Ichabod - The Story of Discontent (Narrative)
This story's for the humble
And I'll hide identities
For it may make you stumble
To know the realities.
It's about a nice preacher
Of a known denomination
Who aspired to be richer
Through his good congregation.
In a rented house he lived
With his lovely wife and children
But he wanted to receive
A better blessing from men.
So without much ado
He relayed in his preaching
A new house will do
So increase with your giving.
He said 'We'll build a Center
That will then accommodate
Five thousand new members,
And this church will be great.
But before that you must
Build a nice house for me
I hope you will trust
It's for our testimony.'
So poured the donations
And the gift offerings
For his house construction
With complete furnishings.
After the house, he needed
A new car for his trips,
So in preaching he related
Added needs in the worship.
'A Crosswind is fine'
Said he to the people,
'It's an Isuzu line
And the price reasonable.'
So he got the new wheels
And with peace for a moment,
But the joy that he feels
Soon leads back to discontent.
After a year, a predicament-
Another car he had wanted
Made known his sentiment,
Again the people submitted.
'A Mitsubishi Pajero,
It's the best for our missions
Will you let me know
Your complete contributions.'
When the giving was done
And the money was counted,
'For those who gave none
No prayers will be said.'
What kind of a shepherd
Will say such a prayer?
From heaven God heard
This very selfish preacher.
After that his own son
Brought sin to the church,
A curse that's undone
Took him down from his perch.
Though he preached with full volume
It was empty of Power
For the God Who consumes
Has abandoned the preacher.
Now seven years later
There is still no Center,
Eventually the Rapture
May not carry this preacher.
'Ichabod' - The glory of the Lord has
departed.
'We too often love things and use people, when we should be using things and loving people.'
..................................... .................................................
April 10,2009
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Preacher Needs More Ram
I took the modem off the podium...
Just before the preacher sneezed!
I asked a doctor in a pew...
If the sneeze would spread disease?
And Doctor Blye looked in my eyes,
As if I was there for church.
I looked him up and down and said,
'I am here doing research! '
I came to hook the preacher up,
To a new connection!
He wanted all his emails sent...
And downloaded to the chatrooms.
I came to hook the PC up for online sessions!
But the preacher is displeased...
'Cause the modem seems to need,
More ram!
I'm in the house of the Lord,
And the preacher needs more ram!
I hear the people pat their feet,
When the preacher's sermon's heated!
I'm in the house of the Lord,
And the preacher needs more ram!
Oh Lord...
What do I do with the modem?
I'm in the house of the Lord,
And the preacher needs more ram!
I hear the people pat their feet,
When the preacher's sermon's heated!
I'm in the house of the Lord,
And the preacher needs more ram!
Oh Lord...
What do I do with the modem?
I came to hook the preacher up,
To a new connection!
He wanted all his emails sent...
And downloaded to the chatrooms.
I came to hook the PC up for online sessions!
But the preacher is displeased...
'Cause the modem seems to need,
More ram!
oh Oh OHHH....
I'm in the house of the Lord,
And the preacher needs more ram!
I hear the people pat their feet...
When the preacher's sermon's heated!
I'm in the house of the Lord,
And the preacher needs more ram!
Oh Lord...
What do I do with the modem?
Ahhhhaaaayyy
I'm in the house of the Lord,
And the preacher needs more ram!
I hear the people pat their feet,
When the preacher's sermon's heated!
I'm in the house of the Lord,
And the preacher needs more ram!
Oh Lord...
What do I do with the modem?
Oh Lord...
What do I do with the modem?
Oh Lord...
What do I do with the modem?
Oh Lord...
What do I do with the modem?
What do I do with the modem?
What do I do with the modem?
What do I do with the modem?
'Reverand Heath?
I recommend a live video hookup as well!
I think you will touch a lot of people.
I found myself 'slightly' involved.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Daddy Was An Old Time Preacher Man
(Dolly Parton)
Daddy was an old time preacher man
He preacher the word of God throughout the land
He preached so plain a child could understand
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
He told the people of he need to pray
He talked about God's wrath and judgement day
He preached about the great eternity
He preached hell so hot that you could feel the heat
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
Aunt Leanona would get up to testify
And we'd sing "In The Sweet By And By"
The we'd sing "I'm On My Way To Canaan Land"
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
Revivals and camp meetings went for weeks
Folks came from all around to hear him preach
Daddy said if one is saved it's worth it all
But the aisles were always filled at altar calls
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
Daddy worked for God but asked for no pay
For he believed that God provides a way
We never had a lot but we got by
Guess it's 'cause the Lord was on Daddy's side
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Of Women
A lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Church of women is made out of milk
Which their love turns to butter -er -er
Church of women will have you give praise
With a laugh, bark and stutter -er -er
Like us men like us men they are nothing like us men
Men have gargoyles round their hearts
Im on my knees but dancing
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Church of women is making donations of loving and giving -ing -ing
Church of women performing that miracle raising the living -ing -ing
Like us men like us men will they ever like us men?
Men have thorns around their minds
Im on my mountain preaching
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Give em back their house: the walls, the doors, the floors and roof
And stop tryin to diet on the wafers and wine and submit were in control
Now lets put things right
Lets multiply the loves and kisses
til we have enough to love and eat forever
Want to worship at the church of women
I want to worship at the church of women now
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Ill breathe em in until my head goes spinning round
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Want to worship at the church of women
(repeat x3 and fade)
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prosperity Preaching
Ravenous wolves in sheep's clothing
They mercilessly devour the weak,
With a polluted premise in their preaching
Their greedy pangs can make one sick.
With eloquent words they teach the doctrine,
That God's blessings ratios one is to ten,
This is a wrong motive for true giving,
That to those who give God makes wealthy men.
There was a preacher who came from Nigeria
He guested in church with his thunderous
dare:
'Give your one million, in two months I tell ya'
You'll be ten times richer beyond compare! '
Since we were then financially challenged
None of us stood but we felt some guilt,
Will the Lord give us His Divine revenge?
Or be angry we wallow in poverty's filth?
'Give a hundred thousand then, is that alright? '
The black preacher graciously bargained.
Our head pastor stood and gave with his wife,
While others followed suit, with their wallets pained.
'If you don't get rich two months hereafter,
You can run after me and my prophecy,
Then I'm a false prophet and not God's preacher,
If my words do not happen and come to be.'
He went on to preach ably using Scripture
As guest in the other small churches,
He used the same line of prosperity picture,
And banked on desires of men for riches.
Two months after, there's no more preacher.
He went to his country with the money.
Left the sheep with their jaws asunder,
Dreaming and wishing visioned prosperity.
What gall, can they preach such a deception,
How can they fool those innocent sheep,
Twisting Scripture by manipulation,
Teaching the truth they cannot even keep?
For God gives out of His great goodness
And not according to what we can't afford,
Just give what is in your heart that's best,
He will bless because He is True to His Word.
To those who preach like God is a genie,
Better think twice, their motives assess -
Their souls may be burning in hell already,
The heaven they preach they will never possess!
'Man must give what he has decided in his heart to give, reluctantly or out of compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.'
2 Corinthians 9: 7
............................................ ............................................
C ynthia Buhain-Baello
April 24,2009
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time there lived a preacher.
He was very famous one in the Christian world.
He was the best teacher.
He taught the Word of our Lord.
He visited so many places,
So many people had joined the church,
He saw so many faces,
For lonely hearts he did search.
Once his boat had come to an island,
An island where only one man lived,
That man was not christened,
The Word of our Lord was not sieved.
It took a preacher a long time
To teach the man the prayers
But then he saw the man’s eyes shine
And full of sincere tears.
At the end of the day the preacher had left,
But what he has seen surprised.
The man running on the water was so deft,
That fact he could not realized.
At first he thought about God himself
Or may be it was an ocean elf.
He fell down on his knees and prayed
But he was more surprised
Hearing the islands man’s voice:
“Hey, man! I had no choice.
I forgot the last prayer.
Can you repeat it, man?
I’ll be your best payer.”
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Parable About an Islander
Once upon a time there lived a preacher.
He was very famous one in the Christian world.
He was the best teacher.
He taught the Word of our Lord.
He visited so many places,
So many people had joined the church,
He saw so many faces,
For lonely hearts he did search.
Once his boat had come to an island,
An island where only one man lived,
That man was not christened,
The Word of our Lord was not there sieved.
It took a preacher a long time
To teach the man the prayers
But then he saw the mans' eyes shine
And full of sincere tears.
At the end of the day the preacher had left,
But what he had seen surprised.
The man running on the water was so deft,
That fact could not be realized.
At first he thought about God himself
Or may be it was an ocean elf?
He fell down on his knees and prayed
But he was more surprised
Hearing the islanders' voice:
“Hey, man! I had no choice.
I forgot the last prayer.
Can you repeat it, man?
I’ll be your best payer.”
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Edonia
Rest, pest, west, best, lest, nest, fest, quest, vest;
But, there is a job in my house for everyone!
So, get yourselves prepared.
The reward,
The authority,
He worked,
She worked;
But keep it clean and keep it lovely,
For, there are enough jobs in my house for everyone.
Teach, reach, preach, breach, leach, each;
A teacher,
A preacher! !
And to establish them before you;
For, the fruits of love are around you and,
You are closer to my house.
As a servant,
Humble yourselves;
Law, saw, draw, raw, braw, craw, Yaw, paw, flaw, jaw, slaw, maw, taw!
But, i am Edonia with the muse of my beautiful house;
And, as it is written on my walls,
There are enough joby in my house for everyone.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lie Of All Lies
SOME YOUNG LADS SAT CHATTING MERRILY AND NOISILY WHEN A REVEREND PREACHER WALKED BY AND HE SAID TO THEM, WHAT BE THE CAUSE FOR THY NOISY CHATTER? HE ASKED AND THE CHILDREN REPLIED SAYING, PREACHER, WE HAVE PUT UP OUR SAVINGS FOR A WAGER! HE AMONGST US WHO TELLS THE GREATEST LIE WILL WIN THE WHOLE MONEY! THE PREACHER FROWNED AND SAID, LISTEN BOYS! IT IS NOT A GOOD THING TO TELL LIES! TAKE ME AS AN EXAMPLE! I HAVE NEVER TOLD A LIE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! STATED THE PREACHER! AND THE BOYS QUICKLY GOT UP, PACKED UP THE COINS ON THE FLOOR AND HANDED IT TO THE PREACHER SAYING, YOU WIN SIR! YOURS WAS THE BIGGEST LIE WE HAVE EVER HEARD!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Preacher Boy
Jeanne burns / billie holiday
He was lanky and tall as a beanpole
And he wind fanned my heart to a flame
As he looked to the sky
And theres no wonder why
For preacher boy was his name
With his old yaller dog there beside him
And his eyes throwin sparks in the sun
I grew faint from the heat
From my heart to my feet
When I knew preacher boy was the one
Then he didnt say much
Hes the silent kind
But his arms were strong
Just the same as his mind
And my knees grew weak
As I clung to him
My preacher boy, my preacher boy
But he heard the call
Now hes left me
For his faith was stronger than i
And thought we are apart
Yet hes still in my heart
My preacher boy, my preacher boy
My wonderful preacher boy
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think I'm actually quite a materialistic person, I value what it takes to make a car or build a nice house. Money does change things, but how it changes people depends on how they react to it.
quote by Roland Gift
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A House for Four
A house for four
What is it? a house for four
A dingy looking thing
Are there windows? none
What is it? a house for four
Such a palace
Are there greetings? none
What is it? a house for four
Why the space is so small
Is there privacy? none
What is it? a house for four
A dozen creeps could be creeping there
Is there any trust? none
Don't judge me for mine
Poor fool i wont
Even give you the time
Are you judging me?
Your quite the choir
With a cracking voice
And
A tall house that falls
To scrutiny
A house for four and
A house for four
A people of choir and
A people of poor
Do you not recognize
The stains are yours?
A house is not a house
Unless there is more
More and more
Sometimes less is more
poem by Deci Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boy In The Pew
A boy in church sits in the pew.
His mind is not on sin.
In the background the preacher is preaching
and his voice is getting thin,
to the boy that is.
He's tuned him out.
He's not aware of the lecture or shout.
His mind is on more delectable things
like fishing and girls he knows.
The words of the preacher have not reached his ears.
His mind just simply goes
to a place where sin is not a fear,
to where a boy can always be
happy, lazy, boyish and free.
He closes his eyes and music plays
and the choir sings of God.
He listens and finally comes awake
and finds it really odd
that the words of a hymn
as he sits in the pew
can always reach his ears,
something the preacher can't do.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Son Of A Preacher Man
(john hurley / ronnie wilkins)
Billy-ray was a preachers son
And when his daddy would visit hed come along
When they gathered round and started talkin
Thats when billy would take me walkin
A-through the back yard wed go walkin
Then hed look into my eyes
Lord knows to my surprise
The only one who could ever reach me
Was the son of a preacher man
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
Yes he was, he was, mmm, yes he was
Being good isnt always easy
No matter how hard I try
When he started sweet-talkin to me
Hed come and tell me everything is all right
Hed kiss and tell me everything is all right
Can I get away again tonight?
The only one who could ever reach me
Was the son of a preacher man
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
Yes he was, he was, lord knows he was
How well I remember
The look that was in his eyes
Stealin kisses from me on the sly
Takin time to make time
Tellin me that hes all mine
Learnin from each others knowing
Lookin to see how much weve grown
And the only one who could ever reach me
Was the son of a preacher man
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
Yes he was, he was, oh, yes he was
He was the sweet-talking son of a preacher man
I guessed he was the son of a preacher man
Sweet-lovin son of a preacher man
Ahh, move me
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Police station
At a time
I lived in a suburb
that lies
on the east of Pretoria
and they wanted to turn
a huge double storey house
into a police station
and the people
in the suburb were angry
as it would become a thoroughfare
for undesirable people
where people do
just what they want.
Who wants to sacrifice peace
for sirens
that wail
in the early hours of the day
and law enforcers
laying on your neck
that knows less about law and order
than the man in the street?
Nobody wanted the nest
where they breed out
near to that suburb
and the house prices to plunge
and a petition was drawn up
to leave that house
unclaimed
and it’s still empty
with out any occupants.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Monument Of All Our Wrongs
i build a house
no one likes it.
the house is empty
i put some chairs.
someone comes and
says, this house is
lonely, it needs
a sound
it is boring and needs
a paint
i put a tree beside
its stairs
i grow another
fence
i put a lone bulb
on a post
and leave the house
for good
that is what the
house is made
there is always
missing
something is
always wrong
this is the house
of regret
it is the monument
of all our wrongs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The House with Nobody in It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.
I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.
Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.
But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doctor for the sick
Obsessed with their church
Looking after its masses only
Masses for their church only
Who looks after the sick?
Obsessed with the glamour
No room for the poor congregation
Looks like a house of intimidation
Although a house for the sick
Looks like some people are forgotten
Although a house for everyone
Where are the ambulances?
To fetch the sick in abundance
Obsession like sand in our eyes
Trouble disease on the out break
The sick are denied medication
Why not run spirit tests for everyone?
Maybe the virus runs amongst
The doctor, the nurse, the pharmacist…
Doctor for the sick indeed
Accidents do happen unfortunately
Victims must be brought in hopefully
Weak people must be urged to eat
True word, the only immune booster.
***The Book of End of Times
poem by Young Church
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House Beside The Road
The house beside the road,
Where people lived
And children played,
Is empty now
And falling down.
The echos of happy feet
Are heard now,
Tapping to the sound
Of Poppy's fiddle,
But the house beside the road
Is empty.
When a gentle voice
Is heard in the house,
It's only a singing breeze
Sifting itself through
The cracks in the roof of
The house beside the road.
poem by Scarlett Treat
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Preaching is effective as long as the preacher expects something to happen-not because of the sermon, not even because of the preacher, but because of God.
quote by John E. Hines
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Real Me
I went back to the doctor
I went back to the doctor
To get another shrink.
To get another shrink.
I sit and tell him about my weekend,
I sit and tell him about my weekend,
But he never betrays what he thinks.
But he never betrays what he thinks.
Can you see the real me, doctor?
Can you see the real me, doctor?
I went back to my mother
I went back to my mother
I said, Im crazy ma, help me.
I said, Im crazy ma, help me.
She said, i know how it feels son,
She said, I know how it feels son,
cause it runs in the family.
cause it runs in the family.
Can you see the real me, mother?
Can you see the real me, mother?
The cracks between the paving stones
The cracks between the paving stones
Look like rivers of flowing veins.
Look like rivers of flowing veins.
Strange people who know me
Strange people who know me
Peeping from behind every window pane.
Peeping from behind every window pane.
The girl I used to love
The girl I used to love
Lives in this yellow house.
Lives in this yellow house.
Yesterday she passed me by,
Yesterday she passed me by,
She doesnt want to know me now.
She doesnt want to know me now.
Can you see the real me, can you?
Can you see the real me, can you?
I ended up with the preacher,
I ended up with the preacher,
Full of lies and hate,
Full of lies and hate,
I seemed to scare him a little
I seemed to scare him a little
So he showed me to the golden gate.
So he showed me to the golden gate.
Can you see the real me preacher?
Can you see the real me preacher?
Can you see the real me doctor?
Can you see the real me doctor?
Can you see the real me mother?
Can you see the real me mother?
Can you see the real me?
Can you see the real me?
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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