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Last night, I went to church. It was the Wesleyan Church (the church of Wesley? Hmm...), and I went specifically to see the Power Team bend iron bars for Jesus. When I got to the church, I was surprised to see how big it was. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snowy_kathryn, f00dave, Nick, and waded through hundreds of people to take our pews in a large, rocking auditorium (the loudspeakers were blaring Christian rap and rock). I was pleased to see a hymn book, as it gave me reading material until the show began.
Have you ever looked at the names of songs written for Jesus? An inordinate quantity of them are double entendres. There's a whole lot of coming and filling going on in there. Come fill me, Lord. I'm on my knees and ready. Fill me with your love. Shower your love upon me. I gape with need.
And my song book also had little scraps of paper. At first, I thought they were just someone's bookmarks, but then I read the handwriting. One piece said "Mike sleeps with smelly old men." The other said "Mike likes little boys."
Maybe there is something to the sexual nature of those songs, after all.
I was saved from religious erotica by the Power Team. The show finally started. The stage was covered with a construction site: concrete bricks, scaffolding, planks, etc. And after a brief introduction by the lead youth minister, the show began. With WWE-style aplomb, John Kopta, Jonathan Caldwell, and Willie Raines, aka Human Freight Train, were introduced and ran to the stage. The latter is an enormous man, who measures more than five feet around the chest.
The show began with a bang. John and Willie broke stacks of concrete slabs, and then Jonathan clambered up to the top of the scaffolding, broke a pile of bricks, jumped onto another pile of bricks (breaking them, of course), then systematically destroyed three sets of ice blocks with his righteous martial arts skills.
Now that everyone was hooting and hollering, it was time for the preaching to begin. Willie came an sermon about his upbringing, most of which I couldn't hear very well due to muffled sound. It had something to do with his everloving and longsuffering Momma, him meeting up with the wrong people, becoming a drug dealer, and then being sentenced to 33 years in prison. But he was saved by Jesus, who, like his Momma, never gave up on him. And that's why we should all be Christians.
Or something like that.
Then they broke more stuff, got everyone cheering themselves hoarse, and then they called for big, strong men from the audience. Kathryn was pretty miffed that they didn't call for big, strong women to go up, and did her best to get me to go up there, but I didn't want to. I was wearing a teensy little dress, and I didn't want to give the congregation an upskirt shot while I took my place on the stage. And it's just as well, because I would have been intruding upon a homoerotic display of power. While one of the Power Team stood with his fists linked, a daisy chain of about ten men per side grasped him by the elbow. Each of the men hugged one another around the waist, and then they began tugging, trying to pull the Power Team dude's arms apart. Had I been up there, I'd have been part of some sort of holy hero sandwich, undoubtably with my skirt up around my waist.
The audience members failed to pry the man's hands apart, of course, and so that when the longest part of the preaching began. This part had to do with how the Power Team isn't rich, and how they depend upon us to pay their way, to continue preaching to schools and prisons and churches around the world. On numerous occasions, including during the emotional prayer, it was hammered into our heads that the Power Team accepts Visa and Mastercard, and that since their God is a big God, that several businessmen in the audience (*HINT HINT*) will be writing cheques in excess of $500 apiece.
While ushers brought envelopes around to all the audience members, the sermon continued, this time with cornball parables, the moral of one went something like bringing the family together will bring the world together.
Then they broke more stuff, preached a little more, and guilt tripped (or tried to) members of the audience into salvation. Jesus went through a lot of pain for each of us. The least we can do is give in to his wishes, right? We heard stories of various people being saved through the ministry. The examples were of people who were mentally unstable and at dirt bottom. One of them was a suicidal girl who'd been sexually abused from the ages of 7-14. When one of the ministers took a personal interest in her, she was saved. Hallelujah! A miracle, indeed! Honestly, though, in that situation, I think she'd be just as likely to be saved by anyone who promised succour, whether they be a Moonie, a Satanist, or whathaveyou. Just so long as you can categorically promise some power will make it all better, and shower the poor unhappy soul with lots of attention, that ought to do the trick. Love bombing works. Churches have perfected the technique. I'd be more impressed if they managed to save someone who was mentally stable and sure of themselves. Saving someone like James Randi would be a much more impressive feat than saving someone who cries out to be saved with every fibre of their being, don't you think?
Surprisingly, the show that began with a bang ended with a whimper. There was no applause at the end of the show. After several dozen saved people went to the front of the pews, the show was over and everyone wandered back out. f00 was shocked. "But I want to clap," he said.
We didn't get to clap or cheer anymore, but when we left the church, Kathryn espied some Holstein cows, and we went and played with them, giving them handsful of clover and timothy. The cows seemed pleased with the attention, and then we went home to watch more muscle people: Red Sonja.
snowy_kathryn, f00dave, Nick, and waded through hundreds of people to take our pews in a large, rocking auditorium (the loudspeakers were blaring Christian rap and rock). I was pleased to see a hymn book, as it gave me reading material until the show began.Have you ever looked at the names of songs written for Jesus? An inordinate quantity of them are double entendres. There's a whole lot of coming and filling going on in there. Come fill me, Lord. I'm on my knees and ready. Fill me with your love. Shower your love upon me. I gape with need.
And my song book also had little scraps of paper. At first, I thought they were just someone's bookmarks, but then I read the handwriting. One piece said "Mike sleeps with smelly old men." The other said "Mike likes little boys."
Maybe there is something to the sexual nature of those songs, after all.
I was saved from religious erotica by the Power Team. The show finally started. The stage was covered with a construction site: concrete bricks, scaffolding, planks, etc. And after a brief introduction by the lead youth minister, the show began. With WWE-style aplomb, John Kopta, Jonathan Caldwell, and Willie Raines, aka Human Freight Train, were introduced and ran to the stage. The latter is an enormous man, who measures more than five feet around the chest.
The show began with a bang. John and Willie broke stacks of concrete slabs, and then Jonathan clambered up to the top of the scaffolding, broke a pile of bricks, jumped onto another pile of bricks (breaking them, of course), then systematically destroyed three sets of ice blocks with his righteous martial arts skills.
Now that everyone was hooting and hollering, it was time for the preaching to begin. Willie came an sermon about his upbringing, most of which I couldn't hear very well due to muffled sound. It had something to do with his everloving and longsuffering Momma, him meeting up with the wrong people, becoming a drug dealer, and then being sentenced to 33 years in prison. But he was saved by Jesus, who, like his Momma, never gave up on him. And that's why we should all be Christians.
Or something like that.
Then they broke more stuff, got everyone cheering themselves hoarse, and then they called for big, strong men from the audience. Kathryn was pretty miffed that they didn't call for big, strong women to go up, and did her best to get me to go up there, but I didn't want to. I was wearing a teensy little dress, and I didn't want to give the congregation an upskirt shot while I took my place on the stage. And it's just as well, because I would have been intruding upon a homoerotic display of power. While one of the Power Team stood with his fists linked, a daisy chain of about ten men per side grasped him by the elbow. Each of the men hugged one another around the waist, and then they began tugging, trying to pull the Power Team dude's arms apart. Had I been up there, I'd have been part of some sort of holy hero sandwich, undoubtably with my skirt up around my waist.
The audience members failed to pry the man's hands apart, of course, and so that when the longest part of the preaching began. This part had to do with how the Power Team isn't rich, and how they depend upon us to pay their way, to continue preaching to schools and prisons and churches around the world. On numerous occasions, including during the emotional prayer, it was hammered into our heads that the Power Team accepts Visa and Mastercard, and that since their God is a big God, that several businessmen in the audience (*HINT HINT*) will be writing cheques in excess of $500 apiece.
While ushers brought envelopes around to all the audience members, the sermon continued, this time with cornball parables, the moral of one went something like bringing the family together will bring the world together.
Then they broke more stuff, preached a little more, and guilt tripped (or tried to) members of the audience into salvation. Jesus went through a lot of pain for each of us. The least we can do is give in to his wishes, right? We heard stories of various people being saved through the ministry. The examples were of people who were mentally unstable and at dirt bottom. One of them was a suicidal girl who'd been sexually abused from the ages of 7-14. When one of the ministers took a personal interest in her, she was saved. Hallelujah! A miracle, indeed! Honestly, though, in that situation, I think she'd be just as likely to be saved by anyone who promised succour, whether they be a Moonie, a Satanist, or whathaveyou. Just so long as you can categorically promise some power will make it all better, and shower the poor unhappy soul with lots of attention, that ought to do the trick. Love bombing works. Churches have perfected the technique. I'd be more impressed if they managed to save someone who was mentally stable and sure of themselves. Saving someone like James Randi would be a much more impressive feat than saving someone who cries out to be saved with every fibre of their being, don't you think?
Surprisingly, the show that began with a bang ended with a whimper. There was no applause at the end of the show. After several dozen saved people went to the front of the pews, the show was over and everyone wandered back out. f00 was shocked. "But I want to clap," he said.
We didn't get to clap or cheer anymore, but when we left the church, Kathryn espied some Holstein cows, and we went and played with them, giving them handsful of clover and timothy. The cows seemed pleased with the attention, and then we went home to watch more muscle people: Red Sonja.
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no subject
Date: 2005-06-05 03:58 pm (UTC)From:It seems to me to be a bit of a waste to go preaching at a church, c'mon, where's the challenge there?
no subject
Date: 2005-06-05 04:21 pm (UTC)From:Yep!
It seems to me to be a bit of a waste to go preaching at a church, c'mon, where's the challenge there?
The idea is to get non-churchy people out with the Breaking of Stuff.
Still..........
Date: 2005-06-05 04:55 pm (UTC)From:On a happy note, we went to the town street faire last night.
5 church groups. Only one of them tried to talk to us, (They were Mormons) and Stan looked him flat in the eyes, and said, "No thank you, We're Wiccan."
The guy said, "Well Okay, sorry to bother you."
I can't decided if they haven't brain washed this guy enough yet, or was intimidated by Mr Stan "Special Forces" Wiccan. I admit, Stan is intimidating, but I thought he would at least try harder. I don't know wheter to be thankful, amused, or dissapointed.
Bizarre HUH?
Re: Still..........
Date: 2005-06-05 05:08 pm (UTC)From:Re: Still..........
Date: 2005-06-05 05:13 pm (UTC)From:Polite would be a nice change. We had the building at the end of our (one street) devlopment leased to three Christian orgs. (Delaware Bible College, Heritage Christian Academy and something else) and the day they moved in they started going door to door harrassing people in the name of their church.
I was in the tub enjoying a RARE bath when they came to ring the doorbell.
I had to answer it in my bathrobe, and then they were rude.
I said Politely, "I'm Reverend so and so, I have my own church and congregation, No thank you." and was still berated for another 5 minutes before I got fed up and closed the door.
PowerTeam on TV?
Date: 2005-06-05 05:11 pm (UTC)From:Seems they ARE from Dallas, so it could be...
Re: PowerTeam on TV?
Date: 2005-06-06 03:54 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2005-06-05 07:30 pm (UTC)From:Of course, I always got in trouble with the youth minister at the church when I was a kid. After one of the obligatory "sex is teh ebil!" lectures, I asked "So why is the Song of Solomon in the Bible?"
no subject
Date: 2005-06-05 11:08 pm (UTC)From:A shan upskirt might be the most interesting thing to be seen. Don't knock your own contributions
no subject
Date: 2005-06-09 12:34 am (UTC)From:Some alarmist freak on the Rapture Ready Bulletin Board was freaking out about the pictures of Lego people, ahem, sinning.
http://www.thebricktestament.com/th...y/lv18_23a.html
http://www.thebricktestament.com/th...s/lv15_16a.html
http://www.thebricktestament.com/th...ty/lv18_22.html
This is his main page, http://www.thereverend.com/