Acts 2:45 – “They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need.”

CNN – Hundreds . . . thousands . . . maybe tens of thousands dead . . .

Acts 4:33 – “And God’s grace was so powerfully at work in them all that there were no needy person among them.”

CNN – People buried . . . no electricity . . . sense of terror . . .

So I hurried through the text, pointing out in the beginning that Acts is about the early church doing — by the power of the Resurrected One — what Jesus had taught and practiced in Luke. Then at the end, we talked about Haiti. About its lack of safety net (no fire department to call if your baby is trapped, no 911 to call if your spouse is bleeding to death), about its extreme poverty (poorest country in the Western hemisphere), but also about its pockets of deep faith.

We threw up baskets at the doors, and the class dropped in $763 plus about $20 in change. Then four of them counted the money quickly, and took it to ACU administrators (who are always anxious for the students to be involved in urgent needs like this). I think the whole student body will be given a chance to join in this contribution.

How about you? Haiti depends on our response. As Nicholas Kristof wrote, “Today we are all Haitians.”

Perhaps your church has some connections there. If not, I have a lot of confidence in the good people at Manna Global Ministries. They have people who’ve lived in Haiti, who are fluent in Creole, who know the culture, who will be there tomorrow. Keep an eye on their website for specific ways to help.

So, what can be done? Check out this amazing plan. You can read more on the Kibo Group website.

Here’s a bit from the site:

MANA is a response to the scourge of malnutrition. We’re jumping right into the middle of intense suffering as a mother holds her dying child in her arms. We’re offering her hope in a product that has been proven time and again to have a dramatic positive impact on the health of children just like hers. But we’re not stopping there.

MANA is a response to root cause of malnutrition: Poverty. We’re establishing local manufacturing facilities in developing countries, employing local people, and using as many local ingredients as possible. We’re intent on creating sustainable businesses that will help grow healthy families and communities.

This morning we hit the pavement running and I wasn’t sure if my old forty-five and a half year-old body was up for the day. I was sitting there thinking about how I really needed to take better care of myself and put ointment on my scaly elbows. With that thought still on my mind I looked up to see the Phnom Penh street-cleaning women hard at work—picking up the garbage with their bare hands. The Cambodian people work so hard here. There is an unlawful energy about Cambodia that I don’t remember absorbing before this trip. Everyone seems to be recklessly driving and the sex industry is so in our face.

We went to meet with Don at Agape. He runs a shelter for girls rescued from prostitution. He is really cool and was so helpful to Aimee with facts and numbers. He has been working here for two years and has several Vietnamese girls in his shelter. He is working in a Vietnamese area and said that ten-year-old little girls “expect” to be sold when they turn ten. Chinese and South Korean men are paying more for the lighter skinned girls–so the Vietnamese girls are in demand.

He told us the story of a little three-year-old who had to be examined by a pediatrician-friend who was staying with him…you get the point–there was nothing pretty about our conversation with Don this morning. It was confirmation that TAL needs to become more involved with working in Cambodia. I am going to talk to Marie tomorrow and run some ideas by her. I don’t know what all this means but I know God is laying foundation on this trip.

We went to one of the brothels that had been shut down about two years ago. It is a vacant building that looks like a storefront from the outside. But behind closed doors there were chambers that were six by six feet. There were about 14 little rooms down a long hallway. Each room had a hand-painted number on the outside of the door. Inside was a wooden slat bed and nothing else. The rooms were personally decorated with magazine pages glued to the wall, hand-drawn crosses of markers and poems. The poem tells of how men come and tell these girls they are beautiful but they know they are called “dirty girls”. One poem told of how she was so unhappy (I will try to get all the words of this poem from Don). It is the saddest thing. In fact, Aimee and I said that the prison cells at least had ventilation and these girls were truly prisoners and sex slaves of the worst kind. I think I will have nightmares of those little rooms.

Upstairs there was a room painted bright pink where the girls had to go shoot up with heroin and then be filmed for sex videos. I sat at the doorway of this room and looked at the pink paint and thought, how sad, every little girl should have a pink bedroom but not a pink sex room where she is to perform the cruelest of sex acts with men.

It is really beyond and out of control. There are white single men just combing the streets here along the river. I think Aimee and I truly can only take one more day and staying here on the river. Thank goodness we are leaving because Aimee does not hide the disgust on her face very well. I laughed at her this morning when she shot a pissed-off look to a guy flirting with the waitress. It is just dripping with disgust here.

I came home this afternoon and had to lay down because I felt the trip was catching up with me. I thought about those little rooms before I napped and it was the first thing I thought of when I woke up.

Well, I have to go. My workhorse of a writer said we must pound some things out this afternoon. She is really coming up with some neat ideas and ways of introducing each chapter. I am getting very excited about the book!

In spite of being tired and missing my family so much, I have to realize that God is not finished with me yet. I have one more day to see what all He needs to show me. Hearing the stories about little Vietnamese and Cambodian girls being tortured and robbed of their innocence is what I need to remember. I must find and keep a fighting spirit so that I might be able to do something about it. I can see Tay’s little face in so many of these stories. I see MaiLia walking the streets selling books. I see young women like KeSey dripping in sexual body language. This is not acceptable that these men are coming here and these babies are being held prisoner.

Wait until you see the pictures of this place. It is the glue to all the stories I have heard through the years.

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I’ve written before about my appreciation for youth ministers. That appreciation continues to grow as I hear stories of youth leaders who are instilling a deep sense of justice and compassion in their teens. Someday we may look back and realize that there was a dramatic shift in our churches — a shift that focuses more on God’s work to restore the world (in all ways). And we may realize how much of that took place from the teaching and modeling of youth workers.

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Insightful words about the gospels from N. T. Wright:

“No historian, no reporter, nobody ever tells things ‘just like they happened.’ All stories about all events involve the story-teller in selection, collection, arrangement and hence ‘interpretation.’ That doesn’t mean the whole thing is a pack of lies. It just means there is no such thing as a point of view which is nobody’s point of view. Nobody is ever a fly on the wall. All storytelling is story-telling with a purpose. The Gospels are no exception. To read the Gospels, then, we must continually be alert both for the question ‘what is this telling us about Jesus?’ and for the question ‘what is the evangelist trying to say, through this tory about Jesus, to his own contemporaries?’”

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My name has finally been removed from the www.foracappella.org site. It took quite a while for someone to figure out that I didn’t endorse the statement there. Hmmmm. Hadn’t read my blog, I guess. Keep hoping they’ll take down the scandalous articles that indicate instrumental music is a matter of salvation and fellowship. I’ve read some comments indicating that no one should bother to say anything about it. But those comments are wrong. That teaching is heretical. It reduces the gospel and throws up barriers that shouldn’t exist. Neither singing a cappella nor with instruments is heretical. Teaching that one or the other is necessary for salvation and fellowship is heretical.

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I’m expecting a short World Series, aren’t you? It’s hard to imagine either the Rockies or the D’backs matching up well with the Indians or Red Sox.

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I’ve been concerned about the need for the recruiters of Christian colleges to give the same perspective to potential students that the leaders on campus are providing once the students get there.

E.g., if a Christian college has banned people from speaking on its campus, that’s fine. The administration certainly has a right to do that. But wouldn’t it be ironic if the admissions people wound up recruiting from the congregations where those ministers work? Are they making it clear that they would like the students to attend even though the ministers they’ve grown up with are aren’t welcome?

Or let’s suppose that the administration generally believes that something like instrumental music will condemn you. Wouldn’t it be dishonest if the recruiters went to students from instrumental churches and encouraged them to attend, leaving the impression with the students and their parents that they are brothers and sisters in Christ who are in full fellowship?

The point is that there needs to be a consistent message between the policy and practices of the administration and the impressions given by the admissions counselors.

Now . . . you?

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If you haven’t been to Larry James’s blog recently, check out this wonderful piece. Also, for a bit of irony, check this out.

This time he’s going as a photographer to work with Invisible Children. He plans to spend his vacation time in January in Northern Uganda documenting various IC projects like the children who make bracelets, the schools program, and their work in IDP camps. He’ll also help teach some basic photography skills to these children with the Listen to My Pictures organization.

This is a volunteer effort, and Greg needs help raising travel funds. You can read about his trip at his blog (this post and this page), and he has a PayPal link set up to donate. Anyone giving $50 or more gets an 8×10 print of one of his photos, if they want it!

Highland has also agreed to collect funds, so if you want to send a check and get a tax-deductible donation receipt, we can do that.

Please go read about this trip, and about the excellent work Invisible Children is doing in that part of the world.

Next week I will be returning to Africa and will be able to see the Magnificent Seven first hand! It’s hard to comprehend the changes that must be transpiring within the souls of these precious children who were once living in hopeless bondage but are now experiencing freedom.

During the past few weeks I’ve felt as if I am living in someone else’s body. This someone else leads a very exciting, busy life! I’ve ridden on the wings of various emotions leaving me to feel as if I need motion-sickness medication!

In case you ever wonder–when one is featured in a New York Times article and then is a guest on the Oprah Show–life changes. It was all a divine strategy carefully mapped out by a divine being! A human could not have arranged this miraculous chain of events where orphans from around the world are benefiting from a Missouri mom’s journey. Only God can do a work such as this!

I find myself giggling out loud as I recall the past six years of my groveling and begging for money to help poverty-stricken, disease-ridden widows and orphans in third-world countries. I had known I was to be a voice to cry out for children whose cries were not being heard…yet the frustration that comes when most people refuse to listen is too painful to describe. I didn’t understand why God would so clearly give me channels to help those who were going to die if someone didn’t step in if he wasn’t going to guide and direct me to people who were compassionate, willing and generous! Most richly-blessed Americans choose NOT to look away from their blessings long enough to focus on the ugliness of reality.

I see that my choosing to remain persistent in spite of endless irritations and constant disappointment has led me to where I stand today. It’s not me–I am operating in “simple-obedience.” I have committed to remain faithful and open to be used as an instrument — the feet, hands and voice. God must have been waiting for some reason and now must be the time. A gentle, refreshing shower of blessings from people whom I didn’t even know existed has been washing over me over the past few weeks. I have discovered kindred souls who are filled with compassion and kindness and who are willing to do their fair-share to save the world (one child at a time!).

I will be traveling to Africa with Amee Molloy. Amy is a writer who has been spending much of her life “inside my head” here lately. I carefully guide her along to visit both heartaches and rejoicings as she paints portions of my life into book form. We will visit the lake where Mark and the others were rescued from the darkness of slavery. I expect to feel excruciating pain for those who have not yet been liberated. Yet, I will take hold of the hope that their day of liberation will come. Experiencing the “Mark-Miracle” has confirmed what I had believed all along: for each suffering child there is a person out there who (if that person would only step out in faith) can be delivered out of bondage!

I am sure you will be reading details of my Ghana-journey while we are there as I have someone who will keep this blog updated for me.

Until then…

Quite often the absence of immediate success
is the mark of a genuine call.
~Bruce Larson~

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Thanks to the diligent work of Keith Brenton, MP3 downloads of Zoe music are now available on our website.

I just received a little package in the mail. You guessed it: a baseball signed by Orlando Cepeda. Thanks, Terry (Rush)!

Have I mentioned that I was also a fan of Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays?

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“A Place to Call Home” from Larry James’s blog:

“I sleep on the street,” William told us. “I cover up with my blankets. My blankets are precious to me because of the cold. One night last week, I woke up and realized there was another person under my blankets with me! A perfect stranger just trying to stay warm. He meant me no harm at all!”

William told his story yesterday during one of our site visits by the United Way committee that will determine our funding level for our housing efforts for the coming year. Thanks to Rev. Jay Cole, director of Crossroads Community Services (a ministry of First United Methodist Church and one of our partners in outreach to the homeless in Downtown Dallas), five men joined us for the interview and tour. We met in the lobby of our recently acquired office building at 511 N. Akard, otherwise known as CityWalk @ Akard.

“The shelters don’t allow us to store our belongings,” Roger explained. “If we leave our stuff, they throw it away. What is precious to me, may not be to you, but it is to me!”

“If we look through the trash for what they throw away, they ban us from the shelters,” William added. “We just need a place to leave our belongings, a place that is ours.”

Three other gentlemen spoke–”Wild Bill,” Leon and Troy. Like their other two friends, each was articulate, clear, honest, rational and impressive.

Leon told us that he was living in a shelter at present where everything was “beans and rice and Jesus Christ!” But he said he was glad for the bed, even though the shelter turned everyone out onto the streets at 5:00 a.m. every morning. He has a job, so it works for him.

“But, what I really need is a place of my own,” he added.

“Wild Bill” described his campground home.

Troy told us about his struggle with drugs and life.

When the men were done, we all sat in silence for a few moments before the committee’s questions broke the silence.

I think we all realized what great neighbors these five men would make.

As I spoke with them afterwards, it was clear that the thought of a place of their own was beyond their ability to conceive at this point. The longer we visited, the more hopeful they became as I described apartments we would begin offering in May at another location in Dallas.

“Would the apartment be furnished?” Roger asked.

When I told him that it would be, unless he wanted to use his own furniture, he just shook his head and said, “Do you know how long it has been since I slept on my own bed?”

William told the group during our formal presentation that one of the greatest needs of all is for simple privacy.

“I’d like to be able to shut the door and take a shower or use the restroom. There is no privacy for any of us.”

“Every day we fall in line to join the ‘parade’ from place to place Downtown,” Roger told us. “We need a place to call home where this can stop.”

All the comments began when I asked these men the simple question, “What would an apartment of your own mean to you?”

I came away more convinced than ever that most of us don’t understand much at all about homeless people. Further, about all we need to understand is that they need a home, a place they can call their own.

We’re working on that right now.

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Larry James recently had these stats about immigration in Texas on his blog:

Consider these facts about immigration:

Of 31 million total immigrants, 12 million are undocumented with 1.4 to 1.6 million in Texas (5% of the state’s population)

Parkland Health and Hospital System, the public hospital in Dallas County, wrote off $7.6 million in unpaid medical bills from patients residing in adjoining Collin County which has no public hospital

(D Magazine, “Mexican Invasion,” by Rod Davis, February 2007, pages 42ff)

What will the church’s response be? Try to turn our world into a gated community where others are accused and rejected? Or seek to welcome and love?

Today, there is a follow-up story about it in the Times. Also, they (and my niece) head to Chicago to be on Oprah, a show that is supposed to be aired in March and that they hope will bring attention to the plight of other child slaves in Ghana.

But I also had time to listen to a message that was recommended to me by a blog reader who had heard me preach on some of the themes in the sermon.

Find 50 minutes and listen to this incredible message by Rob Bell. Go to this site, and find message #411 (December 10, 2006).

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I haven’t yet gotten to listen to Rick Atchley’s three lessons on “The Both/And Church” (explaining their decision to add an instrumental service), but they are found here.

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Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn made it easily into the Baseball Hall of Fame. But here’s my question: what 13 people voted AGAINST Gwynn? The man played two decades with the same team, and retired with a lifetime .338 batting average. He’s among the very best the game has ever seen.

IF TEXAS WERE A TOWN WITH 100 CHILDREN:

44 would be Hispanic

40 would be White

13 would be Black

3 would be another race or ethnicity

49 would live in a low-income household (200% of federal poverty level)
–Of these, 23 would live in poverty (at federal poverty level)
–For 10, this poverty would be extreme (at 50% of federal poverty level)

21 would lack health insurance

25 would lack childhood immunizations

Something to meditate and prayer over in church tomorrow, don’t you think?

[Source: "The State of Texas Children 2006: Texas KIDS COUNT Annual Data Book," published by the Center for Public Policy Priorities. Visit them at www.cppp.org.]

But after eleven years in a large Dallas law firm and after making partner, A. Scott Fenney had no such plans. His future was money. Green, it turns out, is The Color of Law.

Fenney, a former star running back at SMU who married Miss SMU, has been on the fast track with a Dallas firm. But after he gives a rousing speech to colleagues about the nobility of law, invoking the memories of his mother reading to him about Atticus Finch (a speech which he later admits he didn’t believe), a federal judge appoints him to represent a black prostitute from East Dallas who is being charged with murder.

And, we learn, the man she supposedly murdered after he picked her up on Harry Hines Boulevard is the son of a powerful, wealthy Texas senator with aspirations for the White House.

Representing her holds the potential for career suicide since the powerful senator will do anything to keep the name of his son from being raked through the mud — which would be required since the son had a history of slapping around prostitutes and dates.

He comes to a critical fork in the road: will he continue with the dream life in “the Bubble” of Highland Park, or will he provide the counsel for this young mother?

As the Texas Monthly said, The Color of Law is “an unbeatable legal thriller with a lot of heart.”

It would be a great novel for a group of university students to work through along with To Kill a Mockingbird, which it continually refers back to. (Fair, warning, however: If Grisham is PG and Turow is R, Gimenez’s first novel is maybe a PG-13. Or, say, PG-16.)

I won’t be surprised if sometime I find out that “Mark Gimenez” is a pen name for Larry James. For through the events of the story, Gimenez forces us to think about the gap between a place like Highland Park and a place like East Dallas. How could two places be so close and so far?

I liked knowing the city where the action is set. I’ve driven down those roads (Lover’s Lane, Mockingbird, Preston Road, etc.) and seen those shopping centers.

But at the same time, there is discomfort. Here are some passages:

“A concrete-and-steel landscape as far as the eye can see, all the way to the brown haze of pollution that perpetually rings the city above the loop, treeless and barren, the city’s master plan obvious — to pave over every square inch of green . . . . Which might explain Dallas’s ranking as the ugliest major city in America. Other than women, Dallas has no natural beauty whatsoever. No ocean or lake or water of any kind except the Trinity River running west of downtown, used for decades as a natural sewage system and today as a big drainage ditch. No Central Park, no Rocky Mountains, and no Miami Beach. No wonderful weather. Nothing other great cities have. All Dallas has is a white X on Elm Street marking the exact spot where an American president was killed. But then, you don’t live in Dallas for any of that; you live in Dallas to make a lot of money fast.”

“Grammar skills notwithstanding, she was a fine example of what Texas men most want — a gorgeous Texas girl. Texas myths were many, but one was no myth: the most gorgeous girls in the world were found in Texas. Dallas, Texas. Girls like her, they graduate from high school or maybe junior college, and from small towns all across Texas they had straight to Dallas like moths to light. They come for the jobs, they come for the nightlife, they come for the single men making lots of money, the kind of money that buys big homes and fancy cars and fashionable clothes and glittery jewelry guaranteed to bring a smile to any Texas girl’s face. Girl wants to marry a refinery worker and live in a double-wide, she moves to Houston; girl wants to marry money and live in a mansion, she moves to Dallas.”

“Developed in 1906 on thirteen hundred acres of high land above downtown Dallas, Highland Park today is a sanctuary of elegant homes, landscaped lawns, and broad avenues canopied by towering oak trees. On its wide sidewalks European nannies and Mexican maids can be seen pushing the heirs of the great Texas fortunes in strollers while their fathers — billionaires and millionaires and the lawyers who tend to them — work in the downtown skyscrapers and their mothers play tennis at the country club and shop at Anne Fontaine, Luca Luca, and Botega Veneta in the Highland Park Village shopping center, its Spanish Mediterranean architecture and quaint stucco buildings with terra-cotta roofs and decorative wrought iron harking back to a distant time and place when great wealth was reserved for people of a certain class, not just anyone who could dunk a basketball. Visitors from California say the town reminds them of Beverly Hills, and with good reason: the same architect who designed Beverly Hills designed Highland Park. Only difference is, the founders of Beverly Hills did not file deed restrictions that legally limited home ownership in their new town to white people only; the founders of Highland Park did. Almost a hundred years later, the Town of Highland Park is a two-square-mile island entirely surrounded by the 384-square-mile City of Dallas. It’s an island of white in an ocean of color: Dallas, a city of 1.2 million residents, is now only 39 percent white; while Highland Park, a town of 8,850 residents, remains 98 percent white, with not a single home owned by a black person. It’s an island of wealth — on any given day over a hundred homes in Highland Park will be listed for sale at prices exceeding $1 million. It’s an island immune from the crime and social ills that affect Dallas — Highland Park kids call their hometown “the Bubble,” happy to be insulated from the outside world that beckons at the town boundary — albeit an island without a river or stream or even a moat to keep the outside world out, only the highest home prices in Texas, a well-armed police force, and a long-standing reputation that if you’re black or brown and don’t live there, you’d damn well better be passing through.”

“Thirty-six years Scott Fenney had lived in Dallas and not once had he driven into South Dallas. White people drove south of downtown three times each year and only for events held within the gated Fair Park grounds — the State Fair, the Oklahoma-Texas football game, and the Cotton Bowl game — being careful to stay on the interstate, to take the Fair Park exit, and to drive directly through the park gates without detour or delay. White people never drove into South Dallas, into the neighborhoods and mean streets of South Dallas, into the other Dallas of crime and crack cocaine, prostitution and poverty, drive-by shootings and gangbangers, into black Dallas . . . .”

When he continues to represent the woman on trial, his senior partner says to him:

“When I graduated from law school, Scotty, a wise older lawyer gave me some good advice. He said, ‘Dan, every new lawyer must make a fundamental choice from which every other decision in his professional life will flow. And that choice is simple: Do you want to do good or do well? Do you want to make money or make the world a better place? Do you want to drive a Cadillac or a Chevrolet? Do you want to send your kids to private schools or public schools? Do you want to be a rich lawyer or a poor lawyer?’ He said, ‘Dan, if you want to do good, go work for legal aid and help the little people fighting their landlords and the utility companies and the police and feel good about it. But don’t have regrets twenty years later when your classmates are living in nice homes and driving new cars and taking vacations in Europe. And you have to tell your kids they can’t go to an Ivy League school because you did good.’”

Well, I have so many other passages marked. It is about Dallas, but it far transcends one city. It’s about lawyers, but it moves far beyond that.

It’s about justice, isolation, racism, materialism, law, service, courage, character, and beauty. (“Rebecca Fenney was still remarkably beautiful, still the most beautiful woman in Highland Park, still able to compete with a twenty-two-year old for her lawyer. But the day would come for her, she knew; and with each passing day, Rebecca Fenney was a day older and a day less beautiful.”)

It’s about Atticus Finch. Even before he was Gregory Peck.

At a critical moment when Fenney is explaining to his senior partner that without good representation his client would unfairly be put to death in Texas, the older man got a puzzled look and replied, “And how does that affect your life?” For anyone who’s read the gospels, they know how important that question is.

It’s a question that hits him hard in the nose when his former secretary doesn’t seem too torn up by his leaving. She says:

“For eleven years I’ve fetched your dry cleaning and coffee, run your personal errands, paid your personal bills, shopped for gifts for your wife and child and clients, lied to clients for you . . . Did you care about me? About my life? You never once asked about my life. Do you know I have a handicapped child and that’s the only reason I’ve put up with you for all these years? Because I needed the money? You didn’t know and you didn’t care. Did you care when Mr. Walker got fired? No. Like every other lawyer here, you care only about yourself.”

The ending is not as strong as the rest, I thought, but, heh–it’s a first novel. And quite a good one at that. I look forward to more novels from Gimenez.

Reading it makes me very thankful for those who are working to bridge the gap between haves and have nots, and it makes me grateful for those lawyers I know who still understand that the color of law is not green. They are, indeed, salt and light in the world.

Seriously — how did the Evangelical church get here?

The basic movement of the gospel is clear (Phil. 2:5ff): self-denial and self-sacrifice rather than self-fulfillment. We follow one who had no place to lay his head, who warned us that life does not consist in the abundance of things, who told a wealthy man to sell all and give to the poor, who insisted that we cannot have two masters (God and $$). Followers of Christ in other cultures have often lost all as a result of their faithfulness to him.

But walk into Christian bookstores and there is a different gospel. The gospel of Joel Osteen.

And does it sell! Your Best Life Now has sold over 4 million copies. It finds a welcome audience in the consumerism of America.

The authors of the article write:

“What remains is a materialism framed in a kind of Tony Robbins positivism. No one exemplifies this better than Osteen, who ran his father’s television-production department until John died in 1999. ‘Joel has learned from his dad, but he has toned it back and tapped into basic, everday folks’ ways of talking,’ says Ben Phillips, a theology professor at the Soutwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. That language is reflected in Your Best Life Now, an extraordinarily accessible exhortation to this-world empowerment through God. ‘To live your best life now,’ it opens, to see ‘your business taking off. See your marriage restored. See your family prospering. See your dreams come to pass . . .’ you must ‘start looking through the eyes of faith.’ Jesus is front and center but not his Crucifixion, Resurrection or Atonement.”

Does that tell us something?

The book is full of “illustrations of how the Prosperity doctrine has produced personal gain, most memorably, perhaps, for the Osteen family: how Victoria’s ‘speaking words of faith and victory’ eventually brought the couple their dream house; how Joel discerned God’s favor in being bumped from economy to business class.”

Insightfully, the authors go on to talk about the basic for criticism of this Prosperity Lite movement: “Most unnerving for Osteen’s critics is the suspicion that they are fighting not just one idiosyncratic misreading of the gospel but something more daunting: the latest lurch in Protestantism’s ongoing descent into full-blown American materialism.”

Rick Warren, who by his words and life is becoming an incredible leader in the worldwide church, said: “This idea that God wants everybody to be wealthy? Baloney. It’s creating a false idol. You don’t measure your self-worthy by your net worth.”

Ron Sider, author of Rich Christians in a Hungry World: “They have neglected the texts about the danger of riches. Prosperity Gospel Lite is one of the most powerful forms of neglect of the poor.”

And Ben Witherington, an incredible Evangelical New Testament scholar at Asbury Seminary: “We need to renounce the false gospel of wealth and health — it is a disease of our American culture: it is not a solution or answer to life’s problems.”

The “internet monk” (Michael Spencer) has written:

“He’s being sold to us by people who want to make money off his success, and they are counting on us to be sheep, ‘baaing’ quietly, but going along to the slaughter. Any analysis of Joel Osteen’s theology is going to have a hard time saying he is proclaiming the Christian message. The most popular preacher in Christianity is proclaiming a theology that is neither Christian, nor Jewish, nor Muslim, but is pragmatically pagan. Pagan in the sense of finding ways to gain the favor of god so he will do good things for you. Manipulating the deity to give you blessings. This is the ultimate example of Luther’s ‘theology of glory’ chosen over the ‘theology of the cross.’ I would rather a non-Christian hear John Shelby Spong a hundred times than hear this. Spong denies it all- outright. Osteen is presented as a Christian, but his message isn’t going to bring you to Christ, the Kingdom or heaven. It’s spiritual cyanide disguised as candy. If there is a hell, Osteen’s message won’t stop you or the people you love from going there, because the savior in his messages is YOU and the salvation he offers is a NEW ATTITUDE, and some resulting real estate. The question becomes, will evangelicals do anything? Will they say anything? Will they register their objections to Osteen’s reshaping of the Reformation gospel into a positive thinking message that makes Robert Schuller look like John Calvin in comparison?”

Yesterday I listened to Dan McVey talk about the advancement of Islam in North America. It is the fastest-growing religion in North America. (On a global scale, protestant Christianity is by far the fastest growing religion, however. It outpaces Islam in growth by 3-1, I believe Dan said.) In this culture of ease and consumerism, Islam offers a faith of discipline and serious devotion. Of course, Christianity does too (along with a framework of grace and a God who has come near in Christ) — just not in the versions that have become so popular in “Christian” bookstores.

Even in their grief over their son’s death in the summer of ’99, God has made them compassionate advocates for some of “the least among us.” Here’s how they describe it on the website:

Jantsen was our beautiful fifteen year old son. He was atheletic and loved life — living it to the fullest.

~James 1:27

(Update on 2/9/07.)

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After a final brain-storming session with the Zoe worship leaders yesterday, I’m really looking forward to this year’s conference called “Closer.” Lauren Winner, author of Girl Meets God and Real Sex: The Naked Truth about Chastity, and Jeff Walling will be speaking at the leadership conference, while Randy Gill and I will speak for the worship conference. I haven’t yet heard the new Zoe CD to accompany the conference. Can’t wait. You can find more info here.