Culture Watch

I hear them today, deep in my spirit. It began in a time of prayer with some friends yesterday. I heard  thousands of voices, crying out to God, “How long, O Lord?” It was a cry of anguish from those who have been abused, deceived, and exploited by the powerful, the deceitful, and the abusers.

It tears at my heart. I’ve had occasion these last four years to sit with many people in such pain, who, through no fault of their own, have been taken advantage of for someone else’s gain or temporary amusement.

And I’m not just talking about the world. Have you heard the revelations in the last few weeks of the years of silence from Bethel’s leadership when the sheep were being deceived and abused? Did they learn nothing from the exposures at IHOP in Kansas City? I’m not surprised anymore at the lengths people will go to defraud or abuse the sheep, or what others will do to cover it up in the name of loyalty. Dozens of so-called prophetic and apostolic “leaders” knew of the prophetic fraud and the sexual abuse and said nothing. They apologize now, with excuses as to why they didn’t protect the sheep, but those who held it in silence are as guilty as the one doing the deeds.

If you can follow Jesus even for a dozen years and not find this behavior unthinkable, then you really have to question who you’ve been following.  John couldn’t have written it more clearly: “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” If you can stay silent when people are being exploited and abused, you have no idea who God is. Those who know God well love the broken well.

And if you’re still supporting ministries like this, you are part of the abuse as well. It seems the entire prophetic movement has covered up for those who are not God’s voices at all. The money, sense of power, and notoriety were too tempting to feel, in their own being, the damage being done to others. So while they claim great discernment on behalf of the nation and the world, they completely miss what God wants to do right around them.

Make no mistake, in these situations, God aligns his heart with the wounded. Truth be told, he always has. When Jesus went to the cross, it was not in anger at those who did evil, but in love for those being crushed by it. I am convinced that the injustice he wants me to hold is on behalf of the victims, not anger at the perpetrators. When I live in the anguish of those who have suffered at the hands of the powerful, whether they be in Ukraine, Gaza, Kenya, former 2x2s, or Bethel, I am closer to Father’s heart than all my rantings about false ministries.

And while most can only see the problem where sexual sin is involved, that is not their greater error. The greater sin of the prophetic movement has been that it has taken people’s innate desire to know God and profited from it. They wanted to tell others what God was thinking and for them to believe it, unquestioningly, as they basked in the adulation of the crowd, fighting for visibility and its related income. They made people dependent on themselves, rather than teaching them to find their fullness in Jesus and no other. The idols in God’s house today are human, who wittingly or unwittingly set themselves up as Christ substitutes. They manipulate people’s fears for political power and market share when they should have been calming their fears with the love of Jesus.

Does Jesus love those who perpetuate the false prophecies, opulent lifestyles, and sexual abuse of his children? He does, deeply, and offers them a path of redemption as well. And we will know they are responding to him when they cease their destructive ways, own their failures, and think first of protecting the sheep instead of their reputations.

Today, Jesus is standing with those who have been defrauded, deceived, and victimized by wolves pretending to be sheep. If you want to be near him, enter into the pain of those who have been hurt, not the ones doing the hurting. That’s where I want to stand, offering a caring heart and a listening ear as they sort through the damage done to them and seek connection with the God who can heal their hearts.

Will you join me? There, we will find his compassion and wisdom to bind up the broken-hearted and set the oppressed free, because that lies at the heart of his Gospel.

Back in February of 2021, I introduced you to My Friend Luis. Yes, that’s the name of the podcast we did, but now I’m talking about the man behind it—Luis, who is my friend.  If you’ve listened to the podcast, you already know his incredible story, growing up in an abusive environment in Mexico, and how his encounters with a stranger opened some new doors in his life. If you haven’t heard it, you’re in for a real treat. This is one of the most amazing stories of redemption I’ve ever heard, especially how he discovers the love of God the night he crosses the border. It also tells how my friendship developed with Luis and his family.

That relationship continues. He’s now a grandfather to a little girl, and he continues to be one of my closest friends, as we regularly get together to share the work God is revealing in each of us. It’s one of my favorite times of the week, and we both learn so much from each other’s journeys.

Sara and I have also been working with immigration attorneys for the past six years to legalize his status here. It is a laborious and expensive process, but last week he got word that his application for a pardon for his illegal entry has been granted. Hallelujah!  That’s step one in his attempt to secure a green card, and eventually, to apply for citizenship. I mentioned that on last week’s podcast, and many of you have already written to me to share in that joy.

Luis also continues his work with at-risk youth in this city. He was a Golden Glove boxer when he was younger, and when some young people found out, they asked if he could train them. So he spends 4-5 days a week working with over 120 kids as he teaches them to box. But more importantly, he shares his love and the life of Jesus with them as they are learning to navigate their young lives. Last week, he drove 200 miles to check on a suicidal youth who wanted his help. When he arrived, he found three young people in an abandoned mobile home, dying from an overdose of drugs. He was able to rescue them and get them to a hospital. All have recovered. I could tell you so many stories, and he does this all in his own time and at his own expense.

It’s developed into a ministry he calls Fighting Chance, giving young people the opportunity for a life outside the gangs and other dangers that prey on them. I wish you could see the work he does, and not just the training sessions. He’s involved in these kids’ lives well beyond it, encouraging them when life really turns against them. Many of his kids have gone on to college or military service with the character that Luis has helped instill in them. He also attends court hearings and funerals when things don’t work out the way we all hope. He carries their joy and pain every day.

I’m sharing this in hopes that some of you might be looking for a Christian ministry to support, especially one that works with at-risk youth. Luis’s ability to love these kids through the traumas that life throws at them is powerful and, for many, transforming. He didn’t intend to start a ministry; it’s just that the fruitfulness of his life opened a very wide door and his heart his captured by the love he has for them.  It overwhelms him sometimes, and he has a hard time asking for help from people who would love to help him.

This could easily be his full-time job, except that it doesn’t pay. Sara and I support him monthly, and if you’d like to join us, we would appreciate it. Not only does it help free Luis from cleaning houses to provide for his family, but it also has a powerful impact on this community. They currently train in a parking lot across the street from his home, with donated equipment. It’s rustic, but he loves it that way. However, it doesn’t work so well when his equipment gets damaged or stolen, or when the weather doesn’t cooperate with pouring rain or high temperatures in the summer. They would love to find a facility to lease, but that takes even more money.

He is forming a nonprofit, but until that is finalized, Lifestream provides an ongoing fund to help with their ministry. Contributions are tax-deductible. If you can help, please see our Donation Page at Lifestream. Please designate “Fighting Chance” or “Luis” in the Note section of your donation, or email us to let us know that your gift is intended for his ministry. You can also Venmo contributions to “@LifestreamMinistries” or mail a check to Lifestream Ministries •  107 N. Reino Rd, PMB# 411, Newbury Park, CA 91320-3710

And if you haven’t heard the podcast, by all means, treat yourself.  It is an immersive, storytelling podcast in fifteen episodes that you won’t be able to stop listening to. It has stirred churches all over the world to ask Luis about coming to speak there. Unfortunately, until his status is legalized here, he can’t go.

If you need further encouragement here’s what others have said about the podcast:

“I am just captivated by this story! Now I think I see why Wayne was excited about 2021… This is much more than a Podcast! I’m sending the website link to friends and family.” — Jack

“Loved this!!! Can’t wait to hear the next one!” — Harvey

“I heard two voices in my head while I was listening. The first voice said: “It’s his own fault, he tried to come here illegally and suffered the consequences”. This is the voice I used to believe was God’s (standing up for justice, consequences and all that). The second voice said: “This is my son, with whom I am well pleased and love dearly.”  This is the voice I now know is Father’s and the voice of grace and true justice. What a story!” — Isaac

“Ooh, love it!  It’s a great story … I didn’t realize it was so professionally done … Trailer is superb!”  — Jaq

“I love this story! Maybe people would have different perspectives, hearing the life of someone who comes from a country where there’s a lot of corruption and where surviving is a daily struggle! Wayne, I’m so glad you’re sharing Luis’s story with us.”  — Nellie

Find it on Apple Podcasts, Google Play, or Spotify.

When I was writing IT’S TIME, a few people asked if I would include a chapter about LGBTQ people.

I held that in my heart as I worked through that book, but it never seemed to find a place there. It just wasn’t what that book was meant to be. However, I do have this conversation a lot with people, and have hesitated to post here, knowing how easily people get offended over this topic.

Then, I received this email last week:

My wife and I have an adult grandson who is having a relationship with a “trans” person. As a younger person, he grew up in a Christian home, but he has left the faith. We love him and need guidance on how to deal with a delicate relationship. We want to meet with him and his friend early in 2026. We pray for him regularly.

I’m going to post my response here, as it may answer some questions for others:

You’ve been given a great gift—someone to love whose lifestyle you question. Now, you’ll never be able to see this as just a political or religious issue again without cutting off someone you deeply care about. However you walk through this experience, it will change you—hopefully for the better.

I’m glad you love him and pray for him. That’s a great start. So, I guess your question is, how do you engage them?

My first question would be, why do you want to meet with him?  If it’s to confront the ’sin’ of their relationship, that wouldn’t be my approach. He would already anticipate that, since I’m sure he knows what you believe. What he wouldn’t expect is your love being expressed to him in kindness, and you taking an interest in his friend, and what connects them.

One of the reasons we struggle here is by considering someone’s gender identity or sexual orientation to be the sole factor of their identity.  I don’t.  At most, I see it as about 10% of who they are. Beyond that, they are people with hopes, dreams, fears, interests, and needs that merit our understanding, kindness, and compassion, just as we would offer anyone else.

Unfortunately, as evangelical Christians, we have been taught to judge people like them, and regard their life as a threat, which is horribly misplaced! “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” is still the mission and it didn’t come with exclusions. If you were him, her, or they, how would you want to be treated?  There’s your guidance.

Or to look at it differently, what if his friend were not a trans person? What if their relationship was more “normal” from your perspective?  That’s how you want to be with them. It is not for you to decide what is wrong with them and how they must fix it. If there’s any convicting to be done, entrust that to the Holy Spirit (John 16), who is so much better at it than we could ever be.

You’re free to love them both as you would any other two people. Take an interest in their story and their relationship. Loving them where they are does not condone anything, and it offers them the best possible environment for whatever God might want to reveal to them.

Or, so I am convinced.

So, how do you engage them?  Just love, which doesn’t mean you can’t be honest about your convictions when they ask. Just remember, “To a Pharisee, truth is more important than love; to the follower of Christ, love is the most important part of truth.” If you don’t get the loving right, you’ll have no basis to express the truth.

People who don’t understand the power and presence of God’s love often mock love and grace as a weak response. I did too, once, seeing it only as an emotion of niceness. Having tasted the transforming power of God’s love over the last three decades, however, I know there is nothing more powerful. (See Chapter 10 of He Loves Me.)

That’s why Jesus loved people lost in the darkness. Nothing opens a wider door to what God wants to do in people. When you let his love replace your fear of others, you’ll see them in a different light.

I grew up in a conservative community, on a grape vineyard in Central California. In life and sports, making jokes at the expense of girls and women was as natural as breathing. We did it on the golf course, the baseball diamond, or when a classmate didn’t do well on a quiz.

When we made the same comments around girls, it was even worse. Some even just played along with a laugh. But I’m sure they weren’t laughing on the inside. It was all innocent fun, or so we told ourselves. It didn’t help that I grew up in religious institutions in which women were not allowed to teach or serve in leadership roles, except with other women or children.

In my journey of living loved, I’ve become more joyfully aware of how inappropriate that kind of humor is. It was rude and cruel even when women were not present. I’ve apologized and offered to make amends to many of the women who were the focus of that humor, but there’s no way I’ve gotten to them all.

Then, last week, in a phone call, a good friend read a quote to me by Dorothy Sayers, one of the first women to graduate from Oxford University:

“Perhaps it is no wonder that the women were first at the Cradle and last at the Cross. They had never known a man like this. A prophet and teacher who never nagged at them who never made arch jokes about them; who praised without condescension; who took their questions and arguments seriously. There is no act, no sermon, no parable in the whole Gospel that borrows its pungency from female perversity; nobody could possibly guess from the words and deeds of Jesus that there was anything funny about woman’s nature.

Ouch!

When I heard this quote, I knew I wanted to be like that guy, and all the more because his example has not borne much fruit in the world.  This quote made me aware once again of the stupid things I’ve said, but even more so, that I have not been as proactive as Jesus in guarding each woman’s dignity, wisdom, and value. That’s going to change too.

So, I want to apologize to every woman hurt by a joke I told or some misplaced attempt at humor. I’m sorry. And if you need that apology more personally, please let me know.  I’d be happy to do it in person and make amends if I can.

As Sara and I were walking our dogs through the neighborhood a couple of weeks ago, we noticed the license plate above on the front of an oversized pick-up truck.

We’ve lived in this neighborhood less than a year and it’s pretty clear where the angst-driven people live by their bumper stickers and yard signs. They glory in power, bluster in their anger at the world and seek to force change on their neighbors. I pray for them as we go by, knowing how tough it is to live with so much consternation and so little trust in the ways God works.

I don’t like a lot that’s going on in our world these days either. The overreach of government spending and power, imposing itself on every area of our lives is ghastly. But my hope for change does not lie in frustration or the political power it hopes to gain. I haven’t talked to the owner of this vehicle, so I don’t know what this sign meant to him, but I know there’s a meme out there among conservatives that we can’t be sheep anymore and just lay down and let the government, or the left, drive over us. We have to be lions, ready to avenge our grievances and force society to its knees. Sounds good, perhaps even Godly, but not if you’ve read the Book of Revelation.

Jesus does appear in the first chapter as the Lion of Judah, with fire in his eyes and a sword in his mouth. He’s worthy of that image. But every other time he appears in that book he comes as the Lamb of God. It’s the Lamb who was slain, who is worthy to take the scroll and open its seals. It’s the Lamb in the Center of the throne, the one the faithful follow at the end of days, and the Lamb is the groom for the Bride at the final marriage supper.

What do I take from that? God’s way to redeem the world is counterintuitive to human convention. We are seduced by power and seek to amass it to accomplish what we think God wants. But Jesus is not redeeming the world with has overarching power but by the tenderness of his affection. He doesn’t come as the roaring Lion, but the slain Lamb. The power of love is the opposite of the love of power. We plug into his reality not by seeking protecting our lives, but in laying down our lives and letting love win the day.

That’s why Jesus told his followers, “Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; therefore be shrewd as serpents, and innocent as doves.” He didn’t send us out to be lions at war, but incredibly wise sheep who see everything differently than the world does. I know how ridiculous that can seem to people who’ve never tasted the awesome power of laying down your life instead of forcing your way. But there is no better time than to learn how he works we will need it in days to come. This is where words like gentleness, generosity, kindness, humility, and tenderness define our path, which those who seek power mock and belittle.

Yes, it can be a painful road at times but it is also the only road to the victory God seeks. It is what he has asked of us—to follow the Lamb instead of pretending to be lions. 

I was asked last week how I was praying about the current strife in the Middle East. That would have been far easier for me to answer a few decades ago when my world was conveniently divided into a home team and an away team.

God loves the home team and those who acknowledge him. I could pray with passion for God to alleviate their suffering. God hates the away team, and we can pray down his vengeance on them, which gave me false comfort in our anger and helplessness. At least, that’s what I was taught.

Of course, I was on the home team as a passionate, evangelical Christian. Those who believed in the God, I thought, shared that team with me. Those that didn’t were on the away team, and my, oh, my, was God angry at them. (Or was it only me?)

Directing the hateful passages in the Psalms against those I perceived to be God’s enemies was easy. You know, the ones—praying for the devastation of his enemy and their kin, even that their grandkids would be plagued with boils. As I grew up, the away team grew larger over time. Originally, heathens were on the list—atheists and the like. But with time, the team expanded to include communists, socialists, Catholics (for some reason), Muslims, Democrats, dictators, cultists, liberals, people who refused to work, even complacent Christians who didn’t work as hard as I did or those who didn’t believe the same things I did.

Dividing the world into a home team and an away team gave me an easy way to route my grief and fear in times of tragedy. Suffering was not indiscriminate but God’s punishment for not living their lives the way he wanted. It’s not so far a step from there to believe that the pain itself proves you’re God’s enemy. Then, what do you do when you thought you were on the home team and disaster still strikes? Your faith gets rocked!  

I no longer believe any of that. Love has been teaching me how misguided I was. God’s heart breaks for the whole of humanity, for those who know him and those who don’t. Today, he holds the same grief for the Palestinian mom mourning her child as he does for the Jewish mom grieving hers. 

I don’t write this to discount the horrible evil people bring into the world. The attack in Israel was particularly horrific and depraved. The nature of evil that incites people to torture or terrorize innocents is a scourge on our humanity, and the weapon dark forces wield to wreak havoc on the planet. 

As horrific as that is, I’ve been invited to a different kingdom where love defines our responses, not vengeance or righteous indignation. Just how did we think Jesus would tell us to love our enemies and think God gets to hate his?

No, I write this to answer how I’m praying into this crisis. Honestly, I’m still holding space with God, tasting his broken heart for the human-on-human violence that consumes our planet. I see his pain when Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb and when he offered “loud cries and tears” to his Father. He feels the suffering of this world at a depth we can’t begin to imagine. He doesn’t delight in it. He’s not its cause; he is its remedy.

And here, I’m not talking just about the attack on Israel but all the conflicts and disasters in the world. The world is hemorrhaging blood everywhere—in Ukraine and Syria, cartel battles in Mexico, tribal violence in Africa, and despicable dictatorships in South and Central America. Who knows what happens in Russian, Chinese, and North Korean prisons or even our own? There are murders, famines, earthquakes, floods, and fires around the globe destroying people, along with the torment of disease, abuse, sexual assault, and slavery.

How does God hold all this pain?

I’m just beginning to learn as I sit with him and gaze at the news through the eyes of God and wonder what agony he endures as the Father of this Creation. Nothing wounds a father more than to see his children seek to destroy each other. I’ll let my prayers rise from there, and right now, I’m still holding that space with him.

What does it mean to God for us to hold a small measure of his pain? Perhaps it gives him voices on earth who can reflect his heart as well as his truth. Maybe the “fellowship of suffering” comforts him in the same way it comforts us. I’m not sure, but I do know one thing: Jesus wanted some of his friends to hold his pain with him in Gethsemane on the night of his trial and the eve of his crucifixion. They couldn’t offer it that night, but we can today.

What does it do for him? I’m not quite sure, but it is cleansing to my soul. Over the past two years, it has changed my life, my viewpoint of others, and how to find the redemption story in the unfolding realities of our ever-darkening world. It saves me from giving into anger and vengeance and finding a place for love to thrive in my prayers and my heart.

As the earth moves relentlessly towards its inevitable conclusion in Christ, we can partner with him by holding his pain and praying to advance his purpose in current events. If I don’t see reality through his eyes, I’m only left to offer up fruitless requests for my own comfort or my agenda in the gathering darkness. I’m convinced God wants an army of praying people fixed on his purpose instead of their gain.

How do I hold pain with God? I sit (or walk) with him. I gaze at the circumstance that concerns me,  contemplating what he must feel. I wait until I have a sense of that. Sometimes, it takes days or weeks, and I repeatedly ask him to show me his heart in that space.

As I get a glimpse of his heart, I reflect on the emotion or insight growing in my heart. I reflect on his power and wisdom and that everything is in his hands. I remind myself that the God I’m holding space with is not alarmed or disturbed. And I also look beyond the pain to the refrain of his glory seeping through. He’s the Redeemer in this story and will have the last say on everything.

I don’t try to fix his pain or offer my ideas for a way out. I just hold my heart with his and see what comes.

How did I learn this? Two places. First, in letting him hold my pain without the angst of having him fix it the way I want. I gain wisdom and courage when I find his comfort and wisdom more significant than my desire to stop the pain. Second, in holding the pain of others by sitting with them in their agony, grief, or disappointed expectations as we look for God’s revelation of himself. I don’t try to fix them either with my wisdom or for my own comfort.

I’m not naive enough to think I hold the fullness of God’s agony. No doubt it would kill me. But to have just the slightest taste of what he might feel changes everything—my feelings, perspectives, and hopes.

Most of all, I have come to learn that God’s love doesn’t discriminate between the home team and the away team. He loves us all at the core of his being and will do whatever we allow him to do to heal our hearts and win us into his freedom. Many will reject that, of course, but he never stops knocking at their heart, holding them in with deep passion and sometimes agony.

And when I know my Father hurts, I want to be with him, seeing what he sees and feeling what he feels.

I would not have wanted to miss this part of the journey. All my other attempts at prayer seem so meaningless now.

____________

For more on holding God’s pain, see our recent podcast on The Fellowship of Suffering.