Has them in the palm of his hands, his face scans the audience, senses the wonder, must choose his words carefully, wants to frighten them not embalm them. Power, what a thrill, they listen to the words, you mention the name Jesus, it’s almost a magnet, his words still stick 2,000 odd years later, Meanwhile the Preacher, he views his meal ticket before him, they come to him for advice, it’s beyond comprehension, they listen to me, he finishes the sermon with some fear filling words, fear only God he says. The adrenaline levels are up, he feels it the way a drug addict does. In the audience a real Prophet is listening, why do they have to use fear all the time, preaching man, it is so much simpler. The Spirit rises on the basis of good deeds, and the Holy Spirit lives inside you, you just need space and an honest heart. The Preaching man has none of that, too addicted to control.
Solomon sighed, too much syrup in the diet turns you into a diabetic, you need to hear the truth, same as the words have to be from the Heart. Solomon wondered, why some made complex what is so simple to understand, amen.
