Thank you Lord,

That I know the truth, I do not fall into the errors of the watered down prosperity gospel.

Thank you, Lord, that I read all the good old time classics and not the contemporary writers.

Thank you Lord, that I can discern the errors of modern false teaching.

Thank you Lord for all the old time hymnal, rather than the soft rock choruses.

Thank you Lord for all my concordances and commentaries, helping me to defend my faith.

Thank you, Lord for my knowledge about church history and theology.

Thank you Lord for my sophisticated vocabulary.

Thank you, Lord, that I am not like the man in the back.

* * * * * * * *

In the back pew he sat, battered and bruised, in dirty clothes, lamenting:

I have given my money to the prosperity preachers,

The flock were I belonged was scattered by wolves.

I could not wait for the kingdom to come and squandered all my wealth in hope of my best life now.

I thought my Christian experience was all real, I could have my best life now and heaven, too.

It burst like a bubble, huu-huu.

I have read all the self-help books to no avail.

I fell down under the blessing prayers of the celebrity preachers.

I awoke from the stupor of Babylon’s maddening wine.

I got sick of its riches, it wares, its fake glamour.

The make up of the whore has come off.

I craved choice morsels of fine food, the most delicious and trendy from the acclaimed chefs of contemporary preaching; but I ended up eating pods among squealing pigs.

I thought I was advancing in my faith because of all the things Lord blessed us with.

I danced around the golden calf, in merry companionship that proved to be a fool’s paradise.

Now I am naked and wretched and poor.

I can barely see clearly, I need some ointment for my eyes.

I deserve all this, make me one of the hired servants, so that I at least get some food of the word, shelter in saintly fellowship and a cover for my shameful nakedness.

Will they welcome me back? Will I make it through the gates of Zion? I will try the Dung gate, surely no angry watchman will repel me there.

_________________
Robert Wurtz II