A friend sent me an email a couple of days ago and called me an iconoclast. I’d seen the word in the past, but had no idea what it meant, so I looked it up in Webster’s, just in case it was a name I didn’t need to repeat. An iconoclast is a destroyer of religious images set up for veneration or one who attacks cherished beliefs or traditional institutions as being based in error and superstition. In other words, I am a slayer of sacred cows—a lethal assassin of holy hamburger meat.

We are all familiar with sacred cows. They come in all shapes and sizes, bearing both denominational and non-denominational brands. If you belong to a church, there’s probably a large herd leisurely grazing at this very moment in the sanctuary, worship center, shrine, inner sanctum, or whatever you call it. These blessed bovines also love to chew their cud in the hallways, baptisteries, fellowship halls, and vestibules. In fact, there are so many sacred cows in most churches that many pastors are getting rich off the fertilizer that’s being produced, packaged, promoted, and sold for profit.

Many labor past the point of spiritual starvation to keep their precious golden calves alive and wonder why their hearts are dry and their buildings are empty. Sacred cows were never meant to be worshipped; they were meant to be slaughtered. They are gourmet fodder for the gas grill—jumbo burgers for the charcoal.

Now, before you click me off and disappear into the dark mist of the world-wide web, humor me for a few more sentences. Early on, God made it painfully clear that He was unwilling to compete with anything for our worship. He was so clear He wrote it in stone with His own finger so that the print wouldn’t get smudged and Moses wouldn’t misspell a word. And I quote here, “You (that’s you and me) will have no other god (that’s little ‘g’) before me.” Literally, God said, “You will put nothing (that’s no thing) in My face.”

While Moses was getting God’s directions for a “no bull” zone, the rest of his family was doing the Texas Two Step and the Electric Slide around a holy heifer that would soon reproduce itself into the herd from hell I’m describing today.

I could give you concrete examples, but why should I if you’re the cowboy riding herd on a little group of these damnable doggies? Here’s a word to the wise—take a sledge hammer, swing it as hard as you can, and hit every one you meet right between the eyes. When the beast drops to its knees, cut its throat. Your first time will be difficult, but I promise, it gets easier with practice…trust me.

And best of all, most of these USDA sanctified beefs are sleek and fat—corn-fed beauties. Take it from an iconoclast: This will be some of the most succulent steak you’ll ever put in your mouth.