Tony and his big yellow bus to Heaven “Like any zealot or like any pure religious person, death looks to them like a welcome friend. True Christians do not mind dying.” Tony Spell, pastor at the Life Tabernacle Church, Central, Louisiana--News item
After adding the caveat that this argument only applies to the coronavirus if his parishioners catch it while attending his services, The Reverend Spell threw open the doors of the Tabernacle of the Living Virus yesterday for at least 2,000 worshipers to sneeze on each other in celebration of Easter, despite Louisiana being the state with the third most deaths per case from Covid-19, local law enforcement and the fact most other churches are putting their services online.
“Why?” the Rev said after being questioned by this reporter. “Why? The fact is, Easter is our biggest day for the collection plate and online tithing blows. I’ve got expenses to meet, pal. I don’t have time for a lot of weak excuses from my flock. They’re pretty pitiful when it comes to cyberspace. I can just hear them whining, ‘I don’t know how PayPal works, Pastor,' or ‘I pressed the back button and your whole website disappeared.”
Can’t you just tell them to pray and Jesus will explain the mysteries of coughing up money online?
“Very funny. Jesus doesn’t work that way. He’s the Savior of the World. He doesn’t have time to do tech support. It’s His will that you show up at my church, listen to me tell you that the only way to get to Heaven is by making sure I can afford a new Mercedes every year, empty your virus-filled lungs into the air by singing hymns and, at the appropriate moment, under my stern gaze, putting your hands in your pockets and giving me a little down payment on that condo in the sky where you’re going when you die.
“Remember, you’re protected by the Lord when you’re worshipping Him. He is filling you with His Spirit. And if His Spirit has a few virions in it, or even if your neighbor happened to wipe an infected booger on the hymnal you’re sharing, that’s just His way of calling you home.”
But where you say that death is a friend…I don’t think even many Christians feel that way.
“Then they’re not good enough Christians! I’m telling you, buddy, DEATH IS YOUR HOMIE! That respirator that they strap on you, I mean, if they have one available, is your stairway to Heaven! When you finally stop your painful last wheezing, you’ll be sucked right through your life support tubes into eternal glory!
“And since you’re not going to be taking one of my buses to the Tabernacle anymore, be sure to leave a little something in your will for me. Ten percent of whatever you got left after you pay your medical bill is cool.”
After adding the caveat that this argument only applies to the coronavirus if his parishioners catch it while attending his services, The Reverend Spell threw open the doors of the Tabernacle of the Living Virus yesterday for at least 2,000 worshipers to sneeze on each other in celebration of Easter, despite Louisiana being the state with the third most deaths per case from Covid-19, local law enforcement and the fact most other churches are putting their services online.
“Why?” the Rev said after being questioned by this reporter. “Why? The fact is, Easter is our biggest day for the collection plate and online tithing blows. I’ve got expenses to meet, pal. I don’t have time for a lot of weak excuses from my flock. They’re pretty pitiful when it comes to cyberspace. I can just hear them whining, ‘I don’t know how PayPal works, Pastor,' or ‘I pressed the back button and your whole website disappeared.”
Can’t you just tell them to pray and Jesus will explain the mysteries of coughing up money online?
“Very funny. Jesus doesn’t work that way. He’s the Savior of the World. He doesn’t have time to do tech support. It’s His will that you show up at my church, listen to me tell you that the only way to get to Heaven is by making sure I can afford a new Mercedes every year, empty your virus-filled lungs into the air by singing hymns and, at the appropriate moment, under my stern gaze, putting your hands in your pockets and giving me a little down payment on that condo in the sky where you’re going when you die.
“Remember, you’re protected by the Lord when you’re worshipping Him. He is filling you with His Spirit. And if His Spirit has a few virions in it, or even if your neighbor happened to wipe an infected booger on the hymnal you’re sharing, that’s just His way of calling you home.”
But where you say that death is a friend…I don’t think even many Christians feel that way.
“Then they’re not good enough Christians! I’m telling you, buddy, DEATH IS YOUR HOMIE! That respirator that they strap on you, I mean, if they have one available, is your stairway to Heaven! When you finally stop your painful last wheezing, you’ll be sucked right through your life support tubes into eternal glory!
“And since you’re not going to be taking one of my buses to the Tabernacle anymore, be sure to leave a little something in your will for me. Ten percent of whatever you got left after you pay your medical bill is cool.”
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