Sunday Sermon with Dillinger Flakewaiter

Sunday Sermon with Dillinger Flakewaiter

"How do I stand tall over this grave?" It was not the first time I had asked myself. The future held it's hand out to me as a juggernaut of conscience might crush the hulls of broad ships. As for some, age acquires the distaste of halceon days remembered as hopes, not reality; a pendulum that swings to the rhythm of assuaged guilt.

"I call to you oh Lord God Amighty, why?" It was not the first time I had asked myself.

"God tests us so, John Farley. You, as a man of God, must understand." Soft dusk wind snorted at the purity of my strife.

"It is not a question of why, dear friend, rather when. He acts to challenge the heart, the spirit, His creation. You, as a man of God, must undertand." Roger Applewhite took the soft dusk wind and spat on the heart of my spirit.

"When you were in seminary did you have absolute faith, Roger? I met my wife Sarah while studying. We commited great sin I was told. Forwarned, I flung her to the ground as the Lord would wish.

"Did Jesus Christ not lift her back into your heart?" Reverend Applewhite, an odd name for a man with a soul best described as a prune.

"Yes Roger, my love was lifted by the Son of Man. I learned of love, disregarded their teaching, went with Him for the flowers. We had great discussions, Roge: You know, regarding the Son of Man? Was Jesus really God's own flesh, his blood, his spirit on earth? Oh yes, many a late night with friends discussing the obvious."

"What did you decide, dear friend?"

"We decided absolutely nothing whatsoever. I decided that my faith was, at best, an odd puzzle which would never be put together without force or faith. I decided that it was not relevant, that even if a group of disciples had made it up, spread the word, that, that it was, it was as it should be. I considered the burning lake of fire, the absolute love of God for all his creations. If the Lord so loved His only begotten Son, then how could he throw his absolute love into a lake of fire? It was not a difficult decision even though I have learned that faith is the sperm of absolution."

"Come with me, John. I am not a prune, you know." Great moisture sprung from Roger's soul. It was a tear-filled stain on a blessed, clean, pure white shirt.

"I have wronged you, dear friend. I believed that you had not a soul, that where your soul should be there was a great black void. Forgive me, dear friend?"

"Of course, John. I forgive you. Now, come with me. See? See over there? We will enter. Within you shall find your spirit's rest, I promise."


Now, take this allegoric little tale and run with your good Reverend Dillinger. Learn that Lucifer, that most beautiful of angels, is not hell-bound but you are unless you come to me - bend to me - kiss me ajew - open your wallettoes - your pursetoes-give to the Reverend so that when the Angel of Death taps you on the shoulder and suggests you two take a little walk, that you can look deep into his eyes, tell him the truth.