Christian capitalism at its finest.

This post is about an auction I was shown on eBay. Basically, what was being bid for was the desired prize of a family of 6, praying for you everyday for a year. And the minimum bid was set at $5000.

Allow me to list a few of the many things wrong with the auction.

#1 - It had a BID. I was initially annoyed with the auction itself, but then I saw that some plague of the human gene pool bid on it. So here I am, torn between ripping my eyeballs out or slicing my abdomen open, frying my insides and placing them on jellied toast, when I clicked on the bid history... HE or SHE BID TWICE. How many total bids had the auction received you ask? TWO.

Heck, I saw that and began praying for this person for free. Praying for the blessing of a better life. And by 'better' I mean shortened.

But I digress, I'm sure there really was a serious enough concern in this person's life that warranted a $5,000 double bid. My real beef is with the person who listed the auction. Let's move on.

#2 - The "contract" is for one year. Wow, a whole year. So, at the very moment the year is up, you stop praying for this person? Seems pretty heartless to me. Someone who is truly Christian would pray for anyone, for any amount of time based on their needs. Christ isn't bound by a $5,000 contract, we shouldn't be either.

#3 - The price tag. With 5 G's I could buy a motorcycle and pray I don't get decapitated by a low hanging branch. Or wait, I could blow it on a complete stranger, with an ingenious con on eBay. Certainly I would never consider asking my Christian friends and neighbors or, dare I say, my local minister or denominational authority. I'm sure none of them like my head as much as I do.

The day you start taking money for a contractual prayer agreement is the day you feel a little heat on the back of your legs and the rubber of your shoes begins to melt to the floor and the FIRES OF HELL ENGULF YOU.

#4 - The family. More specifically, those poor kids. I can imagine the looks on their faces when their mother gathered them around the kitchen table and told them they can finally afford to go to Disney World. They smile, giggle, clap and laugh. Then she utters the dreaded b-word... but. "BUT," she says, "We have to pray for Seymour Wilson's irregular bowel movements, everyday. For an entire year." Smiles turn to shock. Giggles to motionless gazes. The three year old pukes and wails. Wails a story of endless, Mickey Mouse-less, woes. The only shred of reason in the family lies in the six year old boy who turns the oven on and climbs inside.

But amidst the confusion, the mother kneels and prays for less trips to the can and healthy, free-moving stools.

fin

I don't have much else to say, other than praying for yourself, with sincerity, is more powerful than the entire planet praying for you for conditional reasons. I do not believe this auction was created out of love or anything near it. It was for social and economical gain and I hope they'll realize that some day before they die.

My life less g'stohl'n

You see my past through simple frames,
This picket wall will never change
The joy, from morning, I receive
As midnight crumbs roll from my sleeve.

My foot lay wait above the ground
And darkened beams of light abound.
The treasure sweet will rest her head
And sing 'til all the queens are dead.

These spoiled cries and tattered spires
Will carve their words with willing fires.
The masses sound their pale revolt,
Their songs implore with stifling hope.

The armies clash in shattered streams,
Their helmets washed in crimson gleam,
She stands upon the petrous floor,
Her pride will raise their spirits poor.

On it rolls, the war, the battle,
Shedding souls, their goal unrattled.
Idols sound quick trumps of After,
Hope, alone, amidst the laughter.

And in the end their dreams are dying,
Pulling, tearing, pushing, trying,
Fighting for a flash of reason,
Sweet projects the end of season.