Is your church sluggish and listless? Having trouble packing folks into the pews? Need something to really fire up the congregation? A prophecy conference is just the thing to bring folks in to your church and set them ablaze! The end of the world is here again.
Yes, sir, nothing will stir the fires of people’s heart like hearing about the tribulations, the anti-Christ, and the Great Whore of Babylon. Folks will flock in to hear latest ways in which the book of Revelation applies to the headlines. After all, there’s big trouble in the Middle East right now…and that’s never happened before.
And just look at how technology is fulfilling the prophecies. Forget all that stuff about 666 being hidden in social security numbers, bar codes, and debit cards. Make sure that your church knows that the mark of the beast is those new computer chips they implant to track animals. This kind of instruction is time well spent. Spending a whole night expounding theories the mark of the Beast is just the kind of edification that the body Christ needs.
Revelation is just the ticket to get those pews packed. After all, you’ll notice that there was never a series of gripping fiction books or movies based on Romans or Galatians. It’s the end of the world as we know it…
When C.H. Spurgeon was in his heyday, an Anglican minister penned these words:
There was once a preacher named Spurgie
Who hated the English liturgy.
But his sermons are fine,
I use them as mine,
And so do the rest of the clergy
Much like the Anglicans, fundamentalists also have no issue with using Spurgeon’s sermons — as long as they have been sanitized of Calvinism. Indeed, the fact that he was a Calvinist appears almost nowhere in fundamentalist’s speaking or writing about him.
Like so many fundy heroes, Spurgeon probably wouldn’t be invited to speak at any fundamentalist churches today. It’s impossible even to picture a bearded, cigar-smoking, Calvinist preacher speaking in a fundamentalist church. The mind boggles.
But his sermons are fine. And so are his commentaries. And we can always just snip out the Calvinist bits…
After a rousing sermon on the evils of drunkenness and vice, nothing is more satisfying than gorging at an old-fashioned fundamentalist covered dish supper. (Covered dish suppers are not to be confused with the liberal “pot luck dinner” since luck has no place the fundamentalist vocabulary.)
A drop of alcohol that sneaks across ones lips (unless concealed in mouthwash and immediately spewed back out) may cause irreparable damage to one’s testimony and spiritual life but thank goodness there’s no rule against devouring four pieces of fried chicken, two helpings of mashed potatoes, three spoonfuls of that green marshmallow stuff, half a tray of deviled eggs, and a piece of pecan pie.
Almost all fundamentalist services end with a plea to walk the aisle down to an “old-fashioned altar.” This is usually acompanied by standing with “your heads bowed and your eyes closed. Nobody looking around.” while singing approximately 347 verses of an invitation hymn such as Just as I Am or Jesus is Calling.
In reality, the “old-fashioned altar” is a misnomer since the practice of come-down-front invitations is not that old nor is the front of the church strictly an altar since the only blood that is shed there happens during church business meetings.
Fundamentalists have Methodist camp meetings and the work of evangelist Charles Finney in the 1800’s to thank for the modern day come-down-front invitation. What is not clear is if Finney also fathered the technique of saying “If nobody comes on this next verse then we’ll close the service” (inevitably followed by one more person traipsing down the aisle to the collective groans of everyone who has a roast slowly turning to leather in their oven back at home.)
How did they get people saved before “Just As I Am” was written in 1849? It’s almost impossible to imagine.
A silly blog dedicated to Independent Fundamental Baptists, their standards, their beliefs, and their craziness.