Agent Finds a Warrior

It was a rhetorical question that no one answered.

"It's a pile of dirty rags. Everyone of you who stepped past those doors this morning is no better than this soiled and disgusting pile of rags. This is the house of praise people! Tell me which one of you woke up this morning and meditated on the majesty of God? Which one of you came into this holy sanctuary bearing on your person the garment of praise? Is God not worthy of praise? Is not your purpose, your created purpose, that transcends everything else, to bring praise, honor and glory to the Creator of us all? Where are your hearts? Have you remembered what Jesus did for you on the cross or have you come here seeking a show, a production of meaningless ritual? That's right. Meaningless ritual! You have become altogether worthless and heed my words for you are in danger of being spewed out as lukewarm water. Rather that you were cold than the quasi-religiosity of tepid poison that you have become in how you have restrained the Kingdom of God! Do you think it is enough to have this building? To have a fully funded youth program and to fund missionaries to go do your work for you in Africa? How can you show the world the love of Christ, when you don't even manifest it yourselves? Which of you shook my hand this morning? Which of you was not offended by my presence in this empty sepulcher? Which of you cared for my needs? My wife was the only one among you with a tender enough heart to intercede. The same woman that you have not ceased to dismissively regard ever since she came in based entirely on her matter of wardrobe. She's not the one you should be looking at! Look at yourselves and you will find filth enough to spare. There will be no church in this place today! In your day you have become no better than the Jews of Jesus's day, whom He drove out from the Temple with a whip for they had made God's holy temple a place of buying and selling. A place of talk and not prayer. Where the cry of a merchant hawking his wares was to be heard over any cry of praise. Shame on you all for you have turned the Divine commission that was entrusted to you into a thing of vanity! Into the sound of false praise!"

I stepped backward and lifting an electric guitar out of its rack I stepped forward and flung it to fall on the floor before the stage, "To those of you who still bring your Bibles and take the time to read them I bring a verse to mind, 'I desire not a song, a pleasantry of the lips, but a sincere and broken heart.' Now get out all of you!"