The Prosperity Gospel

Christian Nationalism, American Exceptionalism, and The Art of the Deal

There are many versions of the Gospel out there. Those who prioritize “The Gospel” have one thing in common - they are convinced that theirs is the authoritative version. It’s Non-negotiable. Universal. Cardinal. Paramount. Set in stone.

All the others are counterfeits.

In the Bible, the gospel is simply “good news.” In graduate school, determining exactly what is meant by the term can be complex. But not for Campus Crusade for Christ (now CRU).¹ Years ago, the gospel was condensed into four key points crafted to lead a prospect to a commitment. Yes or no. Up or down. In or out. You decide. It’s the offer of a free ticket to eternal bliss and the escape from certain eternal judgment.

In Bible school, we memorized that little booklet. It could be “shared” in a matter of minutes, and, as we were told, it may well determine one’s eternal destiny. It’s the Gospel as elevator pitch. There are hundreds of knock-offs out there in the religious marketplace - usually four-pointers and a closing prayer: “Gospel Tracts.” There are souls to be won. Lost masses to be saved.

In a nation that has as many Christian denominations as there are hamburger stands (probably more), there exists a plethora of answers to the question “What actually is ‘The Gospel,’ anyway?” Jesus had a version - ““The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… He has sent me to proclaim good news to the poor… freedom for the captives… recovery of sight for the blind… to let the oppressed go free.”² Paul had a version, too - “that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day…”³ Jesus’ brother James also had a version. It has a lot to do with caring for the poor and marginalized, resisting the temptations of wealth and power, and a commitment to the common good. (“Good works.”)⁴

The church has been homogenized in recent decades. It’s not so common to see “denominational” churches these days. More likely, the church in your neighborhood will bear a generic name like Cornerstone or New Life or The Rock or Journey or Hope or Grace. Or, it will be named after a road or geographic landmark - The Summit, Thomas Road, Granite Mountain, Hillside, Foothill, Green Lake or Highland. Our neighborhood elementary school is home to a new church plant called “Be The Message” Church.

Baptist, Lutheran, Episcopal, Methodist, and Presbyterian are more and more rare out there.

The Gospel message is further obfuscated by the church’s relatively new alliance with politics. The Gospel promoted these days in those generic churches includes an animosity towards secularism, liberalism, higher education, the Democrat party, immigration, science, vaccinations, and social safety nets. Patriotism, separatism, conservatism, and moralism are more likely to prevail as religious identifiers. Pro-life activism takes center stage. These rallying points constitute the essence of the gospel in these spaces, both in church and via the evangelical media complex.

So, there seem to be as many versions of the Gospel as there are versions of Jesus.

But there is one form of The Gospel that’s uniquely American. It has a long history: the Prosperity Gospel.

* * * * * * * * * *

My first real encounter with the Prosperity Gospel hit when (in the early 1980s) I got persuaded to become an Amway (The American Way) distributor. I was reluctant then, as certainly you would be. But my recruiters were relentless, and ultimately convincing. With a degree of reticence, I signed up.

My Bible School and Seminary training had been vigorous exercises in frugality. None of us imagined that it would be possible to build personal wealth in ministry. Our pastoral predecessors (our parents’ and grandparents’ generation) lived in parsonages (employer-provided housing). Their congregants often contributed food in addition to what little they had for tithing on Sunday morning. Many of those pastors gave heart-tugging “testimony” to the lucrative careers they “gave up” in order to pursue their calling to ministry. All that money, that filthy lucre, was a necessary sacrifice to become a true Servant of God. Some of those good clergymen (mostly men) were bi-vocational just to make ends meet.

We took on the mantle of their example. We didn’t expect much. Even if we could purchase a luxury car, we didn’t. Humble appearances must be maintained. Our meager salaries were published in the annual report. Any evidence of excess or conflict of interest would result in parking lot criticism, maybe even public complaints where a brave protester just might take to the microphone at the congregational meeting and unload his concerns about a greedy pastor and/or an out-of-control Board.

So, the invitation to become an Amway distributor came shortly after I left my role as pastor. Accepting it triggered a culture shock. The notion that wealth could be a good thing was, well, intoxicating.

That sign-up launched an intense program of training in American capitalism, free enterprise, financial independence, and winning through success. While conspicuous consumption would be professional suicide in my former career, the amassing of perpetual tidal waves of income became a worthy goal and a clear sign of God’s smiling approval.

When I got a look at the inside of “the business,” I was surprised to learn that it was, at its core, thoroughly evangelical Christian… complete with altar calls and Sunday worship.

From the start, we were coached to “fake it until we make it.” We were bombarded with training tapes (back then - cassettes), motivational reading, regular gatherings, conferences, and phone calls. We were de-programmed from “stinkin’ thinkin’,” the belief that we needed a J-O-B, and the lure of a world that tells us “you can’t do it.” Ignore the “nay-sayers,” the “dream-stealers,” the doubters. We were told not to associate with those outside the business, but only with those who modelled “success.” “Share the plan,” at every opportunity. We should celebrate the “No”s - because only by enduring rejection could we find success. The ultimate goal: Diamond Direct. Rags to riches. Horatio Alger, in the flesh. Happily ever after.

During those three or four years, I did, however, manage to get my Andy Warhol 15 minutes of fame. (Well, more like 5 minutes.)

One long weekend, we gathered in the Oakland Arena. I’m told there were over 10,000 of us wanna-be Diamonds in attendance - that is, distributors with the dream of reaching the pinnacle of success. There were only about eight of those actual Diamonds there, including two who had been active leaders in the church I pastored as a fresh seminary graduate. It was a multi-day training and motivational conference where all those Diamonds took to the stage to recount their journey from hopelessness to untold wealth. From survival mode to independence.

FREEDOM!

It was part inspiration, part pep rally, and full-on indoctrination. We were all there until after 1 AM… exhausted, but willing to stand up and with all ten thousand others to say out loud, “Whatever it takes!” We are “all in!” “No excuses!”

Of course, 9,992 of those in attendance would never make it.

Including me.

On Saturday afternoon, we changed the pace - taking about 45 minutes for an open “talent show.” It was an invitation to anyone in the audience willing to take the stage and perform. My friend, one of those Diamonds, cornered me and said, “Ken. You’ve gotta do it. This is your chance. Get up there and sing!”

“Excuse me?”

My friend insisted. He’s the same guy who convinced me to sign up. Let’s just say, he’s persuasive. I tried to decline. He wouldn’t listen.

“What in the world will I sing?” I asked, incredulously.

“You’ll figure it out. The band can play anything.”

Surprisingly, a song came to mind. Even so, every fiber of my being resisted.

What I haven’t shared with you ever before is this: As a Bible school kid, I sang in our men’s choir. All three years, I was the choir’s soloist. I took voice from our director, a classically trained baritone. We traveled all over the country. I was no stranger to the solo part. But many years had passed.

All that said, something familiar stirred up inside me.

“OK, man. What the heck. I’ll do it.”

My turn came. Let me remind you, this was Oakland Arena. Thousands of people were there. The lead band member asked, “What do you want to sing?”

“Impossible Dream,” I said.

“No problem. We’ve got it.” He turned to the band, and they all nodded. As I stepped to the mike, the guys strummed an introduction. The lead guy pointed to the microphone. All I had to do was step up and sing.

I looked out at that massive audience. My heart just about beat out of my chest. I took a deep breath. But the old days with the choir came back. I hit the first note, on key.

To dream… the impossible dream

To fight the unbeatable foe

To bear with unbearable sorrow

To run where the brave dare not go…

This is my quest… to follow that star

No matter how hopeless……

The audience, who had been distracted during the break, turned to listen. They smiled a collective smile of approval. Some nodded. The old voice came back. I hit the notes. I felt energized, composed. It was magic.

To fight for the right, without question or pause

To be willing to march into Hell for a Heavenly cause

And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest

That my heart will lie peaceful and calm

when I’m laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this

That one man scorned and covered with scars

Still strove with his last ounce of courage

To reach the unreachable star.

I held that last line, a crescendo, as though that star was just beyond my reach.

Then, the applause. Like I had never known, before or since. I took a sheepish bow. It was my Diamond moment.

Backstage, as I moved stage left, I stumbled across the Number One Diamond, Bill Britt, the mega-charmer who later that night kept us into the wee hours to pledge our loyalty to the quest to “build the business” and relentlessly focus until we would achieve that coveted Diamond status.

“Hello, Mr. Britt,” I said. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

He stopped, looked me in the eye, without shaking my hand, with furrowed brow, in a voice like General Patton said -

“I hate that song.”

I stood there, frozen.

“It’s NOT the impossible dream,” he declared. “It’s the POSSIBLE dream!”

He turned and walked off.

* * * * * * * * *

Of course, I would be one of the 99% with dreams of financial independence that never got there and then eventually got over it. While I cherished that moment on stage, my deep dive into Amway’s Prosperity Gospel left me disillusioned. Like Dorothy, who learned at the end of that Yellow Brick Road that the Wizard was not who he pretended to be. He never was. Those Diamonds were not Diamonds, either.

My Amway days did, however, prepare me for this MAGA era. Smoke and mirrors. The illusions of wealth. The abuse of privilege. The abuse of power. The distraction from home.

From the inside, I saw corruption, too. The exaggerated claims. Investor dollars lost. The exploitation. The misrepresentations. The false hopes. The shattered dreams. The lost time.

* * * * * * * * *

And now, as 2026 opens up with new possibilities, sadly, the Wizard remains in power. (For now.) Nearing age 80, he believes that he is the Master of the Universe, Master of the Art of the Deal. He doesn’t drink alcohol, but he is intoxicated. His drug of choice? Money and power. The exercise of immense, unprecedented (Presidential) power and ready access to inexhaustible supplies of cash. He controls the military, the National Guard, and ICE. He controls the Department of Justice. He controls Congress. He controls the Supreme Court. He controls the national budget. He wants to control the media, the universities, and the law firms. That 747 Air Force One sits on the tarmac at his command. He doesn’t sleep. He lives on a diet of Big Macs. He’s never read a book.

But folks who have been his loyal followers are beginning to exit the arena. They’ve looked behind the curtain. The smoke is clearing. The mirrors reflect back what is real.

It’s not too late.

That impossible dream, to follow that star, is still there with me. But the star is not Amway Diamond or MAGA America or a Christianized nation.

It’s a vision of this country that is bound up in the common good. Two hundred and fifty years later -

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all [of us] are created equal, that [we] are endowed by [our] Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Freedom and justice.

For all.

1. See the Four Spiritual Laws (CRU)

2. Luke 4:18–19

3. 1 Corinthians 15:1–5

4. See the entire Epistle of James