora
All Rights Reserved http://banpreachergreed.tripod.com http://boogerbucks.tripod.com http://kingdomage.tripod.com

This book may be freely copied and shared worldwide for non-commercial purposes of personal ministry, provided content remains unchanged and credit is given the author. Freely ye have received, freely give (Jesus, in Matt.10:8).

CONTENTS No More Nickels. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 BBQ Tithes and Party Wine. . . . . . . . 5 Missing the Postmark. . . . . . . . . . . 10 Barred At the Pearly Gates. . . . . . . 16 When Hell Freezes Over. . . . . . . . . 23 Pay Up, Pardner!. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 What Price Self-Esteem?. . . . . . . . .34 Prosperity Pandemonium. . . . . . . . 40 Religious Racketeers. . . . . . . . . . . 42 Bucks in the Belfry. . . . . . . . . . . . .49 The Loveless Landlord. . . . . . . . . . 56 Jesus and the Rich Man. . . . . . . . . 59

No More Nickels!
Names fictional, a true story

Honest, this really did happen at a church I visited several times. Although it seemed like something out of a comic book, I didnt find it the least bit funny. It made me want to cry for the poor people who got humiliated by it. Brother Bullard (not his real name, of course!) was an elderly pastor whod forgotten how to count his blessings properly. He had received a rare miracle from the Lord_being healed of a physical infirmity beyond the power of medical science to help. Deeply grateful to Jesus, Brother Bullard wanted to serve Him for the rest of his days, and so long as he kept his priorities straight he did a magnificent job. Brother Bullard was a jolly fellow. His worship services always had you swaying and tapping your feet. He was good at exhorting the saints to believe God for the impossible, for he was living proof that Jesus is still in the healing business. Brother Bullard was so full of life you never felt like falling asleep in the pew. Our area had fallen on hard economic times. The joy of the saints had to spring from deep within, not from their sad circumstances. Quite a few in the small congregation were out of work. Just burning the gas to go to church was a big sacrifice. But it never occurred to any of these good folks to stay home till times were better and they could put real paper money in the offering plate again. These transparently honest people just gave what they had...and, in monetary terms, it wasnt much. Brother Bullard and his family had gotten used to a comfy lifestyle, even though they were far from millionaires. They didnt have to work at the plastic plant or the chicken cannery. While Brother Bullards flock could barely make ends meet he and his family often travelled to church conferences to get recharged spiritually. This was like icing on the cake of the pastors privileged life. His poor flock struggled for mere bread.

But it was getting harder and harder for the pastor to afford such treats, above and beyond his living expenses. And he dreaded counting up the proceeds after each service. He hated the nickels and pennies given by jobless, burdened saints. Despite the fact that the majority of prayer requests seemed to be for God to find jobs for young couples with kids, or to relieve financial want. Well, Brother Bullard would take authority over this financial crisis...in the wrong way. Scarcely had everyone sat down before he got their attention and picked up the offering plate. Why should you be ashamed to let others see what youre up to, he asked his people, if what youre doing isnt wrong? Let the whole wide world see your good works! Now, Ill start the offering the proper way, he said, whipping out a ten-dollar bill and flipping it into the plate. And dont place your nickels so softly inside so they wont make a clink, as if youre ashamed for people to see your generosity. Just pick em up and throw em right in! With that, Brother Bullard took a fistful of nickels out of his pocket and slammed them contemptuously in front of the pulpit. No one got up and left, though I wish they had. There was just a shamed silence and awkwardness which subsided after a short time. But before you knew it, Brother Bullard had that old piano pumping out Gospel tunes just like nothing unusual had happened. I got so disgusted I stopped going shortly thereafter. In John 2: 13-17 youll read about another Preacher Who slammed some coins down to the floor. Only that time it was to protect the poor rather than to publicly humiliate them. Jesus didnt much care for the way the devils business was being transacted in the Temple. His Fathers House was not to be a market place, but a House of Prayer. I can imagine the bellowing beasts stampeding away from the whip Jesus made, how the money changers coins jingled onto the pavement and rolled away from greedy scalawags fleeing from Jesus shouts of rebuke. Brother Bullard sure didnt value the coins he threw down. Anybody whos ever been broke knows that a nickel can be the difference between getting all the groceries you selected at the supermarket and having to put something back. Maybe it was just as hard for those folks to put a quarter in the plate as it was for Brother Bullard to reward himself with a ten-spot. Gods kids must beware of a haughty attitude . Those who fly high can fall hard if He is forced to humble them to make them see sense again. Just who did Jesus commend in Luke 21:1-4? The rich kingpins who dumped big offerings into the Temple treasury or the destitute widow who gave her last two cents? That was all she had left to live on, but the pompous scribes and Pharisees who bragged about their generosity were too blind to see as God sees. Jesus said the poor widow gave her all, but the rich gave just a bit of their extra fat. Gods math is a little different from that of people who are impressed by big numbers. I know that Prosperity Theology has gotten to be a deeply entrenched, respectable fixture in todays church world but the writer of James sees things differently. The first nine verses of James Chapter 2 exhort the Church of God not to treat rich church members better than poor ones. James even goes so far as to label it a sin against Gods Royal Law of Love to treat poor Christians like secondclass citizens. Verse 5 says: Hearken, my beloved brethren, Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him? And James reminded his listeners that it was the rich who opposed the First-Century Church the most. Heaven will not be populated by uppity ten-cent millionaires who refused to value their humbler brethren the way Jesus does. Good things come in plain packaging. All true saints of God are receptacles of His gifts and His grace, and heirs of His eternal Kingdom who have His Spirit dwelling within them. This world and all its

fading glories will soon pass away. Only those treasures laid up in heaven will last forever. $$$$$$

One picnic is worth a thousand windy words Pastor Bob knew the Reverend Superior of the Regional Synod thought hed completely flipped. But Bob also knew he was between a rock and a hard place. Better to take flak from another man than risk Gods displeasure about hiding the real truth from Christians who had a right to know it. The New Covenant tithing tax was as heated an issue to the modern church as circumcision had been to the early church, and just as much a sacred cow. But Bob had prayerfully researched his Scriptures. He could no longer in good conscience condone this age-old heresy. It was an outright sin to confiscate ten percent of a poor familys income in the Name of the Poor Carpenter Who never financed his own ministry that way. Paul hadnt done that, nor had Peter and John, who said: "Silver and gold have I none." So what gave the leaders of his denomination the right to further impoverish people poorer than themselves? In this Age of Grace Gods people were no longer serving under the Mosaic Law, so it was even wrong to take tithes off the rich parishioners. This predominantly working class congregation was always grumbling about the pressure put on them to tithe. Bob dreaded the visit of Reverend Superior Rufus. But he must finally make a firm stand for the Truth of Gods Holy Word. The Reverend Superior was a stern old bear, but Bobs primary loyalty must be to the Redeemer Who had washed him in His own blood, not to modern-day pharisees soaked in tradition. The two men met in Bobs big study. "Pastor Bob!" the venerable old churchman rebuked, "What is this I hear? You refuse to respect the long-standing dogma of our diocese! Rumors are circulating that you disagree with our churchs policy on member tithing!" "True, Reverend Rufus," Bob hesitated. "Are you aware of the fact that the Apostle Paul never once enforced tithing in the churches under his oversight?" "Youre splitting hairs over mere semantics," said Reverend Rufus. "Youre obsessing over what you CALL the money laymen put in the plate! A hundred dollar check is a hundred dollar check irregardless of whether you label it a tithe, a donation, a contribution, or an offering. Paul taught generous giving, and he didnt even turn down contributions from the destitute saints of Macedonia. So why do you make such a fuss over the label you attach to the funds coming into this church? God loves a cheerful giver, so the logical implication is that He hates a stingy one." "But youre a doctor of divinity, Reverend, with a string of degrees as long as my arm. Youre Head Chair of Doctrinal Forensics at Stonewall Seminary. You must know what Scripture really says about the Biblical tithe, and that Gentiles were never appointed by God to collect it." "Gentiles, smentiles!" Reverend Rufus barked. "Pastor, youre one Gentile who will end up a janitor if you dont submit to church authority as the Bible commands! Ill be back in town to check on you in two weeks time, and if by then you arent enforcing tithing in this congregation, Ill have you excommunicated from the flock of the faithful. Not only that, youll be defrocked faster than a fiery chariot. By the time were done with you, boy, you wont be able to preach to a parish of winos on Bourbon Street!"

BBQ Tithes and Party Wine

Winos...for some reason that word kept circulating in Bobs brain long after the eminent gentleman had left. After praying about his dilemma for a few minutes, Bob found the courage to smile. Some key Old Testament Scriptures were resurfacing. If this preacher went down defending the truth, he would go down in a blaze of glory! After Pastor Bobs next Sunday sermon, he announced an event, to be held in two weeks time. Most everyone got excited about it. The few skeptics among them said they wouldnt stay in any church which could split over fundamental doctrines. They simply walked out. The day before Reverend Rufus was to visit the diocese, Pastor Bob prayed for courage, then phoned his superior. "Ive got some very good news for you, Reverend Rufus. Ive seen the light! I preached my heart out about the tithe, and the whole congregation shares my enthusiasm!" "So your discourse was well received?" "Believe me, Reverend Rufus, they gobbled it up! I really do look forward to seeing you again. Id thought that since youre in the area, we could meet tomorrow...say, about one oclock? "That would be just fine with me, Pastor, and I am so relieved we wont be needing to retire you." "Reverend Rufus, since the weather is so lovely, Id like to confer with you out in the Sunday School courtyard tomorrow. That picnic table under the shady tree would be a pleasant place to converse. My wife will be providing a light lunch for us, including some of her home-baked cherry pie. Would you enjoy that?" The clerics crusty voice softened. "Why, Bob, you know I never could resist your wifes cherry pie. Ill be there at one oclock sharp." The next day Reverend Rufus parked his car, puzzled by the fact the lot was nearly full. He called Pastor Bob on his cell phone to ask if he still wanted to meet out in the courtyard, and why the full parking lot? Bob said Sister Jane Smith was starting a diet club in the east wing conference room, and not to worry. The reverend reached the flower-dotted courtyard. A delicious aroma made his mouth water. The gate was wide open. It was quiet, but Pastor Bob was definitely not alone. "SURPRISE!" a jubilant multitude yelled. Far from starting a diet, the congregation was holding a surprise picnic for him! What was the occasion? It wasn't even his birthday! The place was packed with laughing adults, but where were the young people and children? Reverend Rufus saw burgers, chicken and steaks sizzling on charcoal grills. Salads, desserts, condiments, and potato chips were laid out on tables. But what was in some of his parishioners hands? The reverend gasped in shock. Beer bottles! Wine coolers! No wonder there werent any kids squealing and running around! It would be illegal for them to be present on premises where alcohol was being served. In his very own churchyard, no less! Before the Reverend Superior could castigate his flock for their indiscretion he noticed a speakers podium set up in front of a vast portable billboard. Painted on this huge sign in bold black letters was one Scriptural passage he wished had remained buried in the sea of forgetfulness. Above it appeared this sprawling title, in bright red paint: MONEY CANT PAY TITHES... IT

BUYS TITHES TO THROW A PARTY WITH!

Deuteronomy 14:22: Thou shalt truly tithe all the increase of thy seed, that the field bringeth forth year by year (Deut. 14:22).

Verse 23: And thou shalt eat before the Lord thy God, in the place which he shall choose to place his name there, the tithe of they corn, of thy wine, and of thine oil, and the firstlings of thy herds and of thy flocks; that thou mayest learn to fear the Lord thy God always. Verse 24: And if the way be too long for thee, so that thou art not able to carry it; or if the place be too far from thee, which the Lord thy God shall choose to set his name there, when the Lord thy God hath blessed thee: Verse 25 Then thou shalt turn it into money, and bind up the money in thine hand, and shalt go unto the place which the Lord thy God shall choose: Verse 26 And thou shalt bestow that money for whatsoever thy soul lusteth after, for oxen, or for sheep, or for wine, or for strong drink, or for whatsoever thy soul desireth: and thou shalt eat there before the Lord thy God, and thou shalt rejoice, thou, and thy household. Another bold red message appeared beneath that passage: DONT EAT THE TITHE? WHAT DID THAT SCRIPTURE JUST SAY? But Reverend Rufus didnt much care for Scriptures which didnt keep the church treasury filled. Like the Pharisees of Jesus day, he bowed to religious tradition, thus rejecting the authority of the Word of God in his own life and the lives he influenced. This was too rich for his religious blood. "Pastor! What in Sam Hill is going on here! People drinking booze on church grounds! Ill have your head on a paper plate for this outrage!" Pastor Bob sauntered over, sipping a tropical cooler. "But Reverend, were only doing what you wanted! Were observing the tithing law. If youll read that sign, youll know were well within our Scriptural rights to buy Bud and wine cooler with the tithe money! We could have brought stronger stuff, but we exercised selfcontrol. Back in Bible days, the kids would have joined in, but theyre having their own cookout over at Sister Lolas. Phoebe and Marge are keeping the babies and toddlers. The designated drivers are drinking Cokes and iced tea." "But were under the New Covenant, reprobate Bob," the reverend rebuked. "I know a lot of these people drink privately in their own homes, but if they really loved Jesus, theyd partake of spiritual wine only, and you know it! Look at all those sixpacks on the tables!" "Well, Who turned the water into wine and drank it Himself, but Jesus?" countered Bob, as hickory smoke hung in the air. Jesus said His own life was to be an example for us, if you want to split hairs, Reverend Rufus. Youre the one who told us to observe the tithe, so this party is part of it. Well, Its about time to start my sermon." Bob went to collect his notes and hopped up onto the podium. Reverend Rufus felt powerless to interfere because of all the people cheering their pastor on. Bob began to address the crowd through the microphone: "We're going to talk more about the tithe, everybody. Now we all appreciate Reverend Rufus, and Im not attacking him today, just a few flawed doctrines, and Im only doing that to defend the truth. Reverend Rufus says it's a sin to drink wine, and we respect his right to believe that, irregardless of the fact the Israelites drank wine at their annual tithing festivals. Now we know Paul the apostle denounced drunkenness as a sin, but where in Scripture does he forbid the occasional glass of wine with dinner? Paul told

Timothy to take a little wine for his stomachs sake and for his oft infirmities. As for spiritualizing away the literal wine and strong drink which Scripture clearly instructs worshippers to buy with proceeds from the sale of literal tithes; why not go whole hog and spiritualize away the literal MONEY literal laymen out in literal pews pay into the church pork barrel to finance literal ministry perks? You know as well as I do the Bible only commands New Testament believers to offer up spiritual sacrifices unto God, and whatsoever good work is not done out of a heart of faith is sin. If you scare money out of people, that is a dead work of the flesh springing from fear, not faith, and God cannot accept such tainted works as righteous. Bob was plum tired of knuckling under to error to prove his love for Jesus. The picnickers attacked their tithe food with gusto as their pastor laid it on the line: "We Gentiles have been grafted BY FAITH into the spiritual tree of Israel, not because we kept their Mosaic Law. You, Reverend Rufus, demand that we Gentiles graft the old Mosaic tithing law into our Dispensation of Grace and observe it as meticulously as our culture will allow. But we know that our modern way of life as well as our lack of literal Levites to take the tithes will not permit perfect fidelity in following God's divinely ordained pattern of correct Mosaic tithing procedure. And what is sin, except falling short of God's mark of 100% perfection in doing things HIS way, rather than man's way? To put it bluntly, anybody who practices tithing in observance of Mosaic Law today has to conclude they're sinning in doing so because they cannot perform this ancient ritual to God's exact specifications. In Galatians 3:10 Paul reminds his listeners: Cursed is every one that continueth not in ALL things which are written in the Book of the Law to do them. If you omit even the most picayune precept of the Mosaic Tithing Law, whether its tithing only on farm produce or COLLECTING TITHES ONLY IN THE AUTUMN ONCE A YEAR, AND EVEN THEN, ONLY SIX YEARS OUT OF SEVEN as the originial Law stipulates, you stand in violation of the Word of God, and youre bringing yourself under a curse, not a blessing! Reverend Rufus tried to protest, but he got drowned out by the collective uproar. Once it got quiet enough, Pastor Bob continued: When Jesus was tempted in the wilderness, satan quoted from Psalms 91 to trick Him into thinking that even if He threw Himself off the top of the Temple, that God would still protect Him. But Jesus didnt cave in just because the devil disguised that temptation with Scripture. Jesus said: It is written: Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God. Jesus triumphed over satans Scripture-twisting temptation with a proper application of the Word of God, saying: It is written. Whenever somebody tries to shame you into observing unscriptural traditions of men by questioning your love for Jesus, remind them that Jesus Himself resisted wrong traditions with It is written. Jesus denounced the dogs dinner unscrupulous Pharisess had made of the meat of Gods Word by twisting it to serve their own ends. In Mark 7:9 Jesus says to the Pharisees: FULL WELL YE REJECT THE COMMANDMENT OF GOD, THAT YE MAY KEEP YOUR OWN TRADITION. In this context, Christ rebukes the Pharisees for encouraging people to neglect the care of their aged parents in order to dump more money into the Temple Treasury. In Matthew 12:7 Jesus says to some self-righteous Pharisees who are criticizing His disciples for picking grain to eat on the Sabbath Day: But if ye had known what this meaneth, I will have mercy and not sacrifice, ye would not have condemned the guiltless. Even if God had commanded tithing to be done on dollars and cents instead of agricultural produce only, He would still choose mercy over sacrifice, where it concerns feeding hungry poor people. Thats what the tithe was used for in the first place! But Brother Bob, one man called, what about the widow giving her last two mites, even though she was hungry?

She sure did, Brother Hayward, and Jesus said shed given more than all the rich men who were only giving out of their surplus fat. But where does Jesus say that the Law of Moses REQUIRED the poor widow to donate her bread to the rich? Did Jesus COMMAND that hungry widow to give her last two cents to the Treasury? When preachers misuse that passage to pry money out of Gods people, they are appealing to the same traditions of men condemned by Jesus. In Jesus day, the safety net provided for poor people by the Law of Moses had been twisted into a cozy hammock for rich religious men to lounge in. Gone were the days when the hungry of the land could go to their local tithe storehouse, confident that they would be fed. The Mosaic tithing system had been ordained by God to provide for the poor, not to gratify the greed of men. But that was before the Law was tampered with by scribes and Pharisees who interpreted it for their own benefit, and added lots of burdensome new ordinances to it. In the beginning the priests and Levites were counted among those who had no inheritance of land in Israel. They were numbered with the poor, the fatherless, and the widow who also consumed the tithed produce of Israel. But by Christs time, the priests were the richest members of Jewish society. By the time He walked the earth, the corrupt religious system, far from caring for the poor, was robbing the poor to pamper the rich! Far from commending the clergy for taking mites from widows, in Mark 12:40, Christ promises only terrible damnation to hypocrites who devour widows houses. How many money-hungry ministers are provoking God today, the way they preach on the Widows Mite to rob even more widows! Do you think God will go any easier on todays Pharisees than the Pharisees of Jesus Day? "Just why are we Gentiles acting out this farce today? Because a picture is worth a thousand windy words, that's why! The goal of this picnic is not to chow down on Bud, burgers, and hot dogs, but to give you all an idea of how much men have violated the spirit of the Law by spinning and transmuting His written Word into destructive traditions. If you think God is open-minded about that, remember that Abels sacrifice was accepted by God because he followed Gods precise instructions, while Cains sacrifice was rejected because he did things his own way, rather than Gods way. Hopefully, this picture sermon will help stem the tide of newer heresies creeping into this congregation, but since there aren't any Levites around to make this affair kosher, we might as well go whole hog again and chow down on Gentile food, eh?" Hmmm....that reminds me. Susan is sizzling some juicy pork chops. Care to join us at our 'Gentile tithing party', Reverend Rufus? "You're making a joke out of something holy!" Reverend Rufus cried. "Abraham was a Gentile, and HE tithed!" "Yes he did, but guess what he tithed ON, Reverend; or have you, a renowned professor of theology, never studied Genesis Chapter 14 with a mind unbiased by tradition? Abraham presented to Melchizedek a voluntary tithe, and only of the spoils of war, some of which had been plundered from the home of his own nephew Lot. And Scripture doesnt say that Abraham ever tithed on his personal stash of livestock, gold or silver. Granted, Abraham frequently offered up animal sacrifices to God, but Abraham's tithing appears to have been a one-time act of thanksgiving to God for His help in battle. Are you sure you want to keep the tithe the same way Abraham did, Reverend Rufus? Wait until some burglar breaks into your nephew Clarences home and loots his home. Then go after that burglar and beat the stuffing out of him. After all, Abraham fought a battle before he paid a tithe. Once youve whipped the burglar, take back Clarences CD player, computer, designer clothes, TV, and his CD collection, which our theoretical burglar stole. But before you give Clarence his stuff back, take ten percent of it off the pile and donate those things to the Salvation Army.

The old pharisee's blood was boiling. "You're out of order, and I'm gonna report you to the Regional Synod for heresy! What in Sam Hill is going on over there?" He spotted Deacon Denton and his buddy Ted carrying boxes of goodies to a van out in the parking lot. "Relax, Reverend Rufus. Dentons keeping yet another tithing principle. Last week, I told the congregation to tithe one final time, as part of this project. I told them the money would also be used to feed the men at the rescue mission down on Seaview Avenue. My, I never saw such enthusiasm for digging into purses and pockets as I saw last week. Once the people realized God wasnt holding hellfire and brimstone over their heads for switching from tithing to gracious giving, they gladly chipped in. Reverend Rufus was close to tears. "But you had no right to do that, and you know it!" "Remember, Reverend, a hundred dollar check is a hundred dollar check, irregardless of what you call it? Where it concerns generosity the Old Law says: YOU MUST. The new Law of Liberty in Christ Jesus says: YOU MAY. All I know is, if we had stuck more closely to the letter of the tithing law, those men would have been here at this party rejoicing with us. If youll read Deuteronomy 16:11, youll see that the poor are provided for by the tithe, and they are to rejoice before the Lord together with the tithe payer. But rather than bring those recovering alcoholics here to be tempted by the wine coolers and beer we used as today's object lesson, we thought it a better idea to take soft drinks and barbequed meat over to the mission so they could have their own party." Reverend Rufus pounded the podium. "But we needed that money for the building program and you know it! God depends on tithe money to build churches for his glory! Do you really think those tight-fisted cheapskates out in the pews will turn loose of their money unless we put pressure on them?" "Reverend Rufus, God created the heavens and the earth in only six days. How much tithe money did He need to finance THAT mother of all building projects? If buildings are so important to God, HE will provide for them! Thats where faith comes in. Little people have to live by faith all the time, so why not us? Were the ones who preach faith from the pulpit. Let us set an example for our flock and practice the principles we preach." "If you really loved Jesus you would submit to authority and stick to decent doctrine!" Reverend Rufus rebuked. "Youd better change your tune or youll roast in hell one of these days, son!" "Reverend Rufus, Im getting mighty hungry for roasted tithe food, and those pork chops are getting mighty cold. Well close my message with a little food for thought: "Show me just one Scripture in the Bible where Jesus collects tithe money to build buildings with. Most always He instructs His hearers to give to the poor, not to rich preachers. He told His disciples to PROVIDE NO MONEY in their bags when they went out two-by-two to preach the Kingdom of God. Instead, He promised them that God would provide for all their needs. Are you a follower of Jesus, Reverend Rufus?" "Not YOUR kind of Jesus, you stubborn reprobate! Now I want you to go to your office, clean out your desk, and take Him with you when you go! Both of you get out of MY church now! Youre fired!" $$$$$$

Missing the Po$tmark

10

How to Pinch Pennies to Pamper the Poodle-Permed Preacher Janet stretched out in her easy chair and yawned. She would soon have to return to her job as an airline ticket agent after taking six months maternity leave. But she would make the most of this brief break. At least she knew that when she went back to work shed be reinstated in her former position. At least she wasnt some poor factory worker who might not be able to get her job back. Poor Ralph had to work one full-time and an extra part-time shift on the police force just to keep them all going, and it wasnt easy maintaining the family without her contribution. But Janet would enjoy these precious moments of quiet in her buttery soft recliner. Her two older kids would be coming in from school in just an hour. Then the noise of their horseplay would fill the house, and the baby would wake up from her nap, howling for attention. She flicked on her favorite televangelist, "Brother Harvey Greengold". The tall, tanned poodle-permed preacher belted out his usual greeting of "Praise the Lord! Your blessings about to blossom!" As he pointed his jeweled finger at the viewer, it seemed like his reassurance was for Janet alone. A bouncy musical intro and a glittery floral backdrop emphasized his byline: "God meets big needs when you sow big seeds." Janet wasnt quite so sure anymore. Times were harder than ever. Even after the family income had plummeted she had regularly sent this guy a good chunk of her household allowance money, without first mentioning it to Ralph. Hed hardly noticed the missing funds, attributing their meager family meals to necessary belt-tightening during Janets unpaid maternity leave. Ralph didnt resent it, though. A new baby was lots of work and it had taken Janet a long time to regain her health after the birth. "Sometimes God tests our faith," said Brother Greengold. "If youve sent this ministry a sacrificial offering and you havent gotten back your hundred-fold return yet, just hang on. In school, my nickname was "Hang-on Harvey". No matter how hopeless the basketball score got, Id never give up. Id just keep on playing the game till I sank the winning ball into the hoop. And because I refused to be defeated, God has richly rewarded me for it. The devil wants you to be discouraged and to give up. But instead of confessing defeat, send in a one-time "Defy the Devil Donation" to show youre standing up to satan and wont give in to his temptation to be a quitter. The more money you sow to keep this ministry on the air, the madder satan will get. And keep this in mind, saints. Without your help, we wouldnt be able to feed the hungry around the world. Were dependent on YOU!" Janet sighed. She felt a little uneasy. But maybe it was because shed kept Ralph in the dark about her donations. She took a ten-dollar bill saved from her grocery money and folded it into a letter pleading for Dr. Greengolds prayers for deliverance from poverty. Just this one last time.... Hank and Jeff, her tall, skinny teenagers came in, barely saying "hi" to her before stampeding to the kitchen. The baby started yelling. Janet heard the fridge door bang open, then boisterous shouts: "Gimme that milk! Youre hogging it all! Hey, its mine, you pig!" Janet had barely entered the kitchen when a splash of milk hit her in the face. "Hey, stop acting like animals, you two! Its all weve got, so share it! Look, theres 70 cents on the table, so go get another quart and stop arguing." "Just a quart!" Hank, the 16-year-old, griped. That wouldnt even wet my tongue!" "Well, thats all the money Ive got left," Janet said, wondering if she was lying. "Unless you two can pitch in." Jeff, the 14-year-old, dug into his pocket. "All Ive got is six cents."

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"All Ive got is eleven cents," Hank said. "Guess wed better mow a few yards so we dont starve to death, huh!" "Well, we could just mix flour and water and pretend its milk," Jeff suggested. "If were not out of flour too," Hank added with a note of sarcasm. "Very funny," Janet frowned. "Why dont you just pray God will provide milk for us?" "Showers of milk, showers of milk we need. Milk drops around us are falling, but for the pizza we plead!" Hank sang with dramatic flair, mimicking an old hymn. "Stop it!" Janet scolded, recalling a tragic lesson from II Kings Chapter 7. "Somebody in the Bible got into big trouble with God for saying he didnt expect Gods blessings to just drop out of the sky like rain! Gods teaching me to have faith even when things look bad! If it wasnt for Pray TV helping me believe in Gods promises Id be up the creek without a paddle!" "Those guys dont look too poor to me," Jeff shrugged. "Theres always milk in their fridge. And I bet its chocolate, too." "And theyve got a swimming pool in their back yard," Hank chimed in. "Well, God rewards those who faithfully preach the Gospel," Janet said. "Ill say he does," Jeff said scornfully. "I oughta get into the religion racket so I dont have to have to suck out chicken guts at the Henny Penny plant after I get sprung out of high school." "That was uncalled-for and you know it!" Janet looked mad. "Your Aunt Marsha works there!" Why did teenagers have to be so sassy anyway? "If you guys want to make yourselves useful, drop this in the mail when you go get the milk," Janet said. "Baby Brenda is yelling her head off, so Id better go feed her. Be sure to get this off right away, so I can get God to bless us. I want todays postmark to be on it, and the last mail is collected at five." She handed the boys her letter to Brother Greengold. The boys grinned. "God sure is particular about when the mail truck collects His fan mail and takes it to preacherland, California," Hank said. "Never mind your sass, just mail it for me, okay?" Once the baby was fed and bathed, Janet put her in her play pen and went to fix supper. Why, a good cook like her could work wonders with leftover pinto beans, a couple cans of tomatoes, rice and chili powder. There was even a chunk of cheese in back of the fridge. She cut off the moldy part and hummed as she assembled her special dish. Tomorrow would be another day. Maybe then God would multiply back all the money shed sent in to that preacher. And todays donation would go out in todays mail, the deadline Brother Greengold told his flock to aim for. It just wouldnt do to "miss the season of anointing" by waiting for a more convenient time to give. Todays postmark on Janets letter would be her point of contact in believing for her miracle! October 20 was, according to Brother Greengold, the Lords chosen Date for Destiny! An hour later the boys still hadnt arrived home, but Ralph came in for two hours to rest and eat before going back in to work the night shift. He gave Janet and the baby a kiss and said, "Were collecting odds and ends for the police rummage sale. I need a couple bags to stuff some of my old junk in." He fumbled beneath the sink and got out several plastic shopping bags. He spotted a grocery receipt in the bottom of one bag. Curious, his fished it out and looked it over. "October 19, that was yesterday, wasnt it?" he asked Janet. "Yeah, honey, what about it?" "The total amount due was $19.30. We already gave the boys their bus and lunch money for the week, so you should have ten left from your shopping budget. Where is it? I might need it tomorrow."

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Her words came with difficulty. "Youll get it back, Ralph. Every penny. I promise." "Where IS it?" he asked, feeling very uneasy. "The Lord told me to send it to somebody who needs it even worse than we do." "And who could need it even more than us?" Ralphs voice rose. She replied in a near-whisper, "Brother Greengold, that preacher on TV. He runs charities to feed the poor around the world." "Ha!" Ralph snorted. "Ive heard a few things about him. How could you fall for his con game?" "What con game, Ralph? He shows pictures of hungry kids. It breaks my heart to see them." "The pictures may be for real, but that doesnt mean Brother Greengolds an honest guy." "But what if he is, Ralph? Why run the risk of not helping those innocent children? Whats fifty cents, or a dollar, every now or then? At least we dont have to do without the necessities of life." Ralphs voice cracked with anger and frustration. Hot resentment flared up in his heart. "Oh, Ive done without a lot since my mom had that illness she was uninsured for, and when she fell between the cracks of our system it was up to me to pay her hospital bill. But what can you do when its your own mother but make sacrifrices to help!" "Well, we had to help, Ralph," Janet said weakly. "Shes your mother, right?" "Yeah, Ive had to do without a lot, Janet. I do without my coffee and my favorite cookies. Its been ages since I saw a single piece of fruit in this house. No meat to speak of. Every morning day in and day out I get slopped with mortar mix oatmeal for breakfast. Once a week we get hot dogs and macaroni if were really splurging. I buy all my civvie clothes at thrift shops...when I can afford to. In heavens name, who could possibly need that money more than us!" His face was red as a beet. "Brother Greengold does run foreign missions, Im sure," Janet whispered, blinking back tears. "What foreign missions!" Ralph cried. "The only foreign missions he collects for is foreign missions to Hawaii and his Lands of the Bible cruises, first class, of course!" "Why, Ralph, thats a terrible thing to say about the servant of the Lord!" "The only "lord" Greengold serves is himself!" Ralph retorted. "Busy slave though I am, I had my suspicions all along about what youve been up to, because I spotted a few of his mail-outs laying around the house and caught you watching him one day when I was off. I didnt want to be the bad guy and force you to stop giving to what you thought was the Lords work. But God helped me see through this spiders web of religious panhandling going on. So I kept quiet about it and started checking this guy out on the Internet and doing a little free lance detective work. If I had any suspicions about this guy they were confirmed by an article posted by one of his former associates. Anyhow, this guys conscience ate at him so bad he asked Gods forgiveness for being associated with Brother Greengold, and he was one of his righthand men too." "Well, Ralph, Brother Greengold did say something about how the devil was coming against his ministry..." "The tax men no doubt," Ralph snorted. "I did more digging on this guy. I just never told you till now. Hes being investigated for fraudulent use of donor funds. And I just found out about his little nest egg in Switzerland. Tax-free, of course." "Wanna know more about how Brother Greengold lives, Janet? Want me to pull back the carpet and expose the cockroaches hiding underneath it?" Janet nodded, feeling angrier at herself than with the TV preacher.

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"Now, heres just a few of the perks of his so-called ministry! A multi-million dollar mansion with nine bathrooms, a tennis court, a horse farm, top designer clothes, Chardonnay wines, private jets, platinum gold diamond jewelry, a collection of Rolexes, fancy paintings, yachts, fancy cars, gold bathroom swans, trips to the Holy Land! Whens the last time you or I had even one lousy weekend together where we could even go to Ruby Falls for a lousy fishing trip! While Brother Greengold has a fleet of Mercedes and Porsches, the only decent car I drive belongs to the force and I have to rob Peter to pay Paul the payments on my own second-hand car. Hank just told me his track shoes are falling apart and the other guys are razzing him about it. We little guys and gals work like slaves so hucksters like Brother Greengold dont have to! I bet he thanks God every day for those poor starving kids he shows off on TV! Oh, he might cry crocodile tears over them to keep the money rolling in, but when his tear-jerking show is over he laughs all the way to the bank! While he feasts like a king we eat garbage food to keep guys like him in style. His cats eat better than we do," Ralph grumbled. "Garbage food?" Janet choked. "Why, were having something special tonight...Festive Beans and Rice. My own recipe." "We ate beans last night, and the night before that potato soup," Ralph groaned. "Beans are beans and Im turning into one big rootin-tootin bean, Ive had so many! What does Brother Greengold eat? Five-star cuisine at Figaros! Asparagus tips braised in lemon herb butter with savory wild rice! Noisettes of veal in wild truffle sauce! Candied pheasant and crepes flambe with raspberry coulis!" That was the menu served at his special "Inner Circle Banquet" to honor his top ten donors! Id say I did my homework thoroughly!" "How could Brother Greengold deceive us like that!" Janet blubbered. "He never told us about that banquet! He said he does without to help his hungry babies and he fasts a lot!" "Yeah, maybe for ten minutes at a stretch as he rides his stretch limo to Figaros to wine and dine his cronies to celebrate their latest windfall!" Just then two sheepish-looking boys entered the kitchen carrying grocery bags. While Jeff set 3 frozen economy pizzas, a gallon of milk, and some cheap cookies on the table, Hank confessed for them both: "Mom, Dad, we know youre probably gonna kill us, but we just committed highway robbery." "You didnt..." Janet gasped, eyes widening in shock. "Just tell me you didnt open my private mail and steal the money out of it." "Yeah," Jeff shrugged. "Didnt have no choice." "Heres the fifty-seven cents change left over, Mom." Hank plopped it on the table and swallowed hard. "Dont you know its a Class A felony, boys, tampering with other peoples mail?" Ralph said sternly, even as he looked longingly at the groceries. "I oughta slap cuffs on both of you and haul you in!" "But Dad, we were starving. Please dont run us in. Were awful sorry." Ralph looked at Janet, then asked her: "How long have you been mailing our food money to that guy behind my back?" "Ah...six months or so, dear. IIm sorry. I kept on sowing seed for a miracle that never came." Janet felt very ashamed. "No wonder Hank and Jeff got desperate enough to commit a federal offense," Ralph sighed. "Now Im not excusing what they did, but if you had spent ALL the grocery money I gave you on food, they never would have fallen into such temptation." "I know, dear," she said weakly. "I was fed a lie on TV, and I fell for it." Ralph frowned at the two teenagers, though his mouth watered from the prospect of a decent meal. "Ordinarily Id ground you two guys for what you just did till the

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Rapture comes, but Ill go easy on you just this once because you got so hungry you werent thinking straight. And you did confess right away. Just dont tell anybody else about thisexcept maybe Jesus." Fearfully the boys nodded and swore theyd never do it again. Ralph looked back at Janet. "You and the boys arent the only ones to blame. You embezzled cash from the food fund to send to a fool, and the boys stole that money, but that TV preacher robbed our family of money that should have gone into adequately feeding us. Now heres a verse the pastor uses against us all the time: Will a man rob God? But dont preachers commit grand larceny against God every time they take food out of the mouths of Gods people so they can have gold-plated shower stalls and private jets?" "I should say so, dear," Janet meekly lowered her head. "The Bible also says its not okay to take the childrens bread and throw it to the dogs," Ralph said. "Thats First Degree Child Abuse." "Ralph," Janet gasped, "youve convinced me Brother Greengold is a hustler. But dont you think its a sin to call him a dog?" "I should say not, Janet. Somewhere in Isaiah it talks about greedy dogs that can never have enough, and shepherds which lack understanding. That fits Brother Greengold to a tee." "So its okay we took the money to eat, then, Dad?" Hank wondered. "No, not that way, son. It would have been best to come to me once you suspected that your mother might be sending our food money away. That was an invasion of your mothers privacy, though you acted out of sheer desperation. Both you boys are grounded for two weeks and I expect you to pay your mom back out of your lawn-mowing money. Okay?" "Fair enough, Dad," Hank said. Ralph turned to Janet. "From the start of our marriage I made it plain that in good times and bad, weve got to be honest with each other. I know your motive was to try to get God to bless us, but you were led astray by a con artist and we all had to suffer for it. Just like satan deceived Eve in the Garden of Eden the preacher deceived you and played on your emotions to get you to open your heart, and your wallet, wide. But this time Ill let you off with a warning." He mimicked a stern, coplike expression. She gave him a quick kiss. "Im so sorry, dear. Im really surprised you found out all that bad stuff about Brother Greengold. Besides the fact I sent him money I saved by putting my family on short rations, maybe the reason God hasnt blessed my donations to him is this: Because Gods blessing doesnt really rest on him and if God had made us rich from sending him money, God would have been aiding and abetting a con man." "Amen to that," her husband grinned. "So it hasnt been a total loss. It might have been an expensive lesson, but weve all learned something from this case." He cleared his throat. "I think it would be best, Janet, if for the time being, we did the grocery shopping together as a family, eh?" She looked wounded. "You dont trust me anymore, Ralph, but how can I blame you?" "I didnt say I dont trust you, dear, but this pay the preacher prosperity game can get to be an addiction. Everybodys got their own temptations to struggle againstme, you, the boys. That only shows how human we all are. And Im not fool enough to think there arent other carnival acts on Pray TV hustling for easy dollars with a sob song. They preach a slot machine religion which obligates God to give you the moon if only you put enough quarters in the slot. But in that game, only the devil wins. Im not trying to put you down, just help you to resist temptation. Besides,

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helping to do the shopping would give Hank and Jeff an education in getting the most for their dollar. Youd really be doing them a favor, Janet." "Wellokay, dear. Its the least I can do to show Im on the right track now." "Good. Oh, by the way, boys, what did you do with your mothers letter to Brother Greengold after you fished his funds out of the envelope?" "We resealed it with chewing gum and sent it to him but first we wrote him an IOU...payable in the year 2500. Sorry about that too, Mom," Jeff said. "We were way too hungry to behave like good citizens." Even Janet had to laugh at that one. "In the year 2500? I doubt Brother Greengold will still be fishing for funds during the Millennium!" "Honey," Ralph sighed, "if I had my way you wouldnt have to go back to work unless and until you really felt like it." Janet swallowed hard. "Ive got no choice, Ralph. Short of a miracle." Just then the phone rang. Ralph went to answer it. When he came back some fifteen minutes later, his face was aglow with joy. "Guess what, guys? Captain Gunnar just called to say Im the one they picked out of eight candidates to replace Sgt. Phillips on the force when he retires next month. Did you hear that, everybody? Im the new police sergeant of this entire town!" Cheers all around. "Know what, Janet?" Ralph said. "With my big raise maybe you can stay home awhile longer, at least till Brendas bigger. What do you say to that?" "Well, I dont knowwhat with the cost of living, wouldnt things still be a bit tight around here?" "Id already been wondering how to work that out, Janet. We could move all that junk out of the basement and convert it into a spare bedroom to rent out to some student. That would take a lot of pressure off us, too." "Maybe Mom could even afford to make cookies for us again!" Jeffs eyes shone. "And I could get those new running shoes I need!" Hank said excitedly. "But first lets pop those pizzas into the oven," Ralph grinned. "Afterward we all go out for ice cream. Time to celebrate and praise the Lord for the light at the end of the tunnel." $$$$$$

Barred at the Pearly Gates

Flock fleecers cant take the fleece with them when they go. "Another migraine, dear?" Pastor Petes wife asked sweetly. She went to get him the two Tylenols and glass of water he usually took before bed. "I just cant stand this job," Pastor Pete moaned. "Mary, those people are getting stupider and stupider all the time." "Just give them time, Peter," she said. "Theyll learn." "I just cant believe it." He rolled up his eyes. "Those people are as dense as pea soup. I just dread tomorrow. Last week some kid put Monopoly money in the offering bag. Another rug rat put three jaw breakers in. And some dotty old lady put a fudge brownie in it with an IOU. Dont those people know the only food I want to see in that offering is crispy lettuce with big numbers on it? If we dont get more of a cash flow, our whole church operation will fold like a house of cards." "Just do what you tell them to do, dear. Just confess prosperity," said his wife, rubbing his sore temples. "This trial will soon pass."

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"Why do we only attract down-and-outers?" Pastor Pete moaned. "Why cant I persuade more upwardly mobile people to transfer their membership from Upper Crust Cathedral? We live in the ritziest part of town and all we get are underpaid peons who cant even pay a decent tithe." "Maybe they need the money to feed their families, Peter," Mary said. "So? Dont we need it too? Why should I have to deduct money from my base salary to rob Peter to pay Paul, just because the church board cant afford to pay me a decent travel allowance? After all, I represent them whenever I go anywhere. If things get any worse, Mary, they wont be able to keep up the premiums on our medical insurance. None of the other local pastors is going through this. That affects my standing in the eyes of the community, just the same as if I ran a five-star restaurant, then added burgers to the menu and cut my prices to attract the riffraff." "Arent you being a bit harsh about it, Peter?" "Mary, dont be naive. Jesus said that sometimes we have to take the Kingdom of God by force." The pastor got a devious look on his face. "Its time to try the other approach, Mary. No more Mr. Nice Guy dangling the Prosperity Carrot. Time for the stick approach, seasoned with a little old-fashioned fire and brimstone. After Im through with those people, theyll rush their offering into the bags. Tithes too." Mary frowned. "Me? Immature? Im only thinking about those scriptures you discovered about what true tithes really consisted of: vegetables, grain, livestock, stuff like that. Remember, you were as shocked as I was that Biblical tithes never consisted of money, and you couldnt find any Scripture where Paul commanded church members to pay 10% of their wages to preachers?" He put his hand on her lips. "Shhhh! Mustnt let the cat out of the bag, Mary...or," he grinned..."the tithe money out of the bag. Their ignorance is the prosperity of our church. And our ticket to paradise if I play my cards right. Honey, tomorrow is Fleece the Flock Day at Green Pastures Church!" Mary bit her lip. She had a fine line to tread. Nowadays plenty of pastors had no qualms about trading their old wives in for "a partner more compatible with their ministry", and if she crossed her precious Peter she might lose him someday, along with all the fringe benefits that came with being a prosperity pastors wife. Pastor Pete told Mary to just go on to bed without him, because he would be up most of the night. He got out the notes for his old sermon, filled with his usual prosperity rhetoric and tore them up. He spent the next two hours carefully crafting a new sermon. Then for another three hours he stood in front of a full-length mirror rehearsing it until he got it just right. He paid special attention to voice dynamics, facial expressions, body language and vocal inflection. It was 4 a.m. before he finished. He wore a tired but happy expression as he plopped into bed for four hours of rest before he must get up to dress for 10 a.m. services. Next morning, Pastor Pete crawled out of bed and over Marys objections, chugged down four cups of strong black coffee with his breakfast. Despite his shortage of sleep he must appeared forceful and dynamic in the pulpit, not tired and washed out. Patiently he waited till the final pre-sermon hymn was finished: Give of Your Best to the Master. His heart raced from all that caffeine he wasnt used to drinking...or was it from the sheer excitement of finding new direction for his ministry? He spoke a perfunctory prayer and popped open his Bible to Malachi Chapter 3, the first of many "sticks" he would use in this make-or-break sermon on giving. He said, "The title of this sermon is taken from verse 8: Will A Man Rob God?" The words came out like a thunderclap. More softly, with a hint of choked pathos: "Yet ye have robbed me." WhoonearthdarestorobAlmighty God!" Pastor Pete whispered slowly and deliberately. He shook his head, then bowed his head, as if in grief. He raised his eyes heavenward, rubbing his hands together as if in supplication. He drew a deep breath, then took a sip of water.

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His face was stern and hard. "Turn with me now to Deuteronomy 16:16. Why isnt God pouring out His blessing upon His people at Green Pastures Church? Notice here it says: Three times a year shall all thy males appear before the Lord thy God...AND THEY SHALL NOT APPEAR BEFORE THE LORD EMPTY! Thats exactly what so many of you have been doing. Coming to this hallowed place to take, take, take, but whenever the offering bag comes within fifty feet of you you shrink away from it like it has leprosy!" An elderly lady in the second row raised her hand. "Yes, Sister Dora!" the pastor barked, irritated by the interruption. My, how very unseemly. "Pastor, that verse you read from just told the males to come to the House of God to give donations, and only three times a year. Right?" Laughs all around. That was one feisty old gal. "Yes, sister, but this is the Age of Grace. Were under a far better covenant, and so you should do much more than what that verse requires, just out of gratitude for all Jesus has done for you. That means you should give your best offering and tithes all year round and even if youre a woman." "Oh, but I DID do more than that verse said! I stuck that brownie in the offering bag last week because my Social Security hadnt arrived in the mail yet, and I wanted to show how much I appreciated you. Did you enjoy it, Pastor?" Pastor Pete scrunched up his nose. "Youre here to give to the Lord, sister, and I very much doubt He likes brownies. That doesnt do much to pay the church mortgage, now, does it?" Dora rushed out of the sanctuary, crying. The congregation was all abuzz by now. This wasnt the popular "Gods Gonna Make You Rich" pastor everyone was used to. He was as just as outspoken as ever, but something about him was very different today. Pastor Pete kept on quoting verses on giving and sacrifice, and misapplying them to minister guilt to a financially struggling flock who could not hear the Voice of the Good Shepherd in the peevish, belligerent voice bellowing from the pulpit. "You are cursed with a curse!" Pastor Pete shouted as his sermon reached a feverish crescendo. His face got red as a beet as the vast sanctuary reverberated with rebukes. "Thats what my Bible says in Malachi 3, verse 9, so its not open to debate! For these past few weeks the vast majority of you have committed highway robbery against God!" he cried, pointing his finger accusingly. "And your lame excuse for being stingy is youve gotta put food on the table! Yeah, right! Some of you butterballs could stand to shed a few pounds by fasting a day or two!" He scowled at them and pinched his middle. "See? I cant pinch an inch! That poor widow who gave her last two mites to the Temple puts all of you to shame. At least she had an excuse for being stingy! You Twinkie addicts dont even trust God to repay two dollars saved out of your grocery budget, so our missions fund is drying up! What a sorry excuse for Christians you are! You just dont care that millions are going to hell without Christ! No wonder God cant afford to bless you. Just think Who youre being stingy with, the God who gives you every breath you breathe....." Pastor Petes face went white as a sheet. His eyes rolled back and he slumped to the floor. Two deacons rushed over. One dug out his cell phone to summon an ambulance. "Peter, Peter!" his wife cried. She ran up to the podium, wringing her hands. One of the deacons gave the pastor mouth-to-mouth respiration while the other said: "Sister Mary, this looks like a heart attack. Did he seem sick last night?" "Hes had a lot of migraines," she sobbed. "Especially the past couple weeks. His blood pressures been sky high. Oh, no! Oh, Peter, Peter..." At the Pearly Gates stood a shining figure in white apparel, angelic in countenance. This saint of God, whose name was inscribed in the foundation of the

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City wall, looked peaceful but solemn, as if the joys within the Holy City were out of sync with something on his mind. A golden key ring hung from a belt he wore around his waist. The Apostle Peter loved to greet newcomers, and besides being with Jesus, his greatest joy was to admit departed saints into the City of His Blessed Redeemer. But how sad, to think hed have to turn anybody away, especially someone who had once tasted of the life of Christ and then turned away from the Path of Life into the Path of Covetousness which drowns a soul in perdition. To be so close, and yet so far, how tragic! Pastor Pete felt feather-light as an angel carried him upward, ever upward. He cried out in ecstasy to behold the sparkling prismatic light of the Holy City, suspended in the Highest Heavens like Gods crown jewel. His tongue, so heated and angry just a moment before, was now speechless, for tongue could never describe such radiant beauty. Surely heaven was his now, and never again would he have to fret about money. Somehow the pastor recognized the figure awaiting him at the Pearly Gate as he was set on his feet by the attending angel. "Oh, I know you! Youre the Apostle Peter, and I see your keys! Jesus gave you the keys to the Kingdom, didnt He?" "All those who abide in Christ their Living Vine have the right to enter here," said St. Peter. "I am only His humble servant. Tell me the truth, now, Pastor Pete. Did you abide in Christ your Living Vine, or did you fall away from Christ as a dead branch fit only for the fire?" "I died doing my duty," Pastor Pete replied. "I wasnt sitting in front of my computer downloading naughty stuff. I wasnt running around with other women. I wasnt even watching a ball game on TV. The Lord was the last thing on my mind before I dropped dead." "Really and truly?" St. Peter raised his eyebrows. "Yes, St. Peter. I was speaking out in defense of Gods holy offering in the church. What nobler way could I have died, than while taking a stand in the pulpit against defrauding the Lord of what is rightfully His?" "You were the one who defrauded the Lord, Peter," said St. Peter. "You robbed his people of peace. You despised the poor saints. You robbed the Christ within them of dignity. You peddled a deceitful doctrine to pry money out of Gods people, and you hoped they wouldnt discover the real truth about tithing, is that not so?" "Not exactly, St. Peter. I was planning to tell them sooner or later. But my congregation wasnt mature enough to receive the entire truth just yet. Just like you cant tell a tiny child the whole story about how babies are made." "But you thought your brethren were mature enough to have their pockets picked by a worker of iniquity posing as a minister of righteousness," St. Peter frowned. "Why do you think youre standing here now?" "Well, St. Peter, those stingy people got on my nerves so bad it gave me migraine headaches, and my high blood pressure killed me." "I believe you know why you died," said St. Peter. "Was it all that caffeine I chugged down before church?" St. Peter shook his head. "But now that Im here, St. Peter, I just cant wait to see my mansion!" Pastor Pete looked happy as a little kid with a new computer game. "What about Jesus?" St. Peter looked very sad. "Where is He on your list of priorities?" "Oh, I want to see Him too, St. Peter, but what a blessing, that Ill never have to worry about money ever again!" "That part is true, Peter. But there will be no mansion for you. You have no inheritance in the Kingdom of God."

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"What!" Pastor Pete cried. "I preached my heart out! I supported overseas missions. In the name of all decency, I demand that you tell me why I cant go to heaven!" St. Peter spoke to an angel who attended him. The ministering spirit hurried to do his bidding. Ill show you just a few of the reasons why you cant come into this Holy City, the apostle said to Pastor Pete. But while I wait for my attendant to return, Ill say this: Only eternity will tell the harm that has been done by greedy wolves like yourself. Look below you. Beneath the vast panorama of the starry heavens a vision unfolded. People who could no longer tolerate the thievery going on in the House of the Lord were fleeing fancy buildings which appeared to be on fire. But the minister in the pulpit remained there, holding his bag of money, immovable as a stone pillar. They are fleeing the Babylonian Church system which is appointed to destruction by God, said St. Peter. Down below youll see just one of Gods many sheep driven out into the wilderness by ravening wolves seeking whom they may devour. That saint is recording the sad spiritual state of apostates who have sold their own Lord for money, as Judas did. The vision crossed time and space, finally zeroing in on a desk where intense writing was underway. The sad commentary was beamed up into space and magnified on a vast scroll-like background. Sins long hidden under religious robes were shouted from the rooftop of the universe. Pastor Petes mouth hung open in shock as he read the poem, entitled Preying Preachers:

Oh, Those Preying TV Preachers

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Oh, those preying TV preachers Who milk the mail for cash Blood-sucking Bible teachers Who blow funds on a beer bash After pitching your prayers in the trash. Plant a seed for prosperity I see a Rolex out there So hurry to my meet my needs Just open your wallet and share. Golden swans in my shower stalls A trip to the Holy Land Costly paintings on my walls Nothings too grand for Gods man. Adorn my fingers with diamond rings No off-the-rack suits for me! Pay your taxes to the king Give, or you wont receive! The Bible says sow liberally Blessings dont come for free! A vow of two thousand dollars Thats Gods rock-bottom price Hed rather not be bothered With a measly ten or a five! Send in that vow right now Or the Lord will pass you by Dont stop praying (and paying) Or the Fountain will run dry And youll never get pie-in-the-sky! Send me your wedding ring Ill take ANYTHING! Ill even take the food from your mouth To help you prove your faith with a vow! This is YOUR day for a miracle Youll receive a hundred-fold So mail your money to me If you want your cup to be full This precious truth is worth more than gold (At least it is to me!).
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That picture doesnt look like me! Pastor Pete wailed. Besides, I never had money floating down from the rafters, and I never had golden swans in my shower stalls! Pastor Pete wailed. But the Lord knows you wished you had attained to that level of wealth, said St. Peter. Isnt that what you ministered to the flock of the Lord?

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All I taught was, were Gods children and we have a right to inherit the riches of the wicked, which are laid up for the righteous! Pastor Pete objected. Its in Proverbs 13:22! Perhaps, said the apostle, But the other part of that verse speaks of leaving an inheritance to your childrens children. You know your goal was not to go out into the harvest field to seek and save the wicked to make them sons of God with an eternal inheritance in heavenly places. Nor did you teach sound Scriptural doctrine to your flock, to persuade them to set their affections on incorruptible things above. You taught them to covet corruptible, earthly blessings instead of the riches they could carry with them into this blessed world. Your goal was to sow seeds of deceit into their hearts so you could reap a harvest of filthy lucre. You would have been perfectly content to allow the wicked to remain wicked, as an excuse to lay claim on their money. Is that not so? The ancient apostle looked at Pete with steely eyes which would not fall for his lies. But we ran evangelistic programs! Pastor Pete cried. Only so you could take regular tithes of their money once they came into your church; not to mention the special Prove God offerings you collected to build that resort for visiting church officials...after lying to the congregation about that money being used for missions. Pastor Pete scratched his head. But St. Peter, if our visiting pastors feel refreshed from coming to our conferences, they can go back out to their mission fields and do a better job where things arent so nice. St. Peter scowled. The Hawaii Hilton, perhaps? A tall powerfully built angel emerged from the City gate. He handed St. Peter a scroll. "Ill cite just a few more of your unrepented-of sins," said the apostle. "Any one of them would keep you out of this Holy City. Some of the sins listed here are: refusing to renounce profitable heresies, envy of other churches, pride, deceit, greed, covetousness..." "But Scripture says covet the best gifts!" the pastor pleaded. "All I ever wanted was to have the best church possible! Doesnt God want us to strive for excellence in our daily lives? And I didnt envy other churches, I admired them and wanted to be more like them!" The apostle shook his head. "Thats the sin of emulation. Peter, wanting to copy someone elses sins of pride. This blessed realm is so filled with the Light of Gods Holiness that it is useless to try to whitewash your dirty deeds here. Nothing is hidden from Gods sight. This whole city is as clear as crystal because of the Blessed Presence of the One Who is the Way, the Truth and the Life, and in Him is no darkness at all. See, Peter?" Pastor Pete seemed to be able to see right through the city walls. How refreshingly pure everything appeared beyond those Gates of Pearl. People walked the streets of gold, surrounded by the most exquisitely lovely trees and flowers. They laughed from the sheer joy of being in the Presence of God, not because theyd just outsmarted somebody else for gain. The buildings of the City shone with a crystal clear transparency unlike any on earth. But beyond the pearlescent brilliance of that wonderful place was a barrier beyond which Peters sinful eyes could not see. Peter was unable to view the highest plane of the Holy City, where the Glory of the Throne of God transcended the brilliance of a billion suns. It was overarched by the seven-hued Rainbow of Light, which spoke of the covenant of peace which God had made with Noah after the Flood. The Son of God stood at the Right Hand of God the Father, making intercession for saints on earth who were being led astray by wolves in sheeps clothing. But Pastor Pete was not pure in heart. He could not see the Lord.

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"Besides all your other heinous sins, didnt you filch money out of the missions fund to finance that first-class cruise to Hawaii, just so your base salary would remain untouched and available for other luxuries?" St. Peter looked disgusted. "So? I was going to pay it back, St. Peter, I swear I would have paid it back! I needed that vacation, to rest from all my pastoral work!" "But you deceived your brethren about the missions fund and many other matters as well. Ananias and Sapphira fell dead at my feet for lying to the Holy Spirit about what they did with money allegedly dedicated to God." "I didnt exactly lie, St. Peter. I just didnt tell them the whole truth, and I was going to tell them later!" Pastor Pete was sweating by now. "Your Great Judge has already weighed you in the balance and found you wanting," St. Peter said. "If thats the case, St. Peter, cant I at least be sent to some intermediate place to grow out of all my sins and faults so I could someday be found worthy to go to heaven?" St. Peter shook his head. "Im sorry, Peter, its impossible. If only you had not been so worried about protecting your reputation among sinful men. If only you had confessed your sins before the congregation as a fellow brother in Christ and asked their forgiveness for deceiving them in order that you might rob them. God gives grace to the humble, but you shut your ears to the Voice of His Spirit. Therefore, He has shut His ears to your cry of despair." What awful anguish filled the eyes of Pastor Pete. "Oh, nameless horror! Eternity lies before me, and there is no turning back! The only time I ever taught my congregation about hell was the day I used it as a weapon to extort money out of them! And though I am at the very Gates of Paradise, I stand already condemned in my sins at the Gates of Hell! Woe unto me! If only I had lived up to the meaning of my name! If only I had remained true to the Rock of my Salvation instead of forsaking Him for filthy lucre and building my life on shifting sand! If only I had followed in the steps of the poor fisherman who said: "Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have give I thee. If only I had laid up treasure in this blessed Paradise, I would not be so poor now!" "Pastor Pete," said the apostle, "you became a poor man the day Christ ceased to be your dearest Treasure." $$$$$$ WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER Larry Leach just came on, Roxanne! Junie Mae said excitedly to her friend on the phone. You know I cant miss him! Id better go grab the clicker before Phil comes in and changes the channel! Oh, all right! Roxanne replied. You watch your preacher and Ill go watch my soaps. Bye now. Heywait! Junie Mae begged. Dont hang up, Roxanne! You and Eddie are having a hard time right now, arent you? If only youll watch the Larry Leach Show on Prey TV hell teach you how you can prosper in life. It pays to follow Larrys PROSPERITY POWER PACT! Its the hottest thing in church since overhead projectors. Larrys special guest is gonna be a real treat. It seems a special research team has actually pinpointed the location of hell.

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Yeah, yeah, Roxanne sneered. Hell is located in debtors court, and the more you pay the more the preacher prospers! If it pays so much to pay the preacher, then why are you and Phil still struggling to pay off that old pickup truck? Thats where faith comes in, Roxanne. Faith is the substance of things not yet seen Roxanne laughed. All I know, kid, is unless I see the green substance I dont believe. Dont tune me out , Roxanne! Larry Leach cant be wrong if he teaches straight out of the Bible! Just listen to him once! Roxanne snorted in the phone. My mom sent all her money in to TV preachers. When that ran out, she hocked her wedding ring to get more money to send. Not only didnt Mom ever win the lottery, but her rent just went up. Well, maybe your mom didnt follow all the preachers instructions, Junie Mae said. Dont tell me Mom didnt follow instructions! Roxanne cried. She pasted the preachers Five Pennies of Victory in a straight line on the yellow prayer card the preacher sent. She anointed each penny with canola oil. Then Mom clipped off a tiny lock of her hair as a point of contact and wrapped up it in her biggest bill, which she inserted in the orange envelope. She kissed the plastic Ring of Sonship the preacher sent. Then she pressed the tip of the ring into the bit of Play Dough the preacher sent and said a special prayer over it. Mom said the Play Dough represented the sealing wax Bible kings used on their official documents. Mom used that ring to seal her vow of faith. What else was your mom supposed to do, Roxanne? She was supposed to take the Two Pigeons of Poverty drawing the preacher sent, then set fire to it over her barbeque grill as her Burnt Offering of Faith. The preacher called that her Purge Out Poverty Point of Contact. Then Mom was to wait till the ashes from the picture cooled and stick them in the pink envelope. Then, my mom stuck all the smaller envelopes in the Green Pastures of Prosperity envelope, and the whole shebang constituted her Blessing Kit for October. She stuck it under her pillow like the preacher told her to, then slept on it for just one night, and rushed it to the post office before the deadline. Only problem was, the post office went on strike that day, so Mom couldnt get it postmarked and put on a truck headed for Glory City, California, till the following day. So you said your mom used canola oil to anoint her Victory Pennies? Junie Mae asked. Yeah, Junie Mae, Mom ran out of olive oil. Well, no WONDER your mom didnt receive her blessing! If the preacher asked for olive oil, canola oil just wont do! And to make matters worse, her Blessing Kit didnt get postmarked before the preachers deadline, Roxanne! Well, it wasnt Moms fault, Junie Mae! There werent any scabs crossing the post office picket line to load the trucks that day. Please, Roxanne, Im getting a

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headache. Id rather just forget religion for now. So Ill just hang up and go watch As the Stomach Churns. Junie Mae snorted. Roxanne was so worldly shed rather watch a soap opera than Larry Leach. Worse yet, her mother was too lazy to go out and buy the proper oil to produce her miracle. Junie Mae plopped onto the sofa and clicked her favorite preacher on. The opening song Sow Harder When Its Hardest was already over and Brother Larrys message was in progress. Larry was young-looking for his sixty-odd years, with nary a wrinkle on his boyish face. His brown hair was styled in a curly coiffure. His expensive suit was set off by a showy tie and diamond stick pin. He grinned at the camera, showing perfect snowy-white teeth. He pranced around in a make-believe garden graced by synthetic angel arias. Larry wagged his ringed finger straight at Junie Mae. Dont you DARE appear before the Lord without an offering! And dont use the excuse that you cant afford it! Gods been so good to you, you cant afford NOT to send an offering in to support this faith ministry! Jesus says in Matthew 11:12: The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force. Saints, its high time we got VIOLENT about getting whats rightfully ours by faith! If youll turn with me to Proverbs 13:22 Ill give you still more valuable insight into whats rightfully yours as a child of God. The preacher grinned as he read: A good man leaveth an inheritance to his childrens children: and the wealth of the sinner is laid up for the just. Saints, if youre any kind of a decent Christian at all, youll leave more than a cold body behind when you go to be with Jesus. Youll leave something valuable to your children and even your grandchildren. The Lord is tired of hearing His people moan and groan about not being able to pay their bills, and how theyre barely scraping by. But consider how both parts of this verse fit together. You have a right to expect that your godly parents or grandparents are leaving YOU a precious inheritance too! And even if they arent godly, God says the wealth of the wicked is laid up for YOU! Now when you apply this scripture by adding what Jesus said about the violent taking the Kingdom by force, He didnt mean to break into anyones house to steal the wealth of the wicked. Jesus meant that we have to be aggressive in prayer and in standing on the Word of God. Tell your parents or grandparents you have a mission to fulfill in life which will benefit all of humanity, and ask them if they are able to bequeath your part of their estate to you while theyre still living. GO to them and OPEN YOUR MOUTH boldly! Be sweet, but remember this: Faith must be acted upon or your faith is dead. Your relatives cant take their treasures with them when they die. So invite your prosperous relative out to lunch or over to dinner, whether theyre saved or lost it makes no difference. Softly and tenderly remind them that mortal life is not forever and though they own the cattle on a thousand hills, they cant take it with them when they go. If the rich relative is saved, your job is even easier. Tell them to make this faith ministry the prime beneficiary of their life insurance policy. We at Seedbag Ministries serve as stewards of Gods earthly assets, and we will invest that money wisely. We operate missions which feed the hungry and clothe the naked in third-world countries. Dont YOU want to be a part of what God is doing? Melodramatic music played. A video clip was shown of hungry children with huge eyes, looking up at the camera and holding rice bowls. Miserable babies cried in the

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heat. It made Junie Maes heart ache to see such suffering. A woman stirred a pot as listless toddlers lined up for their daily helping of porridge. Junie Mae sometimes wondered how much of Brother Leachs donations actually reached those poor people overseas, but she was mostly interested in how she could get her own miracle. More emotive music followed. A woman sang her heart out as Brother Leach extended his ringed hand and kept pleading for partners to covenant with him to make a difference in lives around the world. The Rapture could come any moment, saints! the preacher cried. Dont ya see? All your earthly treasures will go up in smoke someday if you dont invest em in the things of God! But if you buy stock in Gods Kingdom, all your treasures will be laid up way beyond the blue and theyll be safe on the other side. Give what you have to help us help others around the globe. Seedbag Ministries is a faith ministry that counts on YOU! And if you persuade that aunt, uncle or grandma thats been materially blessed to include us in their will and use that money for Gods glory before they pass on, then your precious loved ones will be investing in their own salvation. Even as God remembered all the precious gifts given by the Roman centurion Cornelius in Acts Chapter 10, He will remember the sacrifices your unconverted loved ones make to the Kingdom of God. Man, God will go out of His way to save your precious loved ones, just like He did for Cornelius, if only theyll share their substance with this worthy work of God. Saints, please, please please persuade your relatives to take a tiny step of faith towards Jesus. Their eternal destiny depends on it! And right here we have Dr. Flavil Broadman, Chief Chair of Geological Forensics at Marmaduke University. Dr.Broadman, were proud to have you here on the Seedbag Sowers Show. Tell me, do the findings of your research team substantiate the Biblical allegation that hell is a place to be feared? A bespectacled man in a purple suit shook hands with the preacher and warmly greeted the TV audience. He rubbed his chin. From a rational, objective perspective, Brother Larry, our findings should fill the viewer with awe. Our team traveled recently to the remote village of Birkenstock, Siberia to conduct some tests at the site of a deep natural shaft in the earths crust. Ultrasound data we gathered indicates that this volcanic shaft extends thousands of miles below the crust, or top layer of the earth. In fact, this fissure sinks thousands of miles down into the earths mantle. Using remote control jet propulsion technology, we launched a robotic datagathering device deep down into this remarkable rip in the fabric of the earth, and our device is now gathering precious data in a spot close to the earths magnetic core. Does this new data collection technology have any particular name, Dr. Broadman? inquired Brother Leach. Yes, Brother Larry. Our Subterranean Camera-assisted Robotic Explorer is is called the SCARE. And what an appropriate name it is. You wouldnt believe what we discovered down there! All I know is this: if I didnt believe in a devils hell, Id reconsider after hearing and viewing the scientifically documented evidence weve accumulated. Brother Larry smiled piously and lowered his eyes. Our sister Belinda Cotter will sing us a song and then well continue to dig deeper into this vital truth.

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Junie Mae bit her nails. The entire show was only thirty minutes long, and twenty minutes had already elapsed. Hopefully, the song wouldnt be a long one. After the song, which seemed to go on forever, Dr. Broadman rambled on about his experience in the science of data analysis. His monotonous mutterings filled up precious air time but inspired no one. Near the end of the program the eminent professor of geology let everyone know his DVD of shocking revelations was being made freely available to faithful supporters of Seedbag Ministries. Brother Larry thanked Dr. Broadman for his enlightening lecture and announced: To every supporter who sends in a $2000 donation this week, well send not only Dr. Broadmans shocking DVD on hell, but well also send free of charge his new book: Scary Excursions in the Devils Domain. Plus, well send you, free of charge, our vast collection of Its SOW Good! Victory DVDs. As an added bonus, well throw in a DVD of the Holy Land trip Minnie and I made twelve years ago, when it was still safe to visit that part of the world. Youll journey with us through King Hezekiahs Tunnel. Youll take a camel ride with us as we explore the streets of Old Jerusalem and stop at a snack stand to witness to the locals. You even get to see me being stoned with stale falafel balls just because I made a few boo boos when I practiced my Arabic. But seriously, saints, please persuade your Aunt Bessie or Uncle Joe to sow seeds to secure their own salvation! No one knows how much longer theyve got to live. If they will honor the Lord with a sacrificial gift, He will meet them halfway and do everything in His power to get them saved. Saints, you NEED these precious DVDs to prepare your family for the terrible days ahead. As Larry Leach signed off, Junie Mae breathed hard. The only member of her family who had any money was her wealthy Aunt Fibula. But the old lady was reputed to be as tight-fisted as a heavyweight boxer. Junie Mae rifled through a shoebox full of family memorabilia till she found the long-distance phone number. Little beads of sweat formed on her forehead as her shaky hand dialed the phone, hoping against hope Aunt Fibula was still at that number. Hello, Aunt Fibula? Junie Mae breathed. Who IS this! demanded a sharp voice on the other end. Why, its your great niece Junie Mae, you know, the daughter of your niece Clara. Dont know if I remember you much. Havent seen hide nor hair of you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. Whats up, Junie Mae? Has your mother gotten divorced yet? No, Aunt Fibula. Daddy died two years ago. Junie Mae tried to hide part of the truth without actually lying. There are needs which need to be met, and I feel so desperate right now. Aha! the sharp old lady cried. You couldnt care less about ME! Honey, you arent the first long-lost relative who came looking for me in time of need. What is it you REALLY want? Like a spider spinning a web, Junie Mae chose her words carefully, and choked on them like a polished actress. Jamie, my son, hes real smart, and we cant afford his

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college education. Jamie could be a doctor if he had the opportunity, Auntie Fibula. He could be a lawyer. But Phil got laid off last year from Rocket Sprockets, and work is drying up in this area. Jamies a wonderful boy, Aunt Fibula. He mustnt be denied his chance in life just because times are bad. Aunt Fibula was nobodys fool. After a few more questions about Jamie, which Junie Mae fudged, she asked: Could I meet Jamie, Junie Mae? Ill personally pay Jamies air fare if hed like to spend a few days visiting me in Florida. He could meet a lot of long-lost cousins who are his own age Junie Mae abruptly hung up. Yes, Jamie WAS capable of becoming a lawyer or a doctor. But that wasnt Jamies bag. For the past year, Jamie had been busking the streets of faraway Frisco trying to break into the music business. No grammatical lie had been uttered by Junie Mae, but falsehood had been conveyed to the mind of the listener in an effort to get seed faith money. Oh, phooey! Junie Mae grumbled. Ive just gotta get that big collection of DVDs! Ive just gotta find out what hell is like! I only need two grand! At that moment, some scripture-twistin imp reminded Junie Mae of a story in II Kings Chapter 4 where Elisha asked the poor widow: What do you have in your house? and subsequently a miracle came into the needy ladys life. Junie Maes face cracked into a smile. Aha! Thats the same story Pastor Gary tells us over and over again at church! Its in the Bible, so Ill use whats in my house to get my miracle! All Junie Mae had to hock was cheap costume jewelry, and an expert could definitely tell the difference. But waitthere was Phils shotgun, which he seldom used. And Phil had a wealth of old first edition comic books, kept in his old army footlocker! Why, they dated all the way back to the 1930s, 40s and 50s, and had been passed on to him by his dad! And Phils old Elvis records! Not to mention Phils antique Robby Robot and his Motorola Juke Box, still in mint condition! They were all stashed away in the cobwebby attic, long forgotten. Junie Mae could hock them at the pawn shop, and long before Phil noticed they were missing she could redeem them once her miracle harvest came in. And, she reasoned, wasnt feeding the hungry more important than hoarding up treasures in this earth? All night long Junie Mae wrestled with her conscience. But she had become so addicted to seed faith gambling that once Phil walked out the door in the morning she went to work on her scheme. She called the pawn broker, who actually got excited about her vintage treasures. The man agreed to come out to her house at four oclock, about three hours before Phil was due home from his house painting job. Junie Maes heart was in her mouth as she peeked through the blinds and saw the big white van pull up in her driveway. Cordially she invited the man in and led him up the attic stairs. The pawnbroker told Junie Mae hed carefully appraise each piece before finally agreeing on how much money he could loan her. If he liked her stuff enough, he said, he might offer to buy the whole lot outright for his auctioneer business. Junie Mae showed the man an antique radio. It still works, she said, and I can prove it. She waded through a pile of junk and located an electrical outlet. Good. The old cloth-covered cord wasnt too frayed. Junie Mae plugged the radio in and

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fiddled with its old buttons till she cut through the crackling static and found a clear station. The radio was going loud and clear when an old pickup truck pulled into the driveway. Junie Mae couldnt hear it because of the radio and the remarks of the pawn broker. He liked the music so much he turned it up louder. I was crazy about this song when I was a kid, he said. Lets Go Steady Again reverberated throughout the house as the pawn broker boogied away. What an odd character, Junie Mae thought as she pulled comics out of the old war chest. As the music played, Junie Mae showed the man some old DC Comics. Thrilled by the treasures in the attic, he sang: Cmon, baby, lets go steady again! WHAT IN BLAZES IS GOING ON HERE! a big voice boomed. But, Phil, you werent supposed to come home for three hours Junie Mae began weakly. I forgot my spackle gun and caulking! Phil cried. So who is HE, and what are you two doing up here? He only wanted to see your antiques, Phil! Junie Mae cried. So what ELSE did you want to see? Phil demanded, his eyes bulging with fury. Look man, the pawn broker pleaded. I wasnt after your woman But you WERE after my Wonder Woman comic books, and Superman, and Green Lantern, and Batman! Phil fumed. And you dont know how much those old valuables mean to me! Phils face was red as a beet and his fists were on his hips. He looked scary to the pawn dealer, who was barely half his size. Terrified, the man shoved a pile of old magazines in Phils pathway, making him stumble long enough so he could scamper down the stairs and make a run for it. But to his dismay, he found his van blocked by Phils pickup. Scared out of his wits, he revved up the van as Phil bolted outside demanding a further explanation. The man made a U-turn in the front yard, squashing some flower beds. Phil ran after him, rapping on the back of his van and yelling about pulverized petunias. The white van roared down the road. Phil scratched his head and said, All I was trying to do was talk, for Petes sake! Why do you think he got so scared? he asked Junie Mae. Well, you have been shaving your head lately, and youve got such a sunburn it made you look madder than you actually were. I WAS mad, Junie Mae. What was I supposed to think, seeing another man dancing in the attic with my wife? Oh, Phil! she cried. For Petes sake, he was old enough to be my dad! But hes still got a few good miles left in him!

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He was only checking the radio to see if it worked, and he just happened to like that particular song, thats all. And maybe I happen to like the stuff that belongs to me! Phil reminded her. Just because its up in the attic gathering dust doesnt make it any less precious to me! Youre lucky I dont hit women! he hissed. Whatre you, crazy or something, selling my stuff behind my back? But, Phil, I wasnt selling it, only pawning it, as collateral for a $2000 loan! The preacher on TV promised hed send a big stack of free DVDs free of charge to anybody who sent in a minimum donation of $2000, and that offer expires in just a few days! You never used that junk anyway, Phil, and once the Lord multiplied the money back I could have redeemed it all out of pawn! Thats still stealing, Junie Mae! Or didnt your preacher ever teach you that? But I wanted to get Larry Leachs DVD and find out what hell is like! she blubbered. All I know, Junie Mae, is if I ever catch you trying to sell my stuff again, youll REALLY find out what hell is like! And how anybody could ever think their love gift of third-rate DVDs is free when youve gotta send in a $2000 donation, and the way you were gonna get that money Oh, please, Phil, dont be mad at me! She backed away from him. Have I ever laid a hand on you, or anybody else before, Junie Mae? Fact is, I feel sorry for you! Youre no different from those drug addicts I saw walking the streets of L.A.! Theyd beg, borrow or steal to get their next fix, and religious gambling just happens to be your habit! Phil, I thought you were a Christian So you think Im no Christian just because I expect others to respect my personal property, and just because I can see through those religious pimps on Prey TV? THEYRE the ones in danger of going to hell, Junie Mae, the way they mess up peoples minds! Theyve turned the good Lord into a routlette wheel, a bookie to be paid off with bucks any way you can get em, just like gangsters out in the real world! Gangsters? her eyes widened. Yeah! They tell people in so many words: Send us money or God will let you rot in your troubles and forget you exist. Pay up, people, or we wont tell you what hell is really like! But THEY know what hell is like, Junie Mae, and every time they come on that TV and make a pitch for money they show you the true meaning of hell! Hells full of liars, swindlers, and parasites like they are! I get mad sometimes, Junie Mae, but at least I go out every day and earn an honest living by the sweat of my brow! Those leeches on Prey TV, the only sweating they ever do is if the camera lights get too bright! The day I hear of one of those religious cons actually using their own two hands to build something, or do an honest days labor, or even cleaning their own bathroom, is the day hell will freeze over.

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***** It wasnt a week later before Junie Mae got a distress call from Roxanne. My mothers flipped. She took money shed saved for new dentures and actually sent it to Brother Bradley Bellows on Prey TV! You dont say! Junie Mae gasped. Tell me more. My mom has been in constant pain from slipping dentures. But Brother Bellows did his song and dance routine on TV as usual. Anyhow, his latest line is this: Sacrifice more and youll reach the Lord And: Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy. Hes saying that its when the sacrifice hurts the worst it proves Gods about to move. And what could hurt my poor mother more than sore gums? So Mom made one last gamble of faith with what little she had left. But things only got worse for her, believe it or not. The electric company just turned off her juice, and me and Eddie had to bail her out. But we dont have the money for her dentures. What are you gonna do, Roxanne? I feel like were up against a brick wall. Anyhow, I did some digging and got the number of a close associate of Brother Bellows. I explained that my mother gets carried away sometimes, but she made a terrible mistake sacrificing her badly needed denture money, and could they please refund it as an act of Christian charity? What did he say? When hell freezes over. $$$$$$ PAY UP, PARDNER! Ed Egghead was a simple soul who wanted to have his very own church. Ed couldnt afford to rent a place to hold services in. Eds friends didnt have much money either, but they all decided to start the church anyway. For several weeks Ed, his wife, and three other Christian families gathered in the den of his large home. Since they were all personal friends, Ed didnt mind the relaxed, informal atmosphere. Everyone just enjoyed being together, sharing from the Word, singing, and sharing their testimonies. After each service they would gather round a table and enjoy coffee and a snack. Everyone would always be decently, but casually dressedjust like a close-knit Christian family. Then, like a bombshell, everything began to change. Ed showed up one night in a starched white shirt, black suit, pinstripe tie, and shiny black shoes. His wife wore a strand of pearls and a charcoal gray tailored suit. She entered the room stiffly. The others looked antsy. Hey, Ed, his best buddy Rupert said. Whats up? Are you guys on your way to a funeral?

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No, Brother Rupert, Ed said stiffly. And if its all the same to you, Id prefer if you called me Pastor Edward and my wife Sister Edwina. You gotta be jokin right? Millie Morris said. Edie, she said to Eds wife, were still best friends, arent we? Edie smiled primly. Surely, Mildred. Youll always be highly esteemed in my personal affections. But if were to conduct a proper church service, the proper protocol must be observed. In informal social settings, you may still address me as Edie. Within the confines of the sanctuary I prefer that you address me as Sister Edwinaout of respect for my husbands newly acquired position of authority. Hey, whats goin on here anyway? Brother Mike demanded. Enough of this joke already! Hey, man, Im worried about you guys! You didnt even crack a smile! Sit down, Brother Mike! Ed rebuked. Youre way out of order! As a bewildered Mike plopped back down on the sofa, Ed stood aloof from his former friends. Edie brought in a tall college professors lectern. Thisll do for now, Ed said. When the cash starts rolling in Ill get me one of those solid redwood pulpits from Sacred Supply Center. And furthermore, were gonna chuck out all this furniture. If were gonna be a real McCoy church, well have to ACT and LOOK like a church! That means starting next week, I wanna see all the men and boys duded up in suits and ties and all the girls and women shining in their best Sunday attire! But why the suits and ties, EderBrother Edward? inquired Rupert. Because Brother Peso on TV taught me this: If you dress for success, with money youll be blessed. But if you wear a sweater youre no go-getter. So wear a tie, guys, if you wanna make it and be a money magnet. The other men looked at him like he had flipped, but said nothing. Eds wife soberly added, From now on, unless a special occasion necessitates the provision of refreshments, they will no longer be provided. Church services have as their chief end the sustenance of the soul, not the gratification of physical appetite. You may all dine in your own homes before services commence each week. Everyone moaned. Ed said, Shes right, everybody. The apostle Paul did say: Have ye not homes to eat and to drink in? Were trying to cut a few corners for financing our new church, so we really dont need any freeloaders herenot that anybodys been one. Ed got some stony looks. What I meant to say is this: Coffee and cookies only draw our attention away from the rich spiritual food Ill be providing each week. Paul said, Let all things be decent and in order, and I dont think Paul approved of turning church into a big coffee break! All the more reason why weve gotta grow up and get the pews and go get us a real building. And I dont think Paul would have kept Lazy Boy Recliners and bean bags in his sanctuary! Right now, all I can afford is a few folding chairs, but at least theyll all match. Wont be long, well buy a pew or two to match that fancy new pulpit I ordered by faith.

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What do you mean, you ordered that pulpit by faith? Mike asked, looking suspicious. Thats perzactly what I meant, Mike! I have faith in YOU that youll do the decent thing and get me that brand new Soul of Inspiration Redwood Pew! Just like suits and ties attract cash, pews made from majestic redwood trees inspire majestic sermons! Since wed all be chipping in to pay for the pulpit, do we all get to use it to share our testimonies from? Rupert wondered. Ed coughed. Sharing is KID STUFF! Thats what IM here for, people! Theres only room for ONE preacher in this particular pulpit, and his name is Edward Egghead! IM the guy who almost graduated Bible school, not you! And the only reason I didnt finish was I had a cash flow problem! Which reminds me: If you mean business about having this church, you guys will have to spring for new church furniture, AND youll kick in a few grand so I can go back and get my degree. You guys need a pastor you can be PROUD of. Chilly silence. Edwina, Ed said stiffly, Please bring up the new offering bag you bought today. We only bought one bag, saints, but at least its a step of faith. As our church gets bigger, well buy a bunch more of those fancy bags. Edie daintily handed him the single blue velvet bag, which was attached to a wooden handle. Cmon now, Ed! Brother Barney called. This is getting ridiculous. You dont need that thing here! This isnt Westchester Cathedral! It could be, Ed said, if only youll be more positive and see past your own nose. To prove your faith, I want everybody to make a vow of faith tonight that theyll dedicate ten percent of each paycheck to our new church! Were gonna be a TITHING church! Are you a Levite? Mike called, out of the clear blue. Am I a WHAT? Ed looked annoyed. He scratched his head. Are you a LEVITE? Everyone hung around for the next hour or so as Mike explained from the Scriptures that only the Levites were ever authorized by God to collect tithes. Mike didnt delve too deeply into the complications of the issue, as he didnt feel like starting an argument. The Levites wore special clothes and the priest wore a bonnet, Mike said, in a halfjoking way. Business suits might make you rich, but they dont make you a Levite. Unless you wear Levite clothes, dont ask me for tithes again. Ed said theyd resume the discussion the following week. Half his congregation grumbled and threatened not to come back.

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Next week only Mike and his family showed up, formally dressed to Edies approval. She admitted them and escorted them to the den to await another service. What a sight Ed was when he walked in, dressed up in a Western shirt and brand new jeans! He grinned at Mike from under a Stetson cowboy hat. I shore as shootin aint wearin no bonnet! Ed said, holding out the offering bag. But I am wearin Levi clothes and a Levi hat. Now pay up, pardner!

$$$$$$ WHAT PRICE SELF ESTEEM? Summertime at Seedtime Assembly. A season when school kids had loads of free time on their hands, and the church leadership kept cooking up exciting events to keep the young people innocently occupied (and rustle up a little cash for the kitty as well). So many special announcements were flowing forth from the pulpit these days, they no longer seemed very special. Car washes, spaghetti suppers, sack races, church movies, skating parties, ad nauseum. If I have to choke down any more burnt burgers, mushy spaghetti and wilted salad, Pastor Joe moaned, Im gonna barf. Honestly, Darlene, you know full well weve done our darnedest to keep the young people enthusiastic about church life. But theyre all dropping out like flies. Most of them would rather lay in bed than come to Sunday School. What if their parents also lose faith in me? Darlene hugged him and said, Youre a wonderful pastor, Joe, and you know it! Your revolutionary new teachings are meeting the deepest needs of our congregation, and youre just as good or better than any of those speakers we heard at the seminar. Ive heard so many dysfunctional people talking about how their personal self-esteem has blossomed since they began to sit under your ministry. But I dont seem to be getting through to the young people, Darlene! Every time I ask them to get involved in a church fundraiser, they get that whats in it for me look on their sad faces. How will I ever raise a new crop of faithful contrib.I mean, converts, if I dont connect with the youth? Joe sighed. I just might as well ask the church board to transfer me over to Sun City Cathedral, where I heard theres an opening for a personable, people-oriented pastor who holds a post-doctorate in doctrinal dissertation. Fact is, Ive already been approached by their church elders to fill the vacancy in their pulpit. Theres a big increase in salary and perks in it for us. Darlene gasped. Sun City is trying to buy you away from Seedtime Assembly? Why didnt you let me in on that little secret? Joe shrugged. I was going to, Darlene, but I was afraid youd say no. I just feel like its time for us to move on to greener pastures. And if you say yes, things could be so much nicer for us

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Joe, Darlene pleaded, wherever you go youll face new challenges. You cant just run away from them. Just bloom where youre planted. All I know is, it might be easier for this old crocus to bloom at Sun City Cathedral, Joe said. Sometimes the grass grows greener on the other side of town. Darlene sulked. You know how I hate having to make new friends all over again, and try to break into the most exclusive church cliques. And I bet they all wear the finest fashions at Sun City. Im so well accepted at this church, Joe, that Im scared theyll look down on us at Sun City. Id far rather be a big fish at Seedtime Assembly than a minnow at Sun City Cathedral. So you dont think poor little sardines like us are rich enough to win over those ladee-da lobsters? Joe sighed. Ill figure that into my decision. You know Id do anything in the world to make you happy, honey. Lets take a week to sleep on it. Fair enough, Darlene said. Lets kiss on it. Next day Darlene confided in her best friend, Jenny Flagstone, head of the church youth department. Jenny, Darlene said over a cup of coffee, weve got to think of some way to keep Joe from defecting over to Sun City Cathedral. No amount of money is worth pastoring those horrendous snobs. Its enough of a trial to have to mix with them at the regional conference, and I just know the ladies there look down on us just because our church is in a middle-class area. Id be under their scrutiny all the time. Theyd buzz about my hair, my wardrobe, my weight I wouldnt go to that church for all the tea in Swahili, Jenny said. We dont want you to leave either, Darlene. You just told me the main problem is how Joe feels insecure about the apathy among the youth in our church. What if we offered those kids some incentive to want to get more involved, and at the same time make Joe feel more secure in his role as pastor of Seedtime Assembly? In personal relationships therapy thats called positive stroking. For the next two hours Darlene and Jenny brainstormed until they cooked up a plan to make Joe want to stay on as pastor of the less affluent church. In three weeks time the young people would host a burger cookout, after which they would put on a skit to show Pastor Joe just how much his teaching had impacted their spiritual lives. If their performance persuaded him to stay on as pastor of Seedtime Assembly, their reward would be a week-long skiing holiday on Eaglebeak Mountain. What a marvelous idea! Darlene cried. Jenny, its worth so much to me to persuade Joe to stay at Seedtime Assembly, Ill personally finance the skiing trip and pay for all the props and costumes. So it wont need to come out of the church treasury. Wont you have to consult Joe about this project, Darlene? What I do with my own personal funds is none of his business, Darlene replied. Besides, Joes feeling so fragile hed only object. Ill just tell him the kids are hosting special festivities for Honor Thy Pastor Day, and Ill tell them to keep the reward part a secret.

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Jenny stared at Darlene, open-mouthed. I didnt know Honor Thy Pastor Day fell on July 28. I dont think it falls on any day at all, Darlene admitted. But I dont think Joe will be bothered much about that. Ill spread the word immediately, Jenny said. Ill even call up the kids who havent been to Sunday School in a year and ask them to bring all their friends and family. ****** The church wasnt exactly packed on the night of the performance, , but it was at least two-thirds full, better than anyone had expected. Behind the curtain lights illuminated cardboard Biblical scenery. A victory chorus played softly from a speaker. Jenny Flagstone stood before all assembled to announce that after such a scrumptious cookout, there was to be an additional treat from the Youth Fellowship. The young people were about to demonstrate with a drama skit their appreciation for the contribution the pastor had made to their spiritual development. And, most importantly, the teenagers, who ranged in age between 12 and 16, had composed the play themselves. The starring role would be played by a 13-year-old boy, Buster. The curtain lifted. People politely applauded the entrance of the first character. He wore a striped satin robe with a gold sash. Its wide lapels glittered with rhinestones. On the boys feet were golden guaraches garnished with garnets. Hi, everybody! he called out in a squeaky voice. My name is Prosperity Pete! My religion is real COOL! It teaches me how to be a winner, not a sinner! All Ive gotta do is wish for fish, and if I confess the best, fish will fall at my feet real fast! See the diamond fish pin on my 3-piece robe? See my big bag of bass? Laughs and claps, then a second character joined him. Like Prosperity Pete, he was dressed in a three-piece Bible robe ensemble, topped with a silver glitter turban. He staggered under a burden he carried. Wish for fish if you wish, Pete he said, but I want cash in a flash. Jet Set James will set you straight. Just look at the sack on my back. My faith rakes in more riches than yours does. Nyah! Nyah! Groaning, Jet Set James lowered his heavy sack. I confessed the best and lookie what I got! James scooped out handfuls of chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil. He tossed them out to kids watching in the front row. James laid more treasures on a wooden table: fake jewelry and plastic crowns, glittery trinkets galore. James tooted on a plastic horn, drawing laughs from the audience. Ah, look at this! James cried. A genu-wine arky-ologists prize: a silver Romanex Laser Beam Sundial! Man, its cooler than King Herods Hourglass! Poor Peter, all hes got is smelly fish. Whap! Jet Set James got slapped on the noggin with one of Prosperity Petes rubber fishes. Plastic coins poured out of the fishs mouth. Hey, Pete, James said. I thought our master only needed ONE coin to pay taxes for the two of you.

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Well, my fish hook hit the jackpot, Pete said. Were all going out to Pizza Hut tonight. My treat. But Pizza Hut hasnt been invented yet! James cried, as still another robed character appeared onstage. Hey, theres Thomas. Thomas, is there a Pizza Hut in this village? I doubt it, Thomas drawled. But there is a Bagel Barn. Pete walked up to him and wagged a jeweled finger in his face. Dont you EVER say that dirty D word again, boy! Confess the best and youll get blessed, but speak doubts out and youll do without! But I doubt I CAN stop doubting! Thomas cried. Stop being a doubting Thomas, James said. I dont wanna catch any doubt cooties from you! Youre gonna be TYCOON Thomas instead. Hey man, you got any bread in your Gucci Bag? Be positively positive now, Tycoon Thomas, Pete said. Say out loud: I confess Im fed the fanciest bread, and every dumb doubt drops out of my head. Tycoon Thomas lifted the bulging turban off his head, tipped it over and scattered pink popcorn all over the stage. Faith can cast the dumb doubts out! Pete and James cried. And here comes the BREAD! A kid in a donkey costume crawled onstage, braying and pulling a red wagon piled high with fake dollar bills. Jet Set James petted him and said, Some people have got their tooth fairy, and other people have got their Easter bunny, but weve got our dollar donkey! As long as Matthew the tax collector doesnt show up, Thomas said gloomily. Prosperity Pete whapped him with a fish and said, If you dont believe you wont receive! If you doubt that donkey the devil will take him away! A haze of artificial smoke tricked onto the stage from behind the back curtain. Then a character in a red suit darted onto stage waving a plastic pitchfork. He had a pointed hairline, beady eyes and a wicked goatee beard. His red tights hung loosely on his spindly legs. Its Old Scratch! Pete yelled. Hes gonna give Tycoon Thomas a losing lotto scratch card! Thomas, we told you not to confess doubt! Old Scratch grinned. Ive got a million-dollar lottery ticket here, he said. You can scratch for cash, and all I ask in return is your dollar donkey. He grabbed the donkeys bridle. Leave him be! Pete cried, or my mom will turn you into devils food cake! A cell phone went off. Old Scratch answered it. HELL-o, you sly ol devil! So I should put five grand on Brimstone Beauty at the Palm Beach Racetrack? Go

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aheadyeah, yeahso Louie the Louse gave you an insider stock tip, and the smut markets gonna shoot through the roof? Buy a trillion shares. Okay. Old Scratch raised one eyebrow and grinned. You dont saya bunch of Bible thumpers are gonna bombard the strippers convention with tracts? Guess Id better head em off at the pass. Adios, Abaddon. Old Scratch flicked off his phone and let the donkey go. Gotta go scoot, fellows. Time to do my routine in Vegas. But Ill be back for my protection money and youd better cough it up! Old Scratch sneered, then ran back behind the curtains. See? James said to Thomas. The power of positive thinking got rid of that hobag! And the force of my faith brought us the dollar donkey! Behind him came another boy dressed in a flashy gold glitter costume studded with fake jewels. He grinned from beneath a tall plastic crown encrusted with rhinestones. Before he could introduce himself, a surprise character darted in from behind the curtain. A lot of buzzing went on in the congregation. Wasnt this supposed to be a young peoples play? Who was that middle-aged hobo standing among themor at least he HAD to be a hobo, for no respectable man would dare wear a beard to THIS conservative church! The man was dressed in a torn terry cloth robe. An old bed sheet was fastened on his head with an elastic headband. A striped beach towel encircled his shoulders. He wore ripped sandals. He confronted the young king figure, who whispered, Dad! Get off stage! Youre embarrassing me, looking like a hippie with a Velcro beard! The man whispered back: I told you we were changing churches and you were not to participate in this play! Either YOU quit now, or just play along with me! Like a pro, the kid found his voice. He could ad lib. All right! I can live with that! So Ive got competition, eh? But this town aint big enough for two messiahs. Whats your game, anyway? You arent dressed for success, so the crowds dont think youre cool. If people bought your message, youd be wearing designer gear like me. What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul? the ragged actor asked his competition. Ill worry about my soul when Im an old codger like you! the fancy king shot back. How can you make a profit if you look like a loser? With that, the hobo collared the younger king and led him offstage, with a warning that the star of the show was grounded for two weeks. Jet Set James, Prosperity Pete, and Tycoon Thomas felt funny. This just wasnt in the script. Pete looked at the others and said, Guess he took that beggar to some success seminar. You guys wanna go fishin? Sure, Pete, replied James. Your yacht or mine?

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Well toss on it, but first lets remember we wouldnt have no yacht if it wasnt for the good old pastor teachin us how to get one. The three boys grinned and waved to sprinkled applause as people buzzed about the missing main character. To smooth things over, Pastor Joe walked onstage and shook the kids hands warmly. His wife and Miss Flagstone came up and thanked the entire Youth Department for their moving performance. The pastors eyes misted over with tears. I was wrong to even think about giving up and going elsewhere to pastor, he choked. Tonight, through a surprise twist in the performance, I am once again reminded of our need to stay true to our beliefs, even in the face of family opposition. They say the proof is in the pudding. All this quibbling over doctrinal error only divides the church world, and the fact so many have been set free from poverty through correctly applying the Word of God ought to silence our critics. But, sadly, jealousy causes many to reject sound, sensible teaching derived from the Word of God. A wonderful new revelation in the church is being attacked by narrow-minded stuck-in-the-muds who are way too stubborn to get with Gods program and take advantage of the new thing He is doing in the earth. This new generation coming up needs to know how to get Gods best, and if we fail to show them how, then negative, outdated Biblical stereotypes will continue to perpetrate. Kids, its so wonderful to know youre loved and valued. Pete shrugged. Too bad Buster didnt get to do more in the play. But really, Pastor, Buster didnt even look the part, what with his ski nose and all. Hey! James piped up. You wasnt supposed to mention the ski trip! Tycoon Thomas gave everyone a vacant look. I doubt well get to go now. ****** Act Two happened in Pastor Joes home. The whole sordid story came out about how the kids had to be bribed to put on that special Honor Thy Pastor event. You deceived me! Joe yelled. So sue me! Darlene yelled back. All I did was sow a little seed to get my miracle so I wouldnt end up at Sun City Cathedral! And here you had me thinking those kids truly loved me! Joe looked crushed. All they wanted all along was to get something out of us! And just WHO taught them that? Darlene retorted. All I want is for people to love me and value what I do! Joe cried. I want them to love me for ME, not for what they can squeeze out of me! Is that so wrong? Youve said it yourself, Joe, a million times! Does any farmer plant a seed without expecting a big crop for his hard work? Well, what goes around comes around! Do you really expect people to love you and do church work for nothing just because its such an honor to serve good ol Pastor Joe?

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Joe looked plenty steamed. You take that back right now, Darlene! If it wasnt for me and the good salary I get, youd be wiping tables in some restaurant! Remember my last two wives Darlene looked worried. She ran to the bedroom door, blocking his exit. Joewait! I wasnt talking about ME, honey, just other people! Yeah, right! Joe yelled. A loud cry came from the crib in the adjoining room. Oh, please, Joe, you just woke little Lisa, and shes teething I dont care! Joe boomed. Weve started this, so lets have it out right now! Im still young enough to find somebody who appreciates me for who I am! Darlenes face crumpled. She clutched his sleeve. I beg you, Joestop! I know Im not the prettiest, or even the smartest, woman you could have found to marry you! Youre the most wonderful man on earth, and even if you werent, Id still worship the ground you walked on! She reached out for him. Well, youve got a mighty funny way of showing it! Joe moved away from her. The very idea, filching money out of the church activity fund to reward a few spoiled teenagers Thats not true! Darlene chided. I wasnt going to tell you, but I spent two thousand dollars of my OWN money to provide the ski trip for the kids who worked on this special evening. I could have bought myself a new dress with that money, but oh, no, I wanted to do something to prove my love for YOU! Joe melted toward her. Oh, sweetheart, I was only kiddin! Youre wife number three, but youre the one for me! NOBODY loves Pastor Joey as much as my darlin Darlene. Ive had a change of heart too. Youre right, dearie. Nothing would be solved by our transferring to Sun City. Ive just enrolled in a Human Empathy seminar. If I want people to have more faith in me and grow with our church, Ive got to learn better people skills to win them over. Then youll have a husband you can really be proud of! Thats my boy! Darlene giggled. Youre worth the money, honey. Lets say our bedtime prayers now, Darlene, Joe said. Dear Lord, Ive done my best to airbrush my image so I can be the perfect pastor, but theres no sense wasting all that effort on Seedtime Assembly. Please help Darlene see the light about Sun City Cathedral. If she REALLY loved me and deserved me, shed be willing for us to pastor there so we can go get the lifestyle we really deserve. Amen. $$$$$$ Prosperity Pandemonium A Sunday School Spoof About Kids Who Want Proof One day a prosperity preacher had to take over a boys Sunday School class when the regular teacher was home sick with a migraine. Heres how it went:

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"What did you mean, Pastor, when you told everybody in church they could bring forth money by travelling in birth with it?" little Billy asked. "The word is travailing, Billy. When you want wealth you just imagine its inside of you before it pops out where you can see it," said the pastor, pointing at his midsection. "Just like before a baby is born." "Well, maybe my mom didnt imagine hard enough," said Billy, "or Id be made of paper and she coulda gone shopping with me." "Well, maybe next time, Billy. But let me tell you. The power of faith is so great it can bring boatloads of blessings into your life. I drive a brand new BMW." "Does your wife drive too?" tow-headed Tad asked. "Yeah, she drives me crazy till I let her take the wheel." Laughter all around. "Even my clothes closet is bigger than some peoples homes," the pastor bragged. "The Bible says: God has set my feet in a large room." "With a little help from that scarecrow you talked about in church?" Billy piped up. "Thats escrow, Billy. We went into escrow with the mortgage company to finance all our church building programs, including the new parsonage." "Then why not skip the praying part and just go to them?" Tad ventured. "Because it takes a bit of prayer to prime the pump to get the givers to give in church. Otherwise the well would run dry. Id end up so poor Id have to buy all my familys clothes at the church thrift shop." "That would be weird," said Hank, a skinny boy with huge brown eyes. "Your kids havin to buy back their own stuff." The pastor looked more closely at Hanks threadbare jacket and faded jeans. "If I werent so prosperous, Hank, I wouldnt be in a position to be a blessing to others. Hey, my sons about your size, and hes just cleaned out his closet. Why dont I bring you a sackful of designer duds next week?" Hank looked round at the other boys, some of whom were smirking. Squaring his shoulders, Hank said: "Dont need em, pastor. We aint so poor." "Well, just look at your clothes, Hank. What kind of wealth does your family possess?" "I bet you dont have as many cars as weve got jacked up in our front yard," Hank said. "My Uncle Gus is always layin underneath em fixin em up to sell to the neighbors." "At least hes putting a little elbow grease to his faith," said the pastor. "And the day just might come when your uncles faith grows up to my level and he can enter into the rest of faith and cease from his own works. All I have to do is confess what I see through the eye of faith and it comes to pass." The pastor pointed at his forehead. "Remember what I told you about how faith brings the object of your desire into the realm of sight. Thats very similar to giving birth. Thats called faithing your desire into manifestation. " "Ill try and do that till church is over," said Billy. And if I faith hard enough, maybe itll give birth to a new Play Station before I get home, but I sure do hope I dont have to go to the hospital like my mom did when she had me." "Well, If her faith had been more focused, your poor mother would have been at the mall instead of the maternity ward with you, said the pastor with a wry smile. "Lets discuss a real example of Biblical prosperity, class, someone whose faith took him all the way to the palace. David was a very rich man, and he got that way by faith." "Didnt David hang out in a cave, Pastor?" little Joshua asked. "Well, yes, Joshua, but only for a little while. You see, David was only camping out on his vacation, taking a break from the rat race like any tired businessman

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would do. Poor people cant afford to go camping. David said: He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. So green is the color of prosperity." "Well, what about that wino I saw in the park, Pastor?" asked a red-haired boy. "Is he rich? Hes always laying around in a green park. Is a park a pasture?" "In a manner of speaking, Rufus. But generally you have to have lots of greenery in your pocket to put a little color in your pastures. One of the biggest lies of history is this notion that Jesus was poor while He was on earth. My, Jesus was so rich he fed 5000 people out of His own pocket. Billy, what did Simon Peter do when he saw that 5000 people were hungry and needed to be fed?" "Maybe Peter pulled out his Masters Card and took them all out to McDonalds," Billy answered, proud of his cleverness. "You kids are really enjoying this lesson," said the pastor. "King Solomon was rich too. What sort of blessings did he have? Yes, Joshua?" "He had 300 wives and 700 porcupines!" "Thats concubines, Joshua. Now what else did Solomon have?" "A kid named Rebox." another kid answered. "Thats Rehoboam, Troy. Now somebody tell me why Solomon was so smart." "He had lots of wisdom teeth!" Rufus cried. The pastor grinned and shook his head. "Time to get serious, boys. Now Im going to teach you all about giving. The more you give, the more you get back. Thats one of the laws the Lord set in motion and it always works for me." "You wanna make yourself even richer by whipping out a twenty so I can get a new CD, pastor?" Billy excitedly asked. "Well, why dont you guys give first, and then Ill think about it. Its time for the Sunday School offering. Time to put what we learned into practice. You can learn and learn until the cows come home, kids, but faith without works is dead." The boys dug out their dimes and quarters and dutifully plonked them into the offering plate. "Come on," said the pastor, frowning at the lone dollar bill in the plate. "Dimes and quarters are kid stuff. Give like a grownup man or you wont get a decent return on your investment. Ill pass the plate around one more time." Like most of the other boys, Billy was dressed for success. He pulled something off his neck and put it in the plate. "Quit clowning around, Billy. Whats the idea?" The pastor looked peeved. "I gave what you always ask my dad for, Pastor. Ties and offerings." $$$$$$

RELIGIOUS RACKETEERS

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Narrated by Tex the Longhorn Steer Taken from my book: Big Bucks and the Boogerman Available at http://i-proclaimbookstore.com/bigbuandbo.html If Peter, James and John could peek down from heaven and watch some of the carnival clowns passin' themselves off as Gospel preachers, they would wonder how those varmits could'a got past the watchmen of the church to twist the faith once delivered unto the saints spoken of in Jude verse 3. Guess the watchmen of the church must'a been dozin off on the job, huh? Used to be a preacher was so poor and hungry he could smell chicken fryin' clear across the county. Now he can sniff a hundred-dollar bill from a distance of ten rows and ten aisles. I heard tell of one evangelist that goes around braggin' about how much fun he had, swimmin' around in his own money, in the back of his own stretch limo. He tells his mesmerized audience to say a bunch of confessions after him, like a class of first-graders learnin' their ABC's. Not only that, this guy holds his stomach, then tells his people to pretend that they're about to birth a calfor was that a kid? Only, it's money that's supposed to pop out of 'em. Outside of his zany meetings you'll usually find a herd of protesters carryin' picket signs. Signs that say Jesus said not to lay up treasures on earth, but to make sure they got wealth in heaven. Them radical, idealistic protesters try to talk sense into brainwashed pew-warmers who go in there to throw their money at this flashy preacher, and they tell 'em all he wants is their money so he can buy another jet plane. But ain't no use tryin' to talk sense to a Christian starstruck with preacher puppy love. That's just like tryin' to tell a thirteen-year-old Romeo that his blond teacher won't accept his marriage proposal. Cody has gotten lots of weird-lookin' Junk Mail for Jesus lately. A Miracle Prayer Rug" arrived in the mail a few weeks back. There was a picture of Jesus plastered on it which opened and closed its eyes, and it looked up at Cody oh, so, sweet when he laid it on the floor and told it his money troubles. Cody was supposed to rush it back with his best offering, and only a mean ol' cuss could say "no" to that precious picture! Cowboy Clayton walked in on Cody cause there aint no such thing as privacy in a ranch bunkhouse. Clayton got tickled when he saw Cody pourin' out his heart to a sheet of paper on the floor. Bein' as Clayton was already there, Cody told him what it was. Now Clayton sure ain't no angel, but he said that any preacher who believed in the Jesus of the Bible wouldn't reduce Him to a tabloid centerfold churned out in some Chinese sweatshop. Cody might be a weird dude sometimes, but even he had to agree with Clayton on that one. Cody admitted that it gave him the creeps to watch that picture open and close its eyes like a haunted kaleidoscope. So he tossed Brother Bizarre's prayer pallet away and crossed him off his prayer partner list. Another mail-out Cody got came with several colors of papers and envelopes. Cody was supposed to fill each of 'em out and send 'em on different days of prayerwrapped around his best offering, of course! Gotta give those rascals credit, though! Real sneaky of 'em, gettin' more than one cash hit out of each mailout! Saves a heckuva lotta postage, huh? Those leeches even hit dead folks up for money. Cody told me his Grampaw Bill still got dunned by a profiteer prophet every few weeks. Anyhow, the sales pitch he got in the mail went something like: This is your special month of miracles. Dont let the Lord pass you by. We've had a long shootout with satan in the prayer corral on your behalf, and God wants you to know that if you don't strike while the iron is hot and send in some cold hard cash, satan's gonna barbeque your carcass over a slow bed of coals in the comin' year. Man, your luck'll be so rotten that all the bad years you've seen up to now will seem like a Sunday school picnic.

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Bulltwinkles! Grampaw Bill's been pushin' up tulips for two whole years! The profiteer prophets who told him satan was out gunnin' for him are worse than hitand-miss phone psychics! Any burger flipper who got it wrong half as often as those fortune tellers would'a been sent packin'! How patient the good Lord is! How on earth could satan hassle a guy who died and went to heaven unless the watchmen of the Pearly Gates goof off on the job like the watchmen of the church are doin'! Seems to me like the devil comes in mighty handy for varmints who want to collect protection money to keep Old Scratch off peoples backs. But seems to me that's a nice way of sayin' this: "Man, we got the devil on a leash and he's mean as a pit bull robbed of his steak bone. Either you pay up or we'll turn Ol' Scratch a-loo-o-ose on you! Pledge a grand on your credit card and God'll give a hundred grand back. Why spend money to fly to Vegas when Reverend Roulette runs a better casino on Prey TV? Slick trick fishers for funds sell heaven on earth to poor folks up to their neck in bills. Then they'll scare people with hellfire and damnation in the hereafter to ransack their pockets! Big bucks and the boogerman. They'll either use a carrot danglin' off a long fishin' pole to keep the dumb donkey goin' to give 'em an easy ride, or they'll use that same fishin' pole to whack him on the noggin with. Man, those pick pocket preachers sure do serve the Loot! They see church people as cash cows to be milked to the last drop. Those carnies in $5000-suits turn God like a Las Vegas slot machine...put in a ten-spot and out pops a thousand! The Cross of Christ goes out the door and millions stampede their way into the Casino of Christ, knockin' each other over to get their chance to throw big bucks at some spit-and-polish preacher who'll sell 'em six keys to unlock God's blessingsor was that seven, I lost count! Then when their leaky ship capsizes before it comes in and they're deeper in the hole financially than ever before, they'll write the preacher back askin' where in heck their 500-fold blessing is. Chances are, they'll get a form letter back, with their own name electronically pasted in the right slots. It'll tell the poor slob to keep showin' how big his faith is by sowin' more seed into the ministry, 'cause the bigger the trial of faith, the sweeter the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Satan has sold 'em all a sugar cone full of lies. The Sovereign Lord of the Universe is expected to mo-o-ove over and make room for a hocus-pocus god invented by pulpit parasites. The god of the Gospel of Get is called the Force of Faith. And that make-believe god of gold and goodies sits on the Throne of the Candy Kingdom of Pie-in-the-Sky-before-I-die. Man, that Santa Claus Force of Faith is gonna make all your dreams come true. for the right price! Bulltwinkles! Flocks and herds of good religious folk have rushed their Defeat the Devil Donation to their mail boxes to try and beat the deadline before the TV preachers Special Season of Anointing expires. Surely that smiley face on the TV will pray a custom-made prayer just for that sick lady who is about to be evicted from her fleabag apartment. After all, it costs nothin' but a few seconds of your time to yawn at the Lord to please bless so-and -so. Nobody in their right mind would have the guts to ask the preacher for MONEY, just prayer. But it's one of the preacher's perks to dun you for YOUR money, 'cause he's the big shot in Religionland, and you're just a poor churchmouse on welfare, eatin' your macaroni and cheese TV dinner while he makes his pitch. Oh, sure, he'll pray just for you. But unless you're chummy enough with him to play golf with him on Sunday afternoon, God won't be lookin' for any angel express faxes from him on your behalf. A big cheese televangelist gets fan mail from zillions of folks on a daily basis, and they're read by a bank of Brainiac robots, no doubt. It takes just as much faith to think Superpreach can find a minute to read your letter as to believe jolly ol' St. Nick can drop off toys to every mansion,

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mobile home and tar paper shack on earth in just one night. But give Superpreach credit, y'all. He does remember to close his show with We sure do love you! Just what does Superpreach mean by love anyhow? What if some poor peon out in TV Land launched out into the deep and didnt slow down enough to pray for Gods guidance before mailin' the rich preacher his rent money? What if some jobless sucker ended up sleepin' under a bridge just 'cause he did some so-called act of faith God never told him to do? After all the boatloads of dollars that man sent in to the grinnin' TV preacher over the years, would that far-off face send the man so much as a dime to keep him fed and off the street? And if, as Superpreach preaches, God always shells out a 100-fold return on your investment, why don't that Super doper Preacher prove HIS cotton-pickin faith by payin some poor suckers rent before the sheriff throws him out onto the street? Listen here, folks. If that fancy dude on TV really did believe that bull he preaches, he'd hop onto the first plane to Anywhere, USA and personally see to it that man was taken care of. He'd do that even if he didnt give a flip about that homeless guy! What about this Scripture, the same medicine Superpreach rams down the necks of poor folks? James 2:20 says: Faith without works is dead. What gives Superpreach the idea that the hard-to-swallow part of God's Word is only for pew warmers out in TV Land? Why don't those fancy TV preachers sell some of their extra cars, jewelry and antiques and hand out the proceeds to agencies that house the homeless? For that matter, why don't they start an emergency rent relief fund for poor families about to be thrown out of their homes, if they really believe their own sales pitch: The more seed you sow, the bigger your harvest. The greater the sacrifice the bigger the blessing. Why dont they get off their fat duffs and put that bit of Bible into action? Instead you hear about pampered poodles livin' in air-conditioned dog houses, gold bathroom fixtures, first-class jaunts to the Holy Land, stables full of thoroughbred Arabian horses, nine-bathroom mansions. I should'a had it so good when I was weaned on dry sagebrush in Cowpoke County, Texas. Yeah, those fine fishers for funds have got plenty to lavish on dumb hound dogs and horses, but nothin' to waste on people who don't have a fine pedigree. Oh yeah, once in awhile you'll see 'em handin' out dolls and candy to little kids in grass shacks. It sure does make a good photo op to prime the pump and keep the proceeds rollin' in. Cody was readin' his Bible one Sunday as he stretched out in the hammock. I moseyed over to say "hi" to him. While he petted my muzzle I spotted this verse in his Bible, and I wonder why Cody missed it. It's part of Proverbs 22:16: "He that giveth to the rich shall surely come to want. Folks who pamper the rich aren't promised an easy ride, they're promised a hard ride right off the cliff. All I care to say about that verse is it means what it says, and bein' ignorant of the Bibles warnings never protected anybody from the consequences, and, believe me, they can be awful bad. Cody always seems to be broke. If God did allow somebody to get rich quick for linin' a rich preachers pockets, He would only be goin' against that Bible verse. God never did like bein' used for a slot machine. Preachers love to quote proverbs that promise wealth and prosperity, but why don't they ever preach on Proverbs 22:16? Now folks, somethin's mighty fishy here. While some fancy-dancy preacher and his fairy princess wife shed crocodile tears over starvin' babies in the third world, performers dance and sing on their gold glitter stage, and they won't quit their caterwaulin' till the tote board racks up the figures they want. But take a close-up view of those people's hands. Perfect nails, nice jewelry, no calluses and smooth as a baby's bottom. If those folks had to do just one hard day's work on the Cowpoke Ranch, they'd think they'd died and gone to Torment.

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Every Saturday night after the chores are done the rest of the cowpokes go into town to chase women. But not Cowboy Cody. He's glad to have the bunkhouse all to himself so he can flick on Prey TV. Me, I just hang around in the doorway to watch it too. And Cody kicks back in his bunk after a hard day of ropin' and brandin' calves. He rubs salve on his aches and pains and tries to forget how hard life is for workin' stiffs who use their muscles instead of a snake charmer's tongue to earn a livin'. Cody used to find it harder to say "no" to beady-eyed rattlers who'd bamboozle him with religious hoodoo to try and get him to pledge half his month's wages to keep their show on the air. Little by little the scales are fallin' from Cody's eyes and he's wisin' up to their game, but I'll never forget what happened one day when Cody was cleanin' out his Army Surplus footlocker. Cody thought he was all by his lonesome in the bunkhouse. Bud, Garrett, and Zack were at the race track, and Cody thought Clayton and Chester were there wastin' money with 'em. Aside from the fact Cody hardly had two nickels to rub together, he didn't believe in gamblin'or so he said! At the last minute, Clayton and Chester decided to come back to the bunkhouse with their dates Misty and Cindy, so they could guzzle beer while they watched steamy videos. None of 'em saw me on the other side of the bunkhouse, peekin' through the window and catchin' every word that was said. Cody almost jumped outa his skin when all of a sudden the peaceful bunkhouse turned into Grand Central Station. A lot of Cody's junk was spread out on the floor. A big garbage bag was there, but he acted like he didn't want to throw much of anything out. "Hey, what's that itty-bitty stuff? Did ya save it from your kiddie meals at Bronco Burgers?" Clayton stood over Cody, about to bust out laughin'. "How cute," Clayton's gal Misty giggled. "Cody's toy box. Hey, can I have that one?" Cody shook his head. "It's my St. Peter's Key Ring. Brother Snodgrass from Prey TV sent it to me. See these seven keys? I had to send in a special, one-time offering of seven dollars for each of 'em. They stand for health, wealth, happiness" "Oh how cute!" Misty laughed again. "The same three wishes Sleeping Beauty got from her fairy godmother!" "There's more," Cody said. He cracked everybody up, he looked so serious. "This key chain is a perpetual testimony of the part I played in savin' Snodgrass Ministries from goin' under. Brother Snodgrass personally prayed over it to bless it for me." "You can bet he said grace over the money you sent in," Chester drawled. "What other junk you got in your foot locker, Cody?" Clayton asked. Why, you could hold a yard sale and get back some of the money you sent Brother Snodgrass." Cody looked steamed. "Don't you never poke fun at my stuff, Clayton." "Aw, Cody, we're only funnin' ya! Hey, what's that rock by your shoe?" Cody held up the shiny lump. "This here is Brother Farley's Nugget of Wisdom, and it's 24 karat gold. It only cost me one hundred and fifty dollars. He said paper money ain't gonna be worth much before long, and Christians had better invest in gold so they won't go hungry when the New World Order takes over." "Mind if I see it, Cody?" Cody handed it to Clayton. Clayton held it up to the light, then took a pocket knife and scraped away at the shiny lump. "Hey, what're you doin', Clayton? Give that back right now!" Cody looked thunderstruck when he saw how green the "gold" looked underneath the thin layer of gold paint Clayton had scraped off. "I tried to warn ya, Cody," Clayton said. "When the New World order takes over, that fool's gold won't even buy ya an order of fries!"

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If ever a cowboy looked crushed, Cody did. But he took his disappointment like a man. He hunched his shoulders and said, "Here, Misty, take the key ring. And here's a packet of salt from King Solomon's Mines. And here, Cindy, a vial of water from King David's Well. Clayton, you can have this replica of the slingshot that killed Goliath." Clayton grinned. "It's just a shoestring with a rubber patch on it! What were you gonna kill with this, Cody? A fly?" "It just stands for the fact that my faith can move the mountains in my life just like David was able to blow the mountainous giant Goliath away. That's what Brother Reedy said." "Well, you can start by movin' that mountain of manure outa the bull pen before the smell blows all us cowpokes away," Clayton said.. "I've got seniority on this ranch, so I ain't gonna do it, Cody." "Well, la-dee-dah!" Cody shot back. "A fine time for you to pull rank on your own buddy." "Just be a good egg about it and I'll treat ya to Chinese this evening," Clayton said. "What's in that little plastic pouch?" Cindy asked, hardly believin' her eyes. "It's a tiny bit of meal that Brother Sweetgum prayed over. It symbolizes my faith in God's provision. I'm supposed to sleep two nights over it, then" "Mail it back with your best offering!" Chester finished for him." "Is it Blue Ribbon Self-Risin' Cornmeal, Cody?" Clayton grinned. "Don't matter what kind it is, them preachers wanna turn it into real BREAD!" Clayton twiddled the fingers of his outstretched hand. "At least Brother Sweetgum's learnin' patience. Just think, Cody, you get two whole nights to sleep on it instead of just one!" Everybody laughed but Cody. "What's this?" Clayton was havin' fun now. He stooped down and picked up a small leather bag that had a drawstring on it. "That's my Sower's Seed Bag I got from Brother Slater." Cody looked like he could sink through the floor, with the gals gigglin' at him and Clayton snickerin'. Even soft-spoken Chester coughed to pretend he wasn't laughin'. "Well, what're you gonna put in that little tote bag? Magic mushroom seeds?" It really cracked Clayton up. He had a raucous laugh that rubbed Cody the wrong way. "AhI'm supposed to sign my name on it, put a gift in it and send it back to Brother Slater," Cody said. "Hey!" Clayton cackled. "I've got a GOOD gift to send Brother Slater from Brother Sucker!" Clayton fished somethin' out from under his bunk and stuffed it in the little bag. Cody wrassled it outa Clayton's beefy hands and said, "There you go, desecratin' my Sower's Seed Bag with your smelly sock!" "Ooooh! Lookie at this," ditsy Misty yelped. "Cody, you freak me out! Are you such a tightwad that you even save the mess you scrape off your boots?" She held up a Ziplock bag which contained a love gift from a TV preacher. "It's Dead Sea mud," Cody growled through his teeth. "I got that after I sent Brother Tucker a fifty-dollar donation last month." "Can I have it for my beauty shop?" Misty begged. "It's great for doing a facial." "Yeah, Misty, you might as well have it. It's better to give than to receive." "And can I have this?" Cindy pointed at a little vial of oil. "I don't know if it'd do you much good, Cindy, bein' as you gotta mix faith with it when you dab it on," Cody said. "Otherwise you won't get a miracle." Cindy popped the tiny tube open. "Mmmmit smells like cinnamon! Can I have it to dab onto my pillow to help me sleep?" "Might as well," Cody shrugged. "Ain't nothin' so special about it now."

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"What's THIS?" Clayton's face lit up as he picked up a plastic boomerang. Cody choked on his words. "A replica of Samson's jawbone of a jackass." "Made for jackasses in TV Land by hard-workin' mules in third-world sweatshops that pay fifty cents a day," Clayton said. "I should'a expected persecution from you, Clayton," Cody said. He looked hurt. "Callin' me a jackass like that!" "Well, it takes one to know one," Clayton said. "When I was a kid Billy Barton traded me a magic moon rock for my U2 collection. Said that rock would bring me good luck on tests. Boy, but I bellyached for a long time after I still flunked my English test and got two "D's" on my report card." "Trouble with you, Clayton, is you never trust nobody who claims to represent God." "Cody, I can't afford to buy the sizzle till I see the steak. Be sure the steak's really there before you shell out the cold, hard cash." "Ooooo!" Misty squealed. "I'm havin' so much fun! Just like I was a little kid playin' the gumball machine!" She picked up Cody's brass angel pin and his TV preacher recipe cards. Cody nodded when she asked if she could have 'em. "One last question, Cody," Clayton said. "Mind tellin' me what that little green hanky is for and why all them names are scribbled on it?" He pointed to a cloth wadded up near the foot of Cody's bunk. Cody smiled in his shy cowpoke way, tryin' his best to be a good sport. "Aw, it's just somethin' I was supposed to mail back by tomorrow. See all them other names scribbled on it? Other people wrote on it so Brother Snodgrass could say a prayer for all of 'em, then he sent it on to me. I'm supposed to write my name on it, then send it back to him so he can pass it on to somebody else." "Sorta like a chain letter on a hanky, huh?" Chester chuckled. "And I suppose the magic won't work unless you wrap the cloth around your best offering?" "That's right, Chester. Unless you give, you won't receive. I don't practice a costfree Christianity." "Well, them preachers see to it that your religion costs you plenty," Clayton said. He looked at the cloth real close. "How come the handwritin' all looks the same on Brother Snodgrass's hanky? Even the ink color's the same. I think that preacher's playin' you for a fool, Cody, and I bet he blew his nose on this hanky before he sent it to you!" "Brother Snodgrass wouldn't be that mean!" Cody yelled, pretendin' to be mad. "Better listen to us, Cody," Misty said. "My granny got suckered in by some TV preacher that sells life insurance. He called it Blessed Reassurance for over-50's, I think that's what it was. It went something like this: If Granny signed over a big hunk of her estate over to Brother Berrygood, they'd send her a commemorative medallion to pass on to her offspring when she died. And all the world would remember what a kind, decent soul she was for bequeathin' her earthly treasure to Berrygood Ministries. And once she signed the contract Granny could come stay at the Berrygood Christian Resort for free for fourteen days a year. Well, it's been four years and they still can't book a time slot when Granny can come there for a vacation. Granny'll be six feet under before they keep their end of the bargain." "Maybe they could just stick Granny in the broom closet," Clayton shrugged. Misty punched Clayton in the arm. "That's mean! Granny might be a little addled, but she got burnt bad by that guy, and it means the rest of us won't get as much when she leaves Planet Earth." "You mean YOU won't make much off her when she goes," Clayton said, as if he really cared.

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"The moral of the story is this religion stuff is all a bunch of crackpot mumbo jumbo, Cody," Cindy said. "Any idiot can spray paint a rock and pass it off to some sucker as a gold nugget." "And not all that glitters is gold," Chester warned him. Cody begged to differ. "I know that fake gold nugget must look bad to y'all, but you can't throw the baby out with the bath water. There's bound to be sincere preachers out there who ain't in it just for the money. And if they need my help, I'll do all I can to keep 'em on the air." "Look, Cody," Clayton said. He patted Cody on the back, tryin' hard not to laugh, since they'd already worked him over real good. "Seems to me like any preacher who wears real gold jewelry and drives a fancy car doesn't need no help from some poor cowpoke who sleeps in a seedy bunkhouse. "Well, maybe it's just costume jewelry they wear, Clayton. People who appear on TV have gotta look presentable." Clayton rolled up his eyes. "Costume jewelry my foot! Yeah, sure, Cody, they're doin' it all for you, to pretty up your TV screen! For Pete's sake, wake up, man! Jesus drove the mother of all yard sales outa the Temple when He was on earth, and I don't know why He'd need junk peddlers in His House now!" Why is Cody such a soft touch? Why wouldn't he wake up and smell the rotten fish in Denmark? How many hungry kids could those "humble servants of God" feed if they sold some of that ritzy jewelry they wear onstage? Cody's work pardners are reprobates who need to get on the straight and narrow track. They poke fun at him for takin' his religion too seriously. But then they'll try and talk some sense into Cody so he won't go off the deep end and hurt himself. They tell him he'd better not hold his breath waitin' for his windfall to come in for the big seeds he sows, 'cause the preachers already have it stashed away in their bank vaults. Always think twice before trustin' preachers with your money. God just might tell you to donate to some cause on His heart. But if youve got good reason to suspect that somebody who promises to feed the hungry and bring billions of souls to Christ is really usin' your hard-earned dough to buy an extra ocean view mansion with a crystal chandelier, a pool room and nine bathrooms, think twice before you let him milk you dry. $$$$$$

Heres another cud to chew on, taken from Texs repertoire:

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Bucks in the Belfry Cows ain't the only ones that lie in green pastures. Preachers do too, and lots of lyin' gets done to keep their pastures green. But the worst of 'em want to hog it all, so they keep other folks from eatin' their fair share. This ol' boy pushed the good Lord past the limits of His patience. Rev'run Randy, as his countryfied church chums called him, was scared stiff. Was that really him standin' next to his own body? "It's not fair!" he screamed. "Slim! Slim!" Randy cried. He ran over and jabbed the arm of his buddy, only to see it go through Slim like an X-Ray. "Slim, ya gotta help me!" Randy begged. "I'm only 37 years old! I can't die yet! Get down on the floor and make me breathe again! You gotta bring me back! Oh, please! I'm not ready for heaven yet! I've got way too much living left to do!" Well, ol' Slim, he wasn't much help. All he did was run around that ritzy restaurant like a chicken with its head cut off, yellin' for somebody else to help. That pie-eyed little feller was too nervous to be much good in an emergency. The jazz musicians stopped playin' and stared. People stopped eatin' and looked at Slim, but most of 'em were aggravated at him 'cause their dinin' atmosphere was bein' ruined by a medical emergency. Finally a tall man in a blue suit came out of the reception lounge and said, "Let me get a look at him, I'm a physician." The man got down on his knees, held back the head of Randy's big body, pinched his nostrils, and blew in through his mouth over and over again. When Randy didn't come around, the doctor opened Randy's suit jacket. He rubbed Randy's chest real hard, hopin' to jumpstart his heart. There was one man who'd just sat down with his family to eat. He wondered why Slim didn't calm down enough to call for help. The man pulled out his own cell phone and called an ambulance to come quick. Once he put his phone away, he whispered something to his wife, then came over to talk to Slim. "Excuse me, sir, my name is Jake," the man said. "Care to tell me how this happened? Did he choke on his food or what?" Slim's teeth chattered like crazy and he could barely spit a word out. He fidgeted like a bull strapped in a coach airline seat. He looked so scared that Jake worried he might get in the doctor's way and make things worse for Randy. Somehow Jake got Slim to come out to the lobby, sit down and take a deep breath. A waitress brought them both a glass of ice water. "Okay now, sir, just talk to me awhile," Jake said Your friend is in real good hands, and there's nothing further either of us can do about this. Just talk, if that helps. How did it happen?" Once Slim stopped hyperventilating he said, "He tried to eat and talk at the same time, Jake. Only trouble, he got to laughin' so hard he choked on his crab meat. I went behind him and whacked him real hard on the back and he spit the crab out, but it didn't help him none." By this time Slim was cryin'. "Instead of snappin' out of it, he just blacked out and hit the floorhard. He's my pastor, sir. His name's Rev'run Randy and I'm his senior treasurer, Slim Barton. I flunked English in school, but I got a real head for figures and ever'body gets along fine with me, so I'm sort of an unofficial public relations man between the congregation and the pastor. We were here havin' a bite to eat so we could have a private powwow about how to increase donations." "So your pastor might have been so upset he didn't fully recover once you cleared his windpipe?" Jake wondered. "How weird. Is your church going under financially?" "Not atall, sir, but our church board's been runnin' a contest to see which congregation can raise the most money this fiscal year. Whichever church wins,

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gets a gold-plated steeple with a digital sound system for the belfry. Now our Rev'run Randy, he just ain't one to settle for bein' second best and I wonder if job stress finally did him in." Slim brushed a tear from his eye. "So you think he got so stressed out his ticker just gave out?" Jake asked. "How tragic, he looks like he's twenty years younger than me, even if he is a whole lot bigger." "Don't none of us know when God'll take us," Slim moaned. Slim looked like he'd collapse any minute too. "Oh, Lord, please" "I'm a Christian too, Slim," Jake let him know. "Been one for twenty-odd years." "That's wonderful, Jake. I just hope you never lose your first love and turn away from Christ. It's way too easy to get led astray by the wiles of filthy lucre." Slim's eyes showed how scared he felt for Rev'run Randy. "Why don't we pray for your pastor, Slim?" Jake offered. "Prayer would help Reverend Randy, and it would help us, too." Slim blinked. "Don't know that it'd do much good, Jake. Know what he was talkin' about when he keeled over in his chair?" "Was it something bad?" "Yeah, real bad. Truth is, Rev'run Randy's been worried sick that the church board'll get on his case for failure to maintain diz'pline out in the pews." "Sounds like your Reverend Randy must have been a military man at one time or other," Jake said. I've gotta keep him talking, he thought, so he won't go to pieces. "Well, yes sir, he sure was. He was a drill sergeant in the service, he said once. And boy, you sure can tell it by the way he's been a- runnin' the church lately." How's that, Slim?" "He's cracks down real hard on deadbeats who don't tithe." "WellI've got my own opinions on that subject, Slim, but we can discuss that later. What I want to know is what your pastor was talking about before he blacked out." "It was the craziest thing, Jake. He took a bite of crab gumbo and said, "My word, this stuff's so good I feel like I already died and went to heaven." Slim got to snifflin' a little. "Well, anyhow, Rev'run Randy got to makin' fun of all the poor famblies in our church who eat cheap hot dogs while he gets steak. He poked fun at the Davises, a big fambly with eight kids who eat macaroni and cheese ever' night. He said some purty mean things, Jake, things he'd never dare say in church. He said poor people churn out enough rug rats to man the Russian army, and it ain't his fault poor people have big passels of kids they can't pay for. And Rev'run Randy said that just 'cause they got all them kids, it don't mean they shouldn't give him his rightful dues in tithes and offerin's ." Jake just couldn't believe it. "So we have a real live Scrooge among us." "Live, Jake? He'll be lucky to be a live Scrooge after some of the things he done. Right before he fell over, Rev'run Randy bragged to me about how he got a-hold of Sister Jones' savin's. Now, Sister Jones, she was the last hold-out against tithin' and so Rev'run Randy made it a little game to see if he could make her feel guilty for withholdin' her tithes and get all her money for back payments. Well, he went over to see her Sattidy night and preached her such a hellfire and brimstone sermon that it weren't long before he had her on her knees a-beggin' Rev'run Randy to forgive her for stealin' his tithe money. And if that ain't bad enough, Sister Jones is a widder woman who's got six kids, and ever' time you see 'em they all look hungry. She'd been a-savin' up for five years to scrape up enough money to buy herself a whole new set of false teeth. But Rev'run Randy hassled Sister Jones so much she felt like the selfishest sidewinder in Texas. Well, sir, that poor lady forked over all'a her tooth money just to get him off her back. But anyhow, Rev'run Randy was acrammin' his face full of crab gumbo and a-laughin' and a-slappin' his knee real hard

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about how he's so smart he can scare the teeth out of a poor widder woman's head, and like the queen bee once said, if she's too poor for corn bread let her eat soggy cake. Then he just keeled over, fell outa his chair and landed on the floor. I swear, Jake, I tried to get him to ease up on the poor folks out in the pews, but all that man ever did was crack jokes about how nice it was to have his own gang of blue-collar slaves goin' out to their jobs week in and week out to keep him sittin' purty on cloud nine. You know the plastics plant has just finished layin' off a bunch of workers, and the car factory's gone belly up. But rain or shine, Rev'run Randy made his people tithe. Said the Lord would make their lives mis'rable and whup the tar out of 'em if they didn't." "Slim, I think we'd better go ahead and pray for your pastor," Jake said. "He needs the opportunity to consider his ways and repent before it's everlastingly too late." Truth was, Jake was worried that Rev'run Randy's heart failure was God's judgment on him for makin' a mockery of the poor. Still, Jake didn't want Slim to lose heart. Before the two men could bow their heads the doctor came to break some sad news. "I did what I could to save your friend, but he's gone. Apparently it was a massive coronary. I'm very sorry." Unseen and unheard by any visible soul, Rev'run Randy knelt over his body and screamed "NO! Let me back in! Doctor! Come back!" Well, that apostate preacher felt like a sumo wrestler had a hold of him. Somethin' dark and horrible pulled him away from the lifeless corpse which was already on its way out the door on a stretcher. Whatever open window there'd been for getting' back into his own body had been missed by Rev'run Randy. Where he ended up was scarier than the Cowpoke County Jail, that's for sure. Poor Rev'run Randy, he knew his Bible well enough that he realized he wouldn't be let out of his holdin' pen for a good 1,000 years. That's one heck of a stint on death row. Even when Rev'run Randy gets sprung from that place, he'll be taken to God's Great White Throne Judgment to stand trial for all his dirty deeds. And if his name's not written in the Lamb's Book of Life, he'll fry in the biggest barbeque pit outside the State of Texas: the Lake of Fire. So now let's take the story up a few weeks later. Poor Sister Jones. It was the first of the monthalready. Her blinds were parted to see who might be knockin' on the front door. Not the landlord, the poor widow woman could live with that. You'd expect sinners to act like sinners, but to see saints act like sinners is a whole different ball game. There she was, right on schedule. Sister Hopkins from the church finance committee. This time somebody else let her in. Sister Hopkins wasn't too thrilled to see him, but tried not to show it. Wasn't it HER job to take care of this? "Brother Slimahwhat a surprise to see you here. Would it be better if I just called on Sister Jones tomorrow?" "Nope. We were expectin' you to drop in," said Slim. "You come here ever' month like clockwork, to excort Sister Jones down to the bank to cash her welfare check, just so you can get first dibs on it before she buys food for her fambly." "Well, what's that to YOU!" Sister Hopkins snapped. "It's got ever'thing to do with me, sister. Or, at least it did. I was the senior treasurer at your church before Rev'run Randy told me you'd been a-comin' by ever' month to badger money outa poor Sister Jones." Sister Hopkins got hot under her high collar. "I should think you'd thank me for making your job a bit easier. Such ingratitude." "I never did give you no permission to worry Sister Jones in her own home, and you know it!"

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"Ah! So it's perfectly all right for you to worry people at church by reminding them to pay their tithe, but not in their own homes? What's the difference, Brother Slim?" "The difference is, I don't never wanna worry nobody about nothin' no more. I'm a changed man." Sister Hopkins got all huffy."Really! You look the same as you always did." "Sister Jones," Slim said, "show Sister Hopkins how purty your teeth are." Sister Jones smiled her prettiest for Sister Hopkins. "Well, what of it?" Sister Hopkins looked ticked off. "Sister Hopkins," Slim asked her, "can you eat without any pain?" "Sure can. I've got a good set of teeth." "Well," Slim told her, "before I helped our sister out, she wasn't even able to eat oatmeal without pain. Know why? 'Cause our dearly departed pastor bragged about how he hoodwinked her outa money she'd been savin' up for years to get her new teeth. How would YOU like it if ever' time you tried to eat somethin' it hurt real bad? Ever notice how skinny our sister is, Sister Hopkins?" Sister Hopkins patted her high hairdo and said, "I don't make it my business to pry into such matters, Brother Slim. And nor should you." "But you sure don't hesitate about stickin' your nose in Sister Jones' pocketbook, do you?" Slim said, squarin' off to her. "Month after month after month you'd come here to make sure her welfare check didn't make it to the supermarket to buy food for her hungry kids before your fat pastor took out his tithe money so he could go on shoppin' sprees, take a nice vacation, play golf and eat at the King Crab Restaurant." Sister Hopkins got mad. "How DARE you talk about our late pastor like that, and his body isn't even cold in the ground yet." "Well, he may'a been YOUR pastor, but he sure as heck ain't mine no more. Not after all the hell he put our people through." "Swearing on top of your disrespect! Brother Slim, I'm on my way to report you to the church board for blaspheming against God's tithe. I don't know how on earth Reverend Randy ever put an ignoramus like you in such an exalted ministry of our church." "I don't expect you to think kindly of me no more, sister, bein' as we're on different sides of the fence now. But before you go cryin' to them fat pharisees, just level with me. Did you know anything about Rev'run Randy scarin' the tooth money outa Sister Jones?" Sister Hopkins smiled real catty-like. "Who do you think gave him the idea? I told him it was like pulling hen's teeth to get these people to tithe on time. And I told him how Sister Jones sometimes skipped tithe payments because she was saving up for her dentures. Well, I'll have you know he said to me: 'Never send a woman out to do a man's job, Sister Hopkins. When you talk to somebody who's stubborn you must put some teeth to your words and hang on like a pit bull till you get what you want.' So Reverend Randy personally came by here to admonish Sister Jones about the arrears on her tithing. Now, Sister Jones, isn't it high time you spoke up for yourself? Jesus died on the Cross for you. The least you could do is pay a paltry tithe out of your welfare check. Won't you come along with me to the bank to take care of this matter?" Now Sister Jones had once been the most submissive doormat in church. But she moseys on up to Sister Hopkins and says, "The Bible says: 'Let the children FIRST be fed.' A man name 'o Brother Jake came by and taught me and Brother Slim God's real truth about tithin'. It's a lie outa the pit of hell to make a Christian starve his fambly to pay the preacher. And as for Rev'run Randy preachin' to us about Ananias and Sapphira droppin' dead, he found out in a hurry what God thought of him usin' that Scripture like a devil's pitchfork to torment us with!"

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"So what are you insinuating, Sister Jones?" Sister Hopkins' face was red. "Brother Slim told me how Rev'run Randy choked on his own words as he made fun of me and all the other poor folks at church. That's when he keeled over." "God didn't take Reverend Randy's life and you know it!" Sister Hopkins pointed an accusin' finger at her. "He didn't choke on words, he choked on a bite of crab!" "But I already told ever'body how Rev'run Randy spit the crab out, but he still died anyway!" Slim said. "Just ask the coroner. Rev'run Randy's blood pressure was sky high. He was way too heavy and his ticker gave out from laughin' too hard. God took him, Sister Hopkins." The good sister's eyes flashed fire. How DARE you!" "Well, it's high time SOMEBODY dared," Sister Jones said. "After all the lies I've been fed about how mean God is to poor folks, and how God so loves rich preachers that He tells us to give our last dime unto them, I've finally woken up and sunk my teeth into the real truth. You know it's just as plain as the nose on your face. If anybody's actin' like Ananias and Sapphira, it's you folks, lyin' to God's people about how it's okay to devour widder's houses, and do it in the Name of the Lord." "If you had any sense you'd fast and pray for forgiveness!" Sister Hopkins yelled, waggin' her finger in the poor lady's face. "I already done my fair share of fastin'!" Sister Jones hollered. "I'm skinny as a gumstick 'cause Brother Randy took my tooth money from me, and I couldn't eat hardly nothin' till Brother Slim took pity on me and gave me money to pay the tooth dentist to make me my new dentures!" Sister Hopkins got an evil look on her face. "What's that man doing in your house to begin with? Everybody knows it's a sin to keep company with somebody else's husband!" "My wife already knows where I'm at," Slim said. "She's back there a-puttin' food in Sister Jones's cupboard and her kids are a-playin' at the park with my boy! I swear, if you ain't out a-lookin' for money, you're out a-lookin' for juicy gossip!" "At least Brother Slim come by here to GIVE me somethin'!" Sister Jones put in. "Not once do any of you uppercrust Christians ever stick your nose in my door except for when you want money outa me! When I got sick last year and lost my job, we would'a all starved to death if it hadn't'a been for the community food bank. What help did we get out of Y'ALL? After all y'all've put me through, Sister Hopkins, if y'all are any example of what bein' a Christian's all about, so were all them Pharisees Jesus yelled at for devourin' widders' houses!" "That was a cheap shot!" Sister Hopkins hollered. "Next month is the end of the fiscal year, and all the district churches will turn in their financial reports to the church board. Now, Reverend Randy wanted that golden steeple, and no matter what I've got to do to win it for him to help him rest in peace, I'm going to do it!" Slim let out a big sigh. He just couldn't believe it. Spiritually, Sister Hopkins was blind as a bat. "Sister, don't you get it? Rev'run Randy ain't with us no more. A gold steeple won't be much use to him now. It won't add one iota of credit to God's account book on his behalf." "It's more credit than YOU'VE laid up in God's tithing storehouse lately," Sister Hopkins said. "I sneaked a look at the books and you skipped the last couple months." "My son needed new braces," Slim said. "And my sister here, she needed new teeth. Go chew on that." Sister Hopkins shook her fist. "You'll go to hell for this! Unless the two of you pay God what you owe, I'll fast and pray until He sends the curse of Malachi Chapter 3 down on both your houses!"

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"That's witchcraft, Sister Hopkins," Slim said. "Why should God do your dirty work just 'cause you give up your pint of Ben and Jerry's? Besides, from where I'm standin' you don't look much like God, so why should we fork it over to YOU?" "Now, I'll thank you, Sister Hopkins, to get outa my house before I forget I'm a Christian woman," Sister Jones said. From now on Brother Slim and me will be takin' our famblies over to Brother Jake's church. And don't none of you religious panhandlers never come by here to leech off of us again." Slim stepped between the two ladies, because Sister Hopkins looked like she wanted to take a swing at Sister Jones. "May God strike you all dead!" Sister Hopkins said in her most self-righteous voice. Slim shrugged his shoulders. "Sorta makes me wonder which god you're a-callin' on to begin with. And talkin' like that, Sister Hopkins, you might just as well hop onto your broomstick and fly back to wherever you came from." Sister Hopkins stormed off the front porch and swore that she, for one, would honor the pastor's memory by continuing on in his tradition. Now what was Rev'run Randy up to all the time this ruckus was goin' on? Talk about muzzlin' the ox that treadeth on the corn. Rev'run Randy felt like he'd fasted for a million years, he was so hungry. Every time he bit down on the red, juicy prickly pear he picked off the cactus bush, it would sprout stickers and make him feel like a porcupine invaded his mouth. A mean-lookin' monster would hand him a hamburger. But when he tried to eat it, a tooth would break and make him bellow in pain. Rev'run Randy's throat was dry as dust, and it seemed like all the food in sight had cactus stickers all over it, if it wasn't hard enough to break his teeth. A grinnin' devil would come by and offer Rev'run Randy a tall, cool glass of water. But when he tried to drink it, fire would roll down his throat and make him scream. Rev'run Randy's hot, parched hide needed moisturizin'. He'd see a cool swimmin' pool and go jump in, only to get burnt by molten lava once he hit the water. Rev'run Randy cussed himself over and over for swappin' His cup of salvation for a big bag of bucks. Maybe Rev'run Randy realized he'd been mighty dumb to sell his own soul for a gold belfry. And it came to pass that he stewed over all the things said to him at the Great White Throne Judgment. The good Lord had let Rev'run Randy know he was worse than those religious rattlers He'd chewed out in the Temple. Why? 'Cause Revrun Randy had been shown much more light than they had. The reprobate preacher was branded for time and eternity as an even worse traitor to Jesus than Judas Iscariot, that polecat who'd sold his own Lord for thirty pieces of silver. Rev'run Randy saw, in livin' color on a big screen video, people who'd turned their backs on Jesus because of the way he'd turned Him into a money-makin' racket. Rev'run Randy was responsible for three nervous breakdowns in his congregation. He was behind the breakup of two marriages which collapsed because of how he'd pressured cash-strapped couples to give, give, give. Worst of all, Rev'run Randy had been branded from the Great White Throne as a son of satan whose life testified to his love of filthy lucre. And just before he went to his final reward, a big angel had told Rev'run Randy that anybody who hurt God's precious children and didn't repent of it would never stop payin' for it. Every persecutor of God's children would roast in the Lake of Fire forever, from Cain, who killed his brother Abel, to Nero, who fed Christians to the lions. Hitler would be there. Every cruel kingpin in history would be there, and that went for pulpit pharaohs, too. Lots of thinkin' gets done in hell by folks who wished they'd'a done more of it in the land of the livin'. Never a moment passed but somethin' would make Rev'run Randy's heart sink all over again. He'd grab at fool's gold in hell, only to see it turn

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to burnin' coals in his hand. Nothin' for him anymore but lots of pain and disappointment, the kind that makes a guy pine away inside. But what goes around comes around. Hadn't Rev'run Randy withered one widow's joy in the Lord? Hadn't he preached a different Jesus than the one Who'd saved that dear saint's soul? A make-believe, mean one Rev'run Randy used to preach to filch the funds. Hadn't Rev'run Randy argued away the light of God's Word which sets folks free, just so he could rope 'em and brand 'em and break their spirits to keep 'em as slaves to serve his own lusts? Rev'run Randy wanted darkness in life, so he was bound to have it forever in death.

Now, don't y'all never buy nobody's bull when they talk with a forked tongue to make the Bible say somethin' different than what it really does say. Christ has set you free. So don't pay no heed to religious cattle rustlers who try to make you stray outa God's green pastures with their long-winded lies. They only wanna fence you in so they can milk you dry, before sendin' you to the slaughterhouse. Check out the Bible for yourself to see what it really says. $$$$$$ The Loveless Landlord based on a real-life Scrooge, names changed Major Hardy beamed with pride. But why was his escorting angel so solemn, as if he were ignorant of the majors distinguished service record? The tall, wiry soldier was due to give His Lord an account of his life. Having delivered so many eloquent Christian testimonies during his sojourn on earth, he hoped his comportment during this meeting would be worthy of the prestige he had earned in the Marines. Surely the Master would be impressed by Major Hardys record of service on earth. He had received the highest commendations his nation could bestow upon him. In the years before he died the retired officer would pull out his fat portfolio of medals for bravery and distinguished service and show them to his grandchildren. But this time the major hoped for a much more worthy decoration: one which would endure throughout eternity. This disciplined soldier who had reviewed many platoons on parade was about to be reviewed himself, and by the Supreme General of the Armies of Heaven. As the angel flew Major Hardy upward to higher levels within the Celestial City, the light grew ever more intense. It seemed to go right through you, as if nothing were hidden from it. Though unblemished beauty filled the vast panorama before him, Major Hardys courage began to falter. How far are we from the Throne Room? he asked the angel. The angel eyed a mountain peak which glimmered like a diamond overarched by a rainbow. It will not be long now, Major, he said. He eagerly awaits your arrival. Please, could we just pause so I can collect my thoughts? the major pleaded. I never walked into a conference room without adequate preparation. The angel paused in his ascent and set Major Hardy down on a flower-dotted ridge. You were supposed to prepare yourself for this moment while you were on earth, he said, a bit reproachfully. Please, the major begged him, lets take a moment to rehearse...if that would be possible.

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The angel closed his eyes briefly, then agreed. It is an unusual request, but the Lord would have you to enter His Presence with humility of heart, not with pride. Shall we inspect just one of those presents you were going to lay at the feet of your Sovereign? What presents? said the major. See? My hands are empty. I didnt even bring my wedding ring. I speak of your record of efficiency in business, and specifically of your pride in personal stewardship over your own possessions. Briefly lets review one incident where you fought valiantly against a threat to your financial security. At the angels command a faraway vista appeared, like a motion picture. It was the early 70s, and into view came a rundown stucco house, an oddity in that humid Southern climate. The field surrounding the back yard was overgrown by thick, tangled weeds which ought to have been uprooted many years before. Huge field rats raced here and there, and slipped in and out of the house through unrepaired foundation crevices. Your property was in that state long before a certain young couple moved in, said the angel. You, who boast of being an orderly, disciplined soldier...why didnt you care for your own property? I didnt have time, with all my other duties, the major faltered. But you found plenty of time to go worry the poor woman who inhabited that house, reproved the angel. See? Thats you getting out of your car to harass her about your rent money, knowing full well her husband is not home. The scene shifted to a young woman who heard his knock and rose up from taking a nap with her baby. Marie peeked out the window. Her brow knitted. Oh no, she thought. As Marie slipped on her shoes she heard the sound of a key in the lock. She forced a fake smile onto her grim face. She doesnt look very happy, said the major. Nor would your wife, if someone walked in unannounced on her, said the angel. The focus zeroed in on the majors head as he called out: Anybody home? As Marie approached him his thoughts were made audible: Why did I ever rent this place out to hippies anyway? Long hair, long dress, no curtains on the windows, shabby furniture... The angel paused the video and said: Before we go any further, show me the Scripture which makes it a sin for women to wear long hair and long dresses. Well, my wife didnt look that way, said the major sanctimoniously. Her skirts were always the proper length, and her coiffure was always lacquered in place. And what was the matter with those people anyway, with no curtains on the windows? You cant eat curtains, said the angel tartly. With that, the focus shifted to a kitchen cabinet, bare except for a box of baking soda. The weather has interfered with her husbands outdoor employment, the angel added. Two self-righteous gossips from Maries church came by the other day to give her a hard time about her attitude toward a fellow believer who cheated her husband out of his rightful wages. After they finished carving up her soul into tiny little pieces, they went out for a hamburger. How cheap to kick someone whos down, but how costly to offer practical help. And to make matters worse, this woman now has to contend with you. Major Hardy patrolled the old house, checking to make sure it was tidy and clean. Marie told him about a pest infestation problem. Her husband had sprayed for bugs and laid giant traps for the field rats, but the problem had persisted. The house had been scrubbed top to bottom but he inferred that the pest problem could be due to her negligence.

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She spent so much time with her broom and mop that they became her closest companions , said the angel. The devil tried to make Marie think her own selfworth was tied up with the cleanliness of that old house. How could you have held her responsible for the water which collected within the walls of the stucco which attracted the roaches, or for the big masonry gaps which let in the big rats? Why were you so slow to admit the problem was your fault, not hers? Because I needed the money! the major barked. In order to keep my financial ship afloat I had to plug up the leaks. Her husband badgered me so bad I called in the pest control people. What if one of those rats had bitten her baby, or someone had been hurt by the rat trap? the angel asked. How would you have felt? Major Hardy grimaced. I sure wouldnt have felt good about it, but it was like pulling hens teeth to get those folks to pay their rent on time. Even on an empty stomach? said the angel. All I can say is this: It was Gods responsibility to take care of those people, not mine. And who looked after your welfare when you were dead in sin and on your way to hell? Dont you believe in showing your gratitude to God by treating His children with compassion? Oh, Ive repaid my debt to God many times over. Just think of all the tithe money Ive dumped into church offering plates over the years. Those people sure didnt contribute much, now, did they? So the spiritual gifts of the poorer saints dont count for much in your estimation? the angel frowned. I find that a bit ludicrous. Okay, Ill admit God blesses His poorer children with spiritual riches too, but I wouldnt have been doing those kids any favor by letting them stay in MY house rent-free. They needed to learn some responsibility. I learned plenty of discipline in the Marine Corps. Major Hardy stood proudly. Maries husband worked hard to try to improve your house, said the angel. Doesnt that count for anything? Well, it hardly looked like the Taj Mahal when he finished. Were you generous with your contribution for materials? the angel asked pointedly. Well, why should I have wasted MY money on that old dump? Major, you arent being very consistent. If that house wasnt worth investing in, why was it worth collecting rent on? Well, it kept them out of the rain, didnt it? A new scene flashed before the major: Pots and pans spread on the floor collecting rainwater dripping through the roof. Some years after the couple moved away it was condemned by the city and torn down, as you well remember, said the angel. Seems to me that if you really loved Jesus you would have repaid Him for His kindness by allowing the young couple to live in that crumbling old house until they got back on their feet financially. The major snapped to attention and clicked his heels. God is a God of order, sir, and I adhere strictly to my principles. I asked no more of those people than I would ask of myself. No one lives in any of MY properties rent-free. I would expect that of my own son, sir. The angel groaned. Do you care to retract that statement before you go in to see your Maker? No sir, let it stand on record that I had a right to my own rent. Fair is fair. It shall remain on your record, but not in your favor, said the angel solemnly. Out of your own mouth you shall be judged thus: You, who were forgiven a debt as vast as the heavens, refused to forgive a debt infinitely smaller. You stored up

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plenty of treasures for yourself on earth but what provision have you made for your own home in heaven? All the tithe money I just mentioned, doesnt that count for anything? Not here it doesnt, said the angel. If you failed to see your Redeemer in the face of His poor brethren, youve missed Him altogether. In Gods Kingdom you only keep for eternity what you give away. Far better to make a feast for the poor than for the rich who can easily recompense you upon the earth. But that isnt what Brother Silverspoon taught! protested the major. He said I could have my pie on earth, with lots of ice cream piled on top, and a big mansion in heaven after I died. All that matters is what Jesus taught, the angel said. After you left Maries church you found another church which preached a gospel more to your liking. And you forgot your First Love. Instead, you invented unto yourself another Christ whom you will not encounter in the Throne Room. Take, then, your poor offering offered out of a hardened heart and see if it will be sufficient to pay adequate rent to live on Gods heavenly property. $$$$$$ Jesus and the Rich Man Both rich and poor have gifts to share, but everybody needs Jesus gift of eternal life. Jesus and His four half-brothers were toiling in the carpentry shop one morning. James was in a sullen mood. He took his workaday frustrations out on a long plank. His loud banging almost drowned out Jesus hymn of thanksgiving. I dont know what there is to sing about, said James. Another day, another shekel of taxes for the rich man who lives only to exploit us. The good-fornothings... Enough of that, James, Jesus said. Father Abraham was rich in faith as well as in earthly goods. There is hope even for the rich, though a camel would have an easier time threading himself through the eye of a needle than for a covetous man to enter the Kingdom of God. Bitter laughter all around. Amen to that, brother, Jude nodded, busy with his lathe. And remember what our parents said, Jesus said. When I was a tiny child three great men from the East came to bring Me gifts. Their kindness made it possible for our parents to take me to Egypt to escape Herods wrath. James drew a deep sigh. There are exceptions, Jesus, but you must remember how most rich men got that way. There is but one loaf in this world, and in order for the rich to fare sumptuously we poor must subsist on their crumbs. Being poor is a sure sign of Gods disfavor. Aye, that is so, Jude and Joses agreed. Do not confine God to your meager purse, James, Jesus said. God has chosen the poor of His Kingdom to receive His spiritual riches, for their hands are not already full of vain things which do not endure. Better is the substance of the righteous poor than all the riches of the wicked. God spoke this earth into existence out of nothing and all we need do is ask His blessing upon what little we have. Whatever is consecrated to our Heavenly Father will, like a tiny seed, grow into eternal riches laid up in heaven where no thief can break through and steal. Thieves, Jude said, remembering a passage from the Prophets. Restless men forever foaming like the waves of the sea, never resting content till they wreak some mischief on the weak and defenseless.

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Bah! brother Simon barked. Thieves and rich men! One and the same! Worthless lot, all of them! Their deep dialogue was cut short by a portly figure standing at the door: a resplendently clad gentleman, garbed in purple silk. Obviously he must wield some clout in society. He wore a striped turban with a jeweled clasp. The carpenters glimpsed a curtained litter attended by liveried servants who, glad of the break, grimaced and rubbed their aching muscles. Barefoot village children in dusty rags stared wonderingly at the sight. Never before had they seen such a prince of a man in their town. Jesus peered up from His workbench, but didnt seem overawed by the rich man. His soul was just as needy as anyone elses. The wealthy merchant averted his gaze from the bare-backed laborers, all shiny from honest sweat. He waited for the carpenters to don their tunics, then went in. Jesus four brothers were amazed that one such as he should grace their humble shop, one who was spared the perpetual sentence passed by God upon Adams seed, the sweat of toil. "James," Jesus whispered, "I need to handle this Myself. Would you fellows go into the house and lend a hand to Mother and our sisters? Im expecting some friends for lunch. Please ask them to bake a few extra griddle cakes and throw some smoked fish on the fire to serve with the porridge." "And how many guests are coming to this sumptuous feast, Jesus? It isnt even a Sabbath supper." "Five are coming, James." "That many, just for an everyday lunch?" James shook his head. "You never even told us." "Its a surprise," said Jesus. "And please dont give Me a hard time about it. Mother is still not fully recovered from the passing of our father, so lets show a little compassion, please." "So why should men do womens work?" James growled. "We slave all day to support sisters who ought to be married off by now. Why cant they handle unexpected company? Admit it, Jesus. You want us to go help mother so you can negotiate with this fine gentleman all by Yourself. Arent we even worthy to stand in his presence?" "Big strong guys like us baking bread! Bah!" brother Simon chimed in. Jesus was saddened by the typical male attitude of his day. "Just do it, fellows. If you truly love our mother prove it by loving deeds. She would enjoy your company and I really must have a private word with this gentleman." The brothers left their work stations, throwing down their tools with a loud clatter. The nerve of Jesus, pulling rank on them as the eldest. "Im sorry you had to witness that," Jesus said to his new customer. "James needs to learn to bridle his tongue." The man nodded amiably. "I have heard of the recent death of your father Joseph. At least you treat your mother with the consideration she deserves. If only Id been kinder to my own poor mother after my father died." Jesus tender smile soothed a tormented soul unused to getting smiles of any kind from the downtrodden poor. "Perhaps you were so caught up in your own sorrow you lost sight of your mothers grief," Jesus said, looking intently at Simon. "That is so," Simon said. "When somebody dies the living must take up the burden of the deceased. I tried to become the scholar of Scripture I failed to be before my fathers death. What better way to honor Fathers memory, and it served as a welcome distraction from my grief. But I was so engrossed in my own spiritual betterment I was of small comfort to my own mother. It must be difficult having to take up the mantle of your father in this household. Sibling rivalry, that type of thing."

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"Oh, I manage," Jesus said, "with the help of our Father in heaven who comforts those who mourn. Welcome to My shop, Simon bar Ezekiel. Ive been expecting you." How strange, Simon mused. Weve barely met but I feel so drawn to Him. What is there about this poor Carpenter that makes me want to tell Him the secrets of my heart? "How odd. I feel like I already know you, but how do you know my name, young man?" Simon asked, mystified. "I dont even live in your village." "Seekers of the Truth live everywhere, Master Simon. You hunger for something money cannot buy." Simon blinked at His miraculous insight. But he found this man so much more interesting than any rich Pharisee hed broken bread with. "That may be, but my immediate need is a new banqueting table. My other ones all rickety and scratched up. Im disposing of it because it no longer matches my decor." "If youll let Me have your old table to fix up for a poor family as a gift," Jesus offered, "Ill make you another one free of charge." "Its a wonder you dont lose your cloak, Jesus, being so generous and all." "But Master Simon, I enjoy being generous. God always supplies all My needs. Ordinarily I do charge something for My services, but today the Father in heaven wants Me to waive My labor fee." "Have I need of charity from a man poorer than myself?" Simon asked pointedly. His eyes roved from his own pearls and finery to Jesus homespun tunic. "God has richly blessed me. I have need of nothing." "And God has likewise blessed Me," Jesus said. "Yet I have a need only you can meet." "Youre talking nonsense, young man. First you claim God meets all your needs, then you say you need my charity. And yet you refuse my offer of honest wages for honest work. I am an expositor of the Law and I know Scripture warns against using your neighbors service without wages." Through fathomless eyes of love Jesus said: "Whenever you minister to the least of these my poor brethren you do so in My Name. The poor are My neighbors, and I came to give them life everlasting. God makes righteous people His ministers in serving the table of the poor." "But your family are also poor," Simon asserted. "Surely you need money for your own familys table." "We have more than enough," Jesus quietly said. "We have food for this day and God will provide for tomorrow. Unless you are willing to pay Gods price, I can do nothing for you." "I need a decent table," the man insisted, reaching into his money bag. "Otherworldly though You are, you cant subsist on nothing. Of course You can have my old table, Jesus. And here. At least accept enough money for materials. I want a long table three cubits wide by fifteen cubits long. Make it of the finest hardwood. Inlay the edges with floral mosaics and polish it till it shines. When its finished, Ill send my servants to come pick it up." Jesus jotted the details on a broken potsherd. "No problem, sir, I can do this for you...so long as you meet My terms. Ill do My very best...and we can deliver it to you too. " The man lingered in the shop studying the strange young carpenter Who had the gentlest face, this remarkable Artisan who acted well-off enough to pick and choose which jobs he would deign to accept. "Jesus," said Simon, "Im not your ordinary run-of-the-mill rich man who oppresses the poor. I want to give You something in return! What can I do to show You my gratitude? What is it Youre really after?" "Sell all you have and give to My brethren the poor."

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The rich man wondered if Jesus might be unbalanced, but the orderliness of the Carpenters shop and quality of the ox yokes and furniture on display testified to a sound, intelligent mind. "I...Im not ready to do that yet, Jesus," said Simon. "I need a home to live in, food to eat, clothes to wear. Im not yet strong enough in faith to divest myself of all my worldly goods. Isnt there some other way I can show myself a righteous man worthy of salvation?" "Yes. If you would enter into the Kingdom of God consecrate your new table to My Fathers Kingdom. Once I have finished your fancy table invite all your poor neighbors to dine with you whenever you are inclined to throw a party. Honor your fathers memory by living the spirit of the Law: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind and your neighbor as yourself. Share your food with the hungry. Let your weary servants dine with you at mealtime and serve them yourself. Wash the feet of those who are so weary they can hardly stand. Cheer the hearts of the lowly by treating them like your own family. Ease the burden of shame the poor must bear in this evil world, for it is quite heavy enough." The mans eyes widened in horror. "I cant live like that! All my friends would think I was crazy! Id be the laughingstock of the whole synagogue!" "You can either choose them or choose God," said Jesus. "You cant serve both God and mammon." Such advice from a lowly Carpenter would have seemed preposterous had the rich merchant not already been wrestling with his conscience all the way to Jesus shop, struggling to stifle nagging guilt feelings about luxury living in the midst of misery. "You drive a hard bargain, young man, but I know my days on earth are numbered and I so much want to share in the lot of the righteous when God raises the dead on the last day." "You shall," Jesus assured him. "Im working on that too, Simon bar Ezekiel. Would you and your men kindly join us for lunch? It will be far simpler fare than youre used to, but I offer you the hospitality of My home." Never before had the elderly gentleman been invited to dine in a poor peasants home, but he readily accepted. All he could see was a wise Prince in the guise of a meek and lowly Man who treated him like a friend, not like a rich man to be deferred to. Simon rushed outside to call his four servants to come and dine. As he got to know Jesus better, Simon admired the young Carpenter from Nazareth and wished he were more like Him. He might have hired any other man on the Street of the Carpenters, but Jesus had a reputation for fine craftsmanship. Not only that, he was such a gracious young Man, full of wisdom and kindness toward rich and poor alike. Jesus said his table would take weeks to complete, even with the help of his brothers, who gladly volunteered their skills so a rich man could properly entertain destitute beggars poorer than themselves. Even James was in a better mood by now. Because he had something to give, he didnt feel quite so poor anymore. The merchant knew Jesus must make a special journey to purchase the materials, saw the wood into planks, cure it, sand it then shape it into interlocking pieces to fit together. The table would be carved with skillful hands, patiently polished and beautified with mosaics to make it fit for a kings palace. Simon sang for joy all the way home. Elderly though he was, he even got off his litter to walk home the rest of the way when one of his bearers moaned from an aching back. But so what if Simons jeweled sandals would get dusty? His heart was as light as a childs, liberated at last from chains which once bound him. Still he wondered how the village Carpenter could be working on a way to ensure his resurrection unto eternal life.

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While Jesus brothers wondered about Him, He sang at His work, praising His Father for the transformation in the rich man. As for the fine table, the day finally came when Jesus was able to lay down His tools and say: "Thank God, its finished." When He delivered it He said: "Remember your promise, friend, and the day will come when you will dine at My table in My Fathers Kingdom. Now I must go and work on your eternal salvation."

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