Church Mafia

 

What have we come to?

I have to ask myself,

This Church Mafia business

Is not good for one’s health.

 

It has come out of Africa,

Nigeria to be exact,

Bigger than “fake it till you make it”

And this is a fact.

 

If you are a pastor

And are seeking to be established,

Just connect with a big one

Whose lifestyle you relish.

 

Abandon the Bible’s way

Or your church will not grow

And consult with the big boys

That already know.

 

They will give you tips

On how to grow your church,

You don’t need the Holy Spirit,

Just these successful experts.

 

I listened to this pastor

That was giving his testimony,

He was sharing some stuff he did

And it wasn’t funny.

 

To begin his church-growth

He invited some big guns

And his church was packed out

Every time they would come.

 

 

They were full of the Holy Spirit

Or so it would seem,

People just swooned and fell;

It was an action-packed scene.

 

He was given mixed portions

He was supposed shower with

And when he operated,

It was as though he had the gift.

 

A part of his ritual

Was to make a grand entrance

And this came after worshippers

Had everyone in a trance.

 

He would stride down the aisle

As in a triumphal entry

And the congregants would fall;

There was such ecstasy.

 

But he found out some things

As he got closer to the big guns,

Regarding Christian principles

They had little or none.

 

Though in conjugal relationships,

They still played the field

And invited him to join them

As part of the deal.

 

They were wheeling and dealing

All in the name of Christ

And the materialism they gleaned

Did more than suffice.

 

It was the good life they lived

Just like the mighty Mafia experience

And any who dare not pay up

Suffered their grievance.

 

 

These are apostles and prophets

Of the extraordinaire type

And many believe in their offerings

And love the emotional hype.

 

Church Mafia is well organized

Like the Lodge and the occult

And the power they exert

Is like that of the Mighty Hulk.

 

They know more about you

Than you know about yourself

And they know how to use such

To generate their wealth.

  

They utilize their informants

To obtain critical information

Which is relayed via WhatsApp

About those in the congregation.

 

They are great at pretending

That they knew nothing about you

Until informed by the Holy Spirit

And it therefore must be true.

 

Call to come out by name

From among thousands of folks

Must be nerve wracking and chilling

And certainly no joke.

 

Then to hear your life history

Recounted in accurate detail

Can only generate the kind of reverence

Reserved for the holy grail.

 

 

Do not be fooled, my friend,

These so-called prophets are not God

And their well-engineered programmes

Are deceptions of King Fraud.

 

They utilize the fear factor

To get you to buy in

And to assure you that outside of them

Your hopes are simply dim.

 

They promise you a breakthrough

But you must sow a huge seed

Which goes into their pockets

To support their greed.

 

We live in a global village

And nothing is now far away,

Something could start in Africa now

And reach here by today.

 

“It can’t happen ‘bout here!”

Could be the colossal blunder

That opens the proverbial doorway

For the Church Mafia to plunder.

  

And that is the wolf’s objective,

To ravish the sheep:

Especially those frisky little lambs

Or the sheep falling asleep.

 

Be on your guard, I caution,

There may be a case near you,

So, open your eyes of discernment

And if needed, change that view.

 

Stewart Russell © October 20, 2022

 

God’s Magnificent Best

 

 

Standing on the beach

Looking across the sea,

Feeling pleased as punch

As on a bun I munched.

The sun was sinking low

Setting the water aglow,

‘Twas a splendid sight

As the sky came alight.

My eyes held to the line

Separating sky from sea,

My mind on its accuracy

Showing God’s ability.

Artists try to illustrate

The beauty that they see,

But always falling short

Of God, His Majesty.

Yes, I was overwhelmed,

This work of the Supreme,

Captured my entire being,

This feast my eyes had seen.

 

It was absolutely fabulous,

Not that I could be a judge

Of the handiwork of God,

My eyes won’t even budge.

I stared in trapped oblivion,

I could not look away,

The view held my attention

There at the close of day.

I was frozen by its beauty,

In my mind I heard a voice,

Have your eyes seen better?

“No,” was my spoken choice.

My greatest desire that time

Was to be truly locked away,

With this rich phenomenon

I was viewing from the bay.

Then I attempted to analyse

This scene before my eyes,

I was aware of my limitations

And struck by God’s creation.

 

The many rulers it would take

To draw that straight horizon,

And the steady hand to make

It flow with such precision.

I thought of those great artists

Who then and in the past,

Had painted many a sunset

But this had all outclassed.

No doubt these artists too

Had given God much praise,

When in one such moment

Their eyes on a sunset gazed.

The colours were resplendent,

Their numbers I couldn’t count,

They cascaded in the ocean

And form a magnificent fount.

Even as the ripples danced

In the gentle evening breeze,

I stood transfixed in a trance

My attention God had seized.

 

Suddenly I wanted to scream

“God, you are so very great!”

But I contained my ecstasy,

Allowing reason to dictate.

Again came the inner voice,

“Must you dissect everything?

Won’t you ever understand

How much there is in listening?”

This was not for examination

But simply for me to enjoy,

I had wasted time in analysis

Now I felt like the errant boy.

In a moment the sun was gone,

The spectacle had disappeared,

And with it that thing of beauty,

At which I could no longer stare.

I knew I had missed that moment

When the sun had slipped away,

I had been caught in my analysis

That had worked to my dismay

But in my depths of solitude,

That voice had said to me,

“That’s not my magnificent best,

For that, just look to Calvary.

That was a sunset too you know,

The disciples sure thought it so,

They too had missed the beauty

Of the blood for sin that flowed.”

God’s Son was on that cross

And for our sins He did atone,

‘Twas such a glorious sight

And Jesus did it all alone.

For God so earnestly desires

To paint upon every heart,

That picture of the Saviour

Today you should let Him start.

Just view that greater Light

As you gaze upon that scene,

See where Jesus hung in agony

There, you and me to redeem,

At his back was the sinking sun,

God’s Son silhouetted in its light,

For the disciples a horrid sight

But God was displaying His might.

Many have wondered at this

And have called it a mystery,

In the midst of apparent defeat

God had painted the victory.

Jesus cried out, “It is finished!”

Many thought it was the end

But the painting was that sunset

Before the sunrise God did send.

  

“That was my magnificent best,”

God said, the painting yet unfinished

Was marked “to be continued”,

As the Light would be diminished.

This sunset was really not about

The sun’s departing radiance,

But was meant to be the herald

Of the Son’s uprising brilliance.

God’s magnificent best was no sunset

That adorned that evening sky,

Rather, it was the life that Jesus gave

As that Passover evening drew nigh.

Good Friday evening and Easter Morn,

The sinking sun and the crack of dawn,

The crucified Jesus and the risen Christ,

All speak of the Lamb and His sacrifice.

Stewart Russell © 2014