'Twas the Sunday Before Christmas

'Twas the Sunday before Christmas
and all through God's church
"Not a churchman is tithing!"
Yelled the preacher from his perch

So the plates were all passed
down each row with great care,
In hopes that the peeps
Would put their 10% there.

The preacher told them how dare they not tithe,
Our country's safety at stake, Else God's wrath would arrive.

Mama in her new dress, and me in my tie,
I saw that plate coming, with a tear in my eye.

I took out my envelope, with my measly 9 percent
knowing I was "sinning", but had just paid my rent.

Here came the plate, I put my envelope upside down,
tried to fake a tithing smile, but wore a 9 percent frown.

Off Deacons, Off Trustees, please count all the dough
See if there is enough, for our mega preacher TV show.

The mega church preacher climbed up into his place
Said our tithe to his church, was required for grace.

He told of his trip to New York, how he was doing God's will,
and that we as God's people needed to pay for the bill.

He invited us with him, on a Holy Land Trip,
or to sail down the Danube, on a luxury ship.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he yelled, like a bowlful of jelly.

He pulled off his glasses and gave a jerk of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread;

He spoke not from the Word, and went straight to his work,
Began to tell the non-tither, how he was a jerk,

He was dressed all in finery, even cufflinks of gold,
He took out his Bible and yelled to the fold:

"Now please get out your bibles, you stupid sheep,
You're holding your tithe back, you're being way too cheap,

You owe me ten - not nine, not eight,
And we'll spend it as we please, you dare not designate."

We thought from our Bibles he would be sure to show,
How point-one times the gross, is the exact amount we owe.

But ne'er did he exegete this demand placed on us,
he just told us to fork it over, no need to discuss.

He said if we didn't agree, to "Take it up wit da book",
But he didn't tell me where, I should start to look.

The white-haired man to my left held on to his wallet
His trip to church today he was sure to regret.

"I didn't know it", whispered, the old man with sweat on his brow,
Then the preacher yelled, "HA, well you know it NOW."

I told the old man, after the show,
"Don't worry its not what you give, but rather its Who you know."

"The message this Christmas, sir, is God sent his Son,
He's after our hearts first, Not a wallet, not one."

"Baby Jesus came into the world, to show us the way,
Not to tell us what percent to the pastor we must pay."

The old man grinned, and nodded his head with a smile,
"I knew that, and I'll see you all in a little while."

"See, at Christmas time, I've blessed kids with gifts each year,
And not once did I demand a tithe in exchange for my cheer."

"I find it quite odd, these men demand cash as they do,
When God gives His love freely, to me and to you."

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."