Church of the Dancing Pigs

I want to worship at the Church of Singing and Dancing Pigs.

I’m ready to discuss theology with Jinx the Cat.

I want to have missionary zeal like George Burns and talk it over with Gracie Allen.

I ‘m ready to go to church where laughter and sorrow are welcomed with no shame.

I gotta be silly.

God wants me to be silly! I know it! It’s the only thing I’m good at!

Someone’s got to lighten things up around here.
I want to preach like Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. Those guys knew how to get a message across!
I’m ready to sing praise songs around the campfire with dirty beatniks.

I want to walk around the world and never stop while I’m alive like Johnny Appleseed throwing out joy and leaving plants behind.
I want to praise God in the snow and ice and hide from the wintry blast under the bridge in exhilaration with the Holy Spirit.

I’m not going to sit bored out of my mind in a pew ever again.
I just read that Christians ought to make Paul’s pattern of thinking their own. How’m I doin’ so far?

I’m a singing and dancing pig. Can’t help it. My Daddy was one and his Uncle Foxy before him.
Today let’s practice our stand-up routines to make each other howl with laughter with no cruelty.
Let us lock up the doors of the churches that are so proper. How can we dance and sing there?
Instead let’s go to the meadow where the sky is blue straight through to heaven. Where God can see us better.
See, I’m already starting my stand-up routine.


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