Banking on God: Theology, Part 2

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The prosperity gospel. You know it. You probably despise it.

Just the thought of some loud, sweaty, Armani-wearing “preacher” telling you that sending him $100 as “seed faith” money guarantees an increase of three, ten, or even a hundredfold…No, not this guy...the OTHER prophet Joel...well, the veins start pounding in your forehead and you’re wishing you could reach into your TV and slap the guy a good one.

“God wants you rich!”

“If you can envision it, you can have it by faith!”

“If words of death come out of your mouth, you’re going to reap death. Speak words of life!”

“Why ask God for a Ford when you should be asking for a Lexus?”

“You don’t have to live with disease if you have faith in God.”

“The power of wealth creation is in your tongue, so speak out that wealth!”

“You’re a child of the King, and you’ll never see a prince or princess enjoying anything less than the best the world has to offer.”

Now I made all those up. I’ll bet, though, that at some time or other a prosperity gospel preacher said something pretty darned similar. In fact, we could almost make a game of it by coming up with outrageous claims by prosperity teachers who teach a gospel without a cross, without sin, without holiness, and without—unbelieveably enough—Jesus.

These “preachers” of prosperity sucker millions of dollars from millions of people. Naifs who fall under the spell of these slick-talking, Bible-waving, perfectly coiffed “evangelists” often come to a sad—and savings-less— conclusion. Those prosperity preachers like to call everyone “Brother ” or “Sister,” and they often go by titles like “Apostle” and “Bishop.” And sadly for the rest of us charismatics, they claim Pentecostal and Assemblies of God backgrounds.

I feel for the people taken by these manipulators. For the most part, many of the fleeced are poor to begin with. Or perhaps it’s better to think of them as the working poor, especially in America. They have jobs; they’re just not good jobs.

Consider a mom and dad who collectively bring home about $16 an hour with no decent benefits. They have a car, but it costs more to keep it running than it’s worth. Things break in their home and they can’t afford to repair them. Doctor? Who can afford one when there’s no insurance and a simple office visit costs a day’s wages (and there’s always more days at the end of the month than there are wages). Taxes keep going up. Energy keeps going up. Prices for everything are up, up, up. Yet for these folks, wages stay the same. They’re the ones getting destroyed in this recession.

And every day they see themselves sinking further and further down with no hope of recovery. Think they’re going to latch onto anyone who can give them hope of getting out of their predicament?

The two question I ask amid all this is Where are we and what hope do we give them?

And that’s a problem for us Evangelicals who gag every time we think about the prosperity gospel.

Here’s a clue for us suburban McMansion-dwellers in our newly-erected, mega-community-churches: Poor people don’t like being poor.

It stinks to be poor. When your kid needs glasses and you can’t secure a pair because you’re too “rich” for government aid yet you’re not rich enough to afford them outright…well, it stinks even more.

I live in a not-so-rich area. Many of the houses on my road aren’t houses; they’re trailers. The state of the economy is putting a terrible squeeze on these already-squeezed people. So when they start putting faith in the prosperity gospel, I’m not surprised. The real Church hasn’t given them much other hope. Billy Joe Jim Bob Preacher Boy with a Gilt-fendered Escalade was there when the real Church wasn’t.

Do we remember Acts 2 & 4?

And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need.
—Acts 2:44-45

There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.
—Acts 4:34-35

I would contend that if we in the Church actually lived as those four verses describe, there wouldn’t be any need for anyone to rush to prosperity teachings for hope. But when we simply ignore those passages, especially in light of those parents who don’t know how they’re going to pay the hospital bill for their kid’s broken arm, then we’re assisting the prosperity message through our inability to live by the Bible so many of us call inerrant.

But you want to know the craziest part of all this? As bad as these prosperity preachers are, as little as they care about the cross and bearing it, they’re not wrong on everything.

Psalm 112 says this:

Praise the LORD! Blessed is the man who fears the LORD, who greatly delights in his commandments! His offspring will be mighty in the land; the generation of the upright will be blessed. Wealth and riches are in his house, and his righteousness endures forever. Light dawns in the darkness for the upright; he is gracious, merciful, and righteous. It is well with the man who deals generously and lends; who conducts his affairs with justice. For the righteous will never be moved; he will be remembered forever. He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD. His heart is steady; he will not be afraid, until he looks in triumph on his adversaries. He has distributed freely; he has given to the poor; his righteousness endures forever; his horn is exalted in honor. The wicked man sees it and is angry; he gnashes his teeth and melts away; the desire of the wicked will perish!
—Psalms 112:1-10

Well, is that true or not?

That passage embodies many of the teachings found in the prosperity gospel.

And what of this?

Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing praise. Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working. Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed fervently that it might not rain, and for three years and six months it did not rain on the earth. Then he prayed again, and heaven gave rain, and the earth bore its fruit.
—James 5:13-18

Do we believe that or not? The scary thing is that the prosperity preachers do.

And that’s a problem for us. Because there’s little difference in the eyes of the Lord between someone who preaches the wrong kind of faith and someone who has no faith at all.

Recently, I visited a few sites where people who believed God for healing terminal diseases came under fire from commenters. That made me livid. While it may be true that the commenters were wise enough to see through the phony promises of prosperity preachers who took money from the sick in exchange for a promised healing, is that any worse than not believing for healing at all? When I read those commenters, this quote struck me:

“Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the Teacher any further?”
—Mark 5:35b

Isn’t that the voice of resignation? Isn’t that the voice that says to give up? Isn’t that the voice that says to just make peace with the suffering?

Isn’t that the voice of the Enemy?

To which Jesus replies:

“Do not fear, only believe.”
—Mark 5:36b

I’m convinced that when we get right down to it, for many of us, our so-called faith is a sham. We may pray, “Give us this day our daily bread,” but which of us actually lives from one day to the next dependent on God to provide that day’s food? Can’t we buy our way out of almost any trouble we encounter? Why do we need God for anything?

Sure, Christ died and with His blood secured eternity for us who believe. No, we couldn’t do that ourselves. But beyond having faith that He will take us to heaven at some future date, how well do we live in the dark moments before then?

What happens should we find ourselves on the tight loop of the downward spiral? That time when we can no longer afford medical care, even if we have insurance? What happens when we confront some expensive-to-deal-with disease. Will we have faith then that God will come to help when before we counted on our money to make it all better?

Or will it all be suffering?

Prosperity preachers don’t like suffering much. In fact they pretty much hate suffering in every form. Boo on them, because we should expect suffering in life, right?

Funny thing is, the Scriptures tell us that one of the reasons Christ came was to relieve suffering:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
—Luke 4:18-19

Isn’t our Gospel supposed to be Good News to suffering people? How then did we turn it back into being about suffering? Isn’t the Kingdom of God a Kingdom that drives out that wicked kingdom filled with suffering? I mean, if we should be content in our suffering, I guess all those sick folks and families of demon-possessed people had it all wrong when they cried out to Jesus to come and take away their suffering.

And while we’re at it, what is so wrong with speaking positive things by faith? The prosperity gospel people always talk about making a positive confession:

From the fruit of a man’s mouth his stomach is satisfied; he is satisfied by the yield of his lips. Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits.
—Proverbs 18:20-21

True or not true? Obviously, I believe it’s true. Why then do so many act as if it’s not? I’ve got to believe the world would be a better place if Christians, especially here in the States, showed their faith more effectively to the world by speaking words of life rather than so many deadly words that only drive the lost further from Christ. And even in our own lives, how many times do we condemn ourselves by the negative words we speak with regard to our own lives? If a man truly reaps what he sows, what is reaped by the negative things we say about ourselves or our neighbors?

So as much we say we despise these prosperity preachers for filling desperate people with naive hope while draining their wallets, I look at my own life and the lives of a lot of other Christians who oppose those charlatans and wonder if our faith is even visible at all.

Now which problem should concern me most?

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Banking On God: Series Compendium

“Arise, My Love, My Beautiful One, and Come Away”

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Last Monday, the FedEx driver delivered a package for Christmas, the gift I bought my wife this year. Due to some good fortune, I found that gift for ten percent what it normally cost. We can't afford to have a big Christmas this year, so ninety percent off comes as a real boon.

Since we're literally the last house on the line, the people who built our house needed a power booster box in order for the electric to work right. For some reason they elected to put that box close to the house. When they added a second garage later, the bulky box wound up in the middle of the newly expanded driveway.

Typically, delivery drivers knock and hand me my package. I warn them about the box and all is well. But at Christmastime, drivers hustle, so they don't knock. The FedEx driver didn't, therefore he got no warning from me. You can guess the rest.

Homeschooling got derailed that day as I spent the afternoon contacting all the right parties to ensure that no one got killed from the damaged electrical box. My electric company brought out a crane truck to put the box back in place, then tested to make sure everything was safe.

Jump to this past Thursday morning.

I typically write this blog for the following day after 10PM the night before. Then I date it for just after midnight. For some reason, I wrote "We Need a Gospel That Speaks to Failure" early in the morning on Thursday, then posted it for just after midnight. Unbeknownst to me, as I was writing that post, failure poised to strike the Edelen household.

Shortly after taking a shower that seemed a bit chill, I walked down into my basement to find our hot water heater had exploded. Think how the Tasmanian Devil balloons after Bugs feeds him a cake made out of dynamite, freeze that image at the point of maximum Taz expansion, and you have a perfect image of what our hot water looked like.

Well, I know a man in our church who stood up at a recent men's meeting and declared his plumbing business needed more clients. Being a freelance writer, I know how hard it is for independent contractors to get work. So even though my tendency would be to go with the plumbing company I would typically call, I called the church guy instead.

The thought of another big, unexpected expense heavy on my mind, I contemplated the irony of the post I had waiting to go out later. Of course. Write about a trial; face the trial.

The church plumber tells me when he arrives that it wasn't the hot water heater that failed initially but the pressure regulator on the water line. With no pressure regulation, the hot water heater then blew. He didn't have a new pressure regulator with him.

Now I had a problem.

When you live in a town of 2,000 people, the sidewalks roll up at 6PM. My wall clock read 6:10 PM. To my surprise, a call to the local hardware store reveled they had extended hours that evening—and they had one pressure regulator in stock. Huzzah!

Wanting the job to go as quickly as possible, I told the church plumber that I'd go into town to get the regulator if he wanted to keep working. So my son and I jumped into my truck to head for the hardware store.

Pulling out of my garage, I had to maneuver into a portion of my gravel driveway I never drive over so I could avoid the plumber's truck. By the time I got to the end of my driveway, I noticed my truck handled sloppily. I didn't get 0.05 mile away from home before the thud, thud, thud behind me told me a sad story. Turning around, I limped up the driveway, and found a cotter bolt sticking out of my back tire. Between the tread and the sidewall. Where it can't be repaired. On an expensive 4×4 tire only ten months old.

Merry Christmas.

Oh, the bitter irony that the electrical company's crane would toss a cotter bolt that ended up destroying a perfectly good tire. Oh the extreme bitter irony that I should drive over that part of the driveway in order to get around the plumber's truck. Oh the heart crushing irony that all the money I saved on the item I bought for my wife that the FedEx guy delivered would be more than wiped out by the cost of a new tire.

And Thursday's trial's not over yet… 

{Tonto mode on}

Friday, much filled with appointments. Thirteen-year old spare on truck leak slowly. Ruined tire must be replaced. Appointments must be kept, else great trouble arise. Tire stores in town that can be reached on slowly leaking spare do not have tire. Dan must make dangerous trek over many miles of prairie to procure tire elsewhere, while making many appointments under far less than many moons.

By grace of the Great Spirit, Dan succeeds. Dan very much tired and grinding teeth. Dan not happy with last rising, setting, and rising of the sun.

{Tonto mode off}

I didn't go to church on Sunday. Once a year, for most of the last thirty years, I volunteer for the Audubon Society Christmas Bird Count. I've been a birder since I was twelve, so I've got a little experience. The local Audubon Society president lives across the street from me, so we've gone out before to count. It's a good time with a friend and neighbor.

While I normally play drums every Sunday morning for worship, I'd already arranged for someone to fill in for me. Most of the Christmas Bird Counts I've done have been the Sunday after Christmas, but different Audubon clubs run the counts differently, so any Sunday over a four week period is possible. The Sunday before Christmas, I'm sure, wasn't the best time for me to be shirking my rhythmic duties. 

I don't miss church very often. I don't like to miss church. I need to be with God's people every Sunday.

The alarm goes off yesterday at 5:20 AM and I roll out of bed. The day is gorgeous, partly cloudy with temperatures in the mid-60s—a rare confluence this time of the year in Southern Ohio. My neighbor, Rob, and I head out, eat breakfast with the counting crew, and hit our region to count.

Within hours, all the garbage from the week before drained out of me as I walked through God's Creation. I spotted a beautiful Ring-necked Pheasant and marveled at the power God built into its legs as it sprung into flight. Ring-necked PheasantI considered the Red-bellied Woodpecker's head, so wondrously made that it doesn't give itself a concussion hammering for bugs under tree bark. I watched the Northern Harrier hover in place, then trace lazy circles in the cerulean blue sky. I stood awed at a flock of Starlings twisting and turning in flight, but with no single bird leading the dizzying formation. The perfectly aerodynamic V formation of Mallards. The Belted Kingfisher's plunge into cool waters. The Kestrel's patient hunt for food.

Four things on earth are small, but they are exceedingly wise: the ants are a people not strong, yet they provide their food in the summer; the rock badgers are a people not mighty, yet they make their homes in the cliffs; the locusts have no king, yet all of them march in rank; the lizard you can take in your hands, yet it is in kings' palaces. Three things are stately in their tread; four are stately in their stride: the lion, which is mightiest among beasts and does not turn back before any; the strutting rooster, the he-goat, and a king whose army is with him.
—Proverbs 30:24-31 ESV

I worshiped God outdoors today. Carolina Wrens and Song Sparrows provided the special music. In the power and mystery of God's Creation, I heard the same words the Lord spoke to Job, and I asked myself, Who am I in light of so great a God?

When I walked through the doors of my house, I realized I hadn't considered my troubles all day. And I doubted that a Sunday spent in church would have led to the same release I found from the Creator's sparrows:

Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. "Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.
—Matthew 6:26-34 ESV 

Sometimes, God will speak to you apart from the fellowship of believers for a time of special, intimate healing. Listen for that time; this is what He'll say:

My beloved speaks and says to me: "Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away, for behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. The fig tree ripens its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.
—Song of Solomon 2:10-13 ESV 

Then let yourself be swept up in His arms. 

Rivers of Living Water

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Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, 'Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.'"
—John 7:38 ESV

It's funny how synchronicity strikes at the most opportune times. I'd planned on writing about rivers of living water today, but never had any indication I'd experience it so personally.

During my hiatus, I lined up about a half dozen good topics to discuss when I got back to blogging. The first was the post on labels, the second being about John 7:38.

My son and I read that passage together during our mutual quiet time. We've set apart a few minutes in the morning to read the Bible together and pray for the day. No one sweats great drops of blood or tears down demonic strongholds; it's just a dad and son spending time before God.

While reading through Chapter 7 of John, I read v38 to my son and God hit me between the eyes.  I stopped at the end of the verse and let it sink in. I've heard the passage hundred of times in my life, but on reading it this time I started thinking. And I've not stopped.

Last night, my wife and I attended my 25th high school reunion. I'd originally not planned to go. My 10th had been a blast, I was out of town for the 15th, and was sick as a dog for my 20th (one I was dying to attend.) But for some reason I'd gotten in my head that the 20th had been a huge one and the 25th promised to be lightly attended. I'd not heard from any of the group I'd hung with concerning the reunion, so that only reinforced my assumption.

I'm one of those people who looks back on high school fondly. Though I was by no means a jock, I was popular, with high school being a sort of "glory days" time for me. My drumming opened up doors into sub-groups within the school, and I was fortunate in that I crossed into groups that ordinarily didn't converge. The jocks, band geeks, honor society, and stoner groups knew me and I knew them.

Some personal confession now: I've been down in recent months. A lot of dreams have died in the last year or so and uncertainty is our daily bread. Financial insecurity lurks in every electrical, water, and mortgage bill. (Just paying for the reunion and a babysitter gave me pause, one of the reasons I'd elected not to go to the reunion.) The sheer speed of life has left me drained, longing for some simpler time when I didn't stand in the middle of a room, thoughts surging, unable to figure out what I'm supposed to do next. The idea of attending my reunion discouraged me more.  

At night, when the house is quiet and shadows fill the crevices of my office, I wonder how I got off track. That whip-smart young man of 1981 witnessed a lot of promise go out the window for no other reason than being in the wrong place at the wrong time doing the wrong thing. I'd sucked from the stream all through high school, but now those waters appeared dried up and so very long ago.

No one wants to be the "What ever happened to…" person people talk about at reunions. I didn't want to think that  people would join me in wondering how I'd missed the obvious glory road ahead of me.

But the Best Man from our wedding colluded with the girl I'd dated my senior year, and together they got me to change my mind, so my wife and I went. The evening was great fun. I connected with a lot of old friends. Finding out that people were doing well raised my spirits.

Toward the end of the evening, a classmate who'd grown up in my subdivision walked over. I'd been having trouble recognizing a few people all evening, and I didn't immediately put her face with a name. A stream in the desertThe second I saw her name tag, I did a mental brain slap (Duh! How did I not know right away?) and we started talking.

Donna told me right then that she'd been reading my bio in the reunion update. Her comment: "How wonderful your life has turned out for you, Dan. We always knew you would be someone important, a doctor, or someone who helps others. I'm so happy for you." Donna then pulled over another classmate, who agreed with what Donna had said.

I thought about my bio and wondered what Donna had read that I'd missed. I'd written the bio and it sure didn't sound as wonderful to me as it did Donna. But when she told me that she'd become a Christian since leaving high school and was now teaching Sunday School, it all made sense. 

You see, out of Donna came rivers of living water. God put Donna there with a healing word at a healing time. She spoke into the desert, and from that stream came life.

There was nothing fake about what Donna shared. She spoke with the love of Christ and meant what she said. She can't possibly know what a blessing her words were. They may not sound like anything extraordinary, but I needed to hear them. Later that night, driving the babysitter to her place, I spent the return trip home in tears, thanking God for all He's given me.

Are we speaking words of blessing into other people's lives? Are rivers of living water perpetually flowing out from us into the lives of people who are thirsty? 

How easy it should be for us to dispense grace! Yet for some of us, judgment and correctness fall off our lips faster than the Holy Spirit's life. How sad that we live in a culture longing for a drink of the Eternal, yet we turn on each other so quickly and without care for the death we inflict with our words and attitudes.

What does it mean for us who have the Wellspring of Life, the Zoe life of Jesus, living in us? How are our days different because we can offer drink to the thirsty that never fails to refresh?

Right now, people around us are dying for a drink of what we have welling up inside. In what ways would their lives be different if we broke down our internal dam that held back Living Water? What words of life can we speak into the dry desert that is a hurting person's daily existence? How can we be known as an oasis for the parched, whether they be lost or found?

I've met a few people in my life—only a few—who live each day as oases.  That's the kind of person I long to be. Maybe if we did a better job allowing more of Christ's living water to stream out of us, we'd mutually help each other to become the oases that Christ longs for us to be.

Be blessed. And be a blessing to others.