Mr. Joshua had millions of followers, including top politicians and sports stars. But he was dogged by controversy over his products, his prophecies and events in which church members died.
Where to put a man of God
when he dies a suspect fraud?
Such a problem heaven faced
with a soul that was disgraced.
While on earth this shady cleric
had an aura so mesmeric
that he gathered fans with ease --
picking ripe fruit off of trees.
They in turn gave him their trust
(and considerable gold dust);
claimed he healed them of their fits,
then dazzled them with all his glitz.
In the end his sounding brass
worked no miracles, alas;
When his time had come, he went --
no godly intervention sent.
Now he stood before the Throne --
wretched figure, all alone.
No fawning congregation now
to treat him like a sacred cow.
The angels waited breathlessly
to hear his ordained destiny.
Justice on her stern behalf
denied him any fatted calf.
But also was the Mercy Seat
set to shred his balance sheet.
The scales remained upon the level,
when suddenly -- up popped the devil!
Smooth as butter he began:
"You cannot want this wretched man."
"Unctuous and scruple free --"
"Surely he belongs to me!"
Next the Hindu gods spoke up --
"He can come back as a pup!"
"Have the mange with lots of pus."
"Surely he belongs to us!"
Zeus, retired long ago:
"In my day we sure did know"
"what to regally decree --"
"make him into hollow tree!"
So the priest, now full defrocked,
seemed into sure torment locked.
Still the Throne did not vouchsafe
what to do with this poor waif.
Time was frozen in its tracks;
blue moons waned and then did wax.
Then the Voice of Voices spoke,
solving all with one grand stroke:
"You may punish this my child"
"if you've never been defiled."
"If some guile you've ne'er employed,"
"You may cast first asteroid."
Quickly all the frowning stares
vanished into cosmic airs.
And the man -- what's his dispose?
Only can I say:
"God knows."
