I love my church. Every week the pastor calls me to ask my advice as to the topic of the sermon. Even the music director values my input as to which songs ought to be sung. The teachers e-mail me to approve the subject and to get the answers to the questions people will ask. The servers ask me what sort of foods I’d like to be available. The bulletin people always ask me to choose the main photograph before they are printed out.
When I walk into the building, everyone greets me with a smile, but only the people I like actually shake my hand, the rest just wave friendly. Even visitors are made aware of my importance. The decorations are appropriate and pleasing – only my favorite flowers are placed at the altar. If there is anything I don’t like, it is removed and apologies are made, which I graciously accept because I’m just that humble.
I get to do everything important, everything visible, and I get credit for everything unimportant and invisible, too. If I don’t want to do something, I don’t have to – everybody understands when I suddenly change my mind, or I stop the music, or I interrupt the sermon to give a witness because my church is all about me. My church is my building where my needs are met.
It doesn’t really bother me that other people have stopped coming to my church, I didn’t like them anyway. Really – if they didn’t worship my God in my way, then they aren’t really like me and they shouldn’t be allowed to come to my church. If you get on my good side, I might allow you to serve on my fan club committee, my food server committee, or my music committee – so don’t say that there’s nothing to do. You can do anything so long as you don’t mind me getting the credit for it and ultimately it is all about me.
The worst church I’ve ever been to was all about some guy named Jesus Christ. People went on and on about his sacrifice, his love, his sermons, and they sang about him all the time. He was all they ever talked about. The people there only wanted to be like Him – something called Christlikeness. They would go and do weird things like feed hungry people (they should work!), give jackets to kids (they should work!), give free medical care (free is a four letter f-word!), build free homes (it’s just so wrong!), and who knows what else – they were all over the place doing good for other people – but not once was it ever about me!
So really, if you want to meet the world’s most humble, fantastic, amazing, skilled, talented, helpful, wise, and gracious believer (me!) come to My Church of Me for Me! Just stay away from those Jesus churches – they’re weird.