When Churches Become Mafias

If you ever want to do something kind for me, please don't send flowers. If I were to see a bouquet of them at the door, I would probably have a reflexive adrenal response. That's because, for years in my Southern Baptist context, the lore was always about a leader in the denomination -- who fancied himself a sort of party boss or even bishop -- who would send to those who crossed him a bouquet of flowers, with nothing but a card with his name. The flowers were interpreted to signify something along the lines of "You're dead to me" or "I know what you did" or some such thing.
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