“Pastor Kenneth Copeland is the craziest of them all. With eyes popped like a pair of demitasse spoons, a large swath of his craziness is written on both cheeks of his face.”
―Don Okolo
Like the budding tendrils of a rosebud, reacting to the warmth of an early morning sun, the American Evangelical Herd stand in frailty, bent out of shape for being overly reverential, cringing almost, before these miasmas of pure darkness, as they wallow pitifully before the notorious one, Lucifer, and the flame-dried entrails of earlier humans he had devoured.
The depraved spirit and his sadistic ideals are not lost to these mostly white people prostrated before him; they know who he is and what he is capable of. They have come before the evil one and have offered themselves smothered in caramel to be affianced.
They came bearing willingness, too…to be used as vehicles in the propagation of the tenets of a screwed-up faith. These men and women of earth are the head writers and rewriters of an established faith Satan has been hoping he would someday, you guessed it, rewrite with broader brushstrokes to fit his general plan to own mankind.
But these unsolicited freebies raining into the darkest recesses of his den were appreciated; he has accepted them with all happiness as one would find with a lion rolling around on the scanty grass of the Mara range after a hearty buffalo meal.
A handful of southern clerics, each with tens of thousands of people in his/her flock is quite a bonanza…and they are all clueless. Lucifer, the great fraudster, and spin doctor couldn’t be happier. The people in these congregations have no idea that their resident clergyman is possessed because he/she had been bitten for stepping into the no-go territory.
While in the viper’s den, they shared a drink with the lead crawler to seal the pact. Back on planet earth, the Clergy’s gift of garb is fresh as it is scintillating and arresting. So, the pastor would say anything to keep the dazed and confused herd groping and reaching for the rafters in the domed cathedral, in ecstasy, hoping that God would enter the sanctuary before the sermon was concluded. Lying persuasively empowers the preacher…and keeps the flock clamoring for more. The Devil is in the details!!!
The so-called Evangelicals should know not to underestimate the Devil. The famous last words: The Devil made me do it, is gaining speed in these days of rancor. Each time you hear someone, like a pastor for example, speaking in tongue, there are usually no clear-cut measures that that preacher is speaking from the strictures of lost wits. That so-called person of God could still have their mind and sense of humor about them, or they have stepped into an arena where the cure for crazy does not exist. Maybe, it is the fork-tongued cherub speaking through them. In that case, they are afflicted.
They must drink from the fruit of the vine, brewed entirely by the she-devil, Jezebel.
But it could also be that they are drunk, with enough Rwandan beer and Louisiana grown bourbon in them to float an armada…to make them go off at tangents on the pulpit…every Sunday morning. Other possibilities abound; maybe, they have mastered the art of waxing gabble-flavored poetry…you know, the ability to string together nonsensical, mindlessly idiotic claptrap, and the not so suggestive constrictors of proper speech to keep the congregation anesthetized. They are good at it and know exactly how to package it with the same forty-mile an hour whirlwind…you know, the speed-talk attributes of a Sotheby auctioneer. And hence, The Evangelicals! O my God! This is exactly how they roll.
Three things would surprise you, if you were lucky and your soul walked into Heaven right now. One is that there are souls in Heaven you did not expect to see, that are there. The second is that there are souls you were expecting to see in Heaven…souls you believed should have made it, that didn’t. The third is…well, I’ll let you figure that one out.
Do not blame the devil…he has a job to do. It is in his nature to pour honey on inane drivel and serve it as a wholesome treat. He cooks up snake meat, wraps it in bacon…and again, serves it wholesomely. That was how the soulful, macabre, mambo two-stepper of a dance evolved. These white evangelicals are strutting with the ease of a runway model to be the first in line. Satan must whisper his delicious doublings into their ears. They must drink from the fruit of the vine, brewed entirely by the she-devil, Jezebel. Jezebel’s lounge is always open, from sunup till sundown. White American Evangelicals know who the Host is, who the Chef is, and that he sautés wickedly. So, they come marching into the devil’s den totting the gleeful aspects of clowns, with the ears of rabbits trained to miss nothing, and with appetites whetted with gastric juices sipping out of their mouths…to dine with the devil, that is. Lucifer has them where he wants them. But before he sends them out to lie that God said, and that God told them, there are desserts on two platters he must serve them: Satan’s two main squeezes, Jezebel and Beelzebub are up for a romp in the pod. Now, they are hooked. No escaping the battering ram of a thumping from these two venomous bedmates of Satan.
Enter Myles Monroe, the late Pastor of Bahamas Faith Ministries International. His stint as a minister, to me, was the most controversial. He will be the one to add extra layers to this delirious sound stage of deceitful messaging. I am picking Myles Monroe, not because I think he was an evangelical. I couldn’t tell if he was one. But he is the one black pastor I could use to call out these white evangelicals in their perverse discourses about The Almighty and the things He whispers to them. Pastor Monroe stands as the perfect example of the one man who gets his sermons directly from God while he is live on the pulpit.
As absurd and as unhinged that sounds, his congregation eats it up every time. He would lean to his left, or to his right in wantonness, all in pretense that God is whispering into his ear at that precise moment, drawing in implied hallowedness…before a congregation of two-three thousand gullible people. They would sit there immobilized, watching the biggest drama in their lives, one in which God, at least His Voice, was in attendance. Three seconds into the feed, you would hear him say; “Okay Lord…Okay father…” And then, he tells the congregation what God had just then told him. I saw this one Sunday morning as I was getting ready to attend Mass.
Just like Pastor Monroe, almost every evangelical pastor has laid claim to that infamous cockamamie about Divine Whisperings. In other words, they not only lied in the name of God, but they also lied against God. If anything qualifies as an abomination, these colorful pranks and boastings do. Did Donald Trump not lose his reelection bid? Even after these pastors of false faith visited the White House and lied to him that he will win in a landslide, because God had told them so, he still lost. But not before he willed himself to dance, literally, riding on the BS (Boudin sweats) prophesies his mind was floating on.
Did Pastor Myles Monroe not die in a plane crash? Why did God not whisper to him, to warn him about the death of him and his family if he took that flight on that fateful day? God could have, but He didn’t: He allowed the man in whose ears His Words float, to pack his wife, son and six others on the flight He knew was doomed. This is not a diatribe on the death of Pastor Monroe; it is rather a rant on the cock and bull, and on the mindless drifts of irrationalities carried out in the name of God. I am tired of it. This is a calling out.
Pastor Kenneth Copeland is the craziest of them all. With eyes popped like a pair of demitasse spoons, a large swath of his craziness is written on both cheeks of his face: Pastor Graham Jr., the like-to-watch-his-wife-get-bonged has a mild-mannered look. It is the hypocrisy about him that is daunting, if you calculated that he lived wholesomely on the same tenets he preached against on a daily basis: Jimmy Swaggart, the definitive whoremonger, has a knack for the pretty and the ugly, the clean and unclean of all womenfolk who ply their trade standing on street corners, and in the dark recesses of grimy brothels: The late Reverend Jerry Falwell, was the incarnate devil. He could be in a huddle with his master, Samael, touting newer strategies on the virtues of dishonesty, and wishing he were alive to take a whack at his congregation with the new and improved module: Pastor Paula White, is simply the alliteration witch doctor: Pastor Jim Baker, and his bevy of harlots were always at play. He spent one lewd, bawdy night with his bevy of other mistresses swinging wildly. He came out of the hotel room the next morning belting ‘I just got waxed’ in soprano. That morning, he was due in the grand ballroom to address a crowd of two thousand on true religion and the issues weighing it down. He had to ask them, as he got on stage, if their nights were as blessed as his was: Pastor Pat Robinson, the octogenarian bulwark, protects the citadel of disinformation. Between him and Pastor John Hagee, they are the quintessential purveyors of bad faith and bad religion.
I am a firm believer that God wants us to challenge stuff…
These are your frontline, five-star generals, bent on propagating religious misogyny and the sacrilege of misusing the name of God. These pastors, and the lot lurking in the woodshed, are waiting to join ranks with the Asatru Folk Assembly Church in Murdock, Minnesota. The Southern Poverty Law Center described the AFAC as the extension of the Neo- Volkisch hate group. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, this Church ‘couches their bigotry in baseless claims of bloodlines…grounding the so-called superiority of their white identity’ in their claim. John Gabriel, USA opinion Contributor, puts it clearly; “We are losing our religion and filling the void with politics. Early Christians would rather be thrown to Roman lions than reject their Savior. Now, these Pastors are holding that same devotion to politics.” And to one man, and one party, I might add!!!
Relax! The Father in Heaven usually goes after the messenger. He is sitting in his Kingdom wondering why Christians do not question anything. Christians are unyielding and would rather not upset the balance of a set of philosophies they grew up with…even as certain aspects of it hang before their faces begging to be challenged. I am a firm believer that God wants us to challenge stuff…you know, question the mystery of this existence, and the universe we are a part of. Without that, one would live blankly…and with that, one would be led blindly.
♦ Don Okolo, Professor and filmmaker, is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of many books.
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