The reason I got thrown out of church...

Dear Preacher,

You have caused me many times to stumble and fall. You are a businessman.

You really do not care about me. I know you are a liar - not by acts of commission, rather by omission. You lie when you do not inform me that cursed is he who separates unto the church his wealth, whose parents go a-borrowing. You have truncated the gospel of simplicity. You will even read this letter to your congregation and claim victory over the devil - me. You will not understand that I should have been sleeping but couldn't until I put this message across to you.

You have fallen. You have become a comedian, a stage animal, a trumpeter of half-truths, a corrupter of sorts, and a blemish on the body of simplicity. You serve yourself.

All places they say, are forgotten after they are visited. Revisit the heart of God revisit the heart of Jesus and remember how compelling he once was! There are no plateau's in Christ - the body of simplicity he has bequeathed us ensures that our walk with him like ascent up a mountain is a challenge - a rarefied labor of love with its unsurpassable reward.

You preach the flesh already is rotted - yet you are so splendidly arraigned. Your speech and mannerisms are contrived and thus patently false. You sicken me sometimes - but I must address you least I suffer for suffering you gladly. You will not fall into shame and disrepute. You already have. Rehabilitate yourself.

Gladiators rode on horses, Kings on chariots but our lord and savior, to whom the wealth of the earth sufficient unto his requirement was brought to by a fish, rode a donkey symbol in his time of humility. The life of Christ was refreshingly uncluttered. It was a life - simple, peaceful and graceful. A life of giving - of receiving little. A new concept of kingly duties he bequeathed to us - new ideals and a code of conduct for princes & princesses but ensconced in your corrupted nature, you have blinded your heart. You have chosen not to listen. Instead you have created the truth to suit your heart. You have made God into your image. Whether by omission or by commission, I wist not.

Your stables stink of insincerity and filthy lucre and when God starts to whisper to you things like "Buy a brand new jet plane my son" and to others "Go to disease ridden Calcutta and inspire the uninspired - be my proxy", its time to take a long cold look at things

Preacher man, turn the Cinema off. Resume the race for your life.

Jesus loves you.

Didiscottie

(The guy at the back row with his hand on his chin)