Archive for the ‘Preacher’s gotta preach…’ Category

Preacher says you need to praise your way outta the situation, victory comes through worship, a supernatural gift from God.

Preacher says you aint got a car, then praise God you live near a bus stop.

Preacher says you lost your left hand, praise God you got a right one.

Preacher’s gotta preach no doubt,

whooping and a-hollering.

Preacher’s gotta give us a reason to hope.

But, I don’t get it:

Preacher’s logic says the more shit I’m in, the more I oughtta give praise…

Thankya, Jesus!

… But, really?

God, my Father?

Love, and hope?

In this world we have dominion?

It makes me question everything.

Praise Machine.


It looked like a miracle and it sounded like a miracle. We were impressed – that someone (an American!) would care enough to come to our distant region and heal this woman in front of us all.

Others followed. Indeed, we all wanted to follow. In one way or another, we all wanted to follow and probably did so, in our minds, if nothing else. A few of us nervously laughed, noticing the cameras, commenting that at the end they’d want to baptize us and it’d be like the Russian church where you had to be baptized naked as a sign of your pure acceptance of, and openness to, Christ Jesus.

Okay, maybe not tonight, I found myself thinking and that, perhaps, miracles in my life are more likely to occur in private.

Private, that is the way of Faith.

Private and still.

Still, I believe.

Still, steadfast.


Still, if I am to be an example in this world, as the Holy Word says, then why not be radiant? Miraculously obvious? … Okay, I am open!

It was a Friday night. There were thousands of us in the old Dynamo Stadium. We had a myriad of reasons for being there, from the ardent to the curious. Some wore old Orthodox Crosses prominently, some counterfeit heavy metal t-shirts. Old and young, entrepreneurs and prostitutes, all swept up in the search for something to believe in, something bigger than themselves, something to help them through the night, and next week.

There was music and singing on the stage – we only recognized a few words. We swayed and waited. Patiently.

Eventually, the superstar preacher came out with a translator and, as he said, some Holy Ghost fire…

How we wanted to touch the Americanness! … We soaked in every second-hand word. … Charismatic. … Something happened. … We worshipped.



I turn on the TV and hear a preacher,

talking about the love of God,

the grace of God, through Christ Jesus,

how awesome and complete,

that He would bestow such on us


and how full of praise and worship we should be.

I turn the TV off.

I want to feel the love of God,

I pray to feel the love of God

but I just feel empty.

I don’t feel the love of God.


Obviously I’m screwed up,

when the TV people are so consumed with love and joy they literally jump up and down, hollering and whooping,

shouting things like: “Preach it preacher!”

and throwing money into a bucket.

I see the hollowness of humanity all too clearly,

greed and lies, power and corruption,

from it there seems to be no redemption.

The Holy Spirit speaks Sophia wisdom to me,

but still I don’t feel love,

only resignation.


Pray, forgive the preacher who says you *must* forgive,

he hasn’t been here, or there,

he knows not what he’s doing.

Talk is cheap and expensive,

condemnation lingers upon eternity.

Verily, penance has a place for the righteous

and forgiveness is earned,

otherwise it is meaningless.

If you don’t get it, you just don’t get it.

I wish you all a reflective Holy Week.

Family viewing, surprisingly sleazy, the things parents expose their kids to, sexualized, no doubt about it, inappropriate, the door is opened, and there will be hell to pay.

Body paint washes off, people come and go, memories remain.

Strange what passes for family entertainment.

Strange families.

Strange world.

Not surprisingly most abuse occurs within the family unit, and most abusers are “normal” family men.

In a world where self-righteous religious leaders constantly question your faith, back door, front door, round about, subtle and overt, implying condemnation: why would I be surprised?

Sodom and Gomorrah, Babylon, chaos, blasphemy and confusion, The West. … Your enemy believes in God more than you do.

The preacher had some interesting and enticing insights, I was drawn in, I was engaged.

I am a woman of faith, after all, and I have a place. By Jesus, I am righteous.

But, after a while, it became a burden. The preacher and his show. His diatribe and hubris wore me down, his repetitiveness grated nastily, I ended up loathing him, his message and his obedient, obeisant  congregation (… still, I kinda admire his “success”, but kinda hate him as an exploiter …). So, I broke away, I “fell away”.

Funny. Life’s much the same. But the further I’ve gotten from the preacher, the closer to God I’ve come.

Preacher says to get a job: you wanna eat, you gotta work, it says so in the Bible.

I say: preacher needs to practice what he preaches.

Preacher says that we all got the same 24 hours in each day so don’t go bitchin bout how you aint got no time for dis and dat, you being stretched to the motherfucking limit. Yeah, preacher has his own motherfucking jet, flies from ATL to NYC with self-righteous impunity. Me, I work two jobs just to maintain my shit.