Saturday, December 29, 2007
As is the case with most American Christians, I have more than a few Bibles lying around the house. I bought a few for different translations, but most are simply the product of years of accumulation in a culture where more is better and a scriptural surplus exists. This is not the case in many other parts of the world. Even where the Word is widely published, translations are sometimes disseminated with faithful intentions but little cultural knowledge or concern. (A domestic case in point: warm-hearted, suit-clad Gideons who continue to distribute King James New Testaments on college campuses in America.)
I recently read an article about the World Bible Translation Center, a 34-year-old organization based in Arlington, Texas, that focuses on getting the scriptures out to literate but little-educated people around the world on a conversational and culturally appropriate level. According to the article, the center has translated the Word into more than two dozen languages - including Hindi, Urdu, Bengali and Yi - and has completed New Testament translations in 20 more. Such widespread production and distribution is an enviable achievement, considering the fact that the World Center's translations take almost seven years of painstaking study to complete. The Center puts in the effort for clarity on the front end so that those receiving the scriptures aren't forced to do all the work, i.e. making interpretations they aren't educated enough to make. "Responsible translation means communicating the meaning, the ideals, as opposed to the literal words," Ervin Bishop, the senior translator for the center, says in the article.
But some aren't so sure that this is the way to go. King James Only advocates believe that the Authorized King James Version is the closest approximation we have to the inerrant word of God. A translation that has been so well accepted for 400 years should never be put to shame, these critics say. No matter that scholars have shown the King James to emphasize the oratory aesthetic more than literal translation, and don't worry about the fact that it's hard to understand. God doesn't change, so why should the scriptures? they ask.
I see more than a few problems with such a view, almost to the point that I almost don't want to dignify this movement with a response. The first thing to notice is the xenophobia it fosters. One Web site says snidely that a team of scholars were assembled by God "to translate His word into the world's most popular language, English." This statement comes packed with all manner of insincerity, implying that English is the language of God and the Western world is privy to some degree of spiritual privilege. The author of the same article "debunks" the myth that we should go back to the original Greek and Hebrew to translate. One wonders about the lineage of the texts used by the King James translators. And by the way, although English might have been popular at the time, it's arguable as to whether or not it was the world's most popular language. Also, despite the fact that English has already started along the path to becoming the lingua franca of global trade, Mandarin Chinese boasts the most native speakers of any language in the world, and China has its own translation issues, as I point out in a recent post.
Another problem is one I think the World Center nails on the head. King James advocates, and anyone else who makes one translation their sole epistemological resource, value soliloquy more than the soul, the message behind the words, which are the skeleton upon which God adds the meat. Check this quote from the World Center's Web site, from Bishop again, "The Bible is the Word of God. 'Word' in this usage, however, is not the same as 'words.' The Word (logos) of God is His 'Message' conveyed to us, the people of the world using our 'words,' that is, whatever human language we use. This means it has to be expressed differently for different people."
The article cites an example that I think drives home the need for a reasonable degree of innovation in the field of biblical translation. The center's Arabic translation takes the word "Christian," which has a negative connotation in Islam, and makes it "Christ follower," capitalizing on the respect that Muslims have for Jesus while more accurately relating the true meaning of Christian discipleship. If such cultural concern can be replicated throughout the whole of scripture, why should we place unnecessary impediments to understanding in the way of those who could be seeking God?
In fairness to the King James folks, who I think are well-meaning but grossly misguided believers, the center of the debate is the extent to which we can become all things to all people (1. Cor. 9:20-23) without watering down or completely changing the essential message of the scriptures. With the wealth and prosperity message catching fire as yet another American Christian aberration, enough of that is going on already, and the issue is that more translations breeds less uniformity and more confusion. While I believe this may be a valid concern in a liturgical setting, it's hardly a problem in translation. Easier translations will give more people access to the message of Jesus, which at its core has to be received like a child anyway. And with more people reading, more people will discuss the Truth, and the every believer can be pleased with the end: God gets more glory.
Jesus came to fulfill the Law and the Prophets by loving the world. He reserved his sharpest critiques for those who were the most well-versed in the letter of the law, but had little regard for the spirit behind it. Although sometimes he spoke in parables to avoid being understood (in alignment with prophecies about him), he also used everyday illustrations so that common people - like fisherman, farmers and tax collectors - could understand the deep truths of God's kingdom. And many times, Jesus is cited as using Aramaic, the vernacular, rather than Greek, Latin or even Hebrew, which were all in use at the time.
The World Center distributed 2 million Bibles last year through missionaries and foreign outposts, but they don't only deal in languages other than English. The government of Uganda, the national language of which is English, is helping distribute 283,000 of the World Center's user-friendly translations to be used in elementary schools, the article said. As long as the Word is not compromised, I welcome the efforts of the World Center and pray that they will be used effectively for the spreading of the kingdom abroad and at home. I continue to collect Bibles from each country I visit to remind me that my language does not have a monopoly on the Word, and that (gasp!) Americans have no divine right to scriptural superiority.
To support the World Bible Translation Center, click here.
For recent posts on Pastor Bill Shorey's blog about the importance of using different English translations to hear the meaning behind the words, click here.
Photo: An Arabic New Testament given to me by a Jordanian believer who had been persecuted for his conversion from Islam to Christianity (left) and a Chinese Bible I bought at a rare Christian bookstore in China. Copyright Trevor Williams, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
With all the financial strain this puts on the taxpaying citizens of the state, it would be easy to get bogged down in debates over what can be done to stem the tide of immigrants to Georgia or allay its societal burden. While I do think this is a serious problem that needs fixing, I’ll leave you to the AJC article for more information. I want to look at something more tangible and less controversial—the opportunity for adventure these sub-legal enterprises and communities create.
A few friends visited us for Thanksgiving, and we drove toward Albany to visit my in-laws. One of them had a hankering for good Mexican food, but the road signs and billboards on that stretch of I-75 weren’t leading us to anything. Just when we thought we might have to go for some greasy American fast food, bold-red, backlit letters appeared on the western horizon: El Carneval. Certainly this was our promised land, flowing with cheese and salsa.
After a winding exit and a brief gas stop, we headed toward what we thought would be an authentic taco stand in that glorious strip mall just north of Crisp County. But as we approached, signs in the window and dim lights inside told another story. El Carneval was a grocery store, and it wasn’t even open this late in the evening.
Disheartened, we decided to drive down the road a ways to see if we could find a Wendy’s or something. A hulking building that at first glance looked like an abandoned shopping center loomed on our right. I was about to keep driving, but neon lights and palm tree murals in a window on the end of the shopping center caught someone’s eye. The sign read “La Playita Taqueria,” and the sunny seascapes on the window promised that the “Little Beach” taco shop would be an unlikely oasis.
A sign on the door welcomed costumers (not customers), and I jokingly scolded my friend for not bringing his clown suit. A Puerto Rican beauty pageant blared on the TV, and a lone Latino sat sleepy-eyed at a table. We seated ourselves and waited for the one-woman restaurant crew to greet us and take our orders. True to obnoxious gringo form, we requested chips and salsa, only to find that such American indulgences weren’t offered here. This place was Mexicano autentico, our waitress said.
If that’s the case, we resolved, then we might as well have a cultural experience. When she returned, my friend ordered beans and rice for an appetizer, a plate of steak and eggs and tacos for his wife and daughter. Katy, ever cautious, stuck to beef tacos and ordered a bottle of Jarritos fruit soda.
“Jou want strawberry, grapefruit or tooti frooti?” the waitress/cook asked. Katy smiled at the cute way the lady’s accent turned the y into a j and shaped the last word, which is a bit funny even without the accent. She eventually decided on the grapefruit flavor, a favorite of Mexican laborers at construction sites, I had learned during three summers as sprinkler pipe fabricator and installer.
I took the cultural experience a bit farther. If you’re adventurous with food, sometimes it comes back and bites you. Other times, your bites become surprisingly rewarding. Along with a set of two beef tacos, I asked for a taco featuring a dish that I saw as intriguing and befitting of this strange evening, a taco featuring grilled and chopped lengua de vaca, cow’s tongue.
As the Puerto Rican beauty queens cooed on TV and the waitress cooked, a few other Mexicans walked in and gave us the same kind of looks I’ve gotten in China as the only foreigner for miles around. With construction-stained jeans and disheveled hair, they looked pretty rough-and-tumble, so it’s unlikely that we scared them away. But either our strange presence or the slow service sent them packing after a few impatient minutes.
We were alone with our server, who promptly brought my cow tongue and a variety of fiery sauces to douse it in. I would need them, ironically, to dull my palate as I ate the little cubes of tongue, which still had the bumpy taste buds on them. Wrapped in a warm, homemade corn tortilla and blanketed with beans, rice and sauce, the tongue was actually pretty tasty. Although she knows I’ve eaten rat and dog meat before, Katy for some reason didn’t want to kiss me later that night. I think she said something about not wanting to French kiss a cow. My only consolation was that I had added another culinary trophy to the long-running list I’ve built over four different trips to China.
I have no clue whether La Playita is a legal business, but going by the studies, at least two of the four Mexicans that shared our time there were in the U.S. illegally. The interesting thing is that although they have come into the state I’ve lived in my whole life, in that community, I was the foreigner. Only in America. With all our problems in this country, we have loads of privilege and almost as many adventures for the taking.
Photo: the U.S. Capitol, Copyright Trevor Williams, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Amity Printing, which prints at a factory outside of the old Chinese Nationalist Party capital of Nanjing, is set to produce 3 million Bibles in the coming year, and the company is planning to expand into a 515,000-square-foot facility, according to the report.
Austin Ramzy, the author of the article and a contributor to Time's China Blog, which I follow, asks a variety of experts to estimate the number of Christians in China, a task that's next to impossible given the government restrictions on churches.
One thing they did all agree on is that the numbers, however difficult to calculate accurately, are getting larger.
An interesting nugget that Ramzy doesn't mention is which translation of the Bible Amity is producing. The standard, government-approved version is called the Chinese Union Version, a rigid, high-brow translation published in 1909, which some say even most university students have a hard time understanding. Since Ramzy mentions that Amity's operations are entirely legal, meaning that they're distributed through government-sanctioned three-self churches, I have to assume that the Union Version (known as the he he ben) is what's being churned out.
Although there are other translations in the works that I've never heard about, I've come in contact with the New Chinese Version, the xin yi ben, on trips to China. I don't think it's quite as colloquial as "The Message," but university students have responded to much better to it than the CUV in my experience. Click here for a more extensive description of Chinese Bible translations.
As with everything else in China, a strange paradox is that the Chinese factory can produce and export Bibles (Amity has the sole license, according to some reports), but people can't bring more than just their own into the country. Word on the street is that a new rule is in place to combat Bible trafficking leading up to the Olympics. Tourists coming into China can only carry one Bible for personal use, not backpacks-full for "distribution or propaganda."
On the official site of the Olympics, the travel page "recommends" that foreigners bring no more than one Bible into the country, and officials galore have made comments expressing the idea that they won't be suppressing any foreigners' religious freedom during the games.
On the other side, Christian soldiers from all over the world are gearing up for what they see as a 16-day evangelical siege on the Chinese capital. Web sites touting plans to reach China during the Games are making missionaries all over the Middle Country cringe. If they struggle to reach their communities while living there, what good will haphazard Americans do on a two-week tract-bombing mission? Newcomers shouldn't think that the Chinese government won't be prepared. They read the Internet (Hello, Big Brother!) and they won't be playing nice. But then again, your biggest risk is probably a light beating or deportation, and if you're looking to make a splash, that's one way to do it.
In all this chaos, one thing is for sure: Next year, people will actually watch the Olympics for once. Let the games begin.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
I won't ruin the story for you, but it's interesting how the mystery of the Ark still intrigues so many people, even those who stake no claim to Judeo-Christian religious heritage. The mystique of the Ark still tantalizes investigators and historians, and I think the reporter in the article did a great job capturing the Ethiopian believers' reverence for it and balancing that aura against history.
Equally interesting are the comments at the bottom of the article, where armchair historians tout their arguments for or against the existence of the Ark and the merit of even investigating the claims of the Ethiopians. It's surprising how dogmatic some of the people get, clinging to their epistemology and debasing others. Although it would be absolutely astounding to find the Ark, I think the bickering at the bottom of the page is the electronic precursor to a much more overblown international conflict that would occur if the Ark were actually found. Besides, if faith is the evidence of things hoped for and the certainty of things unseen, then maybe the Ark is better left undiscovered.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Without any English skills, he wasn’t able to find an engineering job, so he settled for the next best thing for a refugee—using a local connection to land a job as a menial laborer, scrubbing dumpsters at an apartment complex near Atlanta. The work was hard but nothing to get upset about. This was just an obstacle, and he could endure a few setbacks if by them he could escape his past.
He began studying English, and after a few years the owner of the apartment complex recognized his work ethic and asked if he’d like to become a painter. It wallowing in trash all day, so he jumped at the chance, even though he had little-to-no experience with a brush and roller. A few more years gone and his English much improved, the same boss asked if the Colombian would like to sell apartments to Spanish-speaking families.
Two years removed from that promotion, the Colombian now sells apartments to everyday clientele. His Hispanic accent is evident but winsome, and he’s extremely courteous without coming off as fake. He vigorously holds onto this job, which he says has its pros and cons. Just the other day, he had to tell a rowdy tenant to turn his movie down so a pregnant woman could get some sleep, and he’s been refereeing a group of unruly students who treat the complex like it’s the dorm for the college they cross the street to attend.
The Colombian represents an odd twist on the American dream, having come here by an odd confluence of desire and necessity. After eight years in America, he loves his new life, and he says he never even thinks about returning to civil engineering. He could care less that “sales manager” doesn’t have particularly prestigious connotations. To be honest, he’s just too busy reading about Colombian politics or helping customers retrieve their packages that were too big to fit in their tiny mailboxes.
When I ask him what he thinks about Americans who were born here but continually complain about the government even as they rely on it for sustenance, he replies with a pointed but non-judgmental response: “I think that we have so much here and we are accustomed to so much, that if one thing gets taken away, we complain about it.” The flipside is implied in his polite and grateful tone: If you’ve gone from nothing to something, you’ll appreciate all opportunities and the turns of fate and time that afforded them to you.Photo: The jungle of Panama, the closest I've ever been to Colombia. Copyright 2006, Trevor Williams
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Let the fact that this product is actually manufactured and sold attest to the frivolity of the Christmas season in America.
At least in theory, the holiday celebrating the advent of Christ should be a time of reflection. Our hearts should be overflowing with joy for our abundant blessings, and we should be straining our minds to figure out how to share such abundance with those for whom we care.
Most of the time, this theory is put into action, but the reality it creates somewhat distorts the meaning of the season. Our blessings get quantified, and we’re thankful. But we often count them in dollars, not in the amount of determined steps we’ve made on our spiritual journey. Our joy overflows, and we share it. But we do so by racking our brains to find gifts for those who already have everything they could possibly need.
Although it’s good for our country’s economy, this pursuit of newness and the fact that it’s often impossible to find something our friends and family actually need is one of the gravest symptoms of prosperity. When we no longer need anything but feel like we deserve to get something, only a few different scenarios can occur, none of which are particularly edifying.
First, when our wants are the end, our needs are trivialized and we become more susceptible to materialism. A second possibility is that people buy presents out of obligation rather than appreciation. Such a gesture nullifies the sincerity of the gift and often results in a lot of wasted money. (Think of how many things you’ve re-gifted over the years.) The third, and I think only acceptable scenario, is when caring people come up with gift ideas that don’t qualify as necessities but are both creative and sincere enough to express sincere appreciation and justify their cost.
The latter is what happens in my family, and I’m grateful that gift-giving among my relatives is not just a mindless swapping of cash flow.
Sadly though, people desperate to placate their relatives will fall for any sort of gadget. The plastic, animatronic Elvis is the epitome of America’s Christmas waste. Another product high on my hit list is the digital photo frame. The standard-size frames were bad enough, but now they have digital frames squeezed onto Christmas ornaments and key chains. (The one pictured here costs $40 on clearance at Target!)
This Christmas, let us begin and end with the joy that comes with the thought that Christ is alive. No matter how real his hair looks or how he moves and sings, robotic Elvis ($150 on sale at Macy's. Regular price: $400) is not.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The burgundy behemoth was around just long enough to join the ranks of Allie the Alero and Addie the Audi, other family cars that had received cutesy, alliterative names from Katy. But with a new job providing ample income and with daylight savings time approaching, it seemed more reasonable to put a down payment on a new vehicle than to give Willa’s jacked-up face a makeover. With that decision, a Honda Civic—Cecelia is her current name, but it’s always subject to change—stepped in as Willa’s prettier, more dependable replacement.
In the days before we bought the new car, I told Katy that if we were going to be spending the money, I wanted to find a way to use the car for God. Something this expensive should be a tool, not just an object for our enjoyment.
The next day, I was talking to a Chinese friend on the Internet, and somehow the new car entered the conversation. When he acted impressed, I was quick to tell him about Willa and how my newfound blessing was the result of my perseverance with my previous junk heap. If I hadn’t been patient and willing to suffer for awhile, I probably wouldn’t have had the money to put up for the new car. There’s a spiritual lesson in that statement alone, but our conversation went deeper.
I then told him my strategy for the car, how I wanted to use it as a tool for God’s work. As if on cue, we struck up a conversation about the poisonous influence of money in our lives, especially as it relates to spiritual things. By telling him some of Jesus’ parables about money, I was able weave the Gospel into our conversation. As the discussion concluded, I realized that the car had started the entire thing. A tool indeed.
Throughout our wealth talk, I wondered what the Chinese word for “miser,” or “cheapskate” is. What my friend, who had also been my Chinese teacher, told me reiterated my love for the vivid imagery of Chinese words and really brought some of Jesus’ parables to mind. Here are two Chinese words to describe a person who hoards wealth:
小氣鬼-Xiao qi gui – literally, xiao means “small,” qi means “internal or life force/energy” and gui conjures the image of a “ghost, devil or spirit.” Put together, at least in my eyes, they paint the picture of a hollow shell or faint image of a person with little magnanimity; someone whose love for wealth has robbed them of the capacity for compassion and life.
守財奴 -Shou cai nu – Lit. keep, wealth, slave, respectively. Someone who is enslaved by their desire to keep wealth; a miser who, as my teacher puts it, is controlled by money.
Jesus recommended storing our treasures in heaven and not putting so much stock in what have here on earth. If we can use our talents as tools, maybe we won’t end up like the wicked servant thrown out into the darkness, or like the arrogant man whose life was demanded of him after he built bigger and bigger barns but was “not rich toward God.” Don’t become a ghost or a slave for a little cash, or even a car.Remember the Volvo, Trevor. Always remember the Volvo.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Early in the day, while sitting at my computer, I received notice that Delta Air Lines would be hosting a press conference to announce the launch of the first-ever nonstop flight from the U.S. to Nigeria.
Armed with a press pass and camera gear, another reporter and I made it through airport security without incident and traveled to Gate E12 to join the media fray. Surprisingly, though not too much so when you consider many Atlanta media outlets' refusal to focus on international issues, we were the only print media that covered the event (as far as we know).
Our persistence was rewarded. Chris Tucker, the actor/comedian who stars in the Rush Hour movies alongside Jackie Chan, had accompanied Andrew Young, former mayor of Atlanta and U.S. ambassador to the U.N., to the press conference, and eventually they boarded the flight together.
For our colorful coverage of the significant event and photos of Chris Tucker, check out my article here. I had to resist putting quotes like "Don't you eva touch a black man's radio!" and "Do you understand the words that are comin' outta my mouth?!" in the article, but I did write about the fact that many of the Nigerians present shouted "Amen!" when the consul general talked about the flight.
A few months ago, I wrote about why America couldn’t afford to boycott China, and in light of all the human rights incursions and trade disputes since that time, I offer an interesting article that lends a little more credence to my claim.
The AP reported today that Dallas Theological Seminary is responding to the growing number of Chinese Christians and the dearth of theological training in the Asian nation by offering government-approved online distance courses in Mandarin Chinese. The article, which appeared in Saturday’s AJC, began with an anecdote about a female Bible study leader living in Hong Kong, so I naturally assumed that the courses would be limited to that city, which operates under the “one government, two systems” policy.
As I kept reading, I was surprised to find that a group of students from Beijing—the Communist Party’s center of power—has enrolled in the courses. According to the article, it took years of talks with the Party to the go-ahead from the strict government.
With the launch of the program this fall, the 2,000-student, nondenominational seminary could only accommodate 30 students in the program, but capacity is expected to double in the spring, due to the high level of international interest it attracted.
The seminary received hundreds of applications, and Chinese-speaking students in Malaysia, Australia and the Ukraine are currently enrolled.
The online courses allow students to follow video lectures of normal class periods in Texas, conducted in English. Chinese subtitles scroll across the bottom, allowing students to follow along. Christians looking to learn both English and theology get the double benefit of being able simultaneously work on their language comprehension and study the Bible.
A quotation at the end of the article left me a little wary about the government’s intentions for letting this program penetrate the “Great Firewall of China.” Chinese laws guarantee religious freedom, but it’s a freedom tightly regulated by the government. Religious groups must be sanctioned by the government and, at least in the case of Christianity, must register churches with local officials meet at approved locations. House churches and other groups meeting in undisclosed locations, like Tibetan Buddhist groups, are banned.
Of course, every positive development in China must be taken with a shaker-full of salt. Amid concerns voiced by a China Aid Association representative that the government would try to exert its influence over the teachings of the program, a DTS spokesperson offered this answer:
Yarbrough [the spokesperson] added there have been no recruiting restrictions. "We asked that question, and the government representative made the phrase, 'As long as they can access the computer, what can stop them from taking the course?' And he said that in a positive light."
Having been to China a few times and studied the language, I know that the Chinese rarely say what they mean. For that reason, the above statement is dripping with irony, as the government goes all-out to censor dissent as the Olympic Games approach. I presume that the government will be watching DTS’ program, and if it doesn’t lead to exponential proliferation of believers, they’ll continue to allow it as an example that they are opening the doors to religious freedom and outside influences. It may be all for show, but I still stand by my belief that enough feet in the door will eventually pry it open. And maybe with theological training, the Chinese will begin to send missionaries to America.
On a related note, last week I did a video interview (now posted on YouTube) for GlobalAtlanta with a U.S. special envoy to China, Ambassador Alan Holmer, who was visiting Atlanta to spread the word about the economic issues that would be discussed during his upcoming trip to China. To read or watch the video, which addresses the trade imbalance, product safety issues, and the U.S. role in speeding China’s economic reforms, click here.
Photo by Brad Kinney, 2006
Monday, December 03, 2007
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Tonight I was leafing through my journal, which I don’t keep up with very well. Inside the leather-bound volume, I have firsthand accounts of events spanning half a decade. The most recent entry came a few weeks ago, and the first was written before I even began dating Katy, who became my wife June 16 after more than five years of dating.
I can remember writing the entry by lamplight after an amazing day doing mission work in Washington. How we got there is a long an interesting story that will soon be published in Breakaway magazine, so I won’t reveal it now. But I remember that night, sitting at a desk in an apartment on the top floor of a barn in Damascus, Md., trying to process all that had gone on that day as we had toured the monuments downtown and scouted the area where we would do homeless ministry in the next few days. My whirling mind stopped on the intersection of two different human encounters and how God used them to show me that he was working on humility in my heart. So I began to write:
Feb. 22, 2002
Today was our fun day in the great city of Washington D.C…I had a few highlights during the day. First and foremost is that I saw the president taking his afternoon jog. They had shut down all direct views to the White House because the president was outside. We had to wait about 20 minutes in brisk cold for the North Vista to be reopened, but it was well worth it.
But, surprisingly enough, that was not the [biggest] highlight of my day. The pinnacle of the day’s activities was found in the filthy face and dirtier speech of a homeless man we came to know as Frank Nitty. He was a friendly and intelligent man, adorned in conventional homeless garb, engaging in the normal activity of begging for change. His sickly, sallow eyes told the story of a harsh life with little hope remaining.
It’s interesting how Christianity changes your views. Who, in the right (worldly) mind would value an encounter with a “nobody” more than a peek at the president? When Christ’s humility grabs a hold of you, whether pauper or executive, you consider all better than yourself. Only when you do this can you begin to implement his mercy, grace and love in life’s situations. I came across the two extremes of our country: the chief executive and the common pauper. The most important and the least important crossed my path, and I didn’t mind investing my time and wonder in the lesser.
I went on to talk about Mr. Nitty’s views on God and the church. He saw the world as a house of cards that would soon be blown to pieces. God was an supernatural agent worthy of respect because of his power, but not deserving of our love and worship. We parted ways cordially but without agreement. I think I ended up giving him a dollar. The lesson in humility he gave me was worth much more:
God has shown me that before my acceptance of his gift, I was just like everyone else. He has forced me to remember that the world is lost like I once was, but it doesn’t have to be.
I recently found this article in the Orlando Sentinel, which outlines the way that Joel Osteen steers clear of the type of negative publicity like the cloud currently surrounding some television ministers targeted by a Republican senator for their lavish lifestyles.
Although I won't retract the statements I've made condemning Osteen's low-density teaching style, I feel like the smiling pastor is deserving of a few compliments.
For one, while Osteen likes the expensive gadgets - like a giant globe, sweet light displays and other delights - for his huge auditorium, he does a great job of not mixing business with ministry. According to the article, he dropped his church salary two years ago, and he until recently he drove a nine-year-old, hand-me-down car. Among other key attributes that differentiate him from those under fire: He does not ask for money on his television broadcasts. With a ministry that already takes in $43 million per year, I'm sure that he could line his pockets nicely if he really wanted to, but the fact that he doesn't shows his dedication to his message, however light it may be.
I also think that Osteen does a great job at obeying the Biblical commands to shun "foolish and stupid arguments" and live by the mantra that says, "as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." True to his positive vibe, Osteen rarely, if ever, says anything negative about anyone in public. Part of the reason for this could be good marketing, and part could be a fear of public confrontation that might force his discussions to a deeper level. But nonetheless, he's doing his best to live at peace with those around him, even in the face of tight media scrutiny, and that's a quality I'll always commend.