Church On Fire

He is running the church

And also the people,

He thinks he owns it

From the step to the steeple.

Since he’s been there

The attendances are large,

You don’t have to look far

To see who is in charge.

They jostle for position

There’s much in fighting,

As they follow their leader

In his practice, proselytising.

There’s absolutely no doubt

This is a church on fire,

And they pay a huge lot

For professionals on hire.

On every Sunday morning

This mega church is burst,

In order to have a seat

You must get there first.

Of course there are those

That will always find a seat,

That seat is marked reserved

And cooled to reduce the heat.

The members don’t really mind

The discomfort they endure,

They belong to a mega church

There’s much for them in store.

Watch them as they arrive

To give to God all praise

Decked out in the latest trends

Following the fashion craze.

How they step out in style!

Nothing old everything new,

Wearing such elaborate hats

In church they block your view.

  

The programmes are varied

And very accommodating

There’s much enthusiasm 

From members participating.

Worship teams well trained

Raise their joyous strains 

And congregation inflamed

Bellows the chorused refrains.

These sessions are really long

Sometimes an hour or more,

And by the time they all sit down

The seniors are feeling sore.

The youngest to the oldest

In their emotional hype

With hands raised to heaven

Display the modern church type.

Choruses are the way to go

In the praise and worship session,

Those hymns of so long ago

Are somebody else’s confession.

To be honest I would admit

That some of the tunes real sweet,

But often are not scriptural

Not found in the Bible I repeat.

The offerings you should see

The baskets are very huge,

No place in these congregations

For miserly old Mr. Scrooge.

The members really give

Expectant of a great return,

Sow a seed and reap a harvest

Is the motto they have learned.

The leader’s salary is high

And those of his family too,

These make up the executive

And they are not a few.

The leader is called the CEO

In the business of the church,

From his position of grandeur

There he alone is perched.

It’s clear it’s his empire

He alone resolves all conflicts,

And all them sitting at his feet

Are faithful and loyal subjects.

This sounds harsh I know

But this is very real,

This is news to many of you

But to a few it is stale.

Hush! Here he comes now

In his expensive Mercedes,

Followed by his darling wife

She too has one of these.

There’s a private parking space

To accommodate each ride

And an identified valet

To park them right inside.

I know you would say

There’s nothing wrong in this,

But when it comes to greed

Such people top the list.

There was a time before

When pastors sacrificed much

And served God with gladness

Experiencing the anointing touch.

Today is somewhat different

Not much some have given up,

They live in regal splendor

And the royal feast they sup.

The royalties from their books

And subjects’ free will giving,

Support their every whim

As well as their sumptuous living.

In return they preach a word

Just to give their subjects courage,

And the funds keep rolling in

Headed for the Emperor’s storage.

A word that’s usually Gospel proof

None you would find therein,

Just a feel good kind of word

That excuses them of their sin.

“What a great service!”

One hears it often exclaim,

“It is good that we were here

Glory to God in Jesus’ name.”

That church is on fire 

You would hear many say,

And wish they were members

Yes, they yearn for that day.

“We pay our tithes here 

But still don’t get fed,

And these services lack much

They are usually so dead. 

Our pastor tries his best

But I believe he’s getting tired

And his messages though long 

Do not really inspire.

The last message he preached

He talked only of sin,

And said God would forgive 

If only we let him in.

Preaching about sin

Belongs to a far gone age,

He either needs to get with it

Or simply vacate the stage.”

Yes! That church is on fire 

Anyone with discernment can see,

That leader marshals his forces

They are what he wants them to be.

I really should have mentioned

There is one service per week,

Occasionally on a Saturday

The leaders go on a retreat.

In most of the other meetings 

Small groups get together

For prayer and Bible study

But the big boys seldom bother.

Their concern is Sunday

With its pomp and pageantry,

With offerings overflowed baskets

And great pastoral commentary.

A word for the week not the weak,

A message to encourage the strong,

A church for them that are striving,

The infirm don’t really belong.

Here, no hospital casualty,

No psychiatric or geriatric facility,

Just people whose responsibility

Is to give out of their necessity.

The harvest all should see

Is proportionate to the seed,

Sow the seed and you’ll be bless

Is the instruction all should heed.

Some of the people are leaving

But a lot more are enrolling,

For when the seed has not produced

These members stop their sowing.

Overall this church does well,

Never a message about sin or hell,

But a word of financial prosperity

And how to shape your destiny.

The Gospel message is diluted

Scarcely a trace to be found,

Addressing felt needs a priority

While souls appear hell bound.

No message of Christ who came

From sin to set us free,

No salvation and deliverance

Just talk of prosperity.

But this is a church on fire

I hear many still say,

And I am not surprised

For strange fire is alive today.

Take care you do not belong

To a church with strange fire,

The professional type church

Where they pay well for the hire.

For you are likely to starve

And not ever realise

That your soul has gotten limp,

It has been tranquillised.

Before it reaches there

Take stock of your church,

It might be a strange fire

You could be left in the lurch.

Have a chat with some saints

That you really, truly trust,

Share with them your misgivings

No need to fret and fuss.

Perhaps, it will reach the source

And who knows what might occur,

It may well be the admonition 

That rids them of strange fire.

Stewart Russell © 2014