True GAFCON Success.

As I’ve said before it’s been a busy week, but a successful one for the real GAFCON mission here in Ichabod Springs. We’ve had over a thousand new faces through our clutches parish, some of whom actually attended of their own volition. Naturally my apostate liberal bishop is delighted at that his treasonous clergy will return from their Jerusalem pilgrimage to find their congregations non-existent. Even the properties I arranged to accidentally burn down have not proved unnecessarily upsetting a matter to him, particularly since a few weeks ago I had the foresight to take out additional insurance on the buildings in the diocese’s name, naturally naming him as the beneficiary.

In gratitude our bishop has promised me a new Curate, so I’ll soon be putting my feet up and taking things easy again. After our last four Curates died in unfortunately mysterious circumstances the Cathedral had refused to assign me any more, but all that’s a thing of the past now. Success changes everything.

This is something my namesakes in Jerusalem just can’t grasp. If they would only understand that preaching to those who already agree with you is never going to get you more than you already have. It’s the sinners who disagree with you that must be grabbed by the scruff of their necks and shaken until the contents of their wallets – and also their souls if you’re pious enough to care about such trivialities – are set free.

If Big and Little Pete, and Nowhere in Faith (or whatever they’re called this week), David Vitriol and young Kendall who’s always copying him, and the foreigners pretending to be British Evangelicals, and all the other groups with names comprising random combinations of upper-case letters, would only realise that while it’s perfectly acceptable to hate apostates, liberals and people who have sex in ways that you can’t stop thinking about when alone in bed at night, instead of complaining about them, one needs to get them into one’s church and force them to live differently. Everything else is just a waste of time. Certainly this might involve physical restraint and the strategic use of pain, but I never cease to be amazed at how rarely things need to be taken to extremes. More and more often I find all it takes is for Brother Richthofen and his fine young friends from Seminary to have a little word to newcomers of a “different” persuasion, and before you can say “Barbra Streisand” everyone’s laughing, and enjoying themselves.

At this rate I fully expect to one day control the church that my namesakes have their church inside a church inside. And then won’t Bishop Duncan and his grumpy little band of talkers-not-doers be surprised to find themselves inside old Rev. Dr. Troll! Unquestionably they’ll enjoy the experience a lot more than they could currently imagine.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.