The 'Gospel' That Almost Killed Me

I'm in a bathtub. I can't get up. I feel like I'm about to die. Mercury poisoning.
The water in the tub has grown cold. Maybe that's why I feel so cold. I've been marinating in my own soup stock for the past two hours. I'm floating in and out of consciousness. Whenever I can concentrate I begin to pray.
Jesus, please, save me. Please, heal me. I repent, I put my whole heart into prayer right now, and I cast out any doubt or fear. I know you can heal me. Please heal me! My mom's keys are rattling in the doorknob now, and I hear the door thud shut in the distance. I hear her purse sliding across the counter and her keys landing next to it. I barely recognize her figure as she tries with all of her wiry might to pull me out of the tub. I spend the next two days in the hospital. My mom wants to know why I didn't let her know, why I didn't want to go to the hospital, why I didn't do something.

"Mom, Jesus is my doctor. I'm blessed, and I know that he would have healed me." This is me trying to live out what I think is true Christianity.
I just got saved two months earlier. I'm fresh out of jail, and I'm walking around the projects where I used to stomp like a tiny teenage giant. I've got a bare back, a few tattoos, and a Bible in my hand. I'm just praying for the opportunity to share the Christ with someone.
I meet a man named Roger who invites me into his home. He buys me lunch, and we spend all day talking about the Bible. This guy knows way more than I do. I've never heard anyone spout off so many Scriptures in such rapid-fire succession. "This guy is legit," I say under my breath.
Over the course of the next six months, this man indoctrinates me with the prosperity gospel. Just a few months earlier, I'd never even opened a Bible. I have no idea I'm being given arsenic in my Kool-Aid. I take it all. I believe it all. I know it's true. It has to be. It's all right here in Scripture. Look, she touched the hem of his garment and was healed. Look, Jesus couldn't heal them because they didn't have enough faith. Look, all throughout the Old Testament you see curses for sins and blessings for righteousness. Prosperity for the good, pain for the bad. It's so plain. So obvious.
But stuff isn't making sense. I'm still without a job. I can't pay my rent. My mom isn't getting saved, and I keep getting cold sores. None of these things should be happening. There must be sin hidden somewhere in my heart.
Now I have the flu, and I don't have any money to buy groceries. I just need to claim it. I just need to rebuke Satan and his lies, and believe that what I've proclaimed in the name of Jesus will surely come to pass. Maybe I'm not tithing enough. Time to double up. I'll get it back one hundredfold. Maybe more. I just need to sow in faith.
But it's still not happening. "Roger, hey man, I don't understand. It seems like this stuff isn't working. What am I doing wrong?"
"Dude, I don't know exactly what it is, but I know the problem ain't with God or his Word. It's got to be something in your heart or in your life. Let's pray about it."
Fast forward a year. I'm 19 and married now. We're struggling hard. I can't pay the rent or the electricity bill, and I just lost another job. My wife wasn't saved when we met. She gets saved during the course of our friendship, and somewhere in there, she starts listening to me and taking in all the "truth" I'm giving her. She does wonder, though, about the disconnect. When the ATM receipt says we're $40 in the hole, I rebuke myself, the ATM, and the receipt. I claim my blessing even in the face of this lie from Satan. I know Jesus is looking down on me, proud of my strength amid such persecution and adversity. "In the name of Jesus!"—I keep claiming what he's promised me.
The prosperity gospel and word-of-faith movement are basically the same thing, but I've never heard those labels before. All the good Bible-loving Baptists fear me because I probably robbed their sons, stole their cars, or vandalized their church. Yet because of my powerful testimony, scores of churches invite me to come and share. I preach a false gospel every time I go. Not once does anyone ever sit me down and talk with me about the danger to my soul. Not a word. Not a peep. Not to my face, anyway. Now I know they waited respectfully until I left, and then talked among themselves about how sad it is to see such passion so misdirected.
All I know, the only thing I know, is that I love Jesus. He saved me. I was destroying myself and anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in my gravitational pull. I was dying, and I was going to die twice. One night, on an empty road in the middle of nowhere, in a scene so strange it has to be true, Jesus saved me. He saved me from sin, death, and hell. I want to spend the rest of my life serving Jesus with all of me. I think this refuse called "gospel," this message of prosperity and proclamation, is what I must do. So I obey. In my mind, this is what it means to be a Christian. This is all I've known. I think this is what God wants of me. So I continue in white-knuckled obedience. I keep pressing, keep pushing. And one random day I join Myspace.
I like to argue on Myspace. I'm 19 with a big mouth. The internet offers me a perfect avenue to express myself and condemn those who can't see the truth I see, obey the law as well as I do, and lack the faith I radiate like a fiery sun. I'm perusing this wasteland one evening in Seattle, and an old man pops up on my QuickTime video player. He's really bringing the thunder. He's preaching on holiness like no one I've ever heard. I'm hooked. I go to the next video.
Amazing. I've never heard anyone preach this way. I go to the next one. It says "John Piper: Prosperity Gospel Sermon Jam." I'm excited. He's going to really give the jolt I need to keep going.
But after the clip I'm furious. I close my computer. Another wolf. Another preacher who just has it so wrong. The video was the worst attack on my faith I've ever seen or heard. I stop watching right after he says "this crap called gospel!" Unbelievable.
I carry on with my life, but I just can't help it. I keep going back to YouTube, and eventually to this website that has all of his teachings. I tell myself I'm just going to read or listen to or watch his other stuff. I'll avoid the stuff I don't like—the stuff that's wrong. The other stuff is just too good, though. It's breathing life into my soul.
I don't remember much about the night the truth took over. Sometimes our brains protect us from the trauma of reliving the pain over and over again. But this night, I'm crying. I'm devastated. I've been considering the possibility for months now, and it finally clicked about five minutes ago. Almost everything I think I know about God, the Bible, the cross, and the gospel is wrong. Dead wrong. I feel it now, down in my bones, and it burns with the pain only God can give.
Repentance begins. "Amber, baby, we need to talk. Everything I've ever taught you about Christ is wrong. Can you ever trust me again? Can we start over? Will you give me another chance?"
I feel like an adulterer. I begin undoing everything that needs to be undone. I failed as a husband, and by the grace of God I'm trying to fix it. I have no one and nothing. I don't have any non-prosperity gospel friends, since I ditched them if they couldn't get with the program. They were only holding me back and hurting my faith. That's what I told myself. Now I'm alone. I do have the internet, though. . . .
So I'm watching Paul Washer videos and spending hours on DesiringGod.org. I've never even heard the word reformed, and I can't find one single book about the prosperity gospel. Not one that's attacking it, anyway. That's what I really want.
I'm hurt—badly. I don't trust anyone, and I'm angry at everyone—at Christians, anyway. Why didn't anyone tell me? How could I have been so blind? I'm angry at myself. I'm broken, but the Spirit is carrying me.
God did heal my mercury poisoning, but it wasn't because of my power to proclaim that healing into existence. And he accomplished a far greater rescue when he delivered me from the prosperity gospel. It's been nearly six years since the Lord saved me from myself and the damnable heresy that had ensnared me.
I'm writing this account from Peru where my family and I are trying to reach a people group who don't have the gospel. I'm still picking up the pieces. I still have a hard time praying for healing, or prosperity and blessing, both of which are thoroughly biblical. I still feel my diaphragm twitch whenever someone says "in the name of Jesus." I know the truth now, and I try to walk in line with it every day. The white-knuckled discipline I once devoted to the prosperity gospel, I now devote to trusting fully in the finished work of Christ and the grace I breathe in to survive.
Here's the bottom line: I was a heretic. But Christ had saved me from my sin, and he saved me from my heresy too. When it comes to embracing the prosperity gospel, I doubt you would've found anyone more dedicated or ruthless. I was the chosen one. But I was ensnared in a false gospel. And so is everyone else trusting in this "crap called gospel," to borrow a phrase from that old man's video.
Brothers and sisters, call it what it is. Pastors, call it what it is. Don't let even a hint of this junk live in your church. Preach against it, and preach a gospel that shines so bright and burns so hot that any counterfeit that tries to approach it burns up upon entry. Don't treat this disease like an asymptomatic sniffle in an otherwise healthy body; treat it like the cancer it is. Preach, teach, counsel, shepherd, and pray a clear and true gospel, and leave no room for anything less glorious or true.
If you meet someone lost in this false gospel, please, please, please love them and tell them the truth. Sit them down, buy them lunch, and open up your Bibles. Speak life. Be brave. Odds are, no one has ever loved them enough to tell them the truth about themselves. The truth is they cannot be saved by a false gospel, and the prosperity gospel is certainly that.
Jesus saved me from the prosperity gospel, and he can save more. He will save more. How could he not?
Editor's note: This article originally appeared in the January-February issue of the 9Marks Journal, devoted to the prosperity gospel.

Sean DeMars is currently serving the peoples of Peru by preaching, teaching, and living God's Word. He and his wife were sent out by Decatur Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Decatur, Alabama. You can follow him on Twitter.

A SUDANESE WOMAN CALLED WAMBUI NJOKI MUNENE
At the beginning of this year,i made a resolution that i Ninar Bahati will not be  a benefactor of a newly shaven Indian woman and true to my word, my hair is and has been natural for the last 4 months, ask my barber, he'll tell u fo sure.

I mean, even Beyonce wears wigs and i can bet on Nicki Minaj's boobs and butt that those massive curls of hair are not real. Speaking of which, pink, green, blue, purple and yellow hair doesn't exist; so ya'll identity crisis stricken teenagers women , young and old alike can ditch those and make a solemn vow to top looking like walking rainbows.

And before you hit me with 'mwanamke ni weave kuwa natural wachia mau forest', let me remind you that kuwa celeb ni short hair( Lupita, Mrs. Mandela & Museveni e.t.c). It beats reason when a Sudanese woman called Wambui Njoki Munene bravely spots blond hair and proceeds to call herself a fashion stylista. News flash honey, you look like a black wizard of oz.

You men ain't spared either, what's with the brown Mohawks in the middle of your heads? I know Erick Omondi induced this colored baby locks frenzy but he looks good in it and you don't. Konshens can get away with red hair cuz he's rich and has hit songs to his name while you don't. I know you wanna look as hot as he does but YOU WON'T. I mean, look what happened when Fred Omondi tried to copy his bro's hair color and failed miserably.

You  gotta be sensitive to your facial features. Even the good book says that we are wonderfully and fearfully made, most of our men fall onto the latter. Honestly I liked Diamond better with his short hair singing sweetly to Mbagala. Look what happened when he tried to fit into the celebrity status quo. He put a brown Mohawk. Shortly afterwards we started hearing stories sijui how he started dating his sister, or was it his cousin; made her pregnant then later dumped her. Two relationships later the guy is frequently spotted drinking and messing around with women while showing off his six pac( we looove those though)  ; but maybe if he had remained natural we would still love him more-oh wait damn we still love him  no matter what.

Seriously though, let's go back to naturalness. I mean, even Minaj is free of cancer and her hair has grown back and sometimes, which is once in a leap year, she doesn't wear wigs or weaves.

That said and done, let's get LUPITAD people!!!!!!

back in the days in high school during chemistry exams

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  IT'S A LITTLE BIT TOO LATE TO PLAY MOMMY AND DADDY.

Anna is pissed, she is raging mad!!  To say the least she is furious and the hot steam coming out of her nostrils confirms this. Okay, well, I might have exaggerated for there wasn't any steam but, I can assure you a bull from Dallas would have cowered at her wrath.

" Morning Anna how a-....."
" I can't believe this" she cuts me off.
"....-re you" I dryly finish my salutations which apparently were falling on deaf ears (pun intended).
"somehow, people forgot to mind their own business" she continues. " Apparently my dress seems to be mystically opening and closing the supposedly eating apparatus on their faces causing irrelevant words to pop words out!!"
"And what has your dress got to do with that?" i ask already tired of the conversation.

Normally, it never bothers me if her skirts/dresses are as short as a campus relationship but hey, a lady gotta be concerned when all the jamaaz at the office forget their well cut suits and start huffing, puffing and panting like hyenas salivating at fresh meat at the sight of Anna. Not that i care or anything, I mean, those guys are good for nothing anyway. Free advice: she should try maxi skirts and dresses like me.

Seriously though, we're still in Africa so the aspect of communal parenting is still there. Fold the fish while it is still raw; okay, that translation was horrible allow me try again if you please..'Samaki mkunje angali mbichi'. (there, clap for me please!) What i'm trying to say is, it's a little bit too late to play mommy and daddy of the year 25 years later after habits have already been formed and are solid.

Telling Anna to change her dress-code will be as easy as playing a guitar to a goat.I assure you they'll hum along and nod at your every tune!!

DEVOLUTION  #Kenya@50

You know, i thought my boss was being petty when he said my hair color was too conspicuous i had to re-dye it, wait till I heard M.Ps seriously -  meticulously - arguing and agreeing in unison, that governors should remove the Kenyan flag from their cars. Really,what the HELL?? Is it just  me or are our politicians just triffling. 

Ngimurok has just died.
Ngimurok is, or rather was a boy less than a decade old  in the North-West semi arid area of Kenya called Turkana. He was born underweight and continued to suffer malnutrition till his last 6th year on earth. His parents didn't even mourn, the village didn't even notice he was dead. Why? Because child mortality is as normal as the 1.5M entertainment allowance on a governor's payslip. 

So do i really care if Kidero puts 10 flags on his Rolls Royce? Do i seriously give a crap if his name starts with your excellency? The only person i can give ear to is honorable Andai who opposed that motion as at 1128 hours Wednesday 2014 but as expected, the whole house attacked him like a bunch of sharks (wait, that's too good a name),like a bunch of hyenas who've smelled blood.

In the name of devolution, i sincerely urge you 'honorable' members of parliament, to mature up and discuss serious motions, for example, allocating more money to needy counties instead of giving them to the Wamboras in government who use it to construct 150M (which is signed off as petty cash) mansions for themselves. Had you even noticed that Elianto that was Ksh 300 four years ago, is now Ksh 960? Oh yeah that's right, you own most of these organizations and are mostly responsible for hiking the prices of these basic commodities. Need i say who is responsible for hiking oil prices? as 'wananchi' and not 'wenye nchi' we humbly say 'TUNAKUJUA!' Even Ocampo and Bensouda know you.

And this ladies and gentlemen, is devolution #Kenya@50!!!!

WHEN GOD CREATED SEX, HE DIDN'T PUT A NAME TO IT

The actor Michael Douglas highlighted the link in June last year when he blamed his throat cancer partly on oral sex. could it be ? How? What's the risk? Should oral sex be off the agenda? would that be unrealistic?

Ladies are vaccinated against the virus at 13 to protect them against cervical cancer; so clearly they are less at risk. 

Many cancers in younger people are the result of the human papilomavirus ( HPV), often passed by oral sex.

Read more at: http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/?articleID=2000106037&story_title=need-to-vaccinate-boys-as-change-in-sexual-habits-lead-to-mouth-cancer

When God created sex, He didn't put a name to it. He didn't call it doggy, 69, oral, missionary or any of the 100 or so listed in the Kamasutra manual. What is mentioned is that Adam knew his wife and she was with child, not throat cancer. Call it being old-school but the world would be rid of cervical, throat and prostrate cancer if it stuck to the normality of God created sex that was mainly meant for procreation.

Homosexuals are at a higher risk of being infected with S.T.Is like chlamydia, gonorrhea or syphilis seems which  increase risk of cancer.

One wonders what happened to morals and straight men and women. If your arm causes you to sin then cut it, so if oral sex increases your chances of getting throat cancer then stop it. If having sex with multiple partners makes you gullible to cervical cancer why not stick to one partner; or better yet why not abstain and save yourself the trouble and torment of getting on with a cancer riddled life?

But again, the choice is yours,we live in a free world where orgies are as simple as eating ugali.

 SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET

Today i really looked stupid,my boss asked me what tribe i am from and i proudly said I'm Kenyan while wearing that banana smile us folks used to write about in compositions.Everyone suddenly bursts out laughing and since i didn't get the joke, i stare blankly at them and flash a shy smile at random faces hoping to get an explanation from a sympathetic non concerned audience.


In Luhya dialect,  my boss said " hawa ni wale wajinga wa Nairobi wanajiita dotcom". After the thunderous laughter had abated, he mockingly asked in swahili, "sijakuuliza unatoka nchi gani, nimekuuliza wewe ni wa kabila gani?" A few years ago Ekko Dydda came to our church to perform and  afterwards he participated in an interview in which he was asked what his surname was. He simply said his name is Sam Ekodyda and he is a Kenyan, refusing to say his other name which would have given his tribe away.

Since that day, i vowed to say I'm a Kenyan, except of course, when a handsome man asks me, I will proudly say I am from Werugha (good thing is most of you don't know where that is- hehe, just kidding).

It is such a shame that at this time and age, even after all that bloodshed in 2006\2007 we can dare be tribal. " sisi waluhya lazima tusaidiane" said my boss in his vernacular. "unajua vile hawa wakikuyu husaidiana sana so we must follow suit". I am disappointed, truly I am, because all those peace campaigns and 'Let's unite' talks were all in vain. 

So I try to convince my colleagues that Kenya is bigger than their tribe but little did i know that goats would have made a better audience! know what, i  really don't care what you think or what you believe in, but i care that you do not introduce your children ( of which some, BTW  are from my generation); to the skeletons of tribalism in your closets. Spare the innocent children tafadhali who don't know the difference of a donkey from you. Iin fact, i am proud of being a dot-com because my life and that of your children revolves around cities and we don't really give a crap which tribe we come from so long as we got our groove right! Now how's that for a laugh, BOSS?"