Joel Osteen The Smiling Preacher

[ From the Boston Globe. ]

Critics say he's too easygoing, but televangelist Joel Osteen is winning a devoted following with his positive approach

The Boston Globe
July 10, 2005

As a television evangelist, Joel Osteen is used to skeptics monitoring his integrity. Still, even he was surprised by what happened after a stack of papers blew out of his car in a parking lot one day.

Osteen chased the papers, but the wind kept scattering them until the minister was tempted to just let them lie there as litter. He thought twice and bent to pick up the remaining pieces.

That's when two strangers in a nearby car rolled down their windows.

''Hi, Joel," they said. ''We were watching to see what you were going to do."

It's been almost two decades since Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Bakker made a laughingstock of television evangelism. Many new preachers have taken to the pulpit since then.

None has become a household name. But Osteen is on his way.

A second-generation minister, Osteen is the pastor of Houston's Lakewood Church, which has the nation's largest congregation, according to the Missouri-based research firm Church Growth Today.

More than 30,000 believers come to hear Osteen every week, with about 7,500 people crowding into each of four weekend services. Those numbers are sure to go up this week, when Lakewood -- a nondenominational Christian church -- moves into the former Compaq Center, where the NBA's Houston Rockets once played. The new sanctuary will hold a whopping 16,000 people per service.

Osteen, who also has a book on The New York Times bestseller list, ''Your Best Life Now: 7 Steps to Living at Your Full Potential," isn't just big in Houston.

His services air nationally five days a week on seven different television networks and a number of local network affiliates: Discovery Channel, USA, BET, ABC Family, Pax Television, Daystar Network, TBN, and WFXT-TV in Boston.

On Sundays, he can be seen on BET at 7:30 a.m. and 8 p.m., Discovery Channel at 8 a.m., USA at 8:30 a.m., and ABC Family at noon, as well as at other times found on www.joelosteen.com.

A 42-year-old college dropout who's been preaching since 1999, Osteen says he's awed by his growing popularity, which -- judging by the audience members at Lakewood -- appears to cross racial lines and age groups. ''This is all so new to me," he says, a soft Southern twang punctuating his telephone voice. ''I think God has given me a lot of favor to reach people."

Osteen is energetic and youthful-looking on-screen; his broad smile and optimistic messages have earned him the nickname ''the smiling preacher." He believes viewers are connecting to him because his sermons offer hope in a way that is relevant to everyday life. Recent sermon topics include: ''Trusting God When Life Doesn't Make Sense," ''Have the Courage to Be Different," and ''Listen to the Warnings on the Inside."

With so many negatives in life pulling people down, Osteen says, his viewers are looking for encouragement. ''To come on the weekend and get some practical advice from the Bible is a real lift," he says.

Although Nielsen Media Research could not provide viewership numbers for Lakewood, whose shows are considered ''paid programming," the church says it believes an average of about 7 million people watch every week on all of the networks combined.

Now on a national tour to 15 cities to promote his book and ministry, Osteen is selling out venues like New York City's Madison Square Garden. He plans to come to Boston next year, which is good news for people like Karen Beld, an Osteen fan who owns the pastor's book and one of his cassettes for her car.

''My family watches Joel every Sunday morning before we go to 10 o'clock Mass," says Beld, a 43-year-old homemaker in Braintree. ''He's uplifting and positive. It's not like you're doomed to death. He makes you realize that no matter what you've done, God forgives you. I need that in my life right now."

Two topics Osteen sidesteps are hell and damnation.

''I think people are used to ministers beating them over the head with condemnation," Osteen says. ''The Scripture says that it's the goodness of God that causes people to repent. Jesus didn't condemn."

But Osteen's upbeat approach annoys some critics who prefer a sterner doctrine. ''What he's talking about has nothing to do with Christianity," says Ole Anthony, president of the Trinity Foundation, a Dallas-based religious media watchdog group that investigates fraud among televangelists. ''He's popular because we live in a nation that demands cotton-candy theology. His service is just a pep rally. It's all about you.

''What about preaching the demands of God? What about helping the poor in society? Houston has thousands of homeless people. What is he doing for them?"

Alan Wolfe, director of the Boisi Center for Religion and American Public Life at Boston College and the author of ''The Transformation of American Religion: How We Actually Live Our Faith," says Osteen is in a bind. ''If he weren't as upbeat, he wouldn't be as popular," Wolfe says. ''The cost of being positive is you don't have as much to offer in purely religious terms. That's a difficult dilemma. I can't say which is better. But, clearly, if he preaches a stricter message, he will get a smaller audience."

In the November/December 2004 issue of The Door Magazine, a Christian satire magazine published by Trinity, a spoof appeared of Osteen's top 12 sermon titles. They included: ''Everybody Shout Happy-Lujah!" and ''I Once Was Lost But Now I Smile."

Despite the criticisms, however, Anthony concedes that after years of investigating Lakewood, ''I have never found any fraud with Joel."

Lakewood, which has an annual budget of $50 million and a full-time staff of 200, says it helps the community by sending volunteers to prisons and hospitals and by supporting agencies with donations that feed and clothe the needy.

Unlike other television ministries, Lakewood has never asked for on-air donations. The move to the Compaq Center and the television ministry are being paid for by the church and its members. ''We have a policy that we don't grow beyond what we can pay for," says Osteen. ''We're not out to get your money or get you to join our church. We have a big enough church."

Osteen, who was paid $200,000 last year, has voluntarily given up a salary this year because of undisclosed profits from his book, which has sold about 3 million copies so far.

The pastor's lack of salesmanship boosts Lakewood's credibility, some observers say.

''Osteen has an incredible air of authenticity. You just believe the guy," says Quentin Schultze, author of ''Televangelism in America: The Business of Popular Religion." ''He represents a renewal of TV evangelism as a more positive enterprise."

Still, warns Schultze, a professor of communication at Calvin College, ''it's critically important that he not ask for money. I still run across a lot of people who want nothing to do with organized religion because of Jim and Tammy Bakker."

Osteen, who has two children, ages 6 and 10, never wanted to be a preacher.

Described by his brother Paul as a ''painfully shy" boy who skipped his prom and preferred baseball over parties, Joel dropped out of Oral Roberts University in 1982 because he wanted to manage Lakewood's television production department.

His father, John Osteen, who started Lakewood in 1959 with 90 members, was appearing nationally on two networks. The church then had about 15,000 members.

''Lakewood billboards and bumper stickers were all over the city. The church had a real presence even before Joel took over," says William Martin, a professor of sociology and religion at Rice University and author of ''A Prophet With Honor: The Billy Graham Story."

One day in 1999, a sickly John Osteen called Joel's home, Joel recalls, and asked him to preach the coming weekend, which Joel had never done. ''I said no," Joel Osteen said. ''Then something down inside said that I needed to do it."

Onstage that Sunday, Joel gripped the podium through his sermon, recalls Donald Iloff, his brother-in-law. ''He was very nervous."

The next week, John Osteen died, and suddenly Joel was in charge.

Osteen has five siblings. His oldest brother, Paul -- a surgeon who gave up his practice to help Osteen -- manages the church's ministries, attending funerals and weddings so the Lakewood pastor can concentrate completely on his weekly message. Sister Lisa preaches at a Wednesday night service.

Sisters Tamara and April both co-pastor their own churches in Texas. Justin, another brother, operates an unrelated business.

Unlike some TV evangelists before him, Osteen is not an electric personality. On-screen, he comes off as polished and energized but not theatrical. He avoids formalities like a robe or an elevated seat. At times, particularly when he refers to his late father, he becomes emotional, struggling to finish his sentences.

''My father was more preacher-y. He came from a Southern Baptist tradition," says Osteen. ''I'm just more laid-back."

What's memorable about Osteen is his sense of humor. In what has become a signature for him, each week he starts his sermon with a joke related to church, religion, or the Bible. He's also fond of surprising family members sitting in the audience by unexpectedly sharing personal stories about them. His wife, Victoria, is a frequent target because of her fondness for shopping.

''He got me good yesterday," Victoria said during a recent interview. ''He was talking about how he likes order and I like variety, which is why I go to every mall in the city."

With Osteen's increasing fame -- he was a guest on CNN's ''Larry King Live" last month -- he has found himself more and more under a microscope. ''To me, it's not a downside. I like people, and I'm honored that they know me," he says.

On Houston's roadways, however, Osteen has made some changes.

''I used to speed. I'm just high-strung. I wouldn't think anything of going 70," he says. ''Now I make myself go 50 or 60."

Suzanne Ryan can be reached at sryan@globe.com

[ Here's an article about Joel Osteen's Lakewood Church moving into the Compaq Center. ]

By KRISTIE RIEKEN
The Associated Press
Sunday, July 17, 2005; 5:21 PM
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HOUSTON -- America's largest church celebrated its move into the former arena for the Houston Rockets with a capacity crowd of 16,000, an upbeat sermon from its televangelist pastor and a spirited welcome from the governor of Texas.

"How do you like our new home?" Lakewood Church pastor Joel Osteen asked to thunderous applause. "It looks pretty good doesn't it? This is a dream come true."

[ Lakewood Church members photo here. ]

Members of the Lakewood Church along with first time visitors worship Saturday, July 16, 2005 at the grand opening of the new facility in Houston. The Lakewood Church, led by televangelist and best-selling author, Joel Osteen, officially opened the doors of the new building, formerly the Compaq Center, home of the Houston Rockets. The Lakewood Church Central Campus took 15 months and approximately $75 million to complete and will seat 16,000 people. (AP Photo/Jessica Kourkounis) (Jessica Kourkounis - AP)

The new home for the nondenominational Christian church is the former Compaq Center, once home to the Rockets.

There were no vacant spots in the arena as Lakewood, which recently became the first church in the United States to average more than 30,000 worshippers weekly, held its first service there Saturday night. The service also was televised live.

Gov. Rick Perry praised the church's new look and told the crowd, "As lawmakers we do a lot of things, but only the church can teach people to love.

"This is nothing short of amazing," Perry said. "It is so great to look across this crowd and see the wonderful diversity of this great state we call Texas."

It took more than 15 months and $75 million to complete the renovations _ which included adding five stories to make more room.

"I couldn't believe how beautiful it was," Osteen said afterward when asked to describe how he felt when he first entered what he called the "Texas-sized" sanctuary. "It almost felt surreal."

Video clips playing on three gigantic screens showcased the building and recounted the history of the church. One video recalled the church's humble beginnings in an abandoned feed store in 1959 and traced Osteen's rise to the pulpit after his father and church founder, John Osteen, died 40 years later.

Osteen took over the church in 1999 and has increased the size of the congregation almost five-fold since then. His book, "Your Best Life Now: 7 Steps to Living Your Full Potential" has sold almost 3 million copies.

The service was highlighted by a 25-minute sermon by Osteen, who told the crowd that he and his wife, Victoria, went on their first date in the arena 19 years ago.

The crowd roared with approval throughout the message and was often brought to its feet as Osteen spoke in front of a large golden-colored globe that rotated slowly.

Members of the choir swayed happily, belting out several different songs below pictures of a crisp blue sky with puffy white clouds.

While collection plates were passed, video messages from people around the world, including Pastor T.D. Jakes of the Potter's House in Dallas, welcomed Lakewood to its new location.

"It is overwhelming, unbelievable, fantastic," Ann Bell, one of the church's original members, said after the service. "Words can't even describe it."

___

Click here for the Washington Post article.

[ Excerpt from the CBS news site, June 28, 2005. Some good stats on Joel Osteen's Lakewood Church -- congregation size, weekly attendance, growth, etc. ]

(CBS) ...

Joel Osteen is pastor of Lakewood Church, the largest evangelical church in America with 30,000 weekly attendants. With a TV ministry, it's watched in at least 100 countries.

His production staff and studio rival any network. As CBS News Correspondent Byron Pitts reports, Osteen looks like an anchorman, talks like a Southern salesman and runs this congregation like a CEO.

Asked if it's part message and part marketing, Osteen says: "To me, we're marketing hope."

And hope sells. Last year, Lakewood brought in $55 million. Sales of Osteen's book "Your Best Life Now" became an instant best seller. But he makes no apologies for his style or his success.

"We need to be excellent for the Lord," says Osteen. "There's nothing that says we can't come in and have great sound and great lighting and be on time and have this service more produced if you'll call it that, because, you know what, God deserves the best."

After being diagnosed with a rare form of breast cancer, Nada Couture was drawn to Osteen's church for spiritual healing.

"It speaks to a lot of young people and a message that world needs to hear today," says Couture. "Not a preaching at you message, but a preaching with you thing."

And preaching to the young is something evangelicals across the country have mastered by offering everything from Christian-themed parks to rock bands.

Critics like Notre Dame sociology professor Michael Emerson say it cheapens religion by making it just another commodity for people to consume. They call it "feel-good theology."

"Religion changes to nothing more than 'make me feel good,' and there's no sacrifice," says Emerson.

That's not how they see it at Lakewood.

"The Bible says it's the goodness of God that leads people to repentance, and you know the more we preach hope and that God is good for you, the more people we will see come and get their lives turned around," says Osteen.

If Osteen's Lakewood Church is the Cadillac of all mega churches, then this new facility will be the Hummer. It's the old Compaq Center where the Houston Rockets played professional basketball and where Osteen hopes to soon save souls.

It's a $90 million facility that will seat 16,000 people, double the current space. Osteen sees a day when up to 100,000 will stop in for weekly services.

"It's the same message that people were preaching hundreds and hundreds of years ago, we're just repackaging it," he says.

Osteen says it's a new day, and God's people need a new house.

For the full Joel Osteen story with pictures.

[ Here's an article from earlier this year on Joel. ]

Washington Post, USA
Jan. 30, 2005
Lois Romano, Washington Post Staff Writer
www.washingtonpost.com
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HOUSTON -- The pastor once startled his own mother by exhorting the women in his congregation to shop at Victoria's Secret to improve their marriages. Last weekend, his glamorous musical director led four services in a hot pink coat and black spiky boots, stomping around the stage and singing the praises of Jesus in rousing, original rock sounds.

No one needed to know the words. The lyrics scrolled high above, across three gigantic screens, as a dynamic 10-piece orchestra and 100-person choir shook the church. The captivated flock of 8,000 stood singing for 30 minutes.

And then, not unlike in a Las Vegas production, the stars of this show bounded up to the pulpit of Lakewood Church. Pastor Joel Osteen and his wife, Victoria, were greeted like royalty.

Osteen is called "the Smiling Preacher," and he is perhaps the hottest commodity in the world of multimedia religion these days. His is the new face of Christianity, upbeat and contemporary, media-smart with a heightened sense of entertainment and general appeal.

The charismatic, nondenominational church he inherited from his late father six years ago has quadrupled in size, and today is the largest and fastest-growing in the country, welcoming upward of 30,000 visitors a week, according to Church Growth Today, a research center that follows church trends. Osteen's television broadcast is shown in every U.S. market, reaching 95 percent of the nation's households, and in 150 countries.

This summer, he will move his church into Houston's 16,000-seat Compaq Center, former home of pro basketball's Houston Rockets. The $92 million renovation is, Osteen says, "a leap of faith" that if he builds it, they will come.

All this from a man who dropped out of Oral Roberts University after one year and never received formal theological training -- although he does note that religion is the family business and he benefited greatly from on-the-job training. (He was ordained through his father's church in 1983.)

Osteen, 41, does not sweat or yell, or cry for sinners to repent. He preaches an energetic, New Age gospel of hope and self-help -- simple Scripture-based motivational messages, notably devoid of politics and hot-button policy issues.
Marketing Word-Faith Theology
Word-Faith theology is a collection of un-biblical and extra-biblical teachings - usually with an extra focus on money (How to get more by either 'speaking it into existence' or by donating it to Word-Faith teachers)

Word-Faith teachings

The Leaven of Lakewood

Joel Osteen's Word-Faith theology documented

Christian Capitalism : Megachurches, Megabusinesses

"You'll never be what you ought to be if you play it safe," he told his audience last weekend. "I want to challenge you today to get out of your comfort zone."

He was impeccably dressed in a navy pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt and gleaming black dress shoes. He aims to present himself as neutral as possible, he says, in order not to offend or generate controversy. If he thinks he looks too emotional as he edits a tape of his service for television broadcast, he cuts the segment out. "I don't want to give anyone a reason to flip it off," he said.

The crowds he attracts in Houston come away inspired. "He pushes us to a level God wants us to be at," said Juli Hain, who attends regularly. "He kicks us in the rear to take steps that will take us to a higher [personal] level."

Osteen's approach to religion and his goals are not totally new. For at least a decade, shrewd preachers have been attracting tens of thousands of people to nondenominational "mega-churches," where the faithful are unknown to their pastor, as are the people in the next pew. They come to listen to messages of self-empowerment -- not just salvation.

"Joel is doing it better than most," said William Martin, a sociology professor and religion expert at Rice University. "He is purposely seeking to lower the barriers that keep people from going to church. They don't know the hymns; they don't have to learn the creed. It's all there for them."

Detractors criticize the style as "Christian-lite" -- all show and platitudes and no theological depth. Osteen's older brother Paul, a surgeon who left his practice to help the church, differs. "There is a disconnect between religion and what people need," he said, calling some sermons in traditional churches impenetrable, "almost goofy."

"What people want is an unchurch," Paul Osteen said. "They don't want pressure. Joel makes faith practical and relevant."

Joel Osteen has been likened to Billy Graham in terms of appeal, if not message. At any given service, his church is filled with people of diverse races and economic backgrounds. His book, "Your Best Life Now: 7 Steps to Living at Your Full Potential," has sold 1.5 million copies. (Because of the royalties, Osteen will not take his $200,000 church salary this year, he said.)

During his few forays outside of Houston last year, he filled New York's Madison Square Garden twice, and had to turn 4,000 people away in Atlanta. This year, he will visit 15 cities. An appearance in Dallas next month is sold out. (The $10 tickets cover costs and are not a moneymaker, Osteen said.) Tapes of his sermons are for sale.

"For a long time, churches beat people down," he said during an interview in his home office. "People are looking for inspiration and encouragement. So many negative voices are pulling us down during the week. People respond when you tell them there is a great future in front of you, you can leave your past behind."

His goal, he said, he is to "get beyond the church walls . . . I want to reach the guys in the high-rise, the people in the neighborhoods . . . the people who are not quite comfortable with their faith."

The pitch for money is quick and low-key, usually made by Victoria Osteen in a less than two-minute appeal before the buckets are passed. Osteen does not solicit offerings on television. "We're not on television to beg people for money," he said. "Television is an outreach."

He is unapologetic that he lives well in a $1 million house in an upscale neighborhood and that he is pouring the church's offerings into the Compaq Center these days, not into charities.

"I feel like God wants us to prosper," he said. "My dad grew up in the Depression. . . . It is not God's will for anybody to live where you can't support your family. . . . [Houston Astros pitcher] Roger Clemens just signed for $18 million -- man, don't tell me I can't have a nice house and send my kids to college."

Osteen said if the church "had that vow-of-poverty mentality, I don't know if we could raise $80 million" for the Compaq Center.

Osteen acknowledged that the church has cut back on its charitable giving because of the Compaq project. He said that this is the "season" for establishing the church and building his base.

The services are surprisingly intimate considering the size of the congregation. People who need a special prayer are invited up front to counsel with a "prayer partner" -- which could be a member of the Osteen family or a volunteer trained for the job. Behind them stand more volunteers holding boxes of Kleenex.

At last week's service, one man asked Osteen to bless his marriage, another came up with his children, who wept as the father told of losing his job. Others talked of illness and death. Later, Osteen stood in the lobby and greeted congregates who wanted to shake his hand or get an autograph -- or just a hug. At least half a dozen people said they saw him on television and he changed their lives.

Laurie Beppler, whose first visit to the church was last weekend, said she watches Osteen on television regularly because "he tells us that with God, we can be empowered. He doesn't get bogged down."

Jodee Schallehn said she was up late, unable to sleep on the eve of her wedding last year, when she caught Osteen preaching while channel surfing. "I had been married before, and he was talking about not letting the past [impede] the future," she said. "I believe God gave me a sign . . . I was very inspired."

The church service and the meet-and-greet are the only opportunities his followers have to get close to Osteen. Unlike his father, Osteen does not perform weddings or funerals. He avoids sickbeds and doesn't do personal counseling. For those needs, the church employs another 60 ministers. Members said that is fine.

"I'm not here to meet the pastor; I'm here to meet God," said Pam Hall, 47, who has been coming to Lakewood for 15 years but who acknowledged that Osteen does not know her name. "He is a great inspiration to me."

Osteen and his wife say there are just so many hours in the day and his time has to be reserved for his calling: the sermons. "The truth is, if someone says I want to be counseled by Joel Osteen, my first thing is to say get the tapes, read his book," said Victoria Osteen, who is a major part of each service. "It's not like he's got a secret he's not telling us."

Lakewood Church was founded in 1959 in an abandoned feed store in Houston, after John Osteen was booted out of the Baptist Church for speaking in tongues and advocating God's healing powers. His church was popular, and grew steadily, until it had a congregation of about 6,000, televised services and a $10 million budget when he died in 1999.

Joel Osteen, the fourth of five children, was considered by his family the least likely to follow his father to the pulpit, as he happily worked for 17 years behind the scenes on the television ministry. He said his father asked him to preach on the Sunday before he passed away. Osteen said it was clear to him shortly thereafter he had been "called" to succeed his father.

Since taking over the ministry in 1999, Osteen has created a little city at Lakewood, increasing the budget to $50 million, adding three major services, and creating a burgeoning community of youth groups, singles socials, and home groups organized by Zip code, so members can meet. There is also a Spanish-speaking service.

Osteen's self-effacing, shy demeanor belies a keen eye for the theatrical value of a church service and an absolute belief in what he is doing. Seven professional cameras pan the cavernous church, recording every tear of joy, every note of music, every religious utterance. Through aggressive marketing and purchasing, Osteen's sermon is broadcast on network affiliates in the top 30 U.S. markets, including Washington, and on major nonreligious cable networks nationally and internationally, such as BET, PAX and the Discovery Channel.

The church is run by the Osteen family and a cadre of 4,000 volunteers, 1,200 of whom are needed for each service. It is a tightly organized Sunday operation at which ushers looking like Secret Service agents wear earpieces and microphones and manage to get 6,000 to 8,000 people to their seats quickly. Parents are able to check their infants and toddlers at the door with volunteer caregivers. They are given a numbered token, and if there is a problem with their child, the token number flashes on the big screen during the service.

Indicating his priorities, Osteen's first hire was the music director, Cindy Cruse-Ratcliff. She and songwriter Israel Houghton create all the original music for the service. "I just think we're in a society these days that we're so distracted or busy. . . . It's harder to hold people's attention," Osteen said. "We try to package the whole service -- I hate to use the word production or show."

He knows that some people just come for the music. And that is a good thing, he said. Whatever gets them in the door.

Research editor Lucy Shackelford contributed to this report.