Reflecting on Ted Haggard, coupled with some readings from Albert Nolan's Jesus Before Christianity (in which he emphasises the power of faith), has led me to reflect on another public representative of Christianity: Benny Hinn.
Now let me be clear from the start that I think that Benny Hinn is a predator. I believe that he preys upon the most desperate and vulnerable members of society in order to advance his personal wealth and power. I have serious questions about the faith Hinn professes to have, and I have even more serious questions about the healings he claims to perform. (Hinn refuses to provide any supportive documentation that his healings have been genuine. And when faced with documentation that suggested that a number of people [who claimed to be healed at his rallies] had not actually been healed, Hinn claimed this was so because those people had lost their faith, or fallen into sin, after the rally!)
However, I had a new thought tonight. Given Jesus' emphasis upon the faith of the recipient of healing, I asked myself this: “Is it possible that some healings have occurred at Hinn's rallies because of the faith of those who attend?” Of course, these would be healings that God performed despite of Hinn, and not because of him. Is God so humble, and so gracious, that he would choose to heal the sick, even in the presence of a fraudulent healer? He just might be. After all, God's compassion for the poor and needy seems to regularly overcome his distance from the wealthy and self-satisfied.
I wonder what the implications of this might be for those of us in the Christian community? Perhaps an implication would be that this simply highlights the absence of those within the Christian community who are willing to affirm the faith of others who believe (or long to believe) that God can make lame people walk, blind people see, and sick people healthy. Perhaps it reveals to us that we have lost something of Jesus' emphasis that the Spirit brings liberation from all things.
Of course, by asking this question I am in no way suggesting that the reason why so many Christians are sick is because they lack faith. Far from it. I actually believe that God can heal people based upon the faith of Jesus, not upon the faith (or lack thereof) that is held by the recipient of the healing. This is so for at least two reasons: I think that God often acts in our regard because of the faith and intercession of Jesus — and not because of our faith (or lack thereof); and I think that sharing in the sufferings of the world (include sharing in the illnesses that come from living in a world that is broken) is a fundamental element of the Christian vocation. If it is part of the Christian calling to be broken with the broken, then it is also a part of the Christian calling to be sick with those who are sick.
However, I also think that the near total absence of miraculous healings in the Western Christian community does, at least in some way, suggest an absence of faith in the Western church as a whole (and not in sick individuals specifically).
I long for a Christian presence at the margins of society that truly does offer addicts freedom from the power of drugs, drugs that, in the words of a friend of mine, “enter into your body and alter you at the level of your DNA” (this friend knows this from his firsthand experience with crack). The Spirit should be a presence that restores us, at the very same level.
I long for a Church rooted at the margins of society that offers freedom to people who suffer from mental illnesses, people who hear voices that torment them and tell them to hurt themselves. The Spirit should replace such voices with an inner voice of love.
And when such addictions and illnesses persist, I long for a Church that embraces those things and transforms them into redemptive acts of solidarity with our broken world. The Spirit should be a Spirit that binds us together and makes us one.
The near total absences of such transformations in the Western church, and the far greater presence of such transformations in African, Asian, and Latin American churches, suggests to me that we in the West could learn a thing or two about faith from our sisters and brothers in the two-thirds world.
So, I guess I have drifted away from my original question but I would be very interested in hearing how others might answer that question, and what others have to say about all these things.

Sister, we must love these people very much, so that they can forgive us for helping them.
~ St. Vincent De Paul (1581-1660)
I stumbled upon this quote in an essay by Krister Stendahl and I was struck by how “contemporary” it sounded. Given that much of Christian charity during the modern period has been marked by a certain triumphalism and condescension, we tend to consider those who speak of true service of the poor and the outcasts — service that discovers God already present within the poor, and service that discovers that one is often more blessed than blessing — as entering into a new and exciting phase of journeying with those who are in exile. The quote from St. Vincent would suggest otherwise. We are not discovering something new, we are discovering something that some of us lost somewhere along the way. St. Vincent realized just how much pride and how much justification of self-indulgence we tend to invest in so-called “acts of charity.” He knew that often the ways in which we “help” others are far more about us than they are about the people that we are “helping.” And he knew how much “charity” is often simply a veneer that helps perpetuate the broader social structures that maintain the gap between the rich and the poor.
Yet the solution St. Vincent offers is not to stop all our efforts to be helpful. Rather, we must learn to love “very much.” The contrast between the language of “helping” and the language of “love” is significant. The language of “helping” establishes a hierarchy and an unequal, and often unhealthy, power divide. Thus the “helper” is able to gain nearly total control over those who are, by definition, “helpless.” However, with love such hierarchies and such unequal divisions of power are abolished. Love leads us to the place where any exchange that takes place is mutual and, most importantly, natural. Thus, Stendahl goes on to say, “true love demands that neither the giver nor the receiver be conscious of giving or receiving.” The exchanges that take place because of love are not exchanges that keep tallies or records of debts. Rather, all such categories are abolished and we are no longer “givers” and “receivers” but “lovers” and “beloved.”
Indeed, as I have moved ever more deeply into journeying with those who are in exile, I have had the delight of experiencing both sides of that love relationship. As I have begun to travel down the road of loving very much, I have, to my delight, also discovered myself to be loved very much. This is a great source of joy to me. How I wish that all those who are in Christ knew the joy of being loved by those who are in exile.

For some time I have felt a certain amount of discomfort in relation to the “Emergent church” conversation. Now granted, the number of people who fall under that label is increasingly large and diverse and to make a general criticism of the Emergent conversation is pretty much impossible. Even to criticize the movement based upon it's most famous leaders would be misleading. Criticizing all things Emergent based upon the writings of Brian McLaren (who, IMHO, does really miss the boat a lot of the time) is sort of like criticizing the entire “New Perspective on Paul” based upon the writings of Ed Sanders. For example, people that I admire quite a lot (like Brian Walsh) also fit within the Emergent conversation, and to discard Walsh because of McLaren is sort of like discarding N. T. Wright because one disagrees with Sanders (although Walsh does misunderstand Lyotard's talk about “metanarratives” but that's an aside).
However, with this proviso in mind, let me say that there is a particular trend that seems quite common in the Emergent conversation, and I find this trend to be quite troubling. However, to speak of this as a “trend” may be a bit too strong. Let me just say that I have the impression that this trend is present across the board in the Emergent conversation… but I am open to being mistaken about this. Actually I hope I am.
So what is this trend that seems to be present? Simply stated, I am not convinced that anything terribly new is going on in the Emergent conversation. It seems to me that, for the most part, the Emergent conversation is just another generation learning how to culturally appropriate their Christian faith — it's just that this time faith is being appropriated within a postmodern consumer culture. At the end of the day, it seems as though Emergent folk are just as thoroughly grounded in contemporary culture as traditional Christianity was grounded in modern culture. We've moved from quoting Descartes to quoting Derrida, from reading Dostoyevski to reading Nabokov, from listening to Gospel music to listening to Sufjan Stevens, from celebrating “stale” liturgies to celebrating “ancient-future” services, and we think that this is causing a more genuine form of Christianity to come (back) into existence. I'm not convinced. For the most part, it appears as though the Emergent conversation is not rectifying the mistakes made by prior generations of Christians; in fact, it appears as though they are simply repeating those mistakes in new and updated ways. Thus, once again, you get a Christianity that is oh-so-relevant, but really it's just as self-indulgent as the surrounding culture and as previous generations of Western Christianity. It seems to me that the Emergent conversation is not much better and not much worse than most other church trends that have come and gone in the last one hundred years. It's all just a little too convenient (but, after all, we consumers love convenience). Being Emergent lets me be “hot” and Christian and it doesn't cost me a thing (and we consumers love free things even more than we love convenience).
Now, show me a movement where people are committed to a costly form of Christianity, where people are radically committed to loving God and loving their neighbours, where people are daily laying down their lives for those whom they love, show me this movement or conversation, or whatever, and then I might be inclined to say, “yes, here is the Spirit breaking in (once again) in a new and marvelous way.”