Coming To A Church Near You

I've begun dropping into different church services unannounced. I slip in quietly in the back row while the congregation are singing or whatever they do before the preaching gets under way. I feel I need to do this to keep up with what is going down on the Lord's Day...someone needs to keep tabs on what is being proclaimed from pulpits, just like the biblical prophets walked around naked and in a trance and warned God's people about impending judgment. But unless I hear an audible voice from God – quite likely – I'm going to keep my kit on. If I do hear an audible instruction to strip, I'm going to assume the Lord does not mean I should discard the weapon strapped to my ankle. Armed and ready for a fight at all times is a non-negotiable, whether I'm naked or fully clothed. I'm as good as Chuck Norris at unarmed combat, but nothing beats the sheer thrill of blasting away with one of my many guns.

This past Sunday I made an impromptu, fully clothed visit to a local Baptist church. I'm not a big fan of the flashy charismatic groups with their flamboyant preachers in expensive suits, but I'll pay them a visit as well. The Baptists are a good bunch – conservative, righteous, separatist, Bible-believing ... they could do a lot worse.

Like I said, I snuck into the back row, fully clothed and in my right mind. I almost slipped into a trance-like state when the saints broke into Onward Christian Soldiers, but I held it together as the preacher got up and let rip with a homily about how this world is going to hell in a handbasket. Just the kind of sermon I like to hear to get my spiritual juices going on a Sunday morning. He spat out seemingly endless verses about hell and damnation and the devil and sin and temptation and lust and more about temptation ... I could feel more than just my spiritual juices going.

Then the well-meaning but idiotic, incompetent semi-demon possessed moron slipped up big time. He was preaching hellfire and brimstone one minute, then shifted gears and began to explain how God-fearing folk are supposed to safeguard themselves against all the evil in the world. He told us that Jesus and the Bible are our only weapons ... then he added ... literal weapons are useless against the powers of darkness lurking behind every shady bush.

I would have been unable to leap out of my pew faster if an army of giant killer ants had invaded my rectum at the speed of light! I sprang up, spitting verses back at him faster than one of those black rappers on speed. We have a right and a duty to protect ourselves against evildoers – no amount of prayer and good Christian deeds will help when you're staring down the barrel of a stolen firearm. Your only hope is to be pointing a bigger gun back at your enemy, and get him to pray his final prayer to Jesus as you blow his pagan head clean off his shoulders.

The congregation was stunned. The preacher looked like he had just seen a demonic entity breathing dragon fire materialise in his church and call his wife a whore.

I took advantage of the stunned silence and the shell-shocked preacher's complete loss of words by spitting out several more Bible verses about cursing God's enemies. Then I informed the good folk who had given up a nice Sunday stroll on the beach to listen to this misguided sermon, that I would be leaving a pile of tracts at the back of the church. These would more clearly explain my position about just how Christians should be fighting the good fight. Then I excused myself – I promised my kids that I'd take them to the beach, followed by a game of paintball.

Fight the good fight.