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If the devil took over a church, what would it look like? Deacons smoking pot while watching Sunday School students play on a Ouija board? Pole dancers atop the altar? An autographed, leather embossed copy of the Satanic Bible open in the pulpit?
We all exit the womb with certain tendencies: we eat a lot, cry a lot, poop a lot. And we’re convinced the universe revolves around us. We make-believe we’re little gods.
When we stand east of Eden with Adam and Eve because we couldn’t keep our hands off forbidden fruit, weeping over lost loves, lost chances, lost lives...
We’re familiar with the picture of a halo-wearing Jesus standing at the door and knocking. A picture less familiar to us is the ski-mask-wearing Jesus who jumps our fence, jacks open our back door with a crowbar, and skulks inside to steal our stuff.
It’s only a few steps from the pulpit to the pew, from being a pastor to being a former pastor, but it feels like a marathon you crawl on your knees.