QUIET PIG

Let’s face it.  The world would be a better place if everybody had a Quiet Pig.

Is this controversial teaching?  Am I the first Preacher to say this?  Probably so.  What else would you expect?  I’m not like a lot of Preachers.  I’m not afraid to let people know that I for one am “Pro Pig” when it comes to Quiet Pig.

When I was a kid I had a little, plastic, pink pig that I liked to carry around with me named Quiet Pig. He was really smooth and fit right in the palm of my hand. I loved Quiet Pig.  But Quiet Pig wasn’t for everybody.  He had pretty high standards as to who could hold him and who couldn’t. 

Simply put: If you wanted to HOLD Quiet Pig, you had to BE Quiet Pig.  This is isn’t always easy to pull off - especially if you’re 3 years old.  Or, over 53.

The great thing about Quiet Pig was he only came out on certain occasions. You’d usually see him pop up all of sudden in church or at weddings, right before you were about to bust out and start acting like a maniac, drinkin’ all the communion grape juice or playin’ Ring Around The Rosey with some poor bride’s gown. 

Right at that critical moment, my Mother would pull Quiet Pig out of her purse and just look at me. I was practically hypnotized just by the sight of him.  Once I saw his beautiful, shiny, pink, plastic porkiness I would immediately stop whatever squirmmin’ I was doin’, shut my mouth and just wait further instructions. 

I knew that before I could touch him, my Mother was gonna make sure I understood what a big deal this was. Quiet Pig meant business.  It was time to pipe down.  No peace, no pig.  No Pig...a spanking was next.  Guaranteed.  So there were plenty of reasons to pay attention.

The minute I had Quiet Pig in my hand, I immediately became calm and quiet and good for hours on end.

I’m thinking of sending a crate of Quiet Pigs to the Middle East...and maybe a couple of Grumpy Elders I know.

Whatever it takes.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

MY OTHER LIFE

Prepare to be shocked.

In the interest of making myself more genuine with this Blongregation (blog-congregation) I feel it necessary to reveal some rather ...yes...shocking news about myself.

No, I’m afraid it isn’t anything scandalous.  No sex romps through a mall, no financial bilking, and no dirt bikes.

No, I’m afraid the shocking news I MUST share with the Blembers (blog-members) of this Blurch (blog-church) is simply this: Brother Preacher, me, your favorite, award-winning, stylish, charismatic Bleacher (blog-preacher), has not ALWAYS been a Preacher.   There.  I said it.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying I was qualified to do anything else besides preach, I’m simply sayin’ there were times in my life when I HAD to do other things besides preach in order to keep myself in Ramen Noodles - all with varying degrees of success. For example...

I was once a Pig Farmer and accidentally zapped myself 7 times on an electric fence in one summer before I figured out how it was happening.

I was once a House Parent for two boys who had tried to kill their parents with hammers.  I was encouraged not to feed them any sugary cereals.  

I was an overnight Security Guard at a housing project where small refrigerators were routinely thrown out of high-rise apartments in a game the residents called, “Kill the Security Guard”. Personally, I preferred it to the other game played there called, "Kill The Security Guard With An Air Conditioner Being Thrown Out The Window".

I was a Bike Messenger with no bike, and a College Recruiter with no recruits.  And once I was once a Youth Minister in a church that had no youth, but DID have a spare room behind the baptistery where I lived for several months.

 

In 1987 I was unanimously selected “Worst Waiter In New York City” when I accidentally spilled an entire tray full of drinks down the back of a man who ironically, was unanimously selected “Most Unlucky Restaurant Go-er” that same year.

I was an Audience Warm Up Guy for TV shows with a guy named Phil.   

 For a while, I was a Detective and used to run around on a giant map in shoes that hurt my feet.

I used to make Europeans roll on the floor, and jump around in a room in Switzerland for 2 days at a time and then when it was over, I made them pay me money.   Later, I did it to Americans.

I was a stock boy, a painter, a truck driver, a teacher, a chocolate-covered pretzel spokesman, a babysitter, a dog sitter, a counselor, a radio DJ, a copywriter, a house cleaner, a wheat harvester, a candy salesman, a landscaper, a prop finder, a kid wrangler, a Bible Hour Entertainer, a horse stall mucker, a VBS Bathroom Train Conductor, and a construction site cleaner.

And once I held my breath for 2 minutes and made 5 dollars.

I could go on...and on...but I won’t.  Suffice to say...I LOVE Preaching.

As together we stand and sing.

BP