THE PARTY

Imagine a party being thrown in your honor week after week. That's what the invitations say. You are the guest of honor, but you pay for it all---including the clothes on everyone's backs and the coveted shoes on their feet. The music is not your favorite, although there would be no instruments if you had not provided them. The lyrics and tunes frequently include references to people you love, but who don't love you. The speeches given are about someone else, and there are regular intervals when applause is given to the accomplishments of others. You don't even have a seat, so you just mingle-- looking for even a few people who came with the expressed purpose of celebrating you. Someone begins to offer you a seat, but they change their minds and give it to someone else. Your name is mentioned in passing, and everyone you see is begging you for something, or telling someone else about what you are going to do for them. There's a cake, and everyone enjoys it except you because the ingredients used to make it were contaminated. Although it looks appetizing, the cake was thrown together at the last minute. You notice, upon closer inspection, that there is more frosting than cake.
No one bothers to ask you what you want or need. Some spot and recognize you, but murmur that they'd wish you would find another party to attend, because you are putting a damper on their activities. A few invited guests want to find out more about you, but they are quickly escorted to another room, interrogated, and given tasks to do for the next party. 
Many leave the party commenting about the good time they had, but not knowing any more about you than when they arrived. Everything that would have made the party a more pleasant experience for you is written down in numerous languages and translations, but no one bothers to read it thoroughly. You decide to slip out, and no one notices that you are even gone, but the parties continue.
The parties, have another name--church.