"And as your God is holy, you also should be holy." The priest paused for a second. He thought about the unaccounted money in the church's budget. Will they ever find out? A pang of guilt swept through him. But he knew the blood would save him. All he would do was just confess and ask for forgiveness.
"God has instructed us to feed the hungry, cloth the poor and help the needy." As he said this, he remembered the stretched hand by the roadside on his way to church. He couldn't stop his polished Benz to help. He was getting late for church. He just said a silent prayer, and found something to preach about that Sunday morning.
He almost smiled to himself when he said, "Love your neighbor." He knew how good he was at that. Especially the neighbor's wife. He peered through the crowd and saw her sitted in the back seat. She seemed happy. He made her happy, at least one happy person on earth.
He slowly made out from the pew. His job was done, at least until Wednesday night. He thought about the little conversation he had with a Muslim brother. Those people are doomed for hell, he said to himself. He had told the Muslim brother in a point blank kind of way that he was destined to hell. He did not engage him in dialogue, lest the brother saw how uneducated he was in matters of piety. It had not gone down well with him. But all the priest did was offer to pray for him. No dialogue, Prayer melts every heart. He was not the apologist material. Leave that to the educated bunch
A tidy sum from the offering. At last, his unrealized dream of a Hawaiian vacation. He smiled to himself. And then walked to the waiting Benz. His armor bearer opened the door. And he sped off.
You cannot serve God and Mormon.
