I hit a turning point today.
It’s nothing new that I’ve been sick of what we call the Prosperity Gospel; the belief that when you know Jesus, you will be blessed with riches, health, a great family, and more riches. This was initially a sect of Christianity in America and around the world, but in recent years it seems to have surged to the majority.
Major proponents of this gospel include Benny Hinn, Joel Osteen, and Steven Furtick (who has received criticism for his $7 million house). There are more, and if you want a full list, just visit the Preachers N Sneakers Instagram. You could make an argument that the creation of that Instagram account marked the moment of death for American Evangelicalism.
But after seeing the affairs of countless pastors, some of whom were brought back into their churches later, or rewarded with other pastoral positions, book deals, and the like,
After learning that a local church here in Colorado rewarded their volunteers with skinny, black, shredded jeans so they could fit the volunteer dress code,
After getting coffee with the pastor of said church and finding that he never went to college and didn’t know the definition of ‘reformed,’ among other basic theological concepts, despite leading a 9,000-person church,
After being turned down for multiple jobs in the church because I was single and didn’t fit their image of the American family-friendly dream,
After seeing a swarm of Evangelical leaders flock to the Trump White House and, rather than speaking truth to power and fighting for the voiceless, kiss the orange, rotund bottom of their morally deficit leader,
After seeing Christian leaders like Johns Piper or Macarthur launch movements against fellow Christians (Piper pretentious tweeting of “Farewell, Rob Bell;” or Macarthur’s Strange Fire Conference),
And after the general decline of Evangelical thought in regards to theology, cultural relevance, loving, logical answers to complex issues in favor of cool churches and money-making fame,
I have finally reached a breaking point: The point where I am unable to call myself an Evangelical Christian. These are more than enough nails to stick in her coffin’s lid.
Call it my own “95 Theses Moment” or whatever.
 because it’s comfortable, because we can’t think of a better one, because it used to represent what we believe, is simply not the way forward.){kind=link}