A crooked prosperity preacher died and knocked on the Pearly Gates.  St. Peter came to the door but blocked the man’s entry.

“Can I come in?” the preacher asked.  “I lived a good Christian life.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” St. Peter said. “So let’s do an instant replay of your last moments on earth.”

A vision unfolded before St. Peter and the preacher.  Down below on earth, an exuberant service was in progress.  People sang and clapped their hands, dancing to the loud music.  Ushers stood before the speakers’ platform, holding big offering plates and waiting for their cue to circulate out in the pews and fleece the flock.

The vision shifted to the utility loft just above the ceiling of the auditorium, where two grinning workmen were emptying the contents of a bulging bag into the ventilation ducts.  They cracked jokes about angels molting in the summer heat.

One of the men turned on the central air, and PRESTO! A soft shower of turkey feathers fell upon the congregation down below,  causing a chorus of “hallelujah’s!”

“ANGELS are among us!” the preacher cried.  “I decree a special ‘Angel Feather Blessing’ on every pocketbook in this congregation. Open wide as the ushers come to receive your tithes and offerings, and angels will FLY to bring blessings into your life! Just like baseball, you won’t get to first base with God unless you pitch into your church home plate!”

“When turkeys fly!” one of the workmen wisecracked to his partner.

Once the offering was taken up, the preacher preached about heaven’s streets being paved with gold.  High above the congregation, the two workmen, doubled over with laughter,  loaded the vents with tiny plastic specks.

Once again the thermostat clicked on.  This time “gold dust” floated down from above onto the worshippers. The preacher rejoiced about the “Golden Prosperity Visitation” from heaven.

“Saints, special needs need to be met in our ministry,” the preacher said.  “I’m asking for a ONE-TIME extra offering to be made, and in return, you can expect a GOLDEN GLORY harvest to come your way in the coming weeks. You won’t get to second base with God unless you pitch into your church home plate!”

Once again the offering plates made their rounds and returned to the platform.  But as the preacher set his greedy eyes on the loot, he keeled over, clutching his chest.

At the Pearly Gates, the preacher shook his head and said, “I never did get to enjoy that offering, did I? Oh, well, it’s not a TOTAL loss.  I did at least make it to heaven.”

“Not so fast!” St. Peter said.  “Fool’s gold can’t fool God. And then there’s the matter of the turkey feathers.  Before you could fly the congregation to third base, you struck out for fowl play.”