JOYCE MEYER MINISTRIES: The big squeeze
©2005 St. Louis Post-Dispatch
Saturday, May. 07 2005
THERE IS IN AMERICA a popular image of the good pastor as a person who seeks reward in heaven rather than on Earth. The preacher preaches the Bible, comforts the sick, cares for the poor and lives a comfortable but modest life while doing it.
This image may be unfair. Still, we don't quite know what to do with a preacher who thinks she deserves to live in extravagant wealth right here on Earth using money given to the ministry by its believers.
In Jefferson County, assessor Randy Holman thinks he knows what to do. He wants to revoke the tax exemption for the 52-acre, $20 million headquarters of Joyce Meyer Ministries. We're not sure the assessor is legally correct, but Ms. Meyer seems to be cruising close to the line separating a religious ministry from a for-profit operation.
Ms. Meyer, a televangelist and author, preaches a variation of the "prosperity gospel." Donate to God through her ministry, and God will reward you, she preaches. That reward may be spiritual, or it may come in the form of prosperity and wealth on Earth.
The Bible says, "Give and it shall be given unto you," she tells the thousands who gather at her revival-like "conferences" around the country. So she's not shy about asking for money. "Make your checks payable to Joyce Meyer Ministries/Life in the Word. And million is spelled M-I-L-L-I-O-N," she says with some levity.
Ms. Meyer says she's living proof of the payback phenomenon. Sexually abused as a child, she endured a failed marriage, then found a good husband and religious faith. She launched a powerful national ministry with legions of devoted followers and more than $90 million in annual revenue.
Her reward for that has been a mother lode of earthly wealth. As reported by Carolyn Tuft of the Post-Dispatch on Sunday, Ms. Meyer and her family have received millions from the ministry in recent years.
For 2002 and 2003, the board approved $900,000 annual salaries for Ms. Meyer and $450,000 for her husband as well as the use of a $2 million home where all the bills are paid by the ministry. The ministry also has paid $1.475 million for three houses for Ms. Meyer's children.
The ministry didn't volunteer those figures; they came from filings in the tax assessment case. But Ms. Meyer doesn't hide the fact that she does very well. "I'm living now in my reward," she told an audience in 2003.
Although out of fashion these days, the idea that God enriches his servants on Earth is not new. It stretches back hundreds of years in Christianity. In some versions, great wealth is a sign of God's personal approval. Nor do we lack examples of clergy living in worldly splendor. The Roman Emperor Constantine let bishops keep a quarter of church revenue. Today's televangelizing millionaires follow in the worldly shoes of the palace-dwelling bishops of the Middle Ages.
In a nation that values freedom of religion, the state never should pass judgment on Ms. Meyer's theology. Neither would this editorial page question a person's faith. But the state has to set criteria for tax exemptions. That's where Mr. Holman comes in.
State law says that a tax-exempt church property must be used "exclusively for religious worship, for schools and colleges or for purposes purely charitable and not held for private or corporate profit."
Besides the Meyer family's paychecks, Mr. Holman says it was the lavish accouterments of the headquarters that convinced him that Ms. Meyer's ministry isn't purely charitable. Those included a $30,000 table, among other high-priced furniture, and several pieces of fine art, some of which are religious. To Mr. Holman's mind, Ms. Meyer's ministry is in business to make money.
Of course, such extravagance must be balanced by the good done by the ministry, and there obviously has been quite a bit.
Thousands find inspiration in Ms. Meyer's life story and her down-home advice about day-to-day living, keeping a family together and about the power of faith to redeem lives. That's why they donate and buy the books and tapes hawked endlessly at her conferences.
The Meyer family's own multimillion take is, after all, just a small percentage of the ministry's $90 million-plus revenue. Ministry spokesman Mark Sutherland says the ministry spends 20 percent on administration, with the rest going to good works. Those include support for 18 orphanages around the world, 3.5 million meals donated to the poor, 145 wells dug in poor nations and missions to AIDS hospitals and leper colonies.
It's tempting to ask why a ministry would spend $30,000 on a fancy table rather than digging a few more wells for poor Africans. But the legal balance may tip in favor of Ms. Meyer keeping her tax exemption.
In the Gospel of St. Matthew, Jesus says, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." Ms. Meyer would seem to believe she can make the squeeze. Those who feel that preachers shouldn't live like royalty always have the option of directing their donations elsewhere.
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