Matthew 19:24

Nah, this won't be all that religious. I'm not going to tell you that you need to put your money in the bowl for Jesus, my gardener.

I kid.

I drove to the bank today to make the company's daily deposit. I pulled into the parking lot and I noticed a new Lexus IS. I wouldn't have thought anything more of it, but I'm a bit of a freak about reading license plates. I read every single license plate that I see. I don't know if anyone else does that, but I pay so much attention that I remember people on my daily commute by their license plate. It's kinda stalker-ish when you think about it -- so don't.

The license plate read "APASTOR." My blood pressure rose immediately.

I work in Saginaw, Michigan. During the heyday of the automotive boom, Saginaw was a very promising place to live. You could move in, get a job at an automotive parts plant with excellent pay and benefits, retire young and live the rest of your life worry free. Now you drive through Saginaw and you can't help but stare. Abandoned houses, urban prairies, and a heavily saturated liquor store market... It's a Philip Zimbardo experiment unfolding before your eyes.

As I walked inside the bank I scanned the lobby to see the man that was the PASTOR. He was wearing gold jewelry, a bluetooth headset, a Crackberry, and a very expensive pinstripe suit, with a hat to top it off. A preaching pimp, if you will. His wife was his female counterpart, complete with Dooney & Bourke purse, only her Crackberry wouldn't stop ringing.

Normally this wouldn't bother me. I generally try not to get jealous of other's fortunes. However, this man, and his marital lottery winning wife, made their fortune off the hope and tears of the poor.

I can't even begin to imagine this con's congregation. You know the misled give ten percent or more of their already measly incomes hoping that God will give back to them.

I know he's not the only pastor that does this. It's a common thing among inner-city churches. What I find so hard to understand is how the faithful stay duped. How can they give the money that they work their asses off for to these guys? The sheep drive rusted jalopies, buy five gallon buckets to catch the rain through the ceiling, and eat macaroni & cheese and Ramen noodles like they're going out of style while their pastor lives off their vision of heaven.

And what of the young men growing up in this situation? If the young man is normal, to contemporary American standards, he has to walk through gang territory, watch his neighbors get mugged and killed, decide if he should do drugs, and go to school where all of the aforementioned seeps through the brick walls of the classroom.

If he's smart he'll become a pastor.

Welcome Home

Considering some changes have happened in my life I will be posting again. Aren't you happy? Sure you are. Expect much from what the last blog was. However, expect more frequent posting.

I don't have the time to post anything that's worth a damn right now, but I will soon. I promise.