When Sandwich Bag Theology Kills
A Modern Church Parable
The pastor spent six weeks wrapping up the outside of the building with cellophane. The plastic crinkled every time he touched it, but it made him delighted. The seven colors of cellophane matched the rainbow and God’s promise to never judge people ever again and to let people do whatever they wanted.
The next step was to fill up the inside of the church with air, and to let it balloon and expand the plastic into a giant soft cross. He had hooked up doors to an airlock that allowed people to enter, but no air to exit. He was excited about the upcoming service.
He had invited several families from the community who were unchurched so he could preach God’s unending love for them and to do a land acknowledgement along with an apology to them for the sins of the church. Members of his church had not participated in last year’s Pride event and had even posted negative comments on social media saying the Bible was against homosexual behavior.
As pastor of the First Baptist Church of Warrensburg, he wasn’t going to tolerate this hateful behavior anymore from his church members. His church was sponsoring the Pride parade and after the parade ended on Sunday morning, everyone was coming to his church dressed in Drag and their costumes to celebrate God’s love.
Walking down into the parking lot, the pastor started the diesel generator and stood back and watched as the cellophane began to fill up. It would take all night, but by morning, he would have the most beautiful church in Warrensburg.
The next morning, the pastor led his congregants into the church wearing the rainbow vestment and stole. The diesel generator had run throughout the night and was still running to keep the cross inflated.
He reached the top of the sanctuary and turned to the people who had followed him. True, he had lost some bigots. He didn’t need bigots in his church who didn’t follow God’s love. He had all these new members who would sing praises louder and more exuberantly than any of those old members.
“Look at the beautiful faces gathered here. Look at your wonderful make up, and your wigs, and your dresses. Look at how God has made you. God has blessed you. She’s made you infinite and powerful. You don’t ever have to bow back down to those false Christians with their inability to see God’s greatness in you!”
The pastor lifted up his arms. He felt a headache coming on. It had been a warm morning in the June morning sun and he could feel the sweat coming down his back.
“Everyone, please bow your heads for a blessing to our mother God, so we can pray for her divine protection and energy.”
Stifling a yawn, the Pastor thought about how much sleep he really had needed the night before. But he had been so excited the night before, he could barely sleep. He had gleefully been preparing himself until 3 am to be in solidarity with these people before him.
He yawned again.
The pastor never started the prayer.
When the cellophane cross slowly deflated after the diesel generator died the next day, people called the police saying their families never came home or showed up for work.
The news carried the story, but the headline was, “Pride Celebrants Massacred by Baptists.”