Satire

            Doug Webster was working  in his office at Bee Stung Seminary when the coffee pot burst into flames. Doug immediately came to attention. The Lord occasionally spoke to him through the flaming coffee.

            "Doug, I have a few thoughts I want to share with you."

            "Fire away!" Doug immediately cringed over the unintentional pun. 

            "Recommend to your students that once they become pastors they use the King James Version of Scripture."

            "What?!"

            "The KJV does so much for  poor children."

            "How?!"

            "The KJV has a beauty and power of words that many kids from poor homes can only experience on Sunday morning when they hear Scripture read from the pulpit. The KJV provides uplift, a sense that there is more to life than the trailer park or public housing unit they live in. The modern translations sound like the talking heads that bore them on TV."

            "I don't know..."

            "Hey, it's a suggestion, not a commandment. On to other matters: This Sunday morning I'm going to destroy Frantic Predicament Church in San Diego."

            That statement shocked Doug almost as much as the KJV recommendation. "You can't do that!"

            God remained silent and Doug immediately backtracked. "Well, yes, of course, you can do it but I was senior pastor there for fourteen years--"

            "You're wondering why it took me so long. We'll have to save that one for Heaven."

            "Look Lord, if there are just fifty righteous people--"

            "Oh, let's not do that routine. Besides, what's the point? Do you really think there are ten righteous people at Frantic Predicament Church?"

            "Touché," Doug sighed. “Look, would it be okay if I warned the people of what you are planning to do?”

            “Sure, if you can get out there on time, given the mess the airlines are in.”

***

            The flight from Birmingham to San Diego was tough. There was a three day hold up in Atlanta because the airline had temporarily lost the will to continue. When Doug arrived in Chicago, the airlines were passing around a large tin can in the terminals in order to raise money for fuel. Doug’s plane finally touched down in San Diego on Sunday morning. The pastor-teacher rented a car and drove swiftly to Frantic Predicament Church which was located downtown at the intersection of Tired and No Date. He hastily parked the car and ran through the ornate No Date Street door at about fifteen minutes before the start of the 8:00 AM service.

            The first person he encountered was Morbid Wails the church’s minister of the dead and dying, who was checking the narthex for people who didn't look well. He ran to her and proclaimed, “God is going to destroy Frantic Predicament Church this morning, we’ve got--”

            “Doug you no longer have the authority to make such statements in this church,” she sternly rebuked him.

            "Well, then, you handle it! Make it part of the morning announcements!"

            "What good would that do?" Morbid shot back hastily. "The announcements are made early in the service, the sanctuary is empty."

            "Oh yeah. Listen, this is important, we've got--"

            "You can no longer decide what is important in this church," Morbid wailed as she smashed Doug on the side of his head with a thick copy of The Book of Order.

            Doug stumbled backwards then fell down the cement stairs at the No Date Street entrance. He picked himself up slowly and began to stagger.

            "Excuse me, sir," Doug's head was still clearing from the fall, so he could smell the man who approached better than he could see him.

            "I have just arrived in town," the blur continued his story. "I start work tomorrow but I don't get paid until Friday..."

            Doug could now see the gentleman clearly. He was red-eyed, unshaven and wearing tattered clothes.

            "Why are you doing this to me?!" The man yelled at Doug.

            "Doing what?"

            "Forcing me to make up these stupid stories. Making me humiliate myself with old lines that haunt my dreams at night. Who do you to torture me this way? Just give me some money! That's the Christian thing to do!"

            Doug looked at the gentleman and suddenly got an idea.

***

            At about 9:10 AM as the first service was ending, Doug Webster entered Frantic Predicament Church wearing an old, oily John Deere cap he had purchased for twenty dollars from the homeless man. Doug was confident that Morbid Wails or no one else would recognize him with the cap on.

            He made his way into the church's Assembly Room where people were busy eating donuts and avoiding the adult Sunday School classes. There he spotted long time church member, Bus Fare.

            "Bus, remember me, it's Doug."

            Donut crumbs dropped to the floor as warm smile spread across Bus' face. "Well, of course, I remember you, Doug! We sure miss you around here."

            "Thank you, I--"

            "Why, only last night my wife was saying to me how much she misses the wonderful preaching of Doug Nason."

            "No, I'm Doug Webster, I was senior pastor here for fourteen years."

            "Oh yeah. You still in town? What's the problem, still can't sell that house of yours?"

            "Never mind that," Doug declared anxiously. "There's something important--"

            "Excuse me," Bus interrupted. "Here comes our interim pastor, Won't Stay, I need to discuss when we can get together for golf. I would introduce you but, frankly, I'm embarrassed by the cap. When you finally sell the house, invest in some new headgear." Bus tapped his former pastor lightly on the shoulder. "I'll be praying for you." He left for the golf discussion.

           

            Doug looked about and spotted the church's librarian Sydney

Smorgasbord. Sydney was busy placing books in the library’s new section devoted entirely to the works of Tim LaHaye.

            “Sydney, you’ve got to help me.”

            “Sure Doug, just get your resume into the PNC and I’ll be happy to serve as a reference. That will probably get you the job. Church Librarian is a very prestigious position.”

            “No, you don’t understand, God is going to destroy Frantic Predicament Church this morning.”

            “This morning!”

            “Yes.”

            “What took Him so long?”

            “Strange, the Lord said something along the same line.” 

            Sydney shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

            “We’ve got to act quickly,” Doug snapped. “Get all of these people out of the church now!”

            “No problem,” Sydney replied confidently, then raised his voice in a shout. "HEY EVERYBODY, THE CHARGERS ARE PLAYING A KEY GAME ON THE EAST COAST TODAY. IF YOU LEAVE NOW YOU CAN HEAR THE KICK OFF ON YOUR CAR RADIO AND HAVE A FOOTBALL PARTY ORGANIZED BEFORE THE FIRST QUARTER IS OVER. "

            That won't work, Doug thought. It isn't even football season, nobody would-- A stamped of people heading for the parking lot collided with the pastor- teacher and he was knocked down for the second time that morning.

***

            When Doug awoke he was lying on the first pew of the Sanctuary's balcony. Sidney Smorgasbord was standing beside him, otherwise the place was bereft of people. 

            "How did I get here?" Doug asked as he slowly got up.

            "Don't know. The Lord just told me that you were here, said that there would soon be a special event, He didn't want you to miss."

            At that moment a loud, cracking sound emanated from the ceiling and the huge chandelier which had been there for an excess of sixty years plunged to the ground floor of the sanctuary. It landed with a bomb-like explosion sending up a cloud of wooden shards from demolished pews and broken glass into the air.

            The two men stood in silence for a few minutes, then Doug spoke. "You know, from the first day that I came to this church, people have been talking about what would happen if that chandelier fell. Now, you and I have been able to actually witness it."

            "We are truly blessed," Sydney declared reverently.

            "I have an idea," Doug's voice was filled with excitement. "We can go down there and build a simple altar using a few pieces of broken wood and maybe a light bulb or two."

            "Sounds good, but I don't think so."

            "Why not?"

            "Because when the Lord told me that you were up here, He also told me that ten minutes after the special event He was leveling this entire church."

            Although both Doug and Sydney were men of advanced years, they still made it out of the church in plenty of time to stand at the corner of Tired and No Date and watch the building go down.

            The next week, Frantic Predicament Church held a service in the midst of the rubble. Won't Stay assured the congregation that the building disintegrating was "just one of those things" and "nothing personal" from the Lord. The service received a lot of press attention, even being covered by the national news networks. The next Monday on her show, Oprah pledged the funds to rebuild the church as long as the members agreed, "To never insist that one faith is superior to another." The church's session gladly went along.

            Doug Webster had a surprisingly smooth trip back to Birmingham. When he arrived home his daughter and son in law were elated to see him.

            "Where did you get that cool John Deere cap?" Kennerly asked. "A John Deere that looks like that costs hundreds,--if you can find one."

            "Never mind that," Doug flopped down in a chair. "What are you guys up to?"

            Patrick smiled broadly "We're discussing the Cubs chances of winning the National League Central, --in Greek. Cool way to learn the language."

            So, for the next hour Doug sat staring at the ceiling and listening to his daughter and son-in-law discuss baseball in Greek.

            It made more sense to him than anything else he had heard that week.