Prosperity teaching without the bling

Reading through Beyond Greed in the lead-up to Christmas last year made me think again about ‘prosperity teaching’ and whether I’m as immune to it as I like to think I am. I can spot the Joel Osteen variety a mile off, but when it comes without those trappings, I’m not so sure that I’m as good at spotting it and guarding my heart against its temptations. Yet, if Jesus says it’s the ‘deceitfulness’ of wealth that makes it so dangerous to my perseverance and fruitfulness as a disciple (Mark 4:19), then I need to be on guard for the subtle half-truths as well as the big lie. Here are two forms of prosperity teaching I think I’m susceptible to:

1. Prosperity teaching by silent example

What I have in mind here is the power our lifestyle has to reinforce or undermine what we say in our preaching. Often the sermons I hear about money and greed and generosity are couched in vague, abstract generalities. Sometimes it’s to avoid legalism, sometimes it’s because preachers get more training in exegesis than in application. Whatever the reason, we usually end up hearing very abstract, general encouragements to ‘generosity’ and ‘contentment’ and so on without a lot of concrete detail on what it looks like in practice. Into that vacuum rushes the example of the people sitting next to us in church. People whom we silently compare ourselves to set the benchmark of what a lifestyle that goes with an acceptable level of ‘generosity’ and ‘contentment’ might look like—the clothes they dress their kids in, the way they get their hair done, the cars they drive, the houses they live in and the way they furnish them. It’s never hard to find someone with more and so it’s easy to find ways to justify our own decisions.

2. Prosperity teaching by neglected emphasis

The other form of prosperity teaching I’m vulnerable to is typified by what is left out or under-emphasized. It’s the sort of teaching that goes on at great length about the wisdom of Proverbs and the good gifts that God the Creator has given to us without reminding us that we live in the last days under ‘wartime’ circumstances that call for us to sacrifice some of these creation blessings for the sake of others and for the work of the gospel. I’m thankful for books and sermons that encourage me to take my sexual relationship with my husband seriously, but I don’t need someone to help me rationalize the temptation to go shopping for more expensive intimate apparel! I’m thankful for teaching that encourages me to be faithful to my responsibilities in helping Dave, managing a household and caring for small children, but I don’t need someone to feed my selfish desire to devote my days to beautifying the house and garden. I’m thankful for every encouragement I get to read good theology and think hard about the things of God, but I don’t need someone to help me feel okay about my craving to buy all the latest publications, shiny and new at the local Christian bookshop. A message about marriage, family, food, sex or money that just tells me that God is the good creator of all these things without mentioning that he made all these things for his glory (1 Tim 4:1-5, 1 Cor 10:31-11:1), that his glory shines most perfectly in Christ crucified and that that is reflected in my life as I live it in the light of the cross (2 Cor 4:6, 2 Cor 3:18) is, at best, a half-truth and, at worst, a kind of soft prosperity gospel—just without the bling! And I find it so much more tempting.