In total there are 30 users online :: 1 registered, 0 hidden and 29 guests (based on users active over the past 60 minutes) Most users ever online was 813 on Mon Apr 15, 2024 11:52 pm
My name is Richard Lockhart, what you are about to read is my transcribed secret interview with Pastor X. This interview was done in secret, due to Pastor X's concern that, by revealing the secrets of how to become rich preaching, he would be attacked and expelled from the clergy. Therefore, the names of those mentioned in this book have been changed to protect Pastor X and, of course, myself. Pastor X, along with pastors like him, has been able to acquire money, power, influence, and perks with minimal effort, simply by doing what I deem “Pul-Pimpin”.
What is Pul-Pimpin? Pul-Pimpin is simply using the pulpit as a catalyst to achieve one’s true goals and ambitions in life. Before my interview with Pastor X, I believed and accepted the idea that ministers, having far more wealth than their congregations, acquired this wealth directly from God as a result of the anointing on their lives. I had no idea how wrong I was, and how wrong we have all been, about this. Pastor X did not in-tend for me to release this powerful information to the people, but the people must know how they, too, can become rich forever by applying the secrets Pastor X revealed to me.
This is my first book under my new pen name Wake Upson. I would truly appreciate your feedback and reviews of the book. Thank You!
Both of your assumptions are correct. The book is fictional and satirical, yet many people can relate to the stories, for they are based in reality. I was once an extreme religious person where I witnessed a great deal of these things along with acting out some of these behaviors myself as a young preacher. "Pul-Pimpin" is a play on the words Pimping and Pulpit. Pimpin is the slang term for pimping indeed. Chris, I hope you can find a place in the fiction category for my book.
I think your book has already found its place
I'd love to get a real discussion going about it. Forget the cover art and the synopsis. Post your first chapter here and we can give some genuine feedback.
My first post was just before yours, and I posted my prologue. Check it out, and please leave a comment.
Also, I've been giving your title some thought.
I would have suggested:
My name is Richard Lockhart, and like some of you reading this, I grew up in the church. Whether your church was small or large, there was one constant reality: the pastor and his family were treated as royalty. I was 13 years old when I discovered the Pulpit Royalty Phenomenon. I at-tended the funeral of my best friend's uncle during the month of July, and I stress July. If you grew up in the South like I did, you can relate to the old, small churches with no air conditioning, where the only sources of cooling were open windows and hand fans that only served to spread the heat around. The heat inside the church was unbearable; it was like a sweat lodge, with the smell of cheap perfume and cologne doing karate kicks in your nostrils. I remember sitting next to my best friend on what I think must have been the hardest wooden pew on earth, as my tail bone suffered severe pain. My throat was tied in knots, due to thirst, when suddenly my attention was brought towards the opening of a door located at the front of the church near the pulpit. For 15 minutes or more, the door stayed opened, and I could feel the cool air from the room piercing the heat in the church before it faded away. Suddenly, in walked the pastor in all his glory. He was guided to his even more glorious seat, into the pulpit directly behind the podium, and walking in behind him was a rather plump woman, carrying in her hand the largest glass pitcher of orange juice I had ever seen. I can still hear the sound the large cubes of ice made inside the pitcher of orange juice as she placed it on top of the podium in view of all seated. This caused my mouth to water, the very sight of it creating a lump in my throat.
The lump in my throat moved up toward my mouth as she poured the ice-cold orange juice into a large glass with an I am so going to Heaven for this look on her face. After she finished pouring the “holy orange juice”, the pastor stood looking out at the congregation with a smile on his face as he raised the cold glass of orange juice to his mouth, slowly drinking it down. Once he finished drinking, he looked out at the obviously over-heated and sweaty congregation and gave a loud, “Amen! Ain't the Lord alright?” and the sweaty, over-heated church congregation said, “AMEN.” I was so angry; it was Hell Hot! I never forgot that day. Surely that experience planted a seed in me, waiting to be fertilized by years of frustration and being sick and tired of being broke. I never thought it would result in meeting someone who would not only help that seed grow into a fruit-bearing tree, but teach me how to harvest and sell that fruit for a profit.
CHAPTER 3: HOW I MET PASTOR X
It was November 2004 and I had thrown my picket sign down in disgust. 10 years with this company without ever missing one day of work, and now I had no job. I decided to stop what I realized was a losing battle. We had been picketing outside our company's headquarters for 3 weeks. The company had decided they could do better in Indonesia, so they were going to close our plant. Talk about keeping Americans working for American companies — yeah right. I couldn't do it anymore. We were getting nowhere with our protesting. The execs never saw or heard a word we were saying as the helicopters landed on top of the building, escorting them and their stockholders to and from meetings. I swear I saw one of them give us the finger as a low flying helicopter flew over our heads. I was tired of this, so I gave up and headed home. I missed the last bus, so I decided to walk four miles to my home. During my walk, I saw a lot of stuff I ordinarily wouldn't have paid attention to if I was on the bus. I noticed there were churches everywhere. On one block alone, I counted six churches. There was a church that had two Mercedes Benz parked in its parking lot in front of signs that read “Pastor” and “First Lady”. I saw Cadillacs, BMWs, Lexuses, Infinities, and Jaguars parked at these churches and I was getting more upset at every block. These people were living good while I had spent the past three weeks begging for a job I felt had been unfairly taken away from me.
A few blocks from my house, I walked past a small church that had been there since I was a boy. Parked outside was a Honda Civic. Laughingly, I said to the man who was obviously the church grounds keeper, “I know that ain't the pastor's car.” The man turned and looked at me and said, “I keep my Mercedes and Ashton Martin at home in my garages.” I laughed again and said, “Yeah. You wish.” I told him how I had noticed every church within four miles had luxury cars parked on the grounds except his church. The man smiled, walked over to me and introduced himself. He told me he had recently purchased the church building from the bank as a result of foreclosure. Once again, I laughed. He could tell I was tired, so he invited me inside the church for a cold drink of water and a few minutes to cool off while we chatted. I told him about my frustrations over losing my job and how I had walked off the picket line because I had had enough of being insulted by the execs. He told me he knew the feeling of being broke, tired, and disrespected by execs, and it had been those very reasons that led him into ministry. That last part placed a choke-hold on my attention, so I asked him to repeat that last part again.
The man said, “I decided to go into ministry after the company I had worked at for three years closed down and moved across seas after a week's notice. We protested outside Corporate Headquarters for two months, but that wasn't the first time. The first company I worked at, I was the manager there five years. They hired an assistant manager who was there a year and a half before they fired him for having a terrible attitude and a poor work ethic. The very day they fired him, he met me in the parking lot as I was heading home and handed me a piece of paper. He said he thought I should see something. When I looked at the paper, I realized it was his W2 form. I was overcome with anger. I had been working there for five years as the manager for 30 thousand a year. His first year, he made 37 thousand. I worked there two more months before I quit, but to be honest, I am grateful for how I was treated, because it got me to where I am today.”
The man went on to tell me how he was a multi-millionaire, had started over 100 churches, owned several luxury cars and homes in various parts of the world, owned two private jets, and these were just a few things bought and paid for by his churches. This was when he revealed to me his new money-making business: church buying. He said buying churches was something that basically fell into his lap. As we walked into the sanctuary of the church, he said, “This one is what I call a 'beginners church'. I bought this one for my youngest son. He will be turning 25 years old next week and this will be his birthday gift.” “Wow! Heck of a birthday gift,” I said.
“All of my sons are preachers,” he said proudly. “My youngest son played football at a major Division 1 school, and he would have made it into the NFL had it not been for a cheap-shot by the opposing team's safety in their final regular season game,” he said with anger in his voice. He said he did not want his youngest son to be a preacher like his other sons, and once again, this too placed a choke-hold on my attention. Interested in more of what he had to say, I asked him the same question I once asked my very religious friend about what one had to do to become a preacher.
The pastor looked at me with a serious stare, thought for a minute, and asked, “Are you tired of being broke, young man? Do you want to know my secret?” I told him I was not only tired of being broke, but I was DAMN tired of living paycheck to paycheck without knowing if the company was going to leave for another country. The pastor told me to go home, pack some clothes, and meet him at the church the next morning at 6a.m. Overly excited, I made it to the Church at 5:30 a.m., anxiously awaiting the pastor’s arrival. At exactly 6 a.m. a Panther Black Mercedes/Maybach S600 sedan pulled into the parking lot; it was the pastor. I had never ridden in a Mercedes in my life, and my heart and mind was racing with anticipation. The passenger seat of the car was softer than my Tempur mattress. I fell asleep in seconds. Awakened by a tap on my arm by the pastor, I opened my eyes to a luxurious home when the Pastor said to me, “We're here.” He had brought me to one of his vacation homes, two hours away from my hometown. I couldn't believe I had slept the entire trip. Once inside, the pastor showed me to my room, telling me to meet him downstairs after I freshened up. After freshening up, I walked downstairs, where I was led by one of his servants through a maze of rooms. My nose was greeted with delicious smells of food as we moved closer to the source. Finally, I saw the pastor seated at a large table by himself, eating barbecue chicken, ribs, and all the trimmings. With a mouth covered with barbecue sauce, he said, “You better come on and get some of this.” Well, of course, I sat down and joined him. The food was delicious and the servants were on time and in step with making sure we had every-thing we needed to enjoy our meal. The pastor had called ahead to have his servants prepare dinner for us. In my mind, I thought this kind of lifestyle alone would be worth becoming a preacher.
After we finished eating, he led me down to his basement. The basement was totally finished. It looked like a luxury condo with two bedrooms, full kitchen and wet bar, and an entertainment area, but what got my attention was the pastor’s private office/study. I was drawn to these enormous shelves filled with books. One of the titles that caught my interest was a very large book, entitled The Degree of Christ-ism. This was where the interview took place. For the purpose of teaching me how to become rich preaching, Pastor X allowed me to ask as many questions as I wanted while recording his answers. These answers were meant to serve as my guide. I hope the information in this interview helps you as much as it helped me.
Interesting opening. Two chapters in and I'm already disgusted with the system of religious institutions. I guess it's similar the world over; I have a Filipino friend who's told me stories of corrupt ministers from his hometown.
I'm curious to know whether the protagonist get's rich or not, and how the story ends, so that's a good sign
Does it matter which denomination the churches are?
Oh, and btw -- WAS should be WERE in "heart and mind was racing".
