I have purchased for myself a dark chocolate Kit-Kat, and I am currently consuming said dark chocolate Kit-Kat as I try to get down my thoughts. Dark chocolate Kit-Kats are the food of happiness. The food of comfort. The food of joy. I need this dark chocolate Kit-Kat right now because I’m trying to figure out how I feel about the service I attended last night. I also have a room temperature Vanilla Coke (the drink of silent contemplation), and I’m sitting on a bed with the throw pillows of cynicism and ennui. I have seven pages of notes, and there are a lot of underlined capital letters followed by exclamation points and question marks. The things that impressed me about Lakewood really impressed me, but the things that unsettled me, well . . .
Lakewood is a must-see on a trip like this. The largest church in America, millions of people enter its doors or tune in on television every weekend. Through books and broadcasts, Joel Osteen’s message travels all over the world, and people come from all over to hear him preach and to experience the worship at Lakewood. Meeting in the renovated and repurposed Compaq Center, we witnessed a phenomenal production of a worship service, and while that would normally be something of an insult coming from me, these folks were really into it, and I do not deny that the Spirit of God was moving in a very powerful way through the music and even through Joel himself. It was a truly spectacular worship experience, but there was one major stumbling block, and I think it can be best summed up with one of my favorite images that I use often:
I attended with my friends Ben Richards and Sanetta Ponton (both of them Duke Divinity students interning in Houston this summer), and I think Ben put it well in his post on facebook about the experience: “In short, some moments of powerful, meaningful worship and ministry regrettably surrounded by sensationally bad, damaging theology.”
To explain why Joel Osteen’s message is pretty off kilter, I feel like I need to give a little background information, and I already know that this might take a while, but since he’s such a popular guy who is watched by so many million people every week, I need to make sure I explain myself thoroughly. After all, I don’t just disagree with him; I think his message is legitimately dangerous, so I want to treat it carefully and make sure I leave no stone unturned and no doctrine unexplained. This is certainly not an attack on Joel Osteen as a person. He is a truly wonderful man and one of the nicest people I’ve encountered on this journey. Still, I think he’s doing a lot of unintentional harm to Christians around the world, and because so many people listen to him and take his advice on spiritual matters, it is my responsibility as a future pastor to know how to respond to church members who share Joel’s skewed understanding of the Gospel. There are Joel Osteen fans in every church in America, so we have to consider his perspective carefully and respond to it appropriately and charitably, because we will be called on to correct this line of thinking at some point, and these are some very treacherous waters to navigate.
The Prosperity Gospel
I’m going to be over-simplifying here just because entire classes are taught on this movement, countless books have been written, and careers exist just to study it. The basic premise is that God guarantees good health, success, and financial abundance for those He favors, and while I don’t really like throwing around words like “heresy” and “evil,” this is a case where I’m often tempted to do so. The movement does claim Scriptural roots, often citing verses very much out of their original contexts or extrapolating them beyond recognition:
“For you bless the righteous, O LORD; you cover them with favor as with a shield.” (Psalm 5:12)
“For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)
The Parable of the Talents, particularly the line, “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” (Matthew 25:29)
“. . . I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10b)
“And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work.” (2 Corinthians 9:8)
These are just a few examples, but the list goes on and on. When in doubt, you can always just point to a rich character --David and Solomon being the perennial favorites-- and talk about God “showing them favor” and misconstrue that as a promise from God for financial success to all the faithful. Another example that has affected us in more recent decades is the hype that surrounded the book, The Prayer of Jabez. As I’ve written previously, I believe that Bruce Wilkinson wrote the book to be more about success in evangelism than about financial success, but that’s not really how the book was received or marketed. Of course, Wilkinson did use rather odd language about trying to pray down the blessings that God already has stockpiled for us in Heaven, as if God were some sort of chronic hoarder loath to part with any ounce of good fortune, and our prayers could magically unclench God’s hands. Frankly, that’s a pretty off-the-wall idea, but you sort of hear it echoed in Joel Osteen and other prosperity preachers: God has blessings set aside for the faithful, so we must be faithful if we want to be blessed.
Of course, pretty much all of Christian scripture and tradition speaks against this movement. In fact, I wonder how many counter-examples I can think of in five minutes. Ready set go:
Suffering and poverty are everywhere in the Bible, usually among the people God favors most. The Torah and historical books show us how, time and again, God has favored the people who lacked authority and influence and riches-- shepherd, slaves, younger siblings, etc. Basically, God typically roots for underdogs. The proverbs speak of how reputation and wisdom are the real riches, not money. The prophets often spoke from positions of total poverty and warned of the downfalls of the rich and the prosperous. Then there’s Jesus to consider. Jesus was Himself a practitioner of voluntary poverty and said that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus routinely told people to sell all of their possessions and then give the money to the poor. Jesus also told people that the first would be last and that the poor were blessed. After Jesus’ ascension, every single one of the Apostles lived in total abject poverty, and many of them had left lives of financial stability to pursue this path (particularly Paul, who left a successful career as a persecutor of Christians and a Roman citizen so that he could be imprisoned and executed). The epistles routinely preach to beware the love of money and that one cannot serve both riches and God, and the epistles also describe the Apostles as sometimes feeling great woe and anguish (i.e. not material abundance) but celebrating God regardless. In particular, the book of James tells us to feel encouraged when we face hardship and to give the place of honor in the church to the poor stranger. Asceticism has long been a part of the Christian tradition, embodied in countless orders of monastics and friars and mendicants for two millennia. One of the greatest post-biblical examples of God “blessing” a ministry was the stigmata of St. Francis, a man who gave up a career as a merchant to pursue mendicancy for the remainder of his life. We had an entire Protestant Reformation precisely because reformers thought that the Church had gotten too money-focused. We had Separatists and Puritans because, after breaking from the Catholics, the Protestants themselves had gotten too money-focused. We had the Progressive Era and Social Gospel and Walter Rauschenbusch. We had Papal Encyclicals. Liberation Theology. Dorothy Day. Mother Theresa. John Perkins. Jim Wallis. Shane Claiborne. Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove. All these people and movements promoting social responsibility and the sharing of financial resources, NOT PROSPERITY GOSPEL!
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| Lakewood Foyer |
There. How was that? I’m sure I’m leaving stuff out, but that seems like it should cover it. The Christian tradition --our Scriptures, our leaders, our history, all of it-- speaks against the prosperity gospel. It is based on an incredibly selective reading of Scripture, and it is one of the few things in contemporary churches that I’m totally comfortable pointing at and saying, “That’s totally wrong and has no redeeming value.” Of course, it’s all innocent fun, right? No one’s really getting hurt by this, right?
Yeah . . . I’ll get to that a little later.
Raising the Bar for Hospitality
After grabbing a quick dinner at Wendy’s (mmm, chili), Ben and I picked up Sanetta and headed down Highway 59 toward Lakewood. On the way, we talked a bit about the summer so far (Ben and Sanetta’s experiences in LA, the new direction their church was taking, all the strange experiences I had had on the road, the advice of various pastors, the state of things at Duke, my excitement over Erin, plans for after graduation, etc.). As I was telling them about how impressed I had been with Resurrection and how much I liked the idea of a missional mega, Sanetta said from the backseat, “Don’t do it, Tom.” “What? Start a megachurch? I really don’t plan on it. I mean, if it happens, that would be cool and all, but I really don’t think it’s that sustainable a model--” “No, I mean don’t go Methodist.” Sanetta, like me, is a Baptist, and we first really got to know each other in our class on the Free Church (Baptists, Campbellites, etc.) last fall. Duke has a bit of a reputation for helping Baptists make the jump to Methodism, but I assured Sanetta that, while I may really like the Wesleyan Quadrilateral and am a big fan of Communion by intinction and am crazy about my Methodist girlfriend, the United Methodist Church isn’t where I expect to serve. Ben was grinning from the driver’s seat. Ben is Methodist. Ben has job security.
We pulled into the Lakewood parking garage and headed toward the ramp that would take us to ground level. On the way, I shared a few of my more unpleasant church experiences (“And then Driscoll asked us for money from the TV screen!”), and we talked a little bit about my process for each church visit-- everything from conversations with greeters to investigating the bathrooms. Ben and Sanetta said that they were happy to stay alert and pay attention for little details during the service, and since this was the largest church in the country, I was grateful to have three sets of eyes and ears instead of just one. There would be a lot to take in. Plus, as Ben and Sanetta both have different backgrounds than I do (both of them spent time in other fields before divinity school, whereas I came straight from college for fear of leaving the warm, womblike embrace of the ivory tower), they would have different insights into what we experienced there at Lakewood.
We walked in through a fairly grand entranceway, and I instantly remembered that the structure had once housed an NBA arena. It had high glass doors and columns and stairways and fancy carpeting and beige beige beige as far as the eye could see. (Incidentally, if I ever were to write a book on the American megachurch, One Million Shades of Beige would be on the short list of possible titles.) Greeters at the bottom of the escalators handed us slick, full-color bulletins that featured advertisements for upcoming retreats and speakers, various church workshops and programs, and a promo for Joel’s newest book:
Buy one get one free!
“It’s Your Time”
Get Joel’s latest bestselling book to help activate your faith, accomplish your dreams and increase in God’s favor today! Hardback: $22.97, sale now extended through August!
It was at about this point that we realized we didn’t completely know where we were going, so we just sort of stood there and talked for a bit. I suppose we could’ve gone to the bookstore, but as these were friends I hadn’t seen in months, I was enjoying getting to stand there and talk with them. Ben offered to go investigate the bathroom for me but returned shortly and said, “Tom, don’t judge their hospitality based on that one. It’s closed for repairs.” We continued to stand there unsure of how exactly to get into the sanctuary until an older woman from the information desk came over to talk to us. She welcomed us to the church and asked a little about us as she showed us over to an elevator. Since we were first time visitors, she wanted to make sure we got seats right up front. (This is actually standard procedure at Lakewood and one of the more faithful embodyings of James 2 that I’ve seen in my journey.) Our new guide’s name was Dorothy, and as we rode down in the elevator, she recounted for us how she had been a member there since Joel’s father had started the church back in 1959. “I remember Joel’s very first sermon,” she told us, and then she confided with a smile that it hadn’t been very good, but as we all know, he got a lot better. She said that she loves Joel’s humility, his willingness to critique himself, his self-effacing sense of humor-- he’s a genuinely charming guy, and not a bit of it is superficial. Dorothy also said something that really moved me, “I know Joel personally, and he’s the same man in the pulpit as in his own home.” The respect with which she said it really struck a chord with me. Joel Osteen may be an international celebrity, but the people who know him well love him dearly. It reminded me of that Adam Hamilton quote that Scott had shared with me back at Church of the Resurrection: “I want the people who know me the best to respect me the most.” No matter what gripes I might have with his theology, Joel Osteen has achieved that, so I really deeply respect him.
Dorothy walked us into the sanctuary, and I have to admit that I had somehow expected the room to feel much bigger. Perhaps it was just because we were entering from the ground floor, but the church didn’t seem any more mammoth than maybe Hill Country or either of the Mars Hills. I’m sure it was big, but it never felt big. Perhaps entering from the ground floor created the illusion of smallness, or maybe the fog machine made the three-story-high ceiling appear lower, or maybe the smaller Saturday night turnout (a few thousand-- roughly a third of the room’s capacity) just made the church feel more intimate. It was hard to say. Still, the intimidation factor just wasn’t there, and I think all three of us really appreciated that. “It’s amazing that such a big place could still give off a small church feel,” Sanetta would later comment. I was just happy to be on the ground floor since I still have a rather cautious relationship with heights.
Dorothy led us over to an usher, an early middle-aged man who was clad in a light-colored blazer and sporting a headset radio (as many of the Lakewood staff did). He had a nametag, but for the life of me I cannot remember his name. We told him we were from Duke, and he talked with us for a bit, joking around and laughing with us. “Hey, how loud do you guys want it tonight?” he said before pretending to press a button on his headset, “Usher to Orchestra, Usher to Orchestra, we need it extra loud tonight. . . . Wait, what’s that? . . . 3/4 of the band phoned in sick, and we only have a triangle and a xylophone?! Sorry, guys, looks like I can’t help you on the volume front, but let’s see what we can do about seats!” He marched us cheerily up the aisle to a roped off section of seats only three rows from the stage. Pulling the rope aside, he asked, “Will this do?” Dude, talk about welcoming the stranger! Lakewood has front seats specifically roped off for the first-timers. They really do go above and beyond to make you feel welcome.
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