Some fundies just can’t get enough of the Stars and Stripes in their places of worship and on their religious symbols.
They fly it outside their church buildings:
they put it on the platform inside:
They hang it in their windows:
They hang it from the pulpit.
They drape it over their Bibles
They even place it on the cross…
(each picture links to the site from which it was taken)
The morning session of the Yearly Bible Conference is finally drawing to a close after four straight hours of preaching. The starving masses in the pew who foolishly skipped breakfast to be able to sleep in until six o’clock  have long consumed their strategic reserve of cough drops and breath mints  and are now gnawing on their leather Bible covers driven mad by the savory odors  of casseroles and pie that are drifting out of the basement where lunch is being set up.
And then the pastor will say these fateful words “Bro. Jackson, will you please bless the food before we are dismissed?”
A silent scream of anguish rises from the assembly for they know that lunch time has just been delayed indefinitely.  Bro Jackson is a champion prayer warrior who never allows something so petty as the hunger of others to interfere with his divine mission of intercession. He approaches the podium. He clears his throat decisively. He begins to pray.
He prays for speaker who has just spoken that God will apply each point of his sermon to the hearts of those present. In case God has forgotten  exactly what the points were he repeats them and most of the relevant supporting material.
He prays for each one of those  not present  because of sickness by name and includes a description of their ailment, their prognosis, and their current medications.
He prays for the twenty-seven missionaries supported by the church, their countries, their children, their pets, and their latest financial needs as listed in the most recent prayer letters.
He prays for our own country, the members of Congress, the President, and the upcoming elections who he hopes will replace most of them.
He prays for for a man to whom he handed a gospel tract in 1978 and invited to church but never saw him again even though the man promised to visit the very next Sunday.
But somehow in all of this…he forgets to actually pray for the food.
By the time he concludes, lunch is cold, Â people are passing out from low blood sugar, and there is only fifteen minute remaining until the start of the next service…
Every church has at least one of these men. Mark him and avoid.
Anything you can do, a fundamentalist can do better. And faster. and holier.
Their Sunday Schools aren’t just big. No, they’re the biggest Sunday Schools In The History of Mankind (5000 years give or take).
Their soul winners aren’t just active. They’ve won more people to Jesus than Peter and Paul combined.
Our church isn’t just growing, it’s growing faster than any other organization in the country and will soon need yet another building project just to contain it.
The times they’re living in aren’t just wicked. They’re the most wicked times since Noah and bound to pass up his record any minute now.
Your pastor isn’t just disciplined. He actually survives on only twenty minutes of sleep a night just so he can pray every night for every single fundamentalist missionary and all of their children by name. Twice.
One has to wonder how such amazing and accomplished people have so long managed to keep the majority of the world from even knowing that they exist.
If people at your church fanatically cheer for a team at a college they think no good Christian should ever dream of attending…you may be a fundamentalist.