“WHEN YOU’RE A STAR, THEY LET YOU DO IT.”

I am quite certain my wife wouldn’t “let you do it.”  I am quite certain my mom wouldn’t “let you do it.”  I am equally sure my daughter wouldn’t “let you do it.”  Not if you are a star, not if you are rich, not if you are famous.  Not even if you were president of the United States.

The “Bride of Christ,” though?

Hmmm….

Yeah.  She will let you do it.  If you are a star, she will let you do it.

What the….?

Okay, okay… okay!  Let’s get back to the start.  You think you know what I am talking about, and well… you do.  Except, you don’t.  So…  Here goes…

I got invited to church today!*

Does anyone else here remember when that used to be a thang?

.

.

.

.

(Crickets.)

.

Yeah.  It used to be a thang.  And when I was a little kid, I did it, and I brought new people into the church who then were led to be baptized and start a life of discipleship.

When I was teenager, that kind of thang lost it’s cool.  But some people still talked about it.

When I got into prophetic street ministry, almost two decades back now, I once brought 14 souls to church with me one Sunday.  It was my habit by then, but I managed FOURTEEN on one Sunday!  And you’d think, judging by the sound of crickets on this blog, that no one listens to me!  But I can teach you how to do it.  I know how to pack the house!  But I can’t get over your contempt for “the lost” and your love of “stars.”

(If I got Justin Bieber to come to church, you’d be impressed.  I could write and sell a lot of books.  But as it is, I can blog for the crickets.)

Anyway, I got invited to church today by a stranger I met in the marketplace.  A nice lady who was helpful and offered numerous blessings for me and my foster baby.  I was touched.  I felt warmed by her light, almost.

And then it hit me.

Wait.  Who do y’all worship at this church?  Jesus or Trump.  I don’t go to snake handling churches, never have.  Most people I know kinda draw the line there, if not sooner.  Before I blindly accept a warm invitation to a church by Americans, maybe I should ask a nosey question or two.

Is this a Trump supporter church?

Oh my!  The satisfied grin spreading across the nice lady’s let me know, but the speech coming out which didn’t let me get another word in edgewise hammered home the point.

See you there, Sunday?  She demanded to know as I walked away.

No.  Lady.  Sorry, but we worship Jesus, not Trump.

Dumbfounded, she protested, “Who do you think you are?”

“Ma’am, did Jesus ever grab you by the pussy?”

You’d think I had taken the Lord’s name in vain.  The gasp shut her up.

But Trump is a star!  So, you let him do it.  No thanks.  I don’t want him near my wife, mother, or children.  We will stay with Jesus.  But thanks for your invitation and your blessings.

Wow!

*This story is embellished for dramatic impact.

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