From the abundance of sarcastic quotation marks in the previous paragraph, you can probably guess that I don’t subsrcibe to this particular philosophy. In short, I think it is dangerous and insidious. It is, at best, only the half truth; at worst, it is the exact opposite of the Good News of Jesus Christ. Let me explain:

In this day and age, it’s hard to be a “fire and brimstone” preacher and get any kind of serious attention. No one is really buying “you’re all going to hell” or “God hates Gay people” anymore. Those people have, rightfully so, been pushed to the fringes of Christianity; accepted as an annoying, but un-representative, faction of pseudo-Christianity. Prosperity Gospel, on the other hand, is more subtle. To the untrained or uncaring ear, it could sound almost Christian. It is full of happy platitudes, and some genuinely get comfort from it. But upon further examination and reflection, Prosperity is built on the theological sand. 

Take it to its logical end: Material success is God’s blessing. Therefore if I do not have material success, I must be out of favor with God. I try to make myself holy through devotion and positive thinking (as Osteen puts it, I am a Victor, not a Victim). If I still do not have the material success I desire, it must be because I have not devoted myself fully enough. I have not made myself pure enough.

Hopefully you can see how quickly this can become a very dangerous line of reasoning. Nowhere in this thinking is the healing grace of Jesus. Jesus isn’t even there. It’s you and God, and God is the distant father figure that you are constantly trying to impress, but who remains emotionally distant.

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Well, that was quite the introduction. On to the visit recap proper.

We arrived at the former home of the Houston Rockets professional basketball team, and current home of the 16000 capacity Lakewood Church.

First Impressions were what you’d expect. This doesn’t feel like a church. It feels like I’m going to a high profile self improvement seminar. There is a full size bookstore on the concourse. Let me say that again: A FULL SIZED BOOKSTORE in the concourse. Joel Osteen has his own fucking Barnes and Noble. That by itself is terrifying. It was like a full sized crappy “inspiration” section from a normal bookstore. There were also inspirational gifts and stationary. Also about 700 copies of Osteen’s book. 

For a giant space, the concourse staff really do their best to welcome you. There are well dressed greeters every 30 feet or so, around the entire 360 degrees of the concourse. Every one is friendly and welcoming. 

Stepping into the “sanctuary” is a feeling unlike any I’ve experienced. It was a mix of mild disgust, amazement, and my head wanting to explode. There was so much going on, yet so little to signify that it was a church. There was the multi-million dollar recording equipment, to tape the service for broadcast. There is a giant illuminated American Flag in the rear of the worship space. There are REAL WATERFALLS. I am not making that up. There is a giant, spinning, Golden Globe behind the band. I don’t know what that’s supposed to signify, but it instills in me a vague sense of un-ease, as if Joel Osteen harbors a secret desire to be a Bond villain.

Taking our seats, I struggle to take this all in. I read later that the renovations to this area cost the church $95 million. NINETY FIVE MILLION DOLLARS. Think about what that money could have done. There’s a story about a church I like in Michigan, Mars Hill Church. They meet in an old shopping mall, with all the walls torn out of the anchor store. It is a very raw space; concrete floors, fluorescent lights, no paint on the walls. Mars Hill leadership had a church consulting firm come in and do an estimate for what it would cost to renovate the worship area to modern mega-church standards. The firm came back with an absurdly high number, well into the millions. The church said, “OK, well, instead of spending that money on renovations, we’re gonna go FEED SOME HUNGRY PEOPLE  and BRING WATER FILTRATION TO AFRICA.” 

But maybe Joel really needed that Gold Spinning Globe.

One thing that was noticeably lacking from the extravagant area: Any modicum of religious iconography. No pictures of Jesus, no dove and tongues of fire, not even a SINGLE CROSS, in the entire building! I looked! Not one cross! This is flabbergasting to me. If you were blind-folded and led into this place, you would never guess that it was a church. Mind-blowing.

The service itself consisted of two portions: a gospel singing part, and Joel Osteen’s “sermon.”

The singing was very good, very polished. They even threw in one of those “Old southern hymns sung in modern style” routines that I find so grating. 

A word about the congregation: It was not what I was expecting. Regardless of the message they are preaching, Lakewood has built one of the most racially and socio-economically diverse congregations I’ve ever seen. I was expecting a bunch of rich white 40-somethings, but what I got was every age, race, and pay grade. I vastly underestimated the reach of the Prosperity gospel into low-income areas. But after thinking about it, it makes perfect, if tragic, sense. Prosperity preaches that anyone can acheive wealth and material happiness. Who else would that speak to besides the have-nots? It’s the American Dream meets Christianity. Never mind that it is totally “opiate of the masses” territory. It breaks my heart thinking of how many low-income people listen to this message and hope for the day when God will bless them with a higher salary and better car.

Osteen’s message was (how do I put this kindly?) half-baked. He was preaching on a pretty stupid “pruning vs. blooming” analogy. Here’s the gist: If you’re going through tough times, think of it as God pruning you for greater growth, as a gardner prunes a plant. We must be pruned so that we may bloom. 

Again this sounds nice, but the way he presented it was criminally stupid. It was esentially this point repeated in the same language over and over again, with really awful “sermon illustrations” in between. 

The problem with the sermon illustrations was the every damn one of them was material in nature. Here is an EXACT QUOTE: “Maybe you’re going through some tough times, you’ve lost a big client, or didn’t get that promotion.” Excuse my french, but what the Fuck is this shit? When I think of hard times in my life, “Lost a big client” doesn’t make the top 10. Not once did he say, “Maybe you’re going through some hard times, someone you loved has died before their time, and you don’t know how to reconcile this with your long held notion of a loving God.” No, it’s all “business partnership fell apart, and you’re not sure how to rebuild the client base.” 

One of the rebuttals from prosperity proponents is that they try to focus on the positive; that others get bogged down in negativity. What we actually see in Prosperity is the WILLFUL DENIAL that anything bad ever happens, or more precisely, that any senseless badness ever occurs. Joel Osteen stood in front of his congregation and said ( I swear this is true) “I just know every person in this room is going to live a full long life and die at a ripe old age.” There were about 5 thousand people in the room. Surely one person in that room was going to get hit by a bus, or get cancer, or have a piano fall on their head. Tragic things happen in this life, that’s a fact. Nobody can promise that life won’t contain tragedy; I was a little offended and shocked that he even presumed to make that promise. 

About halfway through the sermon I realized why I had never seen an entire Osteen sermon, from start to finish. It was unbelievably repetitive. If I had a nickel for every time Osteen said “pruning” or “blooming” in his 45 minute sermon, I would have enough to start a mega-church in Houston. It was painfully dull and un-stimulating. I really wanted it to be actively awful (mostly so this review would be better), but it was more so just boring. I wanted to yell out “We get it! Pruning! Blooming! Moving On!” 

Given how unholy boring this was, what came next was very surprising. Joel Osteen started to cry. Yes, cry. He did it in the weirdest way possible: Mid-sentence he stopped and grabbed the bridge of his nose and went completely silent for at least 45 seconds. Nobody knew what the hell was happening to him. I honestly thought he was having a heart attack or stroke. It was scary, in that “I can’t believe I came all this way and he DIES” kind of way. Then, after an uncomfortably long silence, he looks up and tells us how he felt like we were really receiving his message and were taking it to heart, and that’s what made him cry. Really. He actually thought this bland, unintelligent, unintelligible, mash of self-help buzz words and piety based theology was changing our lives RIGHT BEFORE HIS VERY EYES. JOEL OSTEEN IS JUST THAT DAMN GOOD. “Weird” is how I would describe the moment.  

Anyway, that’s how the service ended, but we found out there was a treat! We, as first time visitors, would be allowed to meet the Reverend Osteen himself! HELL YES.

The process involved in meeting Osteen is not unlike how I imagine it must have been like meeting Mussolini, or George W Bush. First, there is a man at the entrance of the meeting area of the concourse asking if it is truly our first time to meet Pastor Osteen. If you have met Osteen before, beat it bub. You can stand over to the side, and if there’s time, he may grace you with a wave. After we get past the bouncer, we are lined up, shoulder to shoulder, so he can just go right down the line. We are then “prepped” on what is about to happen. I kid you not; we get prepped on “Osteen Etiquette.” (my phrase) If you want something signed, have it out and opened to the right page. Want a picture? No problem, simply hand your camera off to the camera wrangler, who will snap away during your audience with pastoral greatness.

Then...there he is! He comes down the line, glad handing and smiling like a seasoned politician. From what I can hear, he doesn’t get too deep with the conversation. He pretty much sticks to “So, where are you from?” Then he listens. Then he says “Well, we’re glad you could join us.” Repeat, ad infinitum. I swear to God, I heard someone tell him he was from Kenya and his response was “Well, we’re glad you could join us.” 

All of this raises what seems to be an important question: How in the hell does Joel Osteen provide anything even resembling pastoral care? If he can even take the time to shake your hand a second time, how can you call up the church office in a time of need and request a pastoral visit? Now, I know these places have a pretty deep bench, pastor -wise, so someone would probably be able to respond to an urgent need for a pastor. Still though, I feel like a big part of being a pastor is ACTUALLY BEING A PASTOR. 

Anyway, I don’t have any more time to think about that because it’s my turn! I shake his hand, tell him where I’m from. Make a little small talk, the subject of which I can’t even remember, that’s how inconsequential it was. 

Then it’s over. He moves down the line. It is at this point that I start to feel as if I have wasted an opportunity; perhaps to call out what I’ve seen today. But I didn’t. I chickened out, or decided that I could be civil with this nice but supremely misguided man. I’m reminded of that office space quote: “I told those fudge packers I liked Michael Bolton’s music.” I told Joel Osteen I liked his sermon. (For the record, what I actually said was “Thanks for sharing that message.” I made no reference to quality.)

In the end, telling off Joel Osteen, while momentarily satisfying, would have ultimately proved unfulfilling. What I can do instead is to preach the true Gospel though my actions, to show the world what the love of Christ actually looks like. I can tell you this much: it doesn’t look like what I saw at Lakewood.

500 Days of Summer is a very special movie; it is one of those rare films that perfectly describes how the current sociological zeitgeist influences relationships. People around my age who have seen the movie will know exactly what I mean. 

But before I get into that, here’s the Cliffs Notes synopsis: Tom is a hopeless romantic, believing he will never be happy until he meets the love of his life. Summer, the girl, is not like that at all. She is young and carefree, not wanting to be tied down. The 500 Days of the title is the duration of their relationship. I’m not really giving anything away when I say they do not end up together, that is said in the trailers and within the first 5 minutes of the movie. The film is instead concerned with how they got to the end, skipping around from day to day non-linearly, as all of us do when thinking back on past failed relationships. It’s a very ingenious device that elevates the film above it’s “rom-com” genre.

OK, with that out of the way, let’s move in to the real meat of the film.

This is a film solidly made for 20-somethings. It perfectly encapsulates the things that make us such an interesting generation. It also shows why these are also the things that can make us kind of annoying significant-others. 

We, as a generation,  are obsessed with tearing down labels, exposing how meaningless they are. This idea is what swept Barack Obama into the White House, he posited himself as the “post-partisan” candidate, the one that would rise above the political labels of the past and restore sound, non-ideologically rigid, judgement to the Presidency.

That discomfort with labels of any kind is a driving force behind 500 Days. Summer is totally unwilling to put a label on her relationship with Tom, expressing instead a very Gen-Y sentiment: Why can’t we just enjoy ourselves an not worry about what we call this thing? Tom, raised on mopey British pop music and coming of age during his parent’s divorce, finds comfort and happiness in those labels and can’t understand why Summer is so averse to them. These two wholly compatible people are driven apart by their inability to reconcile this issue; the relationship cannot survive this difference of opinion. 

This difference highlights another uniquely Gen-Y reversal of gender roles. Traditionally, males were the ones unwilling to settle down, wanting to sow their wild oats, always being pressured by women to get married and stuff. Clingy women and commitment phobic men have been staples of romantic comedies since the advent of film. In 500 Days, however, it is the female who is flighty and unwilling to commit, while Tom feels he needs to be in a relationship to feel complete. This is an interesting exploration of a phenomenon that is becoming more and more commonplace among 20-something hipster types.

I guess I should take a break here from glowing about this movie to say this is not a perfect film. There are some serious flaws that keep it from being a truly classic movie. There aren’t many, and I suspect these missteps were part of studio mandated rewrites or other meddlings; they have the fingerprints of Industry People all over them. The last 5 seconds of the movie almost ruined the entire thing for me (really!), it is so cutesy and perfect you can’t help but groan. There is one scene in particular where Tom literally talks through his breakup with his two best friends and his precocious kid sister, who despite her age happens to be wise in the ways of love. This is a scene so pedestrian and banal I actually said “Ohh...no” out loud in the theater. It doesn’t fit with the tone of the movie and detracts from all the other interesting things it does. 

And the film does do some really interesting things. There are references to French New Wave Films and Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, with Tom recasting himself in the lead roles. There is a musical dance number, which actually reminded me of the street dance scene from The Blues Brothers. The non-linear story allows for some really interesting backwards storytelling. You see a scene from late in the relationship, when Tom attempts a joke but you can see that Summer has moved on and no longer sees humor there, no longer laughs out of love. That is heartbreaking enough, but that scene will be immediately followed by a flashback where you see Tom’s joke as the beginning of an inside joke, one Summer relished in and played off at the beginning of the relationship. The disparity feels real and hits hard to anyone that has had a relationship die a long, protracted death. The things that were once highlights become the very thing that drives them apart.

The device that really brings the film home is a split screen  showing one night, a party at Summer’s. On one side of the screen, Tom’s expectations for that evening; on the other, the reality of the night. The cacophony between the two is heartbreaking and cathartic and a little close to home.

Now, all these plot devices could seem gimmicky, and some might see them that way. But the key to seeing their meaning is understanding this: This is not an objective film. We are not simply flies on the wall, watching this relationship from the outside. We are invested, and seeing it from Tom’s point of view. What male out there hasn’t imagined himself in a massive dance number the day after a very good date? Or had movies that spoke to him on such a deep level that he imagines himself in the lead? Every guy has a movie, a song, that is so tied to a specific time, a specific girl, that just hearing the first few bars is enough to take him back to that time. 

That space is where 500 Days of Summer exists. The jumbled, untidy remembrances of a guy wondering what went wrong. The film does a remarkable job of putting us in Tom’s shoes. When Summer says, after breaking up with Tom, “Wait! You’re still my best friend!” We all feel a pain. That has happened to us all. In the screening I went too, when that line was spoken, there were literal gasps from the guys in the audience. 

If you can see this movie in that light, I promise you will enjoy it. You will leave the theater as I did, knowing you had seen something special, but also that you’ve seen something of yourself on screen. And isn’t that what great movies are supposed to do?