TAPE COLLECTION

I’ve got a tape collection in my church office behind my favorite Bible Concordances that is so huge and so cool, it would make a grown man cry.

If this were still 1988. As it is, it only makes ME cry.  Every time I look at it.

I’ve got about 1,000 cassette tapes, 23,000 8-tracks, some reel to reels and of course 1/2 a million 1/2 inch video tapes, and 1/4 million...are you ready...3/4 inch video tapes.

The GREAT news is, that these tapes are from many of my early days working as a preacher and log ride operator.  I even got some and movie ideas on a lot of them. 

The NOT-SO-GREAT news is that I haven’t had the equipment to play ANY of these ancient “scroll-like” devices in 25 years.  

Still I hold onto them because I “might need them someday” or because “I think there’s some really good stuff on some of that stuff”.  Stuffy stuff.  Oh really?  Pipe down! 

Of course I’m only ASSUMING there’s good stuff on some of those tapes because most of them lost there content labels long ago.

Now before you get all A & E HOARDERS on me - you should know this is the only pile of irrelevant useless junk I possess.  I don’t have stacks and stacks of Precious Memories Angels in my living room or boxes of tin can pull tops in my fireplace.  The only thing that I have too much of and can’t seem to release without causing severe discomfort and distress to my phychie is...my tape collection.  My stupid, pointless, unable to play, pointless...yet possibly worth millions...ancient tape collection.

It that so bad?  I say no. But I always say that about stuff that’s about me and have the possibility of hurting.

There’s a great sermon I preached one time on this very topic back in 1987.  Thank goodness I recorded it.  Now if I only knew which tape it’s on...and somebody who can pay 3/4 inch videotape that hasn’t been opened since George Herbert Walker Bush made all those remarks about...Oh who cares?  I’ve gotta get rid of this stuff.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

FREE LUNCH

A friend of mine bought me lunch the other day. Which really kinda threw me for a loop. 

It’s not that people don’t buy me lunch every once in a while.  On the contrary, people LOVE buying Preacher’s lunch - and getting us hockey tickets...not sure why that is.  I think it may be left over from when us Preacher’s used to preach for fried chicken. 

Oh man...THOSE were the days.  Lemme tell ya - you shoulda heard some of my fried chicken sermons back in the day!   They were short, crispy and delicious...my sermons, I mean, not the chicken. 

Oh man!  I have completely forgotten what it was I was talkin’ about.  What was it?  Let’s see...lunch, chicken and a....well, it’s gone now.  No wait!  I got it!  Lunch, chicken...and uh...oh MAN what was that 3rd thing?!  Oh well, it’s gone now...OOPS!  Anyhow...

It wasn’t the fact that my friend bought me lunch the other day that threw me off, what made my head spin was the fact that it was MY FRIEND buying me lunch. 

This dude NEVER buys me lunch.  Ever.  Not only that but he has never even one time in 35 years ever even gotten close to taking out cash, or a credit card or even a handful of seashells and tried to pay for even as much as a fried cheese stick.  This guy is CHEAP! 

He’s the kind of guy that never QUITE gets his wallet out of his back pocket before someone else has already grabbed the check - which then causes him to say, “OH, really?  Are you sure?  Let’s split it!  No?  OK, well thanks man!”

And of course when we ARE going to split the bill, somehow this guy is always in the bathroom. 

Pathetic.

But maybe I should feel hopeful.  Maybe after all these years, my friend is finally getting what it means to be a responsible, contributing member of society.  That once in a while it;s OK to pay for lunch with a friend.  Maybe this really is a sign of good things to come.

Or maybe he knows I’ve got some deadly disease and should be dead in another 6 months and wants to get on my good side in time for the treading of the will.

I know I shouldn’t but somehow...I’m goin’ with the will reading theory

Pathetic.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

CROSS WORDS

My wife Giget is a crossword puzzle freak.

I know what you’re thinking and no...it’s worse than that.  Really.  Worse.

She does crossword puzzles all the time, everywhere.  On Sundays she even does them on Skype with her family.  It can go on for 4 hours.  The woman is obsessed.

The puzzles can be from anywhere too.  She’ll do the ones in the newspaper, or from a book.  She’ll even do the kid’s crossword puzzle on the back of a paper placemat at pizza joints. If you’re ever on a plane and look in those in-flight magazines with the crossword puzzles in there, and notice that someone has already completed it...in ink...just think: “Gidget Was Here!”

Knowing this about her, it explains Gidget’s animal-like attraction to ME.  As they say, “Opposites attract.”  So it’s little wonder why our love affair is so heated.  I hate crossword puzzles.  Crossword puzzles make me mad.  I feel like they are mocking me; call me stupid behind my back.  I often punch crossword puzzles right in the face.  It’s all I can do.

Whenever Gidget gets lost in her obsession, forgetting both time and place - there is only one defense I can employ to try to get her back in the real world.  I immediately feign interest and attempt to play along.  This is a cruel thing to do but one must be cruel sometimes.  Especially if you want dinner.

As she reads a clue I simply yell out several random words all in a row and with great earnest.  Then she begins to write my bogus suggestions into the evil little boxes; realizing only too late that I was merely saying nonsense. 

“Ottoman Empire” is one of my favorite fake answers.  That and “The Apostle Frank”.  She falls for both of these on a regular basis.

Yes, it’s true - this technique can often lead to other “cross” “words”, but I find that it’s worth it if I am able to get her attention long enough to get her in the car and to dinner.  She would starve without me and my cruel ways.

By the way - my Marriage Seminar has been temporarily put on hold until further notice.  Still working out some kinks. 

As together we stand and sing.

BP

SHOWDOWN

I think most people would agree: Preachers are the modern day version of Gunslingers.

We’re tough.  We’re fearless.  We’re awesome. We are the Wyatt Earp’s of our time. 

Well, I’M Wyatt Earp, and other preachers are more like my posse.  My Deputies.  I’m the MAIN gunslinger, is what I’m sayin’.  The leader.  The best one.  The fast draw.

I’m Wyatt Earp, TD Jakes is Doc Holiday and Joel Olsteen is the grocery store clerk who never joins the posse and gets robbed all the time and gets hits on the head with the butt of a gun.  Anyhow...

Just look at the similarities between a Gunslinger of the Old West and a modern day Preacher like me:  the Gunslinger has a horse, I have a pulpit.  The Gunslinger has at least two guns and a knife with him wherever he goes; I always have my Preachin’/Wavin’ Around Bible, my Back-up Study Bible and either a Greek Lexicon, or my “Big Book of Dog Illustrations” book with me.

The Gunslinger is always stylishly dressed; NObody wears a 3-piece corduroy suit like I do.

The Gunslinger comes to town to rid it of evil and menace; the Preacher comes to church ready to baptize or disfellowship whoever needs it and whichever clears out the saloon faster.

The Gunslinger calls for a posse; the Preacher puts together the potluck steering committee.

The Gunslinger is fearless in the face of insurmountable odds, ultimately facing down and defeating the main bad guy in the middle of main street in a final showdown; the Preacher is calm when called to an Emergency Grumpy Elder’s Meeting about last Sunday’s sermon, and ultimately faces down and defeats the lead Grumpy Elder in a one on one Bible Bowl Extravaganza.

Well, that last one doesn’t always work out that way.  In truth, Grumpy Elders are known for killing preachers off without breakin’ a sweat.

OK - Gunslingers and Preachers was a bad example.

How ‘bout this one:  have you ever noticed how much Preachers Zoo Keepers have in common?

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THANKSGIVING FAKE OUT

OK - you DO realize that this is Thanksgiving, right?

This is the ONE day a year you’re supposed to be with your family and friends, celebrating, making thankful and merry, singing Thanksgiving Day songs (OK, song) around the piano; not locked in your room reading some amazingly, earth-shattering Preacher Blermon (blog-sermon) while everybody else is downstairs busy bangin’ out the dishes. 

You oughtta be ashamed of yourself.

Just as everybody was getting up from Thanksgiving Dinner, you boldly lied to your poor, unsuspecting family and said, “I’ll be right in to scrub those pans in a second, Aunt Verna.  I just need to check on some email from work first.   Been waiting for a VERY important...um...THINGY to come in from work.  And yesterday we were traveling and my computer’s been weird since we got here.  By the way, the connection is weird here.  Not really sure what that’s about.  Anyhow - I’ll be right in to help with those dishes in a minute or two.”

Then you locked yourself into your cousin’s old room at your Aunt’s house and are currently in the process of killing 2 hours reading this Blermon,  lookin’ at dopey Youtube videos of people with turkeys on their heads while playing “Words With Friends” on your phone, instead of helping scour the roaster.

Pathetic.

Well, I just want you to know - you aren’t fooling me.  I know what you’re up to. You are simply USING this award-winning, semi-international, semi-important Blurch (blog-church) as an escape hatch from your family.  I get it.

And I want you to know -  I’m glad I could help.  I hate doing dishes too.  It’s gross.  I wish there had been a Blurch like this when I was a kid. I wish there had been color TV when I was a kid.  And pre-washed jeans.

I only hope that, in light of today, you can find it in your heart to be THANKFUL...for a BLEACHER (blog-preacher) such as me.

And on a day like this...you need me.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

PEBBLE POWER

We’ve all known the surprising power of what I like to call, “The Pebble In The Shoe”.

Now that I think of it, I suppose I’m probably not the FIRST guy to CALL it that - but I’ll bet I AM the first one to type it up and try to pull it off as a sermon.  We all have our talents.  Anyhow... 

You can be having a great day, feeling terrific about yourself and your kids and the world; you can be in the middle of closing in on a multi-million dollar donut shop deal, when all of a sudden, right in mid-stride, right at the apex of the best day of your life, suddenly and without warning - WHAM! - It HITS.   The “Pebble In The Shoe” appears in your life and without permission or consideration for YOUR plans or schedule takes center stage. 

Suddenly, you go from a strutting, confident man about town to a limping, crawling, whimpering, mass of self-pitying putty.

It’s not a pretty sight. 

Suddenly all conversation stops, high-powered meetings come to a halt, smiles are gone, and laughter turns to anguish.  Whatever plans you had for your day and life have suddenly been put on hold while you are forced to deal with “The Pebble In The Shoe”.

At this point you can really do only one of two things: you can tough it out, ignore the pain of that little rock sticking you in the heel with every step you can take OR...you can stop, sit down, take off your shoe and address the problem “at foot”.

Here’s a hint: you WON’T be able to ignore the pebble for long, so you’d better just find somewhere to sit down and deal with it.

Here’s another hint: whenever possible...BE THE PEBBLE in someone ELSE’s shoe.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

WAITING ROOMS

Waiting Rooms have always fascinated me.  

I just love the idea that there is an entire room set aside for the express purpose of doing nothing in particular.

Most rooms that have been given their own names usually have those things they are named for actually HAPPEN in them.  You LIVE in a Living Room.  You DINE in a DINING ROOM.  You OPERATE in an OPERATING Room.  You RUMPUS in a Rumpus Room - whatever RUMPUSING is.  At least it’s contained to one room.

In a Waiting Room all you do is wait.  That’s the whole purpose of the place; to give you a physical area to simply pass time in, until you get the chance to finally DO whatever it was you were waiting to do while in the Waiting Room.

 

But waiting is one of those things people simply can’t stand doing, because when you wait you don’t really DO much.  It’s really just a lot of...NOT doing. 

Which is why Waiting Rooms are usually packed with all kinds things for people to DO to help them NOT do a little easier: stuff to read, TVs, aquariums, coloring stations, pamphlets on various diseases.

Unlike a lot of people, I tend to LIKE Waiting Rooms precisely because there ISN’T anything to do in them.  No one thinks you’re a lazy bum when you do nothing in a Waiting Room, because that’s kind of the whole point to the place.

The next time your in a Waiting Room - see how long you can just WAIT in it - no magazines, no cell phones, no emails, no coloring.  Just sit and wait.  You’ll be amazed at all that happens when nothing is happening; to say nothing of the hundreds of partial conversations you’ll be able to listen in on. 

Where do you think we Preachers get all our ideas from?

As together we stand and sing.

BP

BIBLE BAG

There has never been a better time to be a BIBLE!

For most of the time the Bible has been around it’s had kind of a tough go.  Back when the books of the Bible were first written, they were written on a bunch of different scrolls, which were then passed around one book at a time by whoever was passin’ through whatever town.

Every once in a while, somebody might try to make a copy of whatever book they had handy.  Sometimes they’d make a good copy, sometimes not so great.  Sometimes, whoever was making the copy would help himself to making a couple of edits or additions.  I know the temptation there.  I always wanna do that to other Preacher’s sermons; usually WHILE they’re in the middle of preaching them.  Anyhow...

The copies would often get lost, or burned, or torn, or buried, or rained on.  But after a few centuries - all those books finally got put into one book, which most people couldn’t read because it was in a language they didn’t speak and...only about 3 people could read.

Another few centuries pass and there are better translations made, and more people learned how to read but there weren’t always a lot of copies available and the ones that WERE around were expensive and HUGE.

Fast forward a couple more centuries to today: Now Bibles are everywhere, available in a million different languages, inexpensive, compact, digital, online and they even include pictures, maps and commentaries.

And if you still prefer the “hard copy” version you can get a cool, specially made, hand sewn “BIBLE BAG” made out of leather, with pictures of fish and palm trees on them and a strap so you can carry it around with you. 

Which is why I say that there has never been a better time to be a BIBLE.  Now if only somebody would READ the bloomin’ thing.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

SOUPER SUNDAY

I love soup. 

It’s one of the main reasons I love the Fall.  It’s also one of the main reasons I love God, my wife, Gidget, and submersible mixers.  Soup gives me the strength to carry on when all of life turns against me - which is often.

Homemade soup, some crusty bread and a well-designed foreign policy could turn this country around in a heartbeat.  It could also make it feel better.

There aren’t a LOT of examples of BIBLE SOUPS - unless you count lentils (which I can personally do without).  The most famous Bible Soup is whatever the stew was that Jacob made fed to Esau back in Genesis, right before he stole his birthright, the family blessing and inheritance right from under his nose.  That must have been some soup.  I’m guessing Tomato...with a grilled cheese sandwich on the side.  Depending on how hungry I was, I’d give up half my furniture and a maybe a snow blower for THAT combo.

This is the time of year Gidget and I really get serious about making soups at home.  She laid a new Tortilla Chicken soup on me last night that made my head spin.  Just for that, I went out today and got the fixin's for a Barley Veggie that will teach her a lesson. 

I told you...we’re serious about this.

The best soups are the ones made at home.  The chopping, the stirring, the waiting can all be part of a very relaxing process.  And the soupy smells that kinda lay around in the house afterwards will make you never wanna leave.

It’s Sunday.  Church is over.  Get your soup on.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

KING PREACHER

At least once a week, my wife Gidget informs of the fact that I have become what is called in Preaching circles as “High Maintenance”.  Maybe you’ve heard of it.  Maybe I’ve seen you at the meeting.

According to Gidget, I can be a little “challenging” to deal with most days.  Apparently, she thinks I can be a little whinny, a bit needy, overly sensitive, selfish, moody, obsessive, and on BAD days a sore loser.

My response to these charges is always the same: So what’s you’re point, honey?

Of course, Gidget HATES it when I say that, but desperate times require stupid arguments.  Plus, I have found it to be a fairly effective way to put an break into the “high maintenance” discussion long enough for me to make my escape.

But I have to say, I think there IS a valid reason for a lot of my apparently unacceptable behavior - behavior which I must say, comes so very naturally to me.  I have recently begun to believe that I may very well have more than my fair share of ROYAL BLOOD coursing through my veins. 

No, I didn’t find a throne out in the barn or stumbled upon some royal link in the family genealogy chart. No, nothing like that.

I have simply come to realize that I find it virtually impossible to sleep through the night if there’s a pea under my mattress.

I don’t mean a REAL pea, of course.  Gidget doesn’t let me eat peas anywhere near the bed - I’m talking metaphorically.  I mean I can’t sleep if there’s the slightest thing off about my pillow, the covers, my pajamas, the temperature, the amount of light there is in the room, or...if there happens to be a pea under the mattress. (Sometimes I DO eat peas in bed when Gidget’s out of town.  Shhh...).

I can’t help it - I’m a KING!

Which in MY view would be GREAT for Gidget.  Who doesn’t want to be married to a KING?! Who also preaches?  We all have our personal dreams.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE NEW BP CD IS HERE!

 They said it could never be done...

Well OK, I said that...several times...a day...for 2 years...it's how I keep myself motivated.

But today, an impossible dream has been realized.  Today the long-awaited, long-threatened, 49 minutes long, Brother Preacher CD is finally here!  

Just in time for Thanksgiving presents!

Look out, Joel Olsteen.  Wipe that smirk off your face.  It's just a matter of time before I get ME a basketball stadium and a see-thru pulpit.  Anyhow...where was I?

We've taken some of my finest preaching moments (from my TOKENS sermon series) and strung them together, with a couple of original preaching tunes and some soon-to-be-award-winning behind the scenes interviews, and have created what MAY be the finest collection, of stupid preaching ever recorded.

And from what people who have already heard the CD are saying, I will either be preaching in a stadium by the end of the year or disfellowshipped.  It could really go either way.

Little wonder.  Just take a look at some of the important church-y, preacher-y topics I cover on this CD...

 The church, and my chances of being able to get a preaching job anywhere ever again, will never be the same.  You better act fast.  I don't think they let you sell sermon CD's if you've been disfellowshipped.

So click on the link below to hear a sample of some of this pew-shaking, belly-aching preaching...

http://www.tokensshow.com/the-most-outstanding-homilies-so-far-of-brother-preacher/

...then go here to order your copies of my new CD today:

http://store.tokensshow.com/

Get one for your wife, one for your husband, get a couple for your kids.   Kids LOVE preaching.

And be SURE and get a couple for your poor, 'ole lonely preacher.  It will hurt his feelings at first, knowing that he will never be able to preach as good as me, but believe me, he will be thrilled to finally have some some fresh preaching material that he can steal and call his own. 

And don't forget your FACEBOOK friends.  I figure if we can get every member of this Blurch (blog-church) to order just 2 copies for every "friend" they have on FACEBOOK - I should be able to break even on this thing.

Gidget made it pretty clear that I need to break even on this thing.  So uh..."Get Your Preach On" everybody.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

PREACHER PAINS

Well, I threw my back out the other day. 

Not sure what I did.  Might've been the racquetball.  Or maybe that set of Lexicons I moved to the upstairs pulpit.

And I can already hear what some of you are saying, “Well, big deal, Preacher.  So what?  How bad can a little back twitch be?  Get to work!”

The term “throwing your back out” is one of those terms you hear people say all the time.  It doesn’t mean anything.  Until it happens to you.  Once it happens to YOU - then you get it.  

 I suppose a lot of life is like that.  I always thought a turtle was a terrible idea for a pet - until I won one at a Preacher’s Conference for “Outstanding Announcements”.  Turtles can be cool.  And throwing your back out can make you think you glow in the dark.

The first time you actually “throw your back OUT” (I mean for REAL) you are instantly filled with a secret knowledge from on high.  The clouds separate, the earth trembles, and a little white dove flies down from heaven, lands on your still shaking shoulder and whispers into your ear saying, “Now do you GET it, Smarty Pants?”

You try to sit down, you black out.  You try to stand up, you black out.  You try to make a Pop Tart, pain shoots up your back and into your arms, the Pop Tart goes flyin’ and you faint while howlin’ like a baby wolf.   

And don’t even THINK of showin’ off by puttin’ on socks or flushin’ a toilet - unless you LIKE hangin’ out on the bathroom floor for 6 hours.

Once you throw your back out you are instantly inducted into a very elite club of fellow whiners who understand what you’re going through without you sayin a word.  Sigh.  It's good to be in the presence of such whiners at a time like this. Group whining can be very effective.

Who cares what others think!?  Who cares what the pain free say!?  Let them go about their day liftin’ pans and waving at mailmen.   

Just get me more Flexeril and get out of here!

As together we stand and sing.

BP

DON'T SHOOT! I'M A PREACHER

I just found one of the most game-changing, Pulpit-altering innovations in preaching since the invention of the 3-point rhyme scheme.  It's called...

...the "PASTOR DO NOT SHOOT" t-shirt!!

I think I just found my first product line for my website. How handy for a preacher!  To actually have an article of clothing that encourages people to NOT shoot them!  With THIS kind of innovation, EVERYBODY will wanna preach!

Just think of it: you're a Preacher in a Grumpy Elders meeting; just as things start to get a little on the "mouthy" side, you unbutton you're dress shirt to reveal...

Whamo!  You're in the clear!  Preach what you want!  Who's afraid of a grumpy, old elder now!?!

You're out door knockin', with a handful of Gospel Meeting Tent Revival fliers in hand.  They see you coming up the sidewalk, load their gun and start to get a bead on you when at the last minute they see through their high-powered scope...

SAFE AGAIN!  Tent Revival fliers all around!!!


You're wife Gidget has had her ever-last fill of you and your stupid, non-traditional views on dish cleaning.  Who cares?  Just walk out the door with confidence, knowing that she will not blow your head off with her new shiny Christmas present.  Why?  Because you've got...

Sigh.  This is great.

I wonder if I can get this in a 42 regular 3-piece suit for Sunday mornings?

As together we stand and sing.

BP

SERMPROVISE IT!

I was recently asked by one of my...what’s the phrase I’m looking for...adoring, foot washing, koo koo for me fans...I guess that’s close enough.  You get it.  Anyhow...

I was recently asked, “Brother Preacher, is it true that you are actually a self-taught preacher?”

The answer is “no”.  Though it DOES come across that way sometimes.  But thank-you for the compliment. 

I am actually a highly trained Minister of the Word, having studied for 9 years at the Sunshine School of Preaching, Colorado Springs.

That’s sounds more impressive that it is considering the fact that it was only a 6-month course.  Still, I enjoyed my time there - probably more than I should have.

In the meantime I have become what is called an “Improviser of Sermons” or if you will a “Sermproviser.” I just make ‘em up as I go!   

This is why my sermons tend to have that fresh, "what the heck is he talkin’ about", “look what I found” feel about them.  The reason they feel that way is because that is exactly what they are!  Amazing how that works.

I love making up sermons.  Unlike a lot of Preachers, sometimes, I actually LEARN something from MY sermons.  That's because as I’m listening to my sermon, it is as new to ME as it is to anybody else.  It's like a "Sermon Surprise" every time I open my mouth!

It’s a weird experience, really.  I had a doctor friend who used to do surgeries the same way.  HE was a RIOT to hang around with, lemme tell ya!  These days,  he's down in Arizona, enjoying his time as a full-time landscaper.  Anyhow...

I think the most important part of  making up or “Sermprovising” any sermon, is to not panic.  Just trust that your years of study will surface at just the right time and give you what needs to be said.   

When that DOESN’T happen know that you can always depend on having a good song leader who gets bored easily and who will happily cut you off after about 25 minutes.  Or 5 minutes, depending on how big the train wreck is.

As long as you have those two things - and an ample supply of stories about your kids - you TOO can “Sermprovise” with confidence knowing that...

Oops...here comes my radio song leader - out of time!  Gotta go.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE SELF SERVICE (SERVICE)

It almost seems like it never happened now, like it wasn’t real, like it was some kind of a too-good-to-be-true dream I had during some kind of sugar high.  But deep down I know it was real.

I KNOW for a fact that they USED to wash your windows and check your oil every time THEY filled your car up with gas.   Try to tell that to somebody under the age of 40 and they’ll look at you like you’re wearin’ a stovepipe hat and a 3-piece suit made out of logs.

Let’s face it - things have changed since those days.  We live in a do-it-yourself, self-service world.  Gasoline procurement was just the start.  Now, I take money out of the bank without a teller, check myself out of the grocery store and take out my own tonsils (coming next November!).

When I realized this, it dawned on me that I’ve been in the dark ages when it comes to church worship services.  They way most of us do church you’d think it was 1966 and somebody just saluted me when they loaded my groceries into my car.

I hate to break the news - but the days of full serve ANYthing are long gone!  So why in the world am I still preachin’ at people, and leading them in songs, and passin’ out communion?  Look, you get your own yogurt and fill your own coffee, I figure you can preach your own sermon if necessary dunk yourself in a river every now and then.  Why should I break my neck anymore?

Maybe I should start puttin’ waders, a Bible and an empty sermon outline on the pews on Sunday and just stay home!  Then we could all “fellowship” when the mood strikes us on FACE BOOK - certainly would be more convenient.  And in my case - take up a LOT less time.  I mean do this right and we won’t even NEED Preachers like ME anymore!

OK, scratch everything I just said.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

PREACHER CAKES

Someone recently informed me that there is a thing out there in the world called a "Preacher's Cake". 

Naturally, I was intrigued.  I am - as you know - the keeper of all things "Preacher".  The mere thought of there being a delicious desert out there designed specifically with the Preacher in mind tells me life just got better.  I can go another day.

Imagine - a cake MADE for Preachers.  My guess is frosting and a Greek Lexicon are somehow involved.

Of course, the first thing that popped into my mind when they mentioned a "Preacher Cake" was something like this...

If you've ever had the misfortune of attending a Preacher's Breakfast, I'm sure you've watched with disgust as Preachers make fast work of these little puppies.  

Watching Preachers eat is among my top 5 "Never Wanna See Again" list.  They show no mercy.  It's like they take all their frustrations with teaching Ladies Bible Class and dealing with Grumpy Elders out on masticating chicken legs and brownies.  

It's astonishing how fast Preachers can misplace verses on gluttony once a Pot Luck prayer gets said.  

(Shudder)

Sorry - just had a mental image of the last Preacher's Breakfast I attended.  It wasn't pretty.  We lost some good guys.  And even more brownies and chicken legs.

Anyhow, so you can imagine my surprise when I found out that a  donut with sprinkles on it was NOT a "Preacher's Cake".  From what they tell me, THIS is a "Preacher's Cake":

Are you kiddin' me?  Kinda disappointing.  What year IS this?  1882?  

And yes, for those of you who are wondering - that IS pineapple at the bottom of this baby - IF you can get through the 3 inches of sour cream frosting.

Whoever invented this cake CLEARLY didn't care for Preachers.  Or cake.

This cake reminds me of a baby shower my wife Gidget made me go to back in the early 90's...before it was cool for guys to hang out at baby showers, of course.

PREACHERS NOTE: it's STILL NOT cool for guys to go to baby showers.  What are you guys thinkin'?  Why are you going to baby showers?  Did football suddenly evaporate from the planet?  I blame myself. Well, really I blame Gidget but let's not get into that here.   Anyhow...


To me, THIS is what a  "Preacher's Cake" should look like:

Or maybe THIS...

You know, something you can preach with.  I don't know about you, but I really appreciate a cake I can eat and also preach a 3-point hermeneutical-y sound sermon on the book of Jude with.

I know what you're saying.  But I can't help it.  I'm guilty: I like to eat my cake and preach with it too.  There I said it.  Get off my back.

Between you and me THIS is the only thing I can consider a REAL "Preacher's Cake".  And Gidget if you're reading...take the hint:

As together we stand and sing.

BP