It came to me today that many of you have probably felt that this web site was remiss in offering practical encouragement to those who are laboring in the work of ministry. Here I am, 33+ years into this business, and I haven’t really shared much of the wisdom of my own experiences. I intend to correct that with today’s post.

In the following paragraphs, I am going to rescue those of you in ministry from the feeling you have that no one could ever be as bone-headed as you. From the annals of my own life and ministry, I share with you now the following true stories meant to encourage you to start tomorrow with a smile, saying “I may be an idiot, but I’m still way ahead of Spencer.”

As a bit o’ background, I was a youth minister- mostly- from 1976-1988. Then I pastored four years, but also did a lot of youth ministry in that church after the youth minister quit. NONE of the incidents recounted below happened where I’ve served since 1992.

BTW- in order to protect the innocent, I will change a few facts here and there, but I assure you that what you are reading is not fiction. 100% true.

1. I love hayrides. Ours got rained out, so smart guy here gets the church bus (used for senior adult trips), fills it with bales of hay and drives the kids around for a couple of hours. I’m not sure that bus ever was clean again. I got yelled at, deservedly.

2. I showed a movie to a large mixed group of families that had a flash of a woman’s breast. Everyone gasped. Of course I didn’t preview it.

3. I took my youth group to see the movie “Darkman.” I just didn’t realize that it was rated “R.” No sex or language, just a lot of intense violence, much like the average meeting of our junior high ministry. This one did not go unnoticed by a parent, so she arranged for a called deacon’s meeting and read the schedule of every movie ever played at that theater for the last couple of years. It was the closest I ever came to being fired and I totally deserved it.

4. Two of my deacons made a big deal about me taking the a.m. service ten minutes too long two weeks in a row, and they humiliated me in front of the rest of the deacons over it. No affirmation of my preaching at all. Just p.o.-ed that I had gotten them to the restaurants a bit late. I was angry; really angry. The next week I preached for 12 minutes total and dismissed the service at 15 minutes till noon. The reaction was predictable. I actually consider that one of my finer moments. If your view of preaching is “How soon do I get to dinner?” you deserve to be accommodated.

5. I scheduled a concert on a Friday night after football season was over. Well sort of over. It was the Saturday of the state championship game for our division, and our town’s team had been 0-11 the previous year. So what were the chances? Turns out pretty good. They made it all the way to the state championship. I had to cancel the concert and eat the deposit personally. (To soothe the pain, my kids took all the posters and plastered them on the walls, ceiling, floor, desk, etc of my office. Then stuffed the room with crumpled up posters that fell out when I opened my office door. Never say kids don’t care.)

6. We played soccer in the sanctuary. I think. I blanked this out. No one ever knew. I think a dog was in there, too.

7. A few of my students apparently used mission trips as an opportunity to get to know each other in the Biblical sense. I didn’t know it at the time of course, but several have told me about it since they’ve become adults. While I thought we were doing backyard Bible clubs, some of these little church angels were fellowshiping like bunnies at the first opportunity. I wasn’t totally unaware of this though. During a Christmas play rehearsal one year, I took some kids to a room to practice and walked in on two kids (not working with me) practicing something unrelated to Christmas in a Sunday School room.

8. I rented and showed “Bambi vs. Godzilla” at a mid-week Bible study. This was back on reel to reel. I have no idea what I was thinking.

9. I used Van Halen music as a wake-up call for a Baptist youth camp. Quite a few complaints, but I thought “Dancing in the Streets” was a good choice.

10. When I was in my first regular preaching gig at age 18, I tried to preach on the prophecy of Daniel’s 70 weeks. An old man stood up about half way through and said, “We have no idea what you are talking about, son.” Thanks to that man, I abandoned dispensationalism.

11. I had Jesus try to quit a Passion play I was directing. He said it was just too intense for him. (Totally true.)

12. One of the Oak Ridge Boys- I am not lying — crashed a revival I was preaching and demanded to be able to sing in the service. I said no and the guy said, “Do you know who I am?” and left cussing me. He had great hair and a hot wife.

13. I was hired to be a summer youth director only to discover there was a lay couple there, loved by the kids, busy doing great ministry for the past ten years. The pastor neglected to tell me he didn’t like these people. (He turned out to be a jerk no one could work with.) So I did nothing for two months but hang around while kids kept asking “Who is that guy?”

14. I brought in a band to do a concert, and the lead singer told such incredible, explicit drug use stories that the pastor pulled the plug on the show and sent everyone home.

15. I have attempted to work with a host of people- I mean several in various churches- who were all determined to fire me and I knew it. After working with one for weeks on summer recreation leagues, he brought me into the pastor’s office and promised to personally build and fund a new youth facility if the pastor would fire me immediately. He didn’t. I asked the guy for Reds tickets the next month. (I have a strange attraction to my enemies. It’s bizarre.)

16. I once hired a guy as an intern who spent the next three months trying to consolidate support to take my job. I kept asking him what he was doing and he’d say nothing. I finally got the nerve to fire him and he left the church and the faith. He married one of our youth group girls in a few weeks. He eventually became a lawyer, so he was in league with the devil.

17. I let some kids watch a movie on HBO (long ago) in my office. Listen folks. Don’t ever do that. I had more angry parents than I could count, even though the movie was harmless. I don’t know how I made it through that one. (I have problems with movies. Have you noticed?)

18. I once took our kids on a mission trip that we’d planned for months. Our contact was a local director of missions, not the pastor we would work with. All seemed fine. (Can you see this coming?) When we arrived, the pastor had no idea who we were, had no housing, no places for us to work and DIDN’T WANT US THERE. So we negotiated with him and he agreed to let us sleep in the church basement, feed ourselves and find our own places for Backyard Bible Club. He wanted nothing to do with us. The next morning was pouring rain, and there we were, on the streets, door to door, asking for homes to do Bible clubs for the area kids. This was not an area that liked Baptists, by the way. By noon, we had four places, none connected to the church. We had a great week, though the pastor treated us like a disease. When we were leaving, three of our boys were mooning him in the bus windows. I was almost angry at them. Almost. Lesson: ALWAYS make an advance trip yourself.

19. My first mission trip (1980) was worse, but it makes me look like such an idiot that I can’t tell you the whole story. It’s amazing my kids didn’t starve. I’ll just say that the two other youth leaders I worked with took me aside and had a talk with me at the end of the week. I got the message, and eventually became very good at mission trips to the inner city and Appalachia. And much better at planning.

20. Yes, I drove off and left a kid at a rest area once. Are you happy now?

21. Oh yeah. I was the lowest paid guy on a church staff where I worked, and the parents thought I did a good job, so they commandeered a business meeting, amended the budget and gave me a big raise. This was back in the day when $16k + benefits was normal for a new, full time, youth guy. I won’t tell all of this story, but I was counseled, for the good of the staff, the process, etc., to turn it down. And guess what? I did. I went before TWO morning services and declined the raise. I look back on that now and I hang my head in shame. Mama and Daddy did not bring up a boy to be that dumb, I promise. But that’s what church work will do for you. I think God has kept me poor ever since because “Well, OK…if you don’t want it…”

• • •

BONUS FOOTAGE!!!

Talk about Stupid Ministry Tricks! Michael Spencer once wrote, “If I become Lutheran, Anglican or Catholic, it will be because I watched this too many times.”

Michael Spencer: Michael is the Internet Monk. Period. There is no other. Michael parted ways with this world nearly two years ago, but he will always be our founder and guide. That being said, the direction he set was one of afflicting the comfortable, so beware! If you did not know Michael when he was filling these pages with his heart twice a day, you should go back and read his essays found in the Archives section. You can read a further bio of Michael here.

First Lady Denise Spencer: Denise is the Mother Superior here at the abbey. She makes us mind our Ps and Qs and take our Flintstone vitamins every day. Denise does carry a wicked ruler with her which she is not afraid to use, but most often simply gives us stern looks and assigns us penance, such as making us sing My Old Kentucky Home before dinner. And breakfast. And lunch. She can be seen on the weekends sitting on the front porch of the iMonastery throwing homemade pies at the novices.

Chaplain Mike: Mike Mercer is really a member of the Chicago Cubs, using the moniker “Chaplain” as a disguise. Hey, if you played for the Cubs, you would want a disguise as well! Chaplain Mike writes his essays in the dugout while waiting to come to bat. And he almost never gets to bat, which is why he has time to write such great essays. When he’s not playing (or, rather, watching from the dugout) baseball, you’ll find Chaplain Mike at the Billy Goat Tavern discussing why the curse of the goat is worse than the curse of the Bambino, and how both point to the end of the world as soon as the Cubs beat the Yankees in the World Series. (We’re going to be here for a while if that is true…)

Joe Stallard: Also known as Joe the Plumber, he goes to endless depths to keep iMonk up and running on this new fad called the internet. Using only a ballpoint pen, a paper clip, and an old Bee Gees cassette tape, Joe somehow makes it possible for the ten billion or so people who visit here every week to have a pleasant experience. Just please, don’t trip on any of the wiring.

Lisa Dye: Lisa is a home economics teacher from Des Moines, Iowa. She went to vote in this week’s caucus, but was surprised to find Millard Fillmore not on the ballot. Lisa keeps our cupboards stocked with raspberry jam, raspberry pies, raspberry muffins and raspberry-flavored Kool Aid. When she is not teaching or writing for you, she coaches the iMonk hockey team.

Damaris Zehner: Let’s make this clear. Damaris is female. A woman. A lady. The pronoun to use for such is “she” or “her.” Ok? (You do know what a pronoun is, don’t you? It’s a noun that has renounced its amateur status and turned pro.) Damaris has run a ladies aid society, was voted “the most ladylike of all girls” in her grade school, and upsets Tim Challies whenever she reads Scripture aloud in church. So please stop referring to her as “he,” ok?

Martha O’Ireland: Martha O’Ireland is not her real name, but she does really live in Ireland. Really. Or rather, not really concerning her name, but really really concerning her location. Martha almost had a job pushing the Pope on his mobile platform, but then there was that unfortunate incident when she wanted to see how fast it would go, and, well … Martha is back home where she leads a four-piece traditional Irish folk group singing Prohibition songs in the local pubs. Most of the locals have caught onto the gag, but a group of visiting American preachers heard them and proceeded to start a new church in Alabama based on the idea.

Adam Palmer: Adam is a ghost. Ok, ghostwriter, but still, he’s not supposed to be seen. Like the Stealth B2 bomber, if you see it, something is wrong. It’s like he wears a cloak of invisibility over him at all times. Hmmm … that makes me wonder … Is it possible Jo Rowling had a ghost helping her with all seven Harry Potter books? And could it have been Adam? Next time I see him, I’ll ask. Adam is most often seen—er, not seen, that is—here at the iMonastery helping to sweep up the ramblings on Saturdays.

Joe Spann: If you think Adam is hard to see, try finding Joe! Well, don’t. Joe is in the witness protection program, now living in Phoenix, Arizona where he operates a taco stand using the name Josephine. It’s complicated.

Craig Bubeck: Craig is the smartest person on earth. He has PhDs in biometrics, civil engineering, fractals, modern Latin, osteopathy, string theories and temperature gauges. In his spare time he teaches third-world countries why they will never be second-world countries, let alone first. You know all those cartoon strips where you see a guru sitting on top of the mountains and a hapless seeker climbing up for advice? Craig is that guru.

The Synonymous Rambler: Hey, rambling is a heavy task. I can’t do it alone. And while Adam will sometimes come out of the shadows with a story or two, the SR never leaves the darkest recesses of the abbey. SR—see how deftly I avoid using pronouns (for definition, see above) so you don’t know if the Synonymous Rambler is male or female?—sifts through multitudes of stories all week long, looking for that perfect one to take Saturday Ramblings to new heights. Or depths, depending on what you thought of the Jesus Toaster story. (Since none of us has ever seen Synonymous, we had to rely on a police artist for this sketch.)

Yours Truly:  I am your humble publisher. I read and write and think and generally mess things up around here. Lisa follows me with a mop and bucket, Craig says if I come to him for advice he’s just going to give me a good shove, Chaplain Mike says he thinks of another use for a baseball bat when he sees me, and First Lady Denise loosens up her wrist and sharpens her ruler when I am nearby. Yes, I am a troublemaker. I find life a lot more fun that way.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the introductions. You may want to clip this out and keep it as a sort of souvenir program. That way if you meet any of us, you can get our autographs, which someday will be valuable. Hey, the price of paper keeps going up, you know.

(We are auditioning a possible new cast member. Here is the tape she sent to us. What do you think?)

And there is almost nothing that brings me joy more than …

Marshmallows.

You know, those fluffy, white concoctions made of sugar, corn syrup, and other healthy things. Marshmallows—those things you plop in your hot chocolate or roast at the end of a stick over a fire. Hot chocolate and fires are wasted if they don’t involve marshmallows.

I could talk about how the root of the marshmallow plant used to be used to heal sore throats, but now it is simply a sugary treat, and I could jump from that to how the Gospel used to have real meaning but now it is just a sugary treat used to entice people from one church to another, but that would be predictable and repetitive. No, I’m talking about things that bring me joy, especially during this holiday season. It does get kind of cold here in Oklahoma, cold enough that a cup of hot chocolate is a welcome drink after an evening’s walk. Or before the walk. Or in place of the walk. I toss a handful of miniature marshmallows into my cup when it is steaming hot so they will melt and make a gooey mustache on my upper lip. I love the colored ones—they make me happy.

There are other simple treats I look forward to at this time of year. Some of these include TV specials:

• How The Grinch Stole Christmas
• A Wish For Wings That Work (anyone else remember this?)
• Anything with the Muppets

These are “marshmallow treats” to me that I really enjoy this time of year. There is nothing especially healthy about marshmallows, no real purpose to eating them. I just like them. And I just like these TV shows, movies and stories. I don’t try to make anything out of them other than they are enjoyable, like marshmallows.

My apologies to those who hold the following view. I don’t think your voice was fairly represented in our discussion earlier this week on the Lord’s Supper. I hope you were not offended, and that you will continue to participate in our ongoing conversation about this matter.

Because I think your perspective is so important, I will give you a post all your own.

Grace and peace.

Agnus Day appears with the permission of www.agnusday.org

Chaplain Mike AFTER his sabbatical…

“In addition to the information on this application form, what other factors would you like the committee on Admissions to consider in evaluating your candidacy? Feel free to include some of your important accomplishments, your goals, or ideas about education.”

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in heat retention. I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row, conditioning my body for absurd physical exertions.

I woo women with my sensuous and godlike piano playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook “Thirty-Minute Brownies” in twenty minutes. I can lecture for hours on any topic. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

I am fully licensed to operate a crane; I am a gourmet chef. Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. At nights, I play my cello, and by day, numerous documentaries and television movies are made about me. When I’m bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.

I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don’t perspire. I am a private citizen, and yet, I receive fan mail. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal force demonstration. I am capable of raising astronomical sums through school bake sales. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.

I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield all in the same day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room set that evening. I know the exact location of every item in the supermarket. I have performed covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week, and when I do sleep, I sleep in chairs. While vacationing in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have been known to make extraordinary four-course meals using only a colander and a toaster oven. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and I have earned trust in the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken to the Pope.

But, I have never gone to college.

Apparently, American Christians are not the only ones plagued by the spirit of “consumerism” when it comes to their commitment to a local church.

This cartoon is taken from the Dave Walker Guide to the Church, published by Canterbury Press. It originally appeared in the Church Times.

This is the time of year a Midwestern boy like me looks forward to with all his heart.

It is, without a doubt, the very best time of year.

For this is the season when the three most wonderful words in the English language fill the air.

Three simple, sublime words.

They are everywhere. These three magnificent words come to mind whenever you drive down the road, almost any road around here. When you are out and about, when you go to the store, when you come home and walk in the back door, you think about these words and they make you smile.

They are the most splendid, the most appealing, the most astounding words ever spoken.

They represent what I believe may be the greatest gift in all of God’s creation.

These words bring the promise of satisfaction, delight, and wonder. They capture our hopes and dreams, the yearning we all have deep within us.

As far as I am concerned, there is no greater three-word phrase in all the world.

Fresh sweet corn!

Makes me want to break into song: ‘Tis music in the sinner’s ear! ‘Tis life and health and peace.

Barely two, yea three other phrases are like unto it…

• Fresh green beans.
• Fresh tomatoes.
• Fresh cantaloupe.

Yet even these wonders do not rise to the level of “fresh sweet corn.”

I love sweet corn. It truly is better than sex! I’m not lying! All across the Midwest tonight, a husband and wife will finish what husbands and wives do, and the wife will ask the husband: “How was that?” And, if the man is honest, he’ll say “Well, it wasn’t sweet corn, but it was nice.” It’s a fact! Sweet corn is better than sex!…fresh sweet corn!…Store bought sweet corn, yes, sex is definitely better than that!

• Garrison Keillor

Sweet corn is, of course, best when picked fresh from the field or garden, then immediately placed in the hands of the fastest sprinter in the county. While cheered on by eager onlookers to set a new land speed record, said sprinter makes a beeline for the kitchen, peeling and slinging off the husks as he races toward the screen door. When he reaches the house, his teammates fling open the door, and our heroic runner breathlessly crosses the finish line, transferring the naked ears into the hands of dear old mom in her checkered apron. With a sure, experienced touch, she drops them at once into a large pot of boiling water.

The harvesting team repeats this routine as often as necessary until the pot is full and the air becomes sweet with steam.

When the golden ears are tender, mom whisks them to the table on a platter. Impatient, hankering hands grab the sacred treasure, slather it in butter, sprinkle it with salt, and devour it as soon as humanly possible. We grip the steaming ears by our fingertips, and like the carriage of an old typewriter we crunch our way down the first line, hit the return and reset, then start chomping down the next row. Over and over again.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Return.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Return.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. Return.

The gods look down on us with jealousy. They follow the action like spectators at a tennis match.

As for we who feast, we hardly pause to breathe, and the full ears on the plate are quickly replaced by the colorless cobs of those we’ve decorticated.

Once more, the track and field harvest team is deployed. The screen door slams behind them.

While they go about their business, we who are alive and remain turn our attention to the secondary parts of the meal: grilled chicken or pork chops, green beans, fresh tomatoes, jello salad. We slake our thirst from large, sweating glasses of iced tea.

Then the door flies open and the next batch is dropped into the pot.

The Messianic Banquet can continue.

Amen. Maranatha. Even so, boil quickly!

And there amid the laughter around the family table, the clinking of plates and silverware, the raising of glasses, and the sweet heavenly “crunch” of summer in the Midwest, the song of St. Garrison fills our hearts…

As we travel along on our earthly path
Through this beautiful world God has made
Tramping along at a stately pace
Like elephants on parade.
We discover the pleasure of grass and sun
And music and light and talk
And the joy when a day of hard work is done
And you’ve cleared five acres of rocks.
The joy as you climb in your bed at night
The joy of the brand-new morn
But of all these pleasures the greatest delight
Is a supper of fresh sweet corn.

O that fresh sweet corn that the Lord sent down
So we know how heaven will be,
No grief, no tears, just the young golden ears
Plenty for you and for me.
Though the road be hard and deep is the night
And the future we cannot see
Take my hand, dear Lord, and I’ll be all right
If you’ll save a few ears for me.

…We praise you Lord for this good good life
And praise for the day we were born
And the gifts you have given including this heaven-ly
Fresh sweet corn.

• A Prairie Home Companion script—May 7, 2005

iMonk News Headlines (JULY 2011)

We start the week off here at iMonk with a look at some of the more interesting stories taking place recently in the world of religion.

• • •

Pastor Joins His Own Satellite Campus
Dallas, TX. “Pastors need to get fed too.” That is why Rev. Blaine Narcis of The Pool is now regularly attending a satellite branch of his own multi-site church.

After preaching the Sunday morning sermon live at Narcis’s main church campus in Dallas, the pastor drives thirty minutes across town and attends a Pool satellite congregation that gathers at a later hour. There he joins them in the worship and watches a video presentation of his own message recorded in the earlier service.

This is one of the first known cases of a pastor going to church to hear himself preach.

Why would Pastor Narcis want to watch his own sermon again? “It’s simple,” he said. “When I’m presenting my teachings in person I am so flooded with the Spirit, so ‘in the zone,’ that I don’t even realize everything I’m saying. God is speaking through me to others and I am simply the channel. But I need to hear that Word too, for my own life. What better way than to go to one of our other Pools so I can watch myself preach? I take notes and everything.”

Narcis said The Pool’s elders are considering recording more of the main service using additional TV cameras so that they can also capture the congregation’s enthusiastic worship for replay at the satellite campuses. That way, he suggested, worshipers from the main church can join him later at another site and watch themselves worship. “That’s how we grow, isn’t it?” he asked.

Episcopal Church to Ordain First Chimp
Orange County, CA. The Diocese of Los Angeles has announced that it will ordain its first chimpanzee into the priesthood of the Episcopal church.

The thirty year old chimp, Cornelius, graduated from an educational program that was patterned after the famous “Project Nim” experiments in which chimps were reared in human environments and taught sign language.

Cornelius, whose family originally came from West Aftrica, was brought up in the home of a professor at an Episcopal seminary who taught him about the Bible, theology, church history, and Episcopal polity. They took the chimp to church regularly as well, immersing him in the worship and life of the congregation and gradually winning acceptance among parishioners that were at first resistant to passing the peace with a chimpanzee.

A member of the “Common Chimpanzee” species (Pan troglodytes), Cornelius came from a social structure of competitive hierarchical relationships dominated by alpha males, unlike other chimps of the Bonobo species (Pan paniscus), who have egalitarian, matriarchal, bisexual, and nonviolent patterns of social interaction. “I had a lot to overcome to fit in with Episcopalians,” Cornelius admitted.

Cornelius does not speak verbally in human language, but has a highly developed capacity to communicate by signing. And he ultimately distinguished himself in the Episcopal church as a model of theological acumen and practical wisdom.

“This is a victory for non-homo sapiens everywhere whom God has called to religious vocations,” proclaimed Dr. Katharine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop of the U.S. Episcopal Church. “After all, who are we to say that a fellow hominid who shares 94% of our DNA can’t speak God’s Word to us? He is aptly named ‘Cornelius,’ for like the Biblical character he represents a further step toward full inclusion of all creatures in God’s family.”

Though he was not available for a complete interview at this time, Cornelius expressed appreciation that his genus had not prohibited him from participating in the priesthood. However, he also identified himself as more conservative than some in the church hierarchy and was unwilling at this point to consider expanding the same opportunities to include gorillas.

• • •

Hagee to Build Life-Size “Promised Land” in Texas
San Antonio, TX. A megachurch minister has announced plans to bring Israel to Texas. All of it.

Pastor John Hagee, senior pastor at the non-denominational Cornerstone Church in San Antonio, is also the president of Christians United for Israel, which claims to be the largest pro-Israel group in the United States.

Hagee says he had a “vision from God” calling him to communicate the urgency of supporting Israel by the most visible means possible. So he plans to reproduce the land of Israel in its entirety in west central Texas. “It was my ‘Field of Dreams’ moment,” Hagee said.

“Just imagine!” Hagee said with his typical enthusiasm. “The city of Jerusalem, the Dead Sea, the Jordan River, the Sea of Galilee, Bethlehem, Nazareth, Galilee—we’re going to build it all so that people can come and see—and not just hear—why it is so important to save the Promised Land for the nation of Israel, God’s chosen people.”

Throughout the Land there will be exhibits and attractions portraying the events of Bible history and prophecy. “Wait until you see what we have planned for the Valley of Megiddo!” Hagee said with a twinkle in his eye.

“The Promised Land” will be a fully functioning nation where people live and work and have their own government. Hagee may already have a constituency for populating this new Israel, for Texas has an active and vocal secessionist movement.

Hagee’s plan will involve relocating the entire population of Abilene and the demolition of the city. The project will also swallow up towns over nearly 8000 square miles in the region. Hagee doesn’t think this will be a problem. “God will open the hearts of people to accept this project. There’s room in Texas for many Israels! I think folks will gladly move or sign on to become citizens there, and if not, we are working with our friends at the statehouse to enact legislation requiring them to choose. We have strip of land to the west that we plan to set aside as a walled city where those who refuse to leave will be sent.”

Even now, folks from Hagee’s church are volunteering as “settlers” to move into select areas around Abilene and claim the land for “Israel.”

“Texas is the perfect place for this,” Hagee said. “Texans think big and we like to do things down here no one else has thought of. When you add the power of God to that, anything is possible.”

Hagee explained that there are two main reasons he is initiating this project.

“First,” he said, “It is not safe right now for Christian families to go to Israel. So we thought, ‘Why not provide a fully featured, family-friendly opportunity to experience the Promised Land and everything the Bible teaches from Genesis to Revelation’?”

“Second,” Hagee explained, “This ‘Promised Land’ can serve as a back-up plan for the fulfillment of Biblical prophecy. If something happens to the nation of Israel, like Middle East peace or something, there will still be a ‘Land’ where Jesus can go when he returns.”

“Besides,” Hagee said thoughtfully, “I’ve got a lot invested in this prophecy stuff. If the politicians screw it up, we’re gonna need a ‘nation of Israel’ for God to work with.”

• • •

Cops Raid Strange Wrigleyville Cult
Chicago, IL. Police shut down a gypsy-like religious cult that has been moving from place to place in neighborhoods around Wrigley Field today.

The cult, known as the “Santoadolphians,” is known for their illegal practice of sacrificing goats on Weber grills and sharing the meat in beer-drenched common meals called “bleacher feasts” throughout Wrigleyville.

They use apartments of members for their rituals, marking the doors with strands of ivy, cut from the outfield wall at Wrigley Field. In their worship services, Santoadolphian cult members reportedly wear blue face paint, sing Steve Goodman songs, utter imprecations while defacing pictures of Ernie Broglio and Steve Bartman, baptize new converts in tubs of Old Style beer, and use sacred phrases such as “Hey! Hey!” and “Let’s play two today!” and “Holy Cow!” in their litanies.

The goat sacrifice ritual is practiced as a means of overcoming curses that have befallen the Chicago Cubs baseball team for over 100 years now.

Wrigleyville residents also report that their black cats have gone missing only to return days later with “1969″ branded on their hindquarters. Curse expert Leon Durham could not be reached for comment, but police suspect the Santoadolphians are responsible.

The group is named after Chicago’s beloved St. Santo and the lesser known St. Adolpho of Panama. He was one of several outfielders pronounced by the late Bishop Leo to be “the next Willie Mays,” only to prove his true vocation was elsewhere.

After the raid on a Waveland Ave. apartment, police led nearly three dozen cult members away. They were heard chanting, “Go Cubs Go,” and onlookers reported they smelled of beer and grilled meat.

A police spokesperson said they are not releasing any names at the moment, and would only comment that the group’s leader identified himself as a “chaplain.”

* 2011. Tongue Firmly in Cheek Productions

A Christian group, concerned about moral breakdown in American society, is pushing for a ban on the book of Genesis.

A spokesperson for “People Involved in Saving, Securing, and Defending the Old-Fashioned Family” (PISSDOFF), said that decent citizens have come together to protest the publication and distribution of Bibles containing Genesis. They say that our culture cannot go on promoting materials like Genesis to our children without devastating consequences.

Jonathan Fussminder, a parent and activist for the group said, “This book [Genesis] is a classic case of the devil’s bait and switch. It opens with an outstanding scientific depiction of how God created the universe, but then you turn the page and you have two people running around naked in a garden! That’s Satan’s way. He draws you in with something that sounds good, and before you know it, you are looking at pornography. ‘They were naked and not ashamed’? That is so disturbing and it’s all you need to know about this book. No shame! I wouldn’t want my boys reading that for anything.”

When asked if that passage was the only one to which he and the other members of PISSDOFF objected, Fussminder rolled his eyes and said, “Oh my, no. Genesis is filled with R-rated material at best. You’ve got violent killings, parents having sex with their own children, men giving their wives away to harems to save their own skin, sodomy, lies, deceit, polygamy, child-slavery, seduction, and so many explicit sexual scenes and references that I’m embarrassed to even talk about them.”

When this reporter asked about the fact that some people consider Genesis to be “God’s Word,” Fussminder became animated. “God’s Word? God’s Word? That just shows how far into decadence we’ve fallen. Can you imagine a good and holy God inspiring a book like this? Can you imagine God asking parents to tell these stories to their children? They’d be warped for life!

“No, this most certainly is NOT God’s Word! How it got into the Bible we don’t know, but the fact that it is in there may point to one of the most insidious conspiracies in history. We are pushing hard for publishers to delete Genesis from future Bibles. And we are also going to keep investigating. If Genesis got snuck in there, who knows what might be in some of the other books? As we speak, PISSDOFF has teams of readers combing through the other books in the Bible so that we can root out this kind of immoral and corrupting material. Just recently, I heard a rumor that the very next book, Exodus, may contain depictions of infanticide, murder, nightmarish and gory plagues straight from the latest horror movies, idol-worship, immoral partying, and more sexual perversion. Who knew? I certainly never read any of that from the Bible Promise Loaf we had on our kitchen table when I was a kid!”

So your work won’t be ending with Genesis? Fussminder was asked.

“No way!” he replied. “We’re PISSDOFF, and we are not going to take it anymore! We are here to protect the children of America from these sick and perverted influences, and we won’t stop until we’ve cleaned it all up, from Genesis to Revelation.”