When Narcissism Comes To Church Novelas e Histórias

"Flee from sexual immorality....so that ye may not perish" His voice carries across the church, low and smooth, and I find myself imagining it whispering dirty things in my ears, even when he's saying holy things and preaching the gospel. I hate myself for noticing how broad his shoulders are, how the cassock stretches slightly across his chest in a way that feels…magnetic and hypnotizing.

“Blasphemy would not be tolerated in my home-“ he didn’t finish. “Oh, I know. But just so you know, your golden goose is just a tool for manipulation. Do you know how dumb you sound each time you praise him? You’re drowning in a religious scam and you just don’t know it.” “I really couldn’t care less what you or the rest of those brainwashed dick heads think.” I wiped my lips as I proceeded to leave. “God's plan for you is to be part of the church. Look how much the church has grown since that boy came. Look how much this town has benefited from the church. That boy is proof that obedience brings blessings.”

"My test takes into account several factors regarding a woman's tolerance for my compliment. First, there is the emotional maturity common in a woman older than the age of consent who has had even the most remedial exposure to the Christian faith. Secondly, a church is a sanctuary where a woman is likely to feel much safer and confident enough to suppress any doubts of my sincerity." "Maybe so," Aphrodite said, "but a church is not a place of business. Is it reasonable for you to assume that a woman would be as tolerant of compliments from you while working at Coastline Multimedia as they might be in a church and not feel different in one location versus the other?" "As I said earlier, anoth

“Okay, I say. So will God not understand if you work with us to rid the world of a greater evil? What do you think will happen when there’s no one to keep Milner in check?” “He’ll create a truly Godless world.” “Yes, I can’t imagine he’d tolerate the church. Won’t they challenge his supremacy?” Innocent swats at the air. I took a misstep, and I know it right away. “The church isn’t Godly. They’re after power like everyone else. Who cares about them?”

Took him back by sardonicus proposal, the pastor felt his heart beating rapidly out of his chest. Haven't you killed enough people? You can't possibly expect me to call my congregation to their doom. You don't have to be a pastor. I've already called them. Cortana sardonic snapped her fingers as the door leading to the outside of the church opened. To the pastor's surprise, he saw his regular churchgoers all entranced and standing idly by for their orders. What have you done?

She always had my back. So you'd imagine how I felt when she was being like this. When she decided to want me in a certain way and not the way I was, the way I am. It broke my heart. To be sitting alone in my room thinking about the memories we shared and the selfish person she has become today. Then Church.... Church has turned her into someone I don't even know... Church is supposed to unite people and let us know that God loves us as we are... but this church was different..

I jest in my head. "That's it," I snap my fingers. "What you're doing makes you a business with the core necessity being your meeting people for collaboration and growth. If you're a christian, you definitely would go to church even once to pray. No more objections on this please. Shall we go now, Mr I pray but I don't pay a visit to the church?" I flash a mocking grin at him, sweep my legs inside the car and pull the door to myself, shutting it. He shakes his head at me through the window before coming to drive.

The room smelled faintly of whiskey and expensive cologne. Nick leaned back in the leather chair, a smug smile curling his lips. Around him, the other elite church guys lounged like they owned the place, glasses of wine or scotch in hand. “So… who’s next on your list, Nick?” one of them jeered. Nick shrugged, eyes glinting. “Depends, who’s giving me a challenge tonight?” “Naomi,” said a taller guy with slicked-back hair. “You saw her, right? Daddy's a pastor and he owns half the church. The girl is like caged, couldn’t resist if you tried.”

My English teacher. He wasn’t even that young, but his smile did something to me. It was warm and effortless. Like he saw the world in color while everyone else lived in black and white. I remember sitting in class, pretending to focus on Shakespeare while my heart raced over the sound of his voice. That was the moment I knew. And it terrified me. There was this one Sunday morning in church that still haunts me. The pastor was preaching about “unclean spirits.” About men who desire men. About how such urges were a test from the devil himself. I sat frozen in the pew, my spine stiff, my shoulders tight. I could’ve sworn his eyes were locked on me.