It is Wednesday so I am thinking about Church.
Not the Southern Baptist Church that I grew up in forcing religion upon us in the middle of the week when the Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian and other pagan believers got to do whatever they wanted on Wednesday nights. As a matter of fact, Pastor Johnson in Port Wentworth had the nickname "Fireball" because of his fervor ... the man could get hot!
So he also forced us to attend Church on Sunday nights and miss the Ed Sullivan Show which was an obvious tool of Satan to convert us to rock-n-roll. It started with the Beatles of course but then it was the Stones ("Let's Spend the Night Together"), the Doors ("Touch me Baby") ... you know, all of the stuff we were all praying for anyway. To prevent our prayers from coming true, Fireball Johnson forced us to attend Sunday evening services.
But that is not I thinking about this morning. I am thinking about Bar Church which is celebrating it's second anniversary this Sunday. Instead of dinner on the grounds after the service, we're having BYOB ... which is what happens anyway.
At this point I must explain that inexplicably Dedra has emerged as the keeper of Bar Church standards ... which is new for us because we've never had any.
So yesterday, God led me to Publix where I ran into Dedra ordering the sheet cake for the second anniversary of Bar Church. It is the logo of a funky Celtic cross kind of thing with red plume coming out giving it a "Three Musketeers" theme. I had reasons to visit the cake section of Publix anyway but had no idea that it was God's idea.
So there was Dedra ... keeper of standards none of us knew that we had ... trying to decide how to finish decorating the cake. She had the Bar Church logo on it but otherwise was as lost as the baby Moses when his pushed the straw basket down the river.
Luckily, God had led me there at that precise moment.
"We need a tag line," God told me to say to her.
"We do not," Satan told her to tell me.
"Seriously," I continued. "Bar Church, two years of defying conventional religion."
Satan forced her to roll her eyes like the demon possessed little girl in the Exorcist.
"OK," I continued, "Bar Church, come spend 40 years wandering in the wilderness with us."
She threw up a little.
"Bar Church," God told me to press, "where the staff and the rod comfort ye."
She threw up a lot but I was on a roll.
"Bar Church, if it hasn't risen in a while, we'll lay hands on it."
Dedra put her hands on her hips and gave me that "Oh you're so going to hell look."
"One more," I said, "Bar Church where your breasts are like twin fawns of a Gazelle that browse among the lilies."
Dedra suddenly smiled.
"Now you talking," she said.
