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The Great Lie America Sent to Tanzania

On August 10, 2016

I’m guessing that if I were to ask most of my readers if they are regular consumers of the preaching of Benny Hinn or Creflo Dollar, they would recoil in horror. We change the station if they happen to appear on our televisions (or maybe watch out of morbid curiosity), but mostly, we do our best to try to distance ourselves from that kind of Christianity. All that emphasis on wealth and health–they are not us.

We just not might realize that the Prosperity Gospel is so tightly connected to the American Dream that many of us have no idea that we’ve accepted parts of it. Those of us who wouldn’t have anything to do with Kenneth Copeland might still be willing to read The Prayer of Jabez or make Jeremiah 29:11 our “life verse.” Even the very popular Hillsong has some veins in the Prosperity movement, as evidenced by its founder’s early book entitled, You Need More Money. A Time magazine poll found that two-thirds of American Christians agreed that God wants people to prosper.

We shouldn’t be surprised then that Joel Osteen leads the largest church in America. Or that the majority of mega-churches in America preach Prosperity. Or that Prosperity preachers dominate the “Christian” airwaves, which means that this is the version of Christianity, more than any other, that gets spread to the rest of the world.

Including Tanzania.

As someone who is in Tanzania with the express purpose of training up church leaders to know, understand, and teach Scripture, it is difficult for me to express the depth of my distress in the Prosperity Gospel. It is embedded everywhere. And it came here from America.

Seen on thousands of cars in Tanzania

Of all the ugly things that America has exported, the Prosperity Gospel’s perversion of Christianity is one of the worst. It was born and nurtured in America during a time of economic prosperity, so it was easy for millions of American Christians to swallow it down along with the American Dream. And now….it’s here? In a country that is one of the poorest in the world, with a life expectancy of 60? Yet this “gospel” continues to tell people that if they just have enough faith, God will take away their poverty. And if that doesn’t happen, well, then obviously they deserve it. It’s nothing but a cruel joke from a God who obviously loves rich people more than them.

I once wrote that we joined Reach Tanzania because of Benny Hinn. From our very first term in Tanzania in 2001, we realized that American televangelists are the primary source of influence on Tanzanian Christians, including many pastors. Recently, I read the book Blessed: A History of the American Prosperity Gospel by Kate Bowler.

It helped me understand American Christianity a whole lot better. It helped me understand Tanzanian Christianity a whole lot better. And it turned my stomach to realize that so many of the struggles in the Tanzanian church came directly from America.

On the back of a Tanzanian city bus: “Jesus is the winner”

Seen in a Tanzanian supermarket: entire rack of books by Robert Schuller and Napoleon Hills

It’s time, Americans.

It’s time for this lie to end. It’s time for all of us to remember that God does not owe us the American dream. It’s time for us to apply all of Scripture, including the parts that guarantee persecution and trouble on this side of heaven. Including the parts where God does not always give us what we ask for. Including the parts where He is a God who allows (even creates!) prosperity and disaster (Is. 45:7), where both can be a part of His will, and where He intentionally, in wisdom and grace, uses suffering in the lives of His people. That God can heal, but sometimes He chooses not to. That God wants us to be holy more than He wants us to be healthy. That God wants us to love Him more than we love His gifts. That knowing Him, and being known by Him, is the greatest treasure in the universe.

For the American church, I am praying that this decent into chaos will knock some sense into its delusions of what God owes them. For Tanzania, I am praying for an African Martin Luther. A man (or many of them) of godly strength and humility who has the courage and the position to lead his people away from the lies that America sent them. May God help us all.

Medina Life, July

By Amy Medina

On August 4, 2016

In Other

The biggest news of the month is that Johnny’s adoption was officially finalized on July 27th! He is pictured here with his faithful social worker, who deserves our heartfelt appreciation. I doubt we would have a fourth child right now if it was not for him.

Johnny had no idea why “going to court” was such a big deal, since he had already decided that he wanted to stay with us, so as far as he was concerned, it was already a done deal. Instead, his biggest accomplishment was completing his first 100 piece puzzle all by himself. I know, I know, we need to find some non-princess puzzles.

Since everyone was out of school this month (except for Gil, who was still preparing and teaching some training sessions), the three older siblings decided that Johnny needed some pre-school. So they created an entire curriculum, complete with recess, ICT (computer class), report cards, and a very detailed teaching schedule. Poor Johnny didn’t know what hit him.

We had some excitement when a friend, who is a student in our program, asked us to take his wife to the hospital when she went into labor. The call came on a Sunday morning, just as we were leaving for church, so we picked them up, dropped them off at the hospital, and went to church. The baby was born at 1:30 pm, and then we got the call that mama and baby would be discharged at 4:00 pm. Ummm….okay! Our kids got the crazy (but awesome!) experience of riding in the car with a woman in labor, and then taking her back home with the baby only six hours later.

Just in case this all seems a bit too idyllic, know that there was also a lot of this going on this month.

Spending time with one of our favorite-ever families, who go back as far as 2002 and our first term in Tanzania.

Spending time with the “Moja Mission” team who have an incredible ministry to Tanzanian teenagers, and also all happen to be studying in our program.

My latest post over at A Life Overseas is about the balancing act of educating kids overseas. If MK education is a part of your life, or you know someone who would benefit from this discussion, please head them over to this post!

As of August 1st, our whole family is now ten hours away from home, at a Swahili language school. We are here for three weeks, all of us working intensely to improve our Swahili skills. Since we’re gone from 8 till 5 every day, and have homework on top of that, my posts will be sparse this month. That is, unless you want lessons on conjugating Swahili verbs….since that’s pretty much all that’s on my mind right now. But don’t worry….I’ll be back!

You Can Lock Up a Few Evil People, but You Can’t Lock Up Everyone

By Amy Medina

On July 20, 2016

In Other

photo by Gil Medina

Sometimes I click on a link out of morbid curiosity. 9 Much-Needed Reminders That Humans are Inherently Good. Seriously? I thought. I’ve got to read this.

The article assures us that even though terrible things are happening in the world, we can take heart because humans are wired for empathy, kindness, unselfishness, romance, and hugs. And dogs like us, so we must be pretty amazing.

Well, that’s reassuring.

I sigh and think, Only in America. I guarantee that if you ask anyone in Rwanda, Cambodia, Syria, Iraq, Iran, Venezuela, North Korea, or South Sudan if humans are inherently good, they’ll laugh in your face. Except maybe not because they are too busy crying, running for their lives, or languishing in prison.

I know it feels good to believe in the goodness of humanity. And of course, humans are capable of incredible acts of self-sacrifice, courage, and kindness, and it is exemplary to aspire to those ideals. We were made in the image of God, and vestiges of Eden–of who we were meant to be–are still evident in our friendships, our parenting, our service.

But the belief that mankind is inherently good? Really? How many acts of terrorism, genocide, child slavery, albino murders, or rape does our world need to experience before we abandon that belief?

The problem is that we keep thinking that everything would be okay if we could just stop the bad people. We conveniently forget that we are bad people too.

Germans stood by passively while the ashes of six million Jews floated over their heads. Rwandans picked up machetes and hacked to death the neighbors they had lived by for generations. Freed American slaves used their freedom to colonize Liberia and oppress the indigenous people.

That’s them, we think. Not me. I would never do that. Sure, it’s easy to believe I am a decent person when my stomach is full, the electricity is working, and my children are healthy. But all I have to do is look at myself when I’ve lost a night of sleep or have a bad headache, and that beast inside me rises from its slumber and turns me into a person I don’t want to be. I wonder sometimes, what would that beast look like if I lived under the shadow of violence, if I couldn’t feed my children, if terror had scraped away my desire for self-sacrifice? Or what if a powerful but evil leader promised to make all my problems go away? What would I be capable of?

I do believe that it is healing and inspiring to look for the good and the beautiful in people and in this world. It’s there. But believing that somehow the goodness of humanity will one day rise up and save us all? Just not going to happen. You can lock up a few evil people, but you can’t lock up everyone.

We are presented with three options: suicide, hope in humanity, or hope in God. Everyone has that choice, and everyone chooses. There are no other options.

photo by Gil Medina

Anarchy is Loosed Upon the World

By Amy Medina

On July 11, 2016

In Other

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

William Butler Yeats, 1919

We watch the news with horror. We can’t keep up with the tragedy. It’s too much, too much. Too much pain; too much devastation.

The ceremony of innocence is drowned.

We can’t change our profile pictures fast enough before the next tragedy occurs. Nazarite? Paris? Orlando? Baghdad? Istanbul? Gorilla? Black lives matter? or is it Blue lives? There are two many things to care about; too many things that tear at our hearts and give us whiplash from trying so hard to keep up. Sometimes it’s easier to just pull the covers over our heads.

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed.

And all of those things don’t even scratch the surface of the problems within the four walls of our own personal universe–a child’s bad choices, money that won’t stretch, conflicts between two that share the same space, that strange lump, that broken washing machine–or those problems within the confines of our own minds–that secret sin, that devastating fear, that sense of failure that hangs on like a bad cough.

It’s hard enough facing the problems in our own small spaces; it seems too much to face the problems out there. Especially when the problems out there start creeping into our own space like termites that eat through the walls.

Yet, there is nothing new under the sun. Yeats’ poem was written after World War I–before Hitler murdered six million, before the atomic bombs, before Stalin starved seven million, before Pol Pot slaughtered two million, before Rwandans axed one million of their neighbors, before, before, before.

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. And yet after, it only got worse.

There is nothing new under the sun. But for two centuries, some Americans–some–were given the gift of a life that was different than the trajectory of history. A life that really was peaceful and prosperous and free. The Great American experiment worked for a lot of people, for a long time. But for those of us who grew up in that American Dream, who rode our bikes with abandon down our streets, where violence, racism, and poverty were “out there” for other people–not for us–that Dream seemed as permanent as the sturdy oak trees in our front yards. There was no reason to question whether it would last.

What we didn’t realize, growing up in that Dream World, is how unique our experience was–in the world, in history, even in much of America. Our history classes focused on “western civilization”…which seemed to find its pinnacle in the life we were living right now. We had reached the top, and there was no reason to believe that we would fall from it.

Or so we thought.

Really though, has the world actually gotten worse? Or just our world?

I don’t think the world is getting worse. I just think my American Dream generation is coming to grips with the reality of life. That blip on the screen that was the American Dream was really just an illusion, for a time covering up the deeper, sinister parts of human nature….in our society, and in ourselves.

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.

And here we are now. Facing terribly disturbing leadership in our own country, facing deep fissures in our unity that will no longer allow to be plastered over, facing the loss of our religious freedom, facing dire financial collapse, facing outside threats to our safety like circling hyenas.

Facing what the rest of the world has always faced. We can watch a lot of sitcoms; we can go on happy vacations; we can eat lots of good food; we can enjoy the best of America, but we can no longer tell ourselves that everything will be okay.

How do we then live?

We swallow the red pill and see the Matrix for what it really is. We go backstage at Disneyland and see where they dump the trash. Many, of course, have lived there all along. We acknowledge how living only in our Dream World has hurt them; how we have failed to listen to their pleas. We repent of our trust in that world to bring us happiness.

There is still a way to find joy, of course. We need not live our lives under a storm cloud. Babies are born and marriages are celebrated even in times of war. Sunsets fill our souls and the stars give us strength. Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion is the best line in “Steel Magnolias.” Brokenhearted joy is what John Piper calls it. We bravely face the wretchedness in ourselves and in our society–even while we watch it crumble–but we remember that we hold the true source of Hope.

The Christian life was meant to be lived in the widening gyre. It’s what we were created for. It’s what we are called to do. It’s what Jesus meant when he said to pick up our cross and follow him, why he told us that his peace is not the same as what the world gives, why he said that the most important thing is to abide in him. It’s why he told us that we would have trouble in this world, but to take heart because he has overcome it.

Things fall apart, but we do hear the falconer. As we are faced with this new reality, which really is just peeling back the veil and seeing reality as it has always been, let us remember that we do hear the falconer.

This July 4th, I’m Thankful For My Blue Passport

By Amy Medina

On July 5, 2016

In Other

We have some good friends here who are citizens of Zimbabwe, a country to the south of Tanzania. Our friends are of European decent, whose ancestors colonized Zimbabwe generations ago.

I am also of European decent, and my ancestors colonized north America generations ago. However, my colonizing ancestors brought with them European diseases that wiped out 90% of the native American population, whereas the colonizing ancestors of my Zimbabwean friends were held in check by African diseases. Which meant that even though their ancestors established a government in a foreign land (just like in North America), they never became the majority population. (Okay, so I know it’s not actually that simple and is certainly quite ugly, but the comparison is interesting.)

Our Zimbabwean friends, like us from America, bear no responsibility for their ancestors’ choices, and yet reap the consequences, whether good or bad. Unfortunately, Zimbabwe has now been ruled by a tyrant for almost 4 decades, and the country that used to be called “the breadbasket of Africa” has had a complete economic collapse. So our friends, descended from ancestors much like our own, are left with citizenship from a country that they dearly love, but has nothing left to offer them. Their children have no hope of attending university or finding jobs in their own country. They are, in many ways, exiles. How differently their story of colonialism has ended.

We celebrated the 4th of July yesterday at a friend’s house who threw a big bash and invited people of any nationality. It felt normal, though, to celebrate America’s independence with non-Americans, since that’s what America has always been about. And even though the United States still has deep-seated problems with racism and immigration, it has still been the most open country in the world to outsiders. Every year, even though only several students in HOPAC’s graduating class are American, the majority of our students attend university in the States. America consistently seeks after international students and offers them the best scholarships–hands down. I’ve sat in the U.S. embassy in Tanzania and listened to visa interviews. Everyone wants to go to America. And a lot of the time, America says yes.

Living here has helped me to have a greater appreciation of my blue American passport. Unlike many countries in the world, I was able to acquire a passport with no trouble at all. Unlike other countries, my country allows me to freely come and go. By giving my children that blue passport, my girls will be given the opportunity to go to college (unlike many in Pakistan or Afghanistan); my sons will not be automatically conscripted into the military (unlike Israel, South Korea, or dozens of others).

It was a fabulous party, but I felt sad yesterday, did you? These days, it’s hard to know what’s in store for our country. Could we be heading in the same direction as Zimbabwe? Living overseas has often increased my frustration with America, but also my appreciation. It’s never been perfect, but we sure have a whole lot more than most of the world–in opportunity, freedom, and possessions. I am apprehensive for America’s future. But for now, I’m still thankful for that blue passport.