Peter Smythe

Dear Reader,

Thanks for your email.

That’s a hard question.

I am one of the lucky few who got to toss his suburban life aside and hunker down in Broken Arrow during Rhema’s salad days.  Back then Word of Faith preaching wasn’t known for wacky prosperity doctrines, tithe-till-you-drop offerings, or pink-haired ladies.  We had teachers who had left all they had to teach us the core doctrines — faith in the Word, Christ’s finished work, and the believer’s authority – in modest, nondescript classrooms.  The preaching of the Word back then was so rich that none of us thought twice about standing in the rain for hours just to get a good seat in the main auditorium.  Extraordinary manifestations of the Spirit so ruled the day that we joked with one another about penning another chapter to Acts.

In those heady days, Word preachers were shy men, aloof to fame and fortune, who spurned big crowds to spend time in the Word and in prayer.  They were reluctant to preach, but when they did they were more focused on lifting their hearers’ eyes over the fence line to see joys unspeakable than giving a boost to their bottom lines.

But times have changed.

These days Word preachers are known more for their hair coloring and their Rolexes than their fidelity to the Word.  Word ministries have mushroomed into tightly run corporations driven by sales of CDs, books, and special offerings and the modern Word preacher is more at home analyzing product cycles than he is spelunking the perimeters of the mystery of Christ.  Regrettably, the glories of “Christ in you” have been cashed in for the low-rent celebrity of ministry hierarchies, titillating prophecies, and tithing MLMs.

The school hasn’t been immune to the slide.  Its current magazine demonstrates a slovenly approach to the Word that wasn’t tolerated when I attended.  In an article entitled, “The Ultimate Man,” a teacher writes of Jesus’s death and resurrection:

Finally, Jesus and his forced participant [Simeon] reached Golgotha’s hill.  The Roman soldiers pounded huge spikes into Jesus’ hands and feet, nailing Him to the cross where He uttered His final words, “It is finished” (John 19.30).  It looked as though the battle was over.  It looked as though the wrong team won.  But when Jesus uttered, “It is finished,” He was simply saying that His work on Earth had come to an end.  He was then going to descend into hell and finish the fight.

. . .

It may have looked as though Jesus was down, but He was not out – the “Ultimate Man” made the ultimate comeback.  In the three days that Jesus was in hell, He defeated Satan and took back the keys of death and hell (Rev. 1.18) . . . Jesus fought and won the battle against our enemy.

Jesus depicted as an Ultimate Fighter makes for a great backdrop to the ministry’s alpha-man’s  meeting and that may be why it was written that way (advertising tie-ins are all the rage), but the storyline belies an arrogant flippancy to the Biblical text. The teacher’s analogy does no small mischief because God, the Father, is the active agent in Paul’s exposition, not Jesus.

A frequent misunderstanding of this passage [Colossians 2.15] is that the Lord Jesus “stripped off” from Himself the clustering powers of darkness, overthrowing and putting them to an open shame.  But a correct rendering shows clearly that the Agent is God the Father.  Of what does He “strip” the powers of the air?  Of the authority that had been theirs.  Death is the penalty of sin; and when Christ, bearing the world’s guilt, went down to death, they sought to exercise their ancient prerogative and hold Him under its power.  But in the wisdom of the Father, the yielding of the Righteous One to death discharged the long-established bond of the Law.  Exultantly, the Father nailed the canceled bond to the cross of His Son; then, “stripping of their authority the discomfited principalities and powers, He handed this authority over to His Son.  The “show” (triumphal procession), which the apostle figuratively uses, corresponds to the elevation of the Son above His enemies, mentioned in Ephesians.  (John MacMillan, The Authority of the Believer 20)

You can see that MacMillan’s reading puts the redemption players in their proper roles: God is the active agent resurrecting the yielded Righteous One from those who sought to hold Him under death’s power.  The core Word of Faith doctrines are founded upon the bedrock of identification; the very same power that raised Jesus from the dead and seated him at God’s right hand is equally applicable to the believer (see Eph. 1:19 to 2:1 – the same power that resurrects Jesus revives believers).  The teacher’s “Ultimate Man” flouts that truth, thwarting a concrete understanding of the believer’s position in Christ.

The teacher’s exposition might have been an isolated mishap, but I doubt it.  Modern faith preachers have failed to commit themselves to the hard thinking required to build on the foundation of the early pioneers.  They’ve been all-too-ready to schlep ready-made phrases for the concrete details of redemption. Their vague, abstract, and lifeless phrases and slogans have anesthetized the minds of many and dulled the faith of even more.  “The Ultimate Man” is a prime example.

If you’re able to keep your head above water across the graduation pond, the fish slappers won’t give you half a second’s chance at a Jonah’s welcome once you hit the beach.  They’ll be all too eager to slap you silly with the most fanatical Word of Faith sermons found on YouTube.  They won’t care to hear about how 2 Corinthians 5.21 fulfills the Old Testament type or why Jesus is called the firstborn of many brethren.  Their interest lies in fanning the flames of the royal fish mob.  “Don’t you know that Benny Hinn talks about nine persons of the Godhead?  Slap! “Don’t you know that Kenneth Copeland still preaches a 100-fold return in money?  Slap! “Don’t you know that Creflo Dollar preaches that the anointing only comes with the tithe?  Slap! “Don’t you know that Jesse Duplantis teaches that Moses could have had the riches of Egypt and followed the Lord?  Slap! “Don’t you know that E.W. Kenyon went to some New Age school before he wrote his books?  Slap! “But I’ve never listened to . . .” Slap! Slap! Slap!

Once the slapping starts, you can’t expect much help from the WOF toadies.  Real Word preaching — preaching that pits mother against daughter and father against son doesn’t make for big offerings the way debt cancellation services do.  And if you dare stick your finger in the sand to preach that tithing isn’t New Testament, they’ll all be looking around for some holy mackerels.

Striking out as a preacher in Laodicea (or even Philadelphia, for that matter) is daunting, but know this: Whatever you decide to do, he keeps his word and he is jealous for his gospel.  You may get to the point where you think Jonah had it easy.  But none of the hardships that you face, from fish slappers to toadies to heresy mongers, can compare to the joy of knowing that you are just as jealous for the truth of his Word as he is.

I don’t know how to answer your question, but I wish you the best on whatever you decide to do.

You might also like:

• The Sign of Jonah
• Luke 23:46 – Jesus’ “Geronimo” – Part 1
• Reflections From a Word of Faith Ministry Roadtrip
• Matthew 12:40: In the Belly of Hell (3)
• Dusting Off the Sandwich Board