I wrote this sonnet in dedication to various pastors who are in fear of not being able to make their bills. Oftentimes, these men beat the sheep, their congregants, bleeding them of money through guilt offerings. I've seen them distributing tithe envelopes as the right and duty they must fulfill to God, but somehow, it was always twisted around and I knew it was a manipulation. Who indeed was God that he needed money? Or was it man who needed money to do "God's work?" And that was??? Certainly, in this instance, not feeding or caring for the poor. The pastors expected to show they were prosperous examples of a prosperity gospel. And they lived in prosperity as surely as their congregants did not. Though the church was "protestant," it smelled of Catholocism a rich church supported by the peasant class; the antithesis of Jesus feeding the 5000.
Of all religious folks that I have seen
Of all the ones who praise and praise the Lord,
Of all the flowering words and visions, dreams,
Of all the talk about Christ's holy Word,
I've seen and viewed a different paradox,
For those who'd say that they would preach you free,
And they would love you, never, never mock,
What Christ has wrought in you as His pure seed.
I sense corruption for these men proclaim
That coin is always needed for God's work.
Such merchandising gives pure Christ a stain,
When they, condemning, say offerings you shirk!
Hypocrisy of Gospel gain is rank
It shows no trust in Him seeing saints as banks.